Soul Mates (5 page)

CHAPTER 4

CASSANDRA AWOKE, eager for the day ahead. Her curiosity had been building, and she couldn’t wait to learn what her aunt wanted her to write down. She and her father had concluded that it must be Sophia’s life story. If that were so, Cassandra was touched that her aunt wanted her to document it. Lady Sophia Langdon had certainly led an interesting life. Regardless of who wrote her memoirs, it would be a compelling read.
But is that to be my great work?
she pondered.
It’s an honor for sure, and yet…
She shook her head. It didn’t quite match the “something bigger” that had been calling her.
No, it’s more than that; I can feel it.

She opted to borrow her father’s laptop and a small voice recorder, which she slipped into her pocket. The items helped her feel prepared as she left for her aunt’s place. Only one parking spot was available on the street near the apartment building, and Cassandra pulled in with ease. She enjoyed driving her father’s Aston Martin. It was an impressive vehicle, and it handled like a dream. A custom order, the paint color changed from luminous silver to fiery copper depending on the direction a person looked at it. The interior was luxurious with hand-stitched leather and oil-finished African mahogany.

As she walked up the steps to the main doors, she was reminded of the fellow she’d run into the previous day and sincerely hoped she wouldn’t see him again. She considered herself easygoing, but occasionally she came across a person who, like that man, pushed her patience to the limit—someone whom she suspected was capable of good manners when it served him yet made a habit of being impolite and disrespectful. She hoped he would treat her aunt with more courtesy.

Taking a moment to breathe deeply, she swept the unpleasant thoughts from her mind. It was ten o’clock, and she knocked on her aunt’s door, excited to begin.

“Cassandra, my dear.” Sophia sounded surprised. “How lovely to see you.”

“Aunt Sophia,” Cassandra frowned. “You asked me to come by this morning. You said you had something you wanted to tell me. I’ve brought a computer so I can take notes.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Sophia shook her head. “Shall we have a cup of tea?”

“Sure…” Cassandra began to wonder whether her aunt was as clear about what she wanted her to write as she had been the day before.
She’s eighty-seven, after all. Maybe she’s starting to lose her memory. I hope not. It’ll be a shame if she can’t recall her past clearly.
With that, Cassandra began to think how she might fill in missing details. I could interview people that knew her, look up articles about her in newspaper archives, maybe see what information the local library has on Port Hayden and its residents.

Sophia poured their tea and invited her grandniece to join her in the living room. Once seated, she looked Cassandra in the eye. “I haven’t always had an easy life.”

Not wanting to miss anything, Cassandra reached into her jacket pocket and discreetly turned on the voice recorder.

“I always believed that my life was what I made it,” Sophia continued. “But I thought the making of it involved hard work, pain, and sacrifice.”

“Should I be taking notes?”

“Oh, no dear.” Sophia sat back and sipped her tea. “I’m just telling you what not to do.” She laughed softly and turned away for a moment, her eyes gazing upward. “But you’ll make your own mistakes. That’s how we learn, how we know what we want in life. My mistake was to fight against what I didn’t want. I didn’t know that pushing against problems only makes them bigger. I was an activist—that’s what they called me. It sounds virtuous and valiant, but it was just me trying to change the world by my own puny efforts. There’s a better way.” She smiled at Cassandra. “Write this down.”

Opening the computer, Cassandra felt a tingle as her hands hovered over the keys, poised and eager to begin typing.

“We’re all part of a great big universe. It’s an organized system, a well-oiled machine with perfection and order at the heart of it.” She nodded as if to affirm her own statement and then added, “The only reason people run around helter-skelter is that they believe they’re separate, and they’re trying to control their life or change their environment by hard work.”

Cassandra was glad she could type fast; she didn’t want to ask her aunt to slow down or repeat herself. It wasn’t what she’d been expecting to hear, yet she was spellbound as she listened.

Sophia explained that the universe was governed by basic principles. “The first is that all things are one. Everything originates from a powerful Source, is made of the same substance, and reacts the same way. Each of us is part of that Source, and all that we do is regulated by that power.”

Cassandra stopped typing. She didn’t want to interrupt, but she was curious. It was obvious her aunt wasn’t talking about a traditional God or organized religion. “Aunt Sophia, I don’t understand. If a power like that exists, why are so many unaware of it?”

“More people are aware of it than you may think, dear,” Sophia replied. “In fact, anyone who asks receives the answer. That’s how the system works.” She went on to tell Cassandra about the energy that connects all and the positive nature of it. She spoke again of order and harmony.

“I remember learning about energy in school,” Cassandra said, recalling that everything when broken down to its smallest form was essentially energy. “But how do you know there’s perfection and harmony at the heart of it? It’s a nice thought, but…” She shook her head.

“Some things can’t be proved by science…or maybe they can,” Sophia chuckled. “They just haven’t been yet. Sometimes things need to be believed to be seen.”

Cassandra was quick to correct her elderly aunt. “You mean they need to be seen to be believed, don’t you, Aunt Sophia?”

“No, dear,” Sophia stressed. “That’s where we’ve had it wrong. You have to believe first. Once you believe, you’ll start to see life differently.”

Cassandra felt a comforting connection to what she was hearing. Her aunt’s views, unconventional though they were, resonated deeply. “Go on,” she encouraged when the older woman didn’t continue. “This is interesting; I’d like to hear more.”

Sophia sat back with a contented sigh. “I think that’s enough for today.” She took another sip of her tea and looked at Cassandra indirectly, the way she had the day before. “Don’t overlook the obvious, my dear. Sometimes what you’re looking for is right in front of you.”

“But what am I looking for?” Cassandra responded, hoping for wisdom from her insightful, old aunt.

“Your dreams, your desires,” Sophia explained. “You’ve been asking. The Universe has already answered. You just have to let them in.”

“Let what in?” Cassandra asked, totally confused. “I don’t even know what I want.”

“You don’t always ask with words, but the Universe knows your desires down to the tiniest detail. Your thoughts create a grid, a framework that the Universe fills in with specifics. Your job is to trust that what you want is coming to you in the perfect way, at the perfect time. Then just enjoy life, have fun, and be open to new ideas and new people.”

New ideas? New people?
Cassandra petitioned silently.
How will I know?

“You’ll know.”

Her aunt seemed to read her mind, and it caused the tiny hairs on the back of Cassandra’s neck to stand up. Something beyond her understanding was at work. She sensed, as she had the day before, that their visit was over. As if an indistinguishable force was directing her, she stood up to leave.

“Thank you for coming, dear,” Sophia smiled and embraced her niece. “Let’s have tea again, soon. I have some things I want to tell you.”

The old woman’s words implied that she’d already forgotten what she’d had Cassandra write down moments before. Cassandra didn’t know how to respond.
Could she be suffering from dementia? Does she actually have something important to tell me, something worthy of putting in print, or is she just lonely, wanting someone to talk to?
Whatever it was, Cassandra was committed. She was determined to follow it through, sensing somehow that she needed to hear what her aunt had to say. Before she left she made tentative plans to return the following weekend.

JACE COULDN’T believe it. He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and ran his hands through his hair. He’d dreamed about her—the rich bitch. Of all the women he would have welcomed into his dreams, she was the last one he thought would have affected him that way.

It left him with a bizarre mix of emotions, as though two opposing substances had been poured together, causing a chemical reaction throughout his entire being. The woman who had just yesterday aroused anger and resentment was now arousing something entirely different.

He tried to recall what she looked like. Given his feelings the day before, she might easily have had warts on her face or hair on her chin. Now, although he had no clear image of her in his mind, he could feel her…and she felt amazing. He longed to step back into his dream and hold her, touch her, talk to her some more. The connection they’d had was exhilarating, deeper and richer than he had ever known. It was more than physical intimacy; the woman in his dream felt like his soul mate.

Soul mate?
The absurdity of it struck him.
There’s no way in hell a woman like that could be a soul mate. She’d have to have a soul…and a conscience. That snobby debutante probably has neither.

Sweeping the thoughts from his mind as best he could, he got up from the sofa he’d passed out on the night before and looked around Chad’s living room, which was littered with beer cans and pizza boxes. Images of the game, as well as post-game parties, filtered into his mind. They were a welcome replacement for the dream that had awoken him.

They’d begun partying on the train ride back from the city. Once in Port Hayden, they’d gone to two parties, maybe three; he couldn’t remember. As for female company, they’d picked up some girls, and he recalled making out with one of them. That caused Jace to question again why he would dream of the stuck-up debutante instead of the cute chick he’d been with the night before. If the decision had been his to make, he’d never choose a rich, haughty bitch over a cute girl he met at a post-game party. He had his standards.

Jace left without waking Chad. He went outside, attempting to ignore the queasiness in his stomach and the vise-grip tightening around his head. He’d been in worse shape but had to admit it had been awhile. As he sat in his car, letting his head clear, he opened his wallet to see what, if anything, remained of the money he’d borrowed. A lone five was all that was left—not even enough for breakfast. He shrugged.
At least I’ve got groceries at home. I won’t starve.

As he drove, Jace pieced together the fragmented memories of the night before. Though there were blurry patches, what stood out clearly was the euphoric feeling he’d had when the game ended in victory. It had been easy to get caught up in the celebration; he’d given himself over to it entirely, effortlessly shedding the tiresome burden of worry he’d been carrying for months. His mind went there again easily, experiencing the thrill as if he were still in the pulsing arena witnessing the memorable event. It caused him to question how the mind worked. Feelings seemed arbitrary and illusive, governed by circumstance, yet they held the power to transport him to a place he longed to be
.
I’d love to feel that way all the time,
he admitted.
No cares, no worries—just blissed out on life.

His reasoning mind retorted quickly
.
What a stupid, unrealistic way to think! Get a grip on yourself. Get real.
It was the conversation with the old woman that had put those thoughts in his head. The problem was, deep down he wanted to believe her. Part of him wanted to hear more. Another part was telling him how dangerous that would be.

Turning onto his street, Jace began looking for a place to park. As he drove by slowly, he noticed an Aston Martin parked in front of his building again. He was quite sure it was the same car, only it looked to be a different color. It was darker, almost bronze in the morning sun. He drove another half block and slipped into a spot that someone had just vacated. As he neared his building on foot, he stared at the expensive vehicle. What he saw now was silver. To be sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, he walked past the car and looked again. This time he saw a muted copper color. He walked by once more, his still-foggy brain entranced by the chameleon effect he was observing. He was about to turn and go up the steps of his building, when a female voice addressed him.