I let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank God!” Then I turned to Jamie. “How’d you do?”
“Good,” he said.
I eyed him curiously. Jamie was the kind of guy that had everything handed to him in life. He was good-looking enough to be a model, his parents spoiled him rotten, giving him a new car for his birthday, and he mostly floated smugly through school, charming his teachers into granting him better grades than he deserved.
Maybe it was because I was so in love with Spence, but I found Jamie to be lazy, callous, and often arrogant. The only reason he wasn’t an A student was because he didn’t apply himself. Ever. But I also knew that his parents put tremendous pressure on him to excel, which was why I had a small measure of sympathy for him.
As we walked down the hallway, however, I noticed the wicked smile he wore, and a look passed between him and Spence that sent a warning bell through my mind.
“What?” I asked Jamie.
“Nothing,” he replied a little too quickly. “I did good. Spence did good. Everything’s good.”
I looked from Spence to Jamie, but their expressions had become very neutral all of a sudden. “Something’s going on,” I said.
Spence wrapped his arm across my shoulders and pulled me close to offer me another kiss. “Nothing’s going on, babe,” he said. “You guys hungry?”
I stopped in my tracks, pulling away from him. “Tell me,” I demanded.
Spence sighed and Jamie rolled his eyes. That irritated me more than I could say.
“Ambi,” Spence said, his tone soft and soothing. “There’s nothing going on. But my brain is fried and I’m starving, so can we please go for some food before I have to beat up Jamie for that Snickers I know he has in his backpack?”
Jamie laughed and adopted a defensive pose. “Get your own damn bar, Hoss.”
Spence made a darting move toward Jamie, who then took off down the hall with Spence giving chase. I scowled after them.
“Juveniles,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help smiling. And yet, it worried me that Spence had been so dodgy. What was that subtle exchange between him and Jamie? My mind flashed back a few weeks to that scene on the porch when Jamie had handed something to Spence and told him not to tell anyone, even me.
When I’d asked Spence about it, he’d said it was nothing, but then, after I’d pressed him about it, he’d finally admitted that Jamie had taken money out of his savings account to give Spence a small loan to help make ends meet. And I knew that things were very tight at the Spencer household of late. I’d felt so guilty about the fact that he’d spent money he didn’t have buying Bailey that I hadn’t asked him anything else about it.
But now I was wondering if what Spence had told me was the truth. Something was up between him and Jamie, something secretive and perhaps bad. I wondered if whatever it was that they were hiding was legal. Small tendrils of doubt were starting to fray the fabric of trust that our relationship was built on, and it was keeping me up at night. To my knowledge, Spence had never lied to me. In fact, I’d thought of him as the most honest person I knew. Lately, though, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.
But if Spence wouldn’t talk to me, then what were my options? I watched him and Jamie wrestle with each other down the hall. It was all good-natured fun, but it bothered me to see them pretending everything was all right when I knew that it wasn’t.
I felt myself getting angry over it, and I made up my mind then and there to get to the bottom of it. Somehow, some way, I’d figure out what was really going on. If only for the sake of my own sanity.
“YOU MUST BE FEELING LIKE you’re going a bit insane,” Dr. Van Dean said to me.
He was a short, nearly bald man with a perpetual smile. His squinty eyes observed me over the rim of his reading glasses.
“A little,” I admitted.
“And I’m sure this feels a bit far-fetched to you as well,” he added.
“It’s just…” I said, lost for the best way to describe it.
I looked to Mom and Cole for help, but it was Dr. Van Dean who said, “Weird?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry,” I added, with an apologetic smile.
“Don’t be,” Van Dean told me. “I spent much of my twenties and thirties living in India where the concept of reincarnation is taken for granted. A majority of the society believes in it, so I know what it’s like to live in a culture that is both accepting of it, and one that is not. Ours is not. At least not yet.”
“So you really believe in this?” Mom asked him.
Van Dean pointed to the rows of filing cabinets that lined nearly his entire office, which was large, but cluttered.
“In every single drawer are cases and cases and cases of reincarnation that we’ve actually been able to verify, Dr. Bennett. So, you might say that after twenty-five years of extensive investigation, I’m convinced by the overwhelming evidence that suggests it’s very real.”
“What kind of evidence?” Cole asked. I was a bit surprised he’d spoken. He’d been fairly quiet on the ride over, but maybe that was because my quick explanation to Mom about why Cole was coming along had made the drive a little awkward.
The doctor steepled his fingers. “What kind of evidence? Well, all sorts of things,” he said. “We’ve been able to verify names, dates, manner of death, relationships, family histories, and even a few family secrets that were known only to elder family members.
“Basically, what my colleagues and I do in these cases of suspected reincarnation is conduct extensive interviews with the subject, who’s almost never older than ten, and based on those interviews we begin to research through census data, interviews with extended family, court records, obituaries, newspaper clippings, and other resources whether or not the memories the child has of his or her former life match the life of someone who’s deceased. The accuracy and detail some of those children convey would make your hair curl.”
I turned my head to gaze at all the filing cabinets. There were dozens of them. I began to understand the scope of what Dr. Van Dean was researching.
“How many cases do you think you’ve got in those cabinets?” Cole asked.
“Close to twenty thousand,” he said. “We ran out of room two years ago, and all subsequent cases are being digitally compiled. The files in this room are also being scanned and saved, and in the next year or so I might even be able to clear out some of the cabinets. But the cases never stop coming, and each one is fascinating.”
The room fell silent, and Dr. Van Dean seemed to study me for a moment before he said, “Your case is most unusual, Lily.”
I stiffened. “It is?”
“Yes,” he said. “I don’t typically entertain cases where there’s been any hypnotherapy. It’s too easy for the therapist to plant a suggestion in the mind of the patient and for the patient to then adopt that suggestion as truth. What’s exceptional about your case is that, after watching your session with Dr. White several times, I’m convinced that he did not plant anything of Amber Greeley’s life into your subconscious. The details you offer up are also quite extraordinary. You named dates, places, people, and events that were all relevant to Amber, but there was no easy way, and in one or two instances, no discernable way, for you to have discovered them.
“I believe, as Dr. White does, that you may, in fact, actually be the reincarnated soul of Amber Greeley, but why you’ve come back through the bloodline of a total stranger is the question that is quite puzzling to me.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, in about ninety-five percent of the cases I’ve studied, the reincarnated soul comes back as a family member. Sometimes, there isn’t a direct line. One soul might come back as his great-grandson’s cousin, but there almost always seems to be a consistent link to the family tree. To my understanding, you are not in any way related to Amber Greeley, correct?”
I looked at Mom. She shook her head. “No,” she said. “There’s no familial connection that I
know of.”
“But your grandmother lives in Fredericksburg,” Dr. Van Dean pressed. “And was there at the time of Amber Greeley’s passing?”
“Yes,” I said. “And she did know Amber’s mom. Mrs. Greeley owns a hair salon and does my grandmother’s hair. From what Mrs. Greeley told me, Grandmother was kind to her after Amber died, but I don’t know if Amber ever actually met my grandmother.”
“Interesting,” Dr. Van Dean said, tapping his finger to his lips.
Then he pointed to Cole, whom he’d also interviewed at the start of our session, after I’d told him all the coincidences Cole and I had uncovered.
“You see, your story is consistent with a reincarnated soul coming back as the first available relative. The naming of your pets is a big clue. We often find children will name dolls or pets after people who were important to them in a previous life. Of course, I’d need to do a more thorough interview with you and your relatives to verify that you are the reincarnated soul of Ben Spencer, but it wouldn’t surprise me at all. Your story contains all the markers: your uncle died tragically, and young; you named your pets after your uncle’s best friend and his ex-girlfriend’s dog; you have similar interests—he worked in landscaping; you work in landscaping—you both drove Mustangs and you bought yours without knowledge that it was the same make and model as the one your uncle drove; and perhaps even most telling was that you were drawn to that amber bead, which was the name of your uncle’s girlfriend. Odd coincidences to be sure, but maybe not so odd after all.
“Cole, let me ask you,” he added, leaning forward. “Do you have a birthmark?”
Next to me, Cole looked taken aback. “Yeah,” he said. Tugging on the neck of his T-shirt, he exposed two red dots on his chest.
I gripped the arm of the chair in shock. The texture and color of Cole’s birthmark was very similar to my own.
Dr. Van Dean nodded and pointed at Cole. “Your uncle died of two gunshot wounds to the chest, correct?”
“Yeah,” Cole said, dumbstruck. He tucked his chin to eye the marks. “I never made that connection before.”
“It’s a consistent trait with reincarnated souls,” he said. “When the death was sudden, about twenty-five percent of the subjects come back with a mark that bears a striking resemblance to a wound they received at the time of their death. One child I interviewed talked openly about his hanging, and at the back of his neck was a large birthmark that looked very much like the coils from a rope. It was extraordinary.”
I rubbed at my own birthmark. This was a lot to take in. “And what about my dreams?” I asked him.
“Ah, yes,” he said. “It’s quite common, Lily, for reincarnated souls to be plagued with nightmares, especially about the moment of their passing. From what you described to me, the dreams are not part of your subconscious creation, but an actual memory from your previous life as Amber, with perhaps a few dreamlike qualities.”
I looked over at Mom. Her eyes were wide and she was shaking her head, as though she really couldn’t believe this was real.
“They’re causing her insomnia, Dr. Van Dean,” she said. “And I’m worried about her.”
He nodded as if he totally understood. “My guess, Dr. Bennett, is that moving from Richmond to Fredericksburg was a trigger for the part of Lily that still retains some of Amber’s memories. I know you’re concerned, but we’ve found that in those cases where the memories of the reincarnated soul are causing disruption in the current life of the soul, that there’s a reason for it. A message, shall we say, for the new soul that the old soul wishes to impart.”
“Message?” I said. “What kind of message?”
Dr. Van Dean shrugged. “It could be anything, really. Perhaps Amber simply wants you to know that she didn’t murder her boyfriend. That seemed to be what she was focused on when she spoke to Dr. White yesterday. And maybe now that she’s made that clear to you, your nightmares will subside.”
“But they haven’t,” I said earnestly. “I had one last night, only it was even more intense than the others.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mom lean forward and look at me.
Dr. Van Dean sighed and shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Lily. I know it must be quite troubling. In a few of the cases similar to yours—where the previous spirit is still actively involved in the life of the current spirit—what I’ve found helps is some type of ritual that honors the life of the previous soul. I know that sounds strange, but what might help Amber to let go of you is to perhaps visit her gravesite. Pay her homage. Thank her for her presence, but let her know that you’re moving on in this life solely as Lily Bennett.”
“That’s it?” Mom said. “She visits Amber’s grave and that’ll be the end of the nightmares?”
“Sound too simplistic?” the doctor asked her.
“A little,” Mom said.
Van Dean laughed softly. “Never underestimate the power of ritual, Dr. Bennett. Paying homage to a spirit is a very powerful thing, and it could be the key to freeing Lily of these nightmares.”
“But what if that doesn’t work?” I said. “What if I go visit Amber’s grave, and the nightmares keep happening?”
Dr. Van Dean became serious. “Then I believe that Amber wants more than to simply be acknowledged. If that becomes the case, then it’s quite likely she has a stronger message for you, and we’ll have to figure out what it is she’s trying to say.”
“It almost sounds like you’re talking about a ghost,” Cole said. “I mean, it’s like those movies where some evil spirit starts haunting some poor kid and then the body counts rise.”
Dr. Van Dean chuckled again. “It’s nothing quite so dramatic or violent, Cole, but I see your point. So let me be clear: Amber isn’t a ghost. No more than Ben Spencer is a ghost. At best, they’re simply vestiges of a previous personality.”
Pointing to Cole’s chest he said, “Within you, you could be harboring the memories, hopes, dreams, and desires of Ben Spencer, but something about the process of rebirth has stripped away access to almost all of it—save for a few remnants of seemingly small and trivial things that don’t affect you or your life very much. In Lily’s case, the vestige of Amber’s personality is more committed, more present, and, given the intensity of her nightmares, more urgent. There may be a message there, Lily, which you’ll need to unlock from Amber. Treating her as a separate individual, rather than as a part of yourself, might help. Try the ritual first, and see if it brings you some relief. If it doesn’t, then we can set up some sessions together and attempt to tease out the message.”
“When?” I asked. I had a feeling that the gravesite ritual wasn’t going to be enough, and I desperately wanted an end to the nightmares. A few sessions with Dr. Van Dean seemed reasonable, and I welcomed any help I could get.
The doctor, however, grimaced before answering. “Unfortunately, I’m leaving for Nepal tomorrow morning, and I’ll be gone for the next two weeks. I’ll be back at the end of the month and we can schedule something then.”
“Two weeks?” I repeated. How the hell was I going to make it two more weeks if Amber kept giving me nightmares?
“Should we go back to Dr. White and have him try to hypnotize Lily again?” Mom asked.
“Of course you could,” Van Dean said. “But I don’t recommend it. You see, now that Lily knows and is expecting Amber to show up in a hypnotic state, whatever happens is likely to be tainted by her subconscious.”
My brow furrowed. What did that mean?
Van Dean must’ve read my confusion, because he explained.
“The subconscious is an extremely complex environment, Lily. It’s the well of our creativity as humans, and the source of our imagination, but it also provides the highway for our connection to the divine. What we’ve discovered in researching past lives is that the former souls come in through the subconscious, but sometimes they can pick up a little litter along the way. At times, there’s a mix of both the creative and inventive parts of our subconsc
ious, and the more pure communications from previous souls. The more you tap into that highway, the more likely you are to pollute the information coming from the source—in this case, whatever Amber might have to say. And while I believe that your first hypnotic session was relatively litter-free, if you will, any subsequent session would likely be a blend of both your imagination and any attempt that Amber may have to communicate with you.”
“This is all so cool,” I heard Cole whisper. And while I appreciated that he thought the situation was fascinating, I was the one struggling with nightmares every single night.
I sighed tiredly and glanced at Mom. She looked concerned. “Do you have any other suggestions for my daughter?”
“Yes,” he said, leaning forward to rest his hands on the desk. “First, Lily, I want you to know that much of what’s happening to you right now with the appearance of Amber may be caused by the stresses you’ve been facing in your own life. Your parents’ divorce, the uncertainty of a new school environment and trying to make friends there, living with your grandmother and all the pressures that come with the Bennett name in a town like Fredericksburg. So, I would advise you to seek counseling solely based on the changes you’ve been facing of late. I’d like you to go back to see Dr. White, or whomever you’re comfortable with, to talk only about the challenges in your life right now. I don’t know that you’ll want to bring up Amber Greeley to anyone but me or Dr. White, however, because I’m not sure that another therapist would have the pragmatic understanding of how that is affecting you without jumping to other conclusions.”
In other words, he didn’t want me to mention that I might be the reincarnated soul of Amber Greeley to anyone else who might think I was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.
“That also goes for extended family and friends,” he added gently.
I nodded. I could just imagine my grandmother’s reaction to this, not to mention the freak-out my dad would have if he knew.
“Weekly counseling might ease your anxiety, Lily,” Dr. Van Dean said. “And in turn, that might cause Amber to relax as well. As I said, she seems to be most insistent in making herself known right now. True, your move to Fredericksburg could have been the trigger, but I suspect it’s also because, at the end of her life, there was a great deal of anxiety and upheaval. She may be reaching out to you because she feels that anxiety mirrored in you.”