Evelyn Klebert

 It was like walking through a deep cave with only filtered light to guide her steps. A half hour earlier, Dr. Cassidy had given her a light sedative to relax her and slowly, gradually, she had drifted into a strange disconnected state. And then her therapist’s soft, coaxing tones had guided her down into the place she now found herself.
“Can you hear me Rachel?”
The voice sounded different now, distant; she couldn’t quite connect; everything was out of focus in her mind.
“It’s Dr. Cassidy. Expect some disorientation Rachel.”
That was it. Now she remembered. She tried to open her eyes to see the office and the long, lounge chair that the doctor had elongated so that she could lie down during the hypnosis. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“It’s all right,” the voice comforted. “You must stay where you are now.”
She was moving through, not walking, moving through the long tunnel-like cave. “I don’t like it here.”
“I know. It’s a scary place for you now. But it’s the place of memory. It’s halls are the chambers of your mind.”
“It’s cold.”
“Yes, it will be until you let the light in everywhere. Now feel Rachel, where do you need to go?”
She stopped the movement and felt the cold breeze rush by her. It hadn’t been obvious before. It had been cloaked in darkness, but she could see now that there were bends, perhaps corridors to the murky cave, all leading different places.  To her right was a quick turn, and she could see light there, feel warmth. She began to move in that direction on impulse but the voice intruded. “You must concentrate Rachel, concentrate on your dream. It will guide you to where you want to go.”
It was frustrating. She only wished to follow the light where there was some peace, some happiness. It had been so long since she’d felt anything even remotely like that. But the voice, it continued, “Rachel focus, focus on Mannette.”
Then she began to concentrate, began to focus, and as she did something materialized. At the end of the very long corridor of shadows in front of her was a figure, a figure in a long white nightgown. She willed herself to move forward, toward it, but she was elusive. “I see her,” she whispered.
“Good, follow her,” the voice commanded.
It was so difficult, different, stifling; she began to move through darkness, heavy, suffocating darkness, almost like a black drape of cloth smothering her, but ahead she could still see the girl, lightly springing ahead, just out of reach. Frustrated she lunged forward, made one strong push that seemed to rip at something inside of her as she collided with a heavy black, solid surface. “I can’t,” she whispered. “It’s a wall.”
The silence surrounded her. But then it was broken suddenly. She began to hear whispers on the other side of the wall, people speaking in muffled whispers. “I can’t,” she spoke out again.
“Try,” the voice compelled her.
“I can’t. I’m afraid.”
“I know.”
And then instinctively she let her hand travel down the heavy black wall until it reached round, cold metal. She took in a deep, cold breath before she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The doorway opened into a chilled bedroom. Her eyes immediately flew to the fireplace which was lit. Why wasn’t it heating the room? No wonder her daughter was ill.  Two men, tall grim, stood by her daughter’s bedside, one her husband but her eyes focused on the other, the white-haired man who’d been summoned that morning after they’d found Mannette unconscious, lying sprawled across the floor.
“How is she doctor?” she asked. Not allowing herself to focus on the pale sleeping girl.
She didn’t need his answer. She read it in his drawn face and in the frown about his mouth.
Then Adrien spoke, “It’s the sickness again.”
Her eyes widened as fear took hold. “That’s impossible. She already survived it. It’s gone for over a year.”
“Madame it might be best to alert the house hold that there’s a resurgence.”
“How, how can this be?” her voice came out in a panicked rasp.
Adrien’s words were broken in grief, “The doctor thinks Mannette might be some sort of carrier, and it had lain dormant in her until now.”
And then her throat began to close as the reality took hold, “No, not another child, not another daughter.”
“I’m sorry Madame. She’s already beyond help.”
And then she tried, tried so hard to pull the wall back around her heart that had always shielded her from such deep sorrows. But it wasn’t there, she couldn’t reach it. Nowhere to be found. She took a breath and then forced her eyes open only to be greeted by an astonished Dr. Cassidy.

“I know most in the medical profession don’t subscribe to these ideas, but I think you might have tapped into a past life.”
“So you think I might have actually been Marguerite Bijou.” She asked Dr. Cassidy pointedly and with surprisingly little emotion.
“I think it’s definitely one possibility.”
She nodded feeling so drained that she couldn’t quite connect with any feeling. “But it doesn’t exactly explain the nature of these dreams. They’ve always been from Mannette’s point of view, not Maguerite’s.”
The doctor shrugged, “That I can’t explain. I suppose we could attempt another hypnosis.”
Rachel wearily shook her head, “I don’t think so. It took so much out of me. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
The doctor nodded, “Well, perhaps we should just wait and see if the dreams go away now.”
“Yes,” Rachel agreed. “Perhaps we should wait.”

The chilling night breeze whistled through her ears, brushed her skin, stung her eyes. And she should have shivered but she did not. The cold did not touch her although she could not explain why.
Yes, now you see. The whispers surrounded her.
“Why are you here?” Mannette asked the stranger whom she had seen from her window.
“You know.”
She walked a step closer to him. His skin was so pale but luminescent like the moon above them. “I remember you.”
“Yes,” he answered. Now lowering his hand, knowing that she would not take it. Not yet.
She nodded, “I saw you. That night in the room with Lanelle. That night she died.”
“Yes,” he answered. She was close enough to see that his eyes were indeed silver, an unnatural shade. But it didn’t startle her at all. She thought him beautiful. “She was afraid of me,” his voice came in a deeper whisper and she wondered if he’d really spoken at all.
“I know,” she nodded. Had she taken a closer step? The great white steed beside him stirred momentarily and then quieted.  “She didn’t understand.”
“Most don’t,” he murmured. “But you were not afraid.”
She shook her head, “No.”
And then he smiled, just slightly. But it warmed as though they were connected. “That’s why I let you stay.”
“I see,” she said. Truly understanding now. But not at all afraid, drawn, curious, compelled by the kinship she felt for the stranger.
“Are you ready now?” he asked.
And this time when he extended his hand. There was no hesitation.

Rachel awoke in the darkness but did not note the time on the clock now. She rose, pulling back the covers from her bed. The apartment should have been in darkness but she could clearly see from her bedroom an illumination coming from the den.
It didn’t really frighten her now. She simply pulled on a robe and walked through the doorway that led to the other room. There was only one lamp lit and her daughter was standing in front of the sliding glass doors that led onto the patio looking outward. But Rachel just quietly waited until Mannette turned round.
She was so beautiful, Rachel thought, like in the dream but also changed. She smiled in her greeting, and Rachel could see that it was her eyes that had changed, silvery in color, luminescent, like the moon above them. “I wanted you to understand.” She murmured so lightly that Rachel couldn’t be at all sure if she’d spoken.
But she nodded at her child. “I do.”
And when Mannette extended her hand her mother took it in hers.

Finis

Copyright © 2009 by Evelyn Klebert

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