Evelyn Klebert

Here is part two of my Halloween story, Reconciliations.

Hope you enjoy,

 Evelyn

****************

The great house on the Bijou plantation was surrounded completely by a grove of oak trees that was planted many generations before Mannette was born. They towered protectively about the plantation’s mansion and when the breeze rustled through their leaves they whispered to the youngest daughter of  Marguerite and Adrien Bijou. She’d told this, she remembered, only once to Lanelle, once when they were children and she’d smiled at her younger sister telling her not to be so foolish. So it became her secret that she was told by the whispering oaks of things to come, of the great storm that swept through the countryside when she was five, of the sickness that took Lanelle’s life and now of the stranger who stood waiting for her in their midst.
The breeze traveled to her before she reached him; it whispered through her cloak, through her hair and told her before she reached him that he is not at all what he seems.
Spy with your skin, with your hands, with your spirit. Don’t believe your eyes. They lie. 
She breathed in deeply and was comforted by the coolness that traveled into her chest. It was as though they were with her, the spirits, to guide and protect her.
He stood a good way from the house but she walked toward him — the blackness of the night illuminated by only a few stars and a half moon that was continually shrouded by cloud cover. But even in the semi-darkness she could see the white skin of his horse, luminescent almost as though it was made of the same substance as the moon overhead.
She stopped a few yards away from them. The man that she could see was pale, pale like the magnificent beast beside him. He extended his hand but she did not take it. She waited for he would have to come to her.

Her eyes opened, and she awoke in the shadows of her room. Beside her on the night table the digital clock gleamed 2:30 A.M. She swallowed on a dry throat and reached for a glass of water she kept for just such an occasion. She sat up in the narrow daybed that lay perched against the wall in her Mid City apartment. It was pointless, Rachel knew from experience. Pointless to try and get back to sleep now. The dream when it came was so vivid, so startling that trying to get back to sleep again would be impossible for at least another two hours.
She picked up the notebook beside her bed and the pen. And leaned her pillows up against the wall so she could write. It was Dr. Cassidy’s idea, the dream journal. Although at times she felt like simply Xeroxing her first account of it, for it rarely changed much.
“It’s important,” she’d said. “The nuances might give you some clue as to its meaning.”
“But it’s always the same,” she’d protested.
“Yes, but as you write there might be small details that differ. Try.”
Dr. Eva Cassidy was an older woman than she — silver haired in her late sixties, who had this sweet persistent quality to her that made it difficult for Rachel to refuse her.
So she began to write again for the third time this week, the haunting account of Mannette Bijou.

“So, how are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she smiled shifting a bit uncomfortably in the wide leather chair in front of Dr. Cassidy’s desk.  It crossed her mind with irritation that she was here at all today. It seemed as though a few months back that she’d made the decision to discontinue her visits to the therapist. After all as things were these sessions weren’t really in the budget at all. Her mother had suggested to her none too subtly that she was using here time here as a crutch. “The divorce is over my dear. You’re strong, you’re free. You are well on your way to a new life.”  And she was right, well as right as her mother could ever be. But if all was well why didn’t the dreams go away?
“How’s work?”
She nodded. “Fine, I mean stressful at times. Teaching full time at the University is demanding. But I like it.”
“It’s quite an accomplishment after what you’ve been through.”
She nodded as the shadows from the past began to creep in. “Well I’m trying hard to put all of that behind me.”
The older woman smiled at her and she wondered when she reached that age if she would carry as much dignity. “But you know Rachel, you do need to give things time.”
“But you see Dr. Cassidy I am impatient. I feel as though I’ve wasted so much of my life already.”
“I can understand why you would think that. But you must look on every event as a learning experience.”
“Look, I’ll be frank with you. All I want is to get rid of the dream.”
Her therapist paused for a moment and tilted her head ever so slightly at Rachel that oddly enough spoke volumes. “Is that really all that you want?” She hesitated, really considering things for a moment. Odd how her expectations of life had diminished so much over the years.  Perhaps it was years of disenchantment. But she did not desire self-reflection, only quiet and predictability. And then Dr. Cassidy added, “The dream itself, is it truly that disturbing to you?”
She frowned, again looking inward to places she had no desire to explore. “It’s,” and then she finished with frustration, “irritating.”
Dr. Cassidy looked down for a moment then returned her gaze on Rachel with an expression that was entirely unreadable. “Well, then we should get back to work. Let’s go over it again, detail by detail.”

“Why are you here?” she asked. The clouds overhead seemed to be swirling in the darkness. But he said nothing, just watched her with eyes pale, nearly silver in color, a cool unnatural shade. But familiar, so familiar as though it was something she’d forgotten. And then he held out his hand for her but she hesitated. For if she took it, everything would change.
Rachel sat up in the bed, her heart hammering fiercely. She felt her forehead, hot, burning up. She glanced at the clock on her night table. It was just after three, later tonight.
She dragged herself into the bathroom on shaky limbs. The face that greeted her in the mirror was drawn and pale, an older face than suited her thirty-five years.  A sadness flew up from the past and wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. So many years, all her young years in a bad marriage. She’d believed starting over would be so freeing, but somewhere along the way all the life had been sapped out of her. And now moving was like walking through a swampy bog.
She closed her eyes and the image of Mannette Bijou floated into her mind. She floated, like a magical thing, some beautiful angel from another sphere.  But the image of her only brought her pain, inexplicable deep pain.

She paced with near panic across the length of Dr. Cassidy’s office. “You have to calm down Rachel.”
“Look, Dr. Cassidy. I need you to give me something to sleep. With no sleep I can’t function and all my plans fly out the window.”
“I can write you a prescription but it will only address the symptoms. We need to get at the root of the problem.”
She spun around abruptly on her heel facing the grey-haired woman behind the desk. Her vision was slightly blurred from the night before and her head pounded from a headache she couldn’t seem to rid herself of. “I had to call in sick today to work. It’s a new job. I can’t go on like this.”
“I understand,” she said calmly. “That’s why I’m thinking of hypnosis.”
She felt a bit stunned at the words. “What?”
Dr. Cassidy stood up from behind the desk and moved around to her. “I can make arrangements to clear my calendar this afternoon, since clearly this is an emergency.”
Rachel felt a sort of dry panic creep into her throat at the prospect. But then again the thought of a continued excursion into these dreams night after night horrified her. “Why do you think hypnosis would help?”
“I feel that these dreams of yours Rachel are tied to some repressed memory that perhaps is too terrible for you to deal with.”
Fear swept in quickly as flashes from an abusive marriage rose to the surface. “We’ve talked about my past before.”
She nodded, “Yes I know. But perhaps there is something unresolved there.”
“I just don’t know if I want to dredge anything up. I don’t know if I can deal with it.”
“The question is do you really have a choice? Can you deal with the way things are now?”

Copyright © 2009 by Evelyn Klebert