The following day I took Nathaniel's sedan into Maryvale to register Cassandra and pickup her fourth-grade curriculum. After leaving the Elementary School, I noticed a library at the far end of the Main Street. After putting the books and supplies in the trunk, I strolled down to the library to check out something to read.
The November afternoon was bleak with oppressive gray clouds forecasting a storm on the horizon. The library was a small and quaint building on the thoroughfare. An elderly woman had me fill out the registration and handed me a card in exchange. I sat down with a sigh, attempting to collect my thoughts.
The events from the previous night came to mind: the candy-striped parasol and the mysterious man on the beach. It was apparent that Cassandra did not see him from her window. And I was not in the habit of imagining things, so what could this man be?
Being a logical-minded woman, I did not believe in the phenomena of ghosts. Once you are dead, I believed you were gone. Of course there was that ability I had for seeing the past belonging to people and objects. That was something most others couldn’t understand. And yet did it have a name?
I asked the librarian for the section on psychic phenomena. After almost an hour of pouring over reference books I discovered the name for my supernatural gift. It was psychometry.
"Psychometry is a form of extra-sensory perception characterized by the ability to make relevant associations from an object of unknown history by making physical contact with that object. Supporters assert that an object may have an energy field that transfers knowledge regarding the object's history. Psychometry and psychic detectives were used by law enforcement agencies on specific cases."
I remembered reading about Profilers who assisted the police in specialized cases. Perhaps I had missed my calling in life. I could have been a psychic Nancy Drew.
I returned the reference book to the shelf and began searching for an unfinished novel I had begun reading in Monterey. It was a historical work of fiction titled "Diamante's Castle".
They didn’t have the book in their catalog, so I searched for something else by the same author. They had a gothic romance she had written called The Lost Nightingale on the shelf. What drew me to this particular book was the picture on the cover. It featured two lovers standing on a windswept cliff overlooking a stormy sea. It reminded me of my vision with Jordan holding me on the cliffs of Eternity Bay.
I glanced at my watch and noticed it was almost two. I was famished and needed to get back to Cassandra. I quickly checked out the novel and hastily made my way back to the car. It had already begun to sprinkle as I shut the door. There was a flash of lightning on the horizon followed by the rumble of distant thunder. It didn’t look like I would be meeting with Jordan this evening. I hope he would understand.