Visiting Past Lives

Book summary

After an unusual accident, Duke becomes the caregiver for Duchess, a stranger with no one to help her recover. As their bond deepens, Duke introduces Duchess to the idea of reincarnation, leading her on a journey to explore her own past lives—an exploration that will transform them both.

Excerpt from Visiting Past Lives

Chapter 1: Duchess

I was in a hurry to get back to work after looking for some new, more comfortable shoes at a nearby store on my lunch break. I did not find anything I liked before running short of time. I pushed open the exit door with my right forearm and searched in my handbag for my sunglasses, then bang. Not looking, I stepped in front of a man striding along the sidewalk, who apparently had no opportunity to avoid our massive collision. He knocked me sideways, and my head slammed into the edge of the open door. I was massively dazed but did not topple over as the gentleman quickly grabbed me when he noticed my semi-conscious condition. Unfortunately, I dropped my handbag, causing its contents to splash all over the sidewalk at our feet.

My savior commandeered a couple of ladies passing by to collect the scattered contents of my purse as he valiantly managed to keep me upright even though I was thoroughly weak-kneed.

“Oh crap,” I heard him whisper, obviously attempting not to upset me even more, and then mysteriously whisking a handkerchief out of his pocket. “You are bleeding where you banged your head,” I heard him mumble. He applied pressure to the opened cut and pressed me against the still-open door, attempting to keep me standing with only one hand to achieve this miracle.

Another man stopped by and asked if he could help. My savior asked him if he had a handkerchief he could donate to the cause. Fortunately, he did. My savior asked him to keep me standing while he attempted to stop the blood flow before it dripped on my favorite summer dress.

“We need to whisk you off to an emergency room and get this cut attended to,” he said as calmly as possible so as not to panic me even more. “My car is parked just down the street. I can drive you to the closest hospital much faster and cheaper than waiting for an ambulance to arrive.” He asked the second man to pick up my purse and then hold the now two handkerchiefs to my head, then he scooped me up into his arms, and we paraded down the street, garnering widespread interest, I’m sure.

He set me down gently at the passenger door to a nifty white SUV. Knowing basically nothing about cars, I cannot tell you anything concerning the make or model of the vehicle. What I do know is that it was sharp-looking. He asked me to take over the dual handkerchiefs from the second guy, which I did, then asked the second guy to place my handbag on the floor of the passenger seat. He then thanked the second guy profusely for all his contributions to mitigating our difficult circumstances, and the second guy went on his way down the street.

My savior then assisted me to climb into the passenger seat, buckled my seatbelt for me, and closed my door. With me secured, he maneuvered his snazzy car into traffic, and within a few minutes, he pulled into the emergency entrance of a hospital I never knew existed. A doorman/security guard popped out the door, and my savior asked him in a loud voice to please fetch a wheelchair quickly, as his passenger needed emergency attention. Within a minute, the two of them had me settled into the wheelchair with my handbag on my lap and on the way to the entrance. “I’ll park my car and join you inside in a few minutes,” he hollered as I was wheeled away.

Chapter 2: Duke

I parked my car in the visitor parking lot, obtained my parking ticket, placed it on the dashboard on the driver’s side as instructed, and sprinted to the emergency room door. Inside, I looked for the young lady in the wheelchair, but she was nowhere in sight. Fast or what! I told the nurse/clerk at the admissions window I was the driver for the lady who just arrived minutes earlier in the wheelchair. She asked me if I was her husband or a relative, and I said no, I was just her driver, helping by driving her there for quick medical attention. She instructed me to have a seat, telling me that the patient was already being attended to and the doctor or a nurse would eventually come out here and give me an update on her condition.

I sat down as instructed and tried to read a magazine, but there was too much hectic activity going on around me, with new arrivals regularly and doctors and nurses coming and going. It was impossible to concentrate on reading, so I ditched the magazine and settled in, observing the activities unfolding around me. I suddenly remembered that I had two afternoon appointments at my office and went outside to call my personal assistant to bring her up to date on my lunch hour distractions and ask her to call my two clients and ask them to reschedule as I had a bit of a personal emergency and could not meet with them today. With that taken care of, I went back inside to wait. And wait. And wait.

I am sure it was at least an hour, but it felt like many hours to someone who was supposed to be elsewhere but had his day drastically altered in one second. I had oodles of opportunities to relive those few seconds that caused me to be seated here waiting for a young lady that unfortunately I caused to suffer unmercifully and whose name I did not even know. Holy crap, I thought suddenly, as I had an epiphany. Fortunately, I did not blurt the words out in front of a couple dozen neighbors. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, shut out all the noise around me, and allow myself to feel the answer to my mental question. “Yes!” I said out loud and immediately opened my eyes to see a boatload of eyes staring at me. “Sorry folks,” I said, “that slipped out on me.”

As I looked around at everyone, I noticed a doctor walking towards me. “Are you the gent who drove the lady with the head cut here to the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“Come with me, please.”

I followed him through a door to a hallway and shortly through another door into a room with several chairs circling the three walls. I assumed it was some kind of a meeting or teaching room. “Sit down, please.” I did, and he continued. “Your friend is going to be fine in a few days, a week at most. I put three stitches in the cut near her eye, and it will heal just fine with minimal scarring. In talking with her, I detected signs of a possible slight concussion. She needs to stay away from eye-straining activities like watching television or activities on her computer or phone. Even reading too much is not good for her now. Rest, yes, but not sleeping all the time. Eat and drink normally. Resist sudden movement in her neck, stay out of bright lights, and avoid doing any activity that seems to bother her. I told her all of this, by the way, but I suspect that you will remember much more of it than she will. She would really benefit from a resident sitter to make sure she avoids doing too many wrong activities. If that won’t be you, then please pass this information along to the individuals who will be staying with her. A nurse or orderly will bring her in here to you in a few minutes. She does not need a wheelchair at home, but we will give her a free ride out to your car.”

Chapter 3: Duchess

The orderly pushed me along in the wheelchair, then stopped in front of a closed door. He opened it and stuck his head inside, saying, “You can bring your car around to the admissions door, and we will meet you there.”

My savior popped out of the door. “Hi there. You are looking much better if I may say so?”

I grinned. “I do feel better, but my head still hurts. I guess that should be expected.”

“I’m not surprised,” he replied as he leaned down and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you outside.” He then took off down the hallway ahead of us, and the orderly leisurely pushed me along.

Outside, the orderly began pushing me towards his car after my savior stopped out front. I stood up on my own accord, and the orderly said, “Take care of yourself, now,” then headed back to the hospital.

The passenger door was already open, and my savior asked if I needed assistance to climb in. I thanked him and said no, I need to do as much as I can for myself. With us safely tucked inside, he moved the car away from the emergency room door but not out on the street, and then stopped.

“Where am I taking you? The doctor told me you need someone to assist you for a while. Do you have a significant other or relatives who can be with you?”

“No. No one. I moved here less than two weeks ago from Boston when my employer offered me a promotion if I would transfer down here to this office. I am happily divorced, so I figured why not? I could use a new start.”

“Could anyone in your office here act as your assistant for a few days?”

“Not really. We say hello and chat a bit, but we have not had a chance to become friends.”

“Okay, so you really do have no one who can help out, correct?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Okay. Am I taking you to your place or my place?”

“What! You do not have to look after me.”

“You just told me you have no one else who can look after you. I am the one who put you in this predicament because I banged into you and knocked you against that door.”

“That was not your fault. I was not watching where I was going.”

“Maybe so, but I was also not watching where I was going. If I had been more alert and watching in front of me, then I would have noticed you before I crashed into you. So, like it or not, I am going to be your assistant until you get better. Your place or mine?”

I sighed and pondered my situation. I did not agree that it was his fault, but he was not going to allow me to win this tug-of-war. I knew I would be more comfortable in my own apartment than in a strange place. “My place, please.”

I gave him my address, and he entered it into his GPS. On our way to the southern suburbs, we were quiet for a short while, but too long for me. “We are going to be housemates, and I do not even know your name.”

He giggled. “They named me Dwight, after my maternal grandfather, who unfortunately met an early death before I was born. I pretty much hated the name, and when I was around eight years old, I decided to rename myself Duke. So every time someone, except a teacher, called me Dwight, I politely asked them to call me Duke. Over time, more and more people started calling me Duke, and Dwight was relegated to legal situations. So, please call me Duke.”