Promised Soul

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Book excerpt

Prologue

Krista ran from her bedroom at the sound of her father’s voice, leaving the picture she had been colouring on the floor, and jumped into his outstretched arms. She missed him terribly whenever he went away on one of his diving exhibitions. From her point of view, he was always gone far too long, though this last time it had only been three sleeps.

“Daddy!”

“Hello, my sunshine girl.” Sid caught her up in his arms and swung her around as she squealed with delight before he carefully put her down again.

“Did you bring me anything?” Krista beamed. She reached up and tugged the back of her sundress down, smoothing it back into place. How her dresses always managed getting tucked into the back of her underwear, she wasn’t quite sure, though that time she suspected jumping into her father’s arms had something to do with it.

“You bet I did.” Sid took off the backpack he had swung over his shoulder.

The two of them sat on the plush, grey-carpeted floor of the living room. Krista sat cross-legged and waited somewhat impatiently while Sid looked through the bag’s contents. He found the box he was searching for, but before pulling it from the bag he carefully removed the cover and hid the object in his hand.

“Hurry up, daddy!”

“Patience is a virtue, Krista.”

Krista rolled her eyes and thought to herself, what does that mean anyway? As Krista looked up, she saw her mother walking into the living room, a dishtowel in her hand. She sat, joining Sid and Krista on the floor.

“What’s all the fuss?” Sheila asked.

Sid looked at Sheila, leaned in and brushed his lips gently across hers. “Hello, sweetheart!”

“Good to have you back home, safe and sound.” Sheila leaned forward and returned his kiss.

“Eww! Mommy and daddy are kissing!” Krista giggled.

“You just wait fifteen years; it won’t be so eww then.” Sheila reached over and tickled Krista under her arm sending her over backwards in a fit of giggles. When Krista had contained herself, she sat up again, pulling her sundress over her knees.

“Are you ready?” Sid saw excitement as well as apprehension in Krista’s eyes.

“Sid!” Sheila warned, “I don’t think now –”

Sid interrupted with a smile. “It’s okay.” He reached over and patted Sheila’s hand. After six years of marriage, his smile still managed to melt her heart.

“Now this...”Sid turned his attention back to his daughter, his hand still hidden in the backpack, “is something I found especially for you.”

Krista felt that funny feeling in her tummy, Mommy called them butterflies, but Krista wasn’t so sure.

“What is it?” Krista scooted a little closer, driving the back of her dress where it didn’t belong. She squirmed a little, then finally reached under herself to flatten it out. All at once, she realized she had gotten too close for her liking. She stretched her legs out in front and inched back; her bare feet barely touched her father’s crossed legs. Krista felt she was at a safe distance. She was still able to see what her father had when he opened his hand, and at the same time, her outstretched legs would prevent him from moving too close, just in case he had something she didn’t like. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d brought something home that frightened her. She wiggled her toes and watched as the pink sparkly nail polish her mother had applied caught the light from a lone sunbeam shining in through the living room window.

Sid waited for his daughter to settle down. “Are you ready now?” He looked at Sheila; she wore a slight look of concern on her face. If there was one thing the two of them had in common, it was how easily their faces could be read.

“Yup, but open slowly,” Krista said.

Sid did as his daughter asked and slowly opened his curled fingers to reveal a small starfish. Krista craned her neck to get a better look as Sid moved his hand toward his daughter.

“What is it?” she asked, pulling her legs under her so that she now rested on her knees. She inched forward. In this position, she could get up in a hurry and run to the safety of her bedroom if she had to.

“It’s a starfish,” Sid said, happy for once his daughter hadn’t immediately sprung to her feet running and screaming to her room.

“Did it come from the ocean?” Krista folded her arms protectively against her body and scrutinized the small object her father held in his hand. She wasn’t ever going to let anything from the ocean touch her.

Sid hesitated for a moment, knowing his answer would more than likely cause Krista to make a hasty get away. “Yes.”

“I don’t like it!” Krista whined and jumped to her feet, her arms still crossed and pressed tightly against her.

“But, honey, it can’t hurt you.” Sheila stood up and placed a protective arm around Krista’s shoulders.

“I don’t like it!” Krista yelled, stomping her foot for effect.

“But, Sunshine –” Sid moved to his knees, holding out the starfish.

“Mary says everything in the ocean is bad and to stay away.” Krista pulled away from her mother’s grasp and stomped back to her room closing the door behind her. As soon as she closed the door, she remembered that she wasn’t allowed to have it closed. She quickly opened it again before plunking herself on the floor and resuming her colouring.

Sid looked at Sheila who reached out a helping hand. He took it and as he stood up, pulled her close to him while his other hand closed protectively over the starfish. “Who is Mary?” he said, brushing his lips over the top of Sheila’s head.

Sheila pushed herself away in a playful manner and rested her hands on Sid’s chest at arm’s length. “Oh that! Well that would be, I guess, what you’d call an imaginary friend.”

Sid’s eyes widened, and he shook his head laughing, “Imaginary friend huh, since when?”

“Oh! About three days now, and you should know – she’s having those dreams again.”

One

The air was cold; she shivered and gathered her wool cloak pulling it tightly around her. Small daggers of ice formed inside her nostrils, stinging her with every breath she took. She brought a gloved hand to her face and cupped her mouth and nose trying to ease the sting, it helped – but not much.

“Pardon me.” She pushed past the other passengers; ignoring the calls from her family to come back. With slow but determined steps she made her way to the front.

“Get back, girl,” an annoyed man cried as she tried to push past him. The large and foreboding man glared down at her as she stood no taller than his armpits.

“P-please sir, let me p-pass,” she stuttered as much from fear as from the cold.

The man looked at her and scowled.

Despite her fear, she stood her ground, determined to move to the front.

“John, let her pass, she’s nay but a young girl,” a frail woman said laying a gentle hand on his arm.

The girl looked at the woman whose kind voice and gentle touch seemed to soften the glare of the man she’d called John.

John looked at his wife and back to the girl; whose gaze clearly indicated the urgency she felt. “Fine, go ahead then, but mind who you’re pushing against, they might not take too kindly to it.”

The girl sighed with relief. “Thank you, sir; ma’am.” The couple moved aside and let her pass.

At last, after what seemed like several minutes, the girl had made her way to the railing of the ship. She looked down at the people on the docks and strained her eyes for a familiar face in the crowd. The other passengers around her were shouting and crying as they waved goodbye to their families and friends. The girl looked to the sky as seagulls screeched under cover of the fog high above like invisible sirens warning of danger. Below, the waves lapped against the hull; icy fingers grabbing and clawing, like the hands of the starving.

The wind whipped the girl’s long, dark hair into her face. Sweeping it away with her cold, aching fingers, she searched the dock one last time, hoping to find him amongst the crowd of well-wishers. Without warning, they slowly pulled away, the distance between the ship and the docks grew. For a brief moment she panicked, she was not going to see him; he did not come to say goodbye. She stared down at the icy cold water and shivered as a tear rolled down her cheek. The churning pattern of water and ice, held her gaze.

“Mary!”

Suddenly a voice freed her from her trance. “Thomas, Thomas, I’m here!” Mary called out towards the throng of well-wishers who stood waving on the docks. She leaned out over the railing, trying to find him. At last, she saw his arm waving above the crowd as he pushed himself to the front. “Thomas!” Mary waved her arms franticly, the people around her stared as though she’d gone mad, but she paid no heed.

The distance between them grew as the steam tugboat gathered speed, pulling the ship away from the docks and eventually out from London Harbour.

Thomas cupped his hands to his mouth. “Mary, I love you!”

The fog settled upon them, so that Mary could no longer make out the figures standing on the docks as the ship pulled further away.

“I love you, Thomas!” she cried out from the whiteness that swallowed her; the fog had taken over.

“I’ll find you, Mary; I promise I will find you!”

As the fog lifted, sounds of waves and seagulls evolved into the sounds of rustling leaves, chirping birds, and squeals of delight from the neighbourhood children enjoying their first days of summer. Sleep and my dreams faded as consciousness began to take its hold. A breeze swept in through the open window, and my ears pricked to the sound of my lacy, white curtains fluttering in its path. I reached down and drew the sheet up under my chin; my eyes still closed. Rising from bed was not my preference, and it took great effort to fight the urge to open them. After all, it was my summer vacation, too.

“Just fifteen more minutes,” I whispered, half smiling. My mother always said, 'Talking to oneself was just thinking out loud.' It seemed her habits were just as hereditary as her traits and that annoyed me.

Remnants from my dream lingered in my mind, tempting me to return to sleep; a state that was more than welcome to invade my body. Unfortunately, the noises from outside kept interfering with any attempt I made to remain asleep, so with much regret, I gave in and opened my eyes. Staring up at the ceiling, my mind continued pushing the smallest fragments of my dream to the forefront. Yet, there was nothing tangible to cling to. Eventually, I rolled over and checked the time.

“Seven thirty!” I groaned – not exactly my idea of sleeping in.

The sudden ringing of the phone created yet another interruption to my intended relaxing Saturday after the long week I had suffered. I reached over to answer it and inadvertently knocked a book off the nightstand. It landed on the hardwood floor with a thunk.

“Hello!” I said; my voice still groggy with sleep. I hoped the caller would get the idea and perhaps call back later.

“Did I wake you up?” The all too familiar voice on the other end admonished.

“Hi, mom!” Sounding more alert, I sat up in bed and placed a pillow behind me, confident that a quick conversation was not in my near future.

“I hope you’re not planning to waste the day in bed.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

My mother continued in a much softer tone. “Would you like to join me for brunch this morning?”

If at that very moment my phone would have stopped working for some inexplicable reason, I would not have been happier. My plans for the day, already decided upon the night before, did not include spending the day with my mother. I tried to think of an excuse, but sadly, that was not one of my talents. I resigned to tell her the truth.

“Sorry mom, but I was planning on a quiet day, so I –”

“Honey, I hardly saw you at all last summer, and I’d really like for it to be different this time. Please join me for brunch, I’m not asking you to spend the entire day with me.”

It was going to be a different summer; she wasn’t going to be seeing me at all, and the guilt she unwittingly made me feel, changed my mind.

“Fine, when and where?” I closed my eyes and gently struck my forehead with the heel of my left hand. Relaxing would have to wait until after brunch.

“How about Jane’s?”

“Sure! What time?” I asked with fake enthusiasm.

We discussed meeting times, and though I preferred later, my mother’s preference prevailed; we would meet just before the restaurant opened. By the time our conversation ended, there wasn’t much time to get ready.

“Yeah – brunch!” I said sarcastically, putting the phone back in its cradle. My stomach growled in reply, and I laughed. “Well at least part of me wants to go.”

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, stood up, and accidentally stepped on the book I’d knocked down earlier. I bent forward and picked it up. The image of an old sailing ship on the cover held my gaze as I turned it over. My finger traced over the ship’s billowing sails. After a moment, I returned the book to the nightstand and began the process of preparing for my brunch date with my mother, the picture of the ship already out of my mind.

Stepping into the shower, I closed my eyes, welcoming the feel of warm water as it washed over me. My anxiety slowly ebbed with each breath that passed through my lips. I had not envisioned having brunch with my mother at the beginning of my summer vacation.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” I snickered, realizing as the words left my lips that brunch with Sheila Adams was never just brunch; there was always an ulterior motive.

Within half an hour, and still somewhat reluctant, I took a final look in the mirror and applied a small amount of make-up, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and smoothed down my floral print sundress. My shoulder-length, blond hair caught a sunbeam shining in through the window, and it glistened; reminding me of the pet name my father had given me. Examining myself closer, there was without question, a definite inheritance of my mother’s height and slim build. However, it was always my father‘s bright-green eyes and pouty lips that reflected back from the mirror.

Satisfied with my appearance, I looked at the time. There was a call that needed placing but little time to spare. However, if it wasn’t made, it most certainly would be forgotten.

“Where did I put that phone number?”

I searched my nightstand and the floor around it, before crouching down and looking under my bed. Nothing but a few dust bunnies greeted me. ‘Housework’ had now become next on my list, while pushing ‘relaxing’ to the bottom. Somehow a day planned for doing absolutely nothing was suddenly becoming a day full of everything.

Frustrated, I stood up and looked around my room once more. All of a sudden, I remembered the whereabouts of the missing notepaper. Picking up my book from the nightstand, I allowed it to fall open, and there between the pages lay the supposed missing piece of paper. With the page number committed to memory, I removed the notepaper and unfolded it.

It had always been a dream of mine to travel to England and that summer it was finally becoming a reality, but unfortunately, the trip would be alone. Originally, the plans had included my boyfriend, Brad, for the August trip. However, by the end of June, there was no denying that something was missing from our relationship. Thus, it was my decision to end it. More than ever, the inexplicable need to escape had grown stronger, and August had seemed too far away. My plans had to change.

After I had researched for some time, I found a tour guide agency that suited my needs and contacted them by e-mail. They had responded quickly, and fortunately, there was a guide available despite the short notice. His name was Aaron, and he had promptly let me know that under the circumstances he would only be able to fit me in between his other bookings. That idea had suited me fine, for I felt a great need, which couldn’t be explained, for exploring on my own. All that week, we had exchanged e-mails, planning my itinerary for the dates he was available.

With my vacation quickly coming into shape, there remained only one other issue to take care of and that was finding accommodations. Not wanting to stay in a hotel for the next couple of months, I had intended on finding a place to rent. The task, after a few days of searching, proved to be difficult. Feeling discouraged, I finally e-mailed Aaron and asked for his help. His reluctance was evident in his reply, but in the end, he had agreed. After several days of exchanging e-mails, Aaron had called to finalize my holiday plans, but sadly, that had not included accommodations. It was agreed that if he hadn’t found anything before my arrival, I would stay at a bed and breakfast or hotel. Our conversation had been short, and I realized afterwards I hadn’t told him my arrival time at Heathrow.

My call to Aaron would have to be quick. My eyes glanced at the clock again as my hand stretched for the phone. Just as I was about to pick up the receiver, it rang.

“Hello?” I half expected to hear my mother’s voice again on the other end but prayed that it wasn’t.

“Good morning, Krista, I hope I’m not troubling you.”

As soon as the caller spoke, relief washed over me – my prayer answered. The tension released from my shoulders as I sat on the bed. Words, coated with enthusiasm, spilled from my lips. There was a moment of silence, and then I realized my exuberance had caught him off guard.

“Sorry, I thought you might be someone else… and quite happy you aren’t.”

“Oh, I see! Well I won’t keep you; I just need to know your arrival into Heathrow and to let you know–”

“Just why I was about to call you,” I interrupted. “I should be there by nine-thirty A.M. Should I just take a cab to my accommodations – assuming I have a place to stay by then?” I rambled as I opened the nightstand drawer and began rifling through its contents, searching for a pen.

“I can pick you up if you’d like and take you to your accommodations, save you the extra cost.”

My muscles tensed a little and several thoughts bounced around my head. Should I take him up on his offer? The savings would be great, but is this really part of the deal? What do I do?

As though reading my thoughts, Aaron continued, “I have on occasion picked up clients and taken them to their lodgings, but if you prefer…”

“No, that’s okay; I’ll meet you at the airport. I just hope you’ll have a place to take me to by then.” I half joked, still counting on him to find me an apartment to rent.

“Well, I have good news on that matter. As of last night, I managed to find…”

Aaron’s voice began to fade. My mind filled with swirling thoughts. Visions of England flashed in my mind as though I was leafing through a travel magazine. My dream trip was becoming a reality. My heart pounded and a wide grin spread across my face. It took all my energy not to start bouncing up and down. Another thought flitted through my head and suddenly my smile disappeared and was replaced by a stomach filled with butterflies. I ran my hand through my hair and bit my lip.

“…It’s a bit of a drive…” Aaron’s voice broke through my jumbled thoughts only to fade away again.

Would it go as planned? Would it be everything that I imagined?

Apprehension was building in the pit of my stomach; it was as if a spark had suddenly burst into flame. I closed my eyes tightly and snuffed it out, staunching any negative thoughts. I forced myself back to reality, fully aware that everything Aaron had said was lost.

“Is that alright with you?” he asked.

I scrunched my forehead, searching my memory for even a trace of what he had said. My preoccupation with my own thoughts and feelings had blocked out just about everything. Closing my eyes, I attempted to make sense of the bits and pieces that floated around in my mind, while the silence between us grew.

“Hello? Are you still there?” he asked.

“I’m so sorry Aaron I was looking for a pen to write down the information and… I’m sorry, what did you say about where I would be staying?” The heat rose in my ears from embarrassment as I abandoned my feeble excuse. I covered the mouthpiece with my hand and exhaled, happy he couldn’t see me.

“Bourton-on-the-Water in Gloucestershire. It’s a small village about an hour and half drive from the airport.” There was no hint of irritation in his voice

“So I guess that means you found a place for me to rent?” A wide grin crept across my face. The prospect of having my own place was exciting and it was all I could do to keep from sounding like a child on Christmas morning.

“Er… yes, as I said, it’s a flat; I just hope it’s what you are searching for.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. My hands stopped their hunt for the elusive pen, the drawer was so full of junk it was a wonder I could find anything at all.

“The thing is… you’ll be staying at my aunt’s,” he blurted, just as my eyes spotted a pen.

I was silent for a moment. “Your aunt’s?”

“Let me explain.”

“Please do.”

Aaron began to clarify that his aunt’s home had a vacant apartment on the second floor, and she was quite willing to rent it to me for the summer at a discount. He explained that she was a kind and loving woman and assured me she didn’t gossip or meddle, her only fault being that she could be a bit chatty. It sounded perfect.

“So you have no objection?” Aaron asked when he finished his account.

“No, not at all, it sounds absolutely perfect!”

“Right then, well I guess that’s it. If you have any questions just send an e-mail or ring, you have my number?"

I looked at his number on the piece of paper still clutched in my hand and circled it with the pen I’d retrieved from the drawer. “Yeah, I’ve got it right here.”

“Good, well I guess I will see you soon.”

“Yeah, I guess so… thank you so much and I’m sorry for being distracted, my mind wanders sometimes,” I confessed.

He laughed. “No worries, I too have that same affliction.”

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I put my notepaper and pen down on the nightstand and flopped back on my unmade bed. I groaned, embarrassed for admitting to him about my wandering mind. The whole trip still seemed surreal to me. It wasn’t often that dreams came true, most especially mine. I laid there for a few minutes listening to the birds chirping outside, closing my eyes, and allowing myself to drift in and out of consciousness.

“Oh crap!” I sat up on my bed and looked at the clock; it was ten after nine. I was undeniably late, and my mother was not going to be impressed. If there was one thing she didn’t like, it was tardiness, and short of death, there was no excuse.

I made my bed, quickly throwing the pale yellow and blue comforter on top of the crumpled sheets.

“That’ll have to do.”

I picked up my book, returned the notepaper between the appropriate pages, and was suddenly preoccupied with the image of the ship on the front cover once again. As I stood there, I found myself immersed in memories from my dream.

Mary stood on the deck of a ship looking out at the people as they slowly pulled away from the docks. She searched the docks with her eyes, looking for someone. At long last, she saw him standing there; it was Thomas. Her heart sank when he waved and called to her. The ache in her chest grew stronger the further they drifted until eventually he disappeared under a thick blanket of fog. She felt sick to her stomach as tears slid down her cheeks. At that moment, Mary felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw her father standing next to her. Without a word, he put his arm around her and gently guided her away, leading her to shelter.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, dislodging the image unfolding in front of me. When my eyes opened again, a single tear rolled down my cheek. I tasted its saltiness as it touched my lips, and I shivered. The tear dripped onto the notepaper, blurring Aaron’s name.