Page 15 of Alive (Shadows of a Forgotten Past #2)

CHAPTER 15

~ SHADOWS OF A LIVING PAST ~

The absence of physical sensation unsettled me. How could I suddenly feel nothing when, moments ago, I’d been consumed by pain? My body felt weightless, unconfined. I surveyed the destruction around me with an almost unnatural clarity—colors sharper, shapes more distinct, distances precise—as if the world had snapped into focus like never before. I had felt this way when Lucca took me back in time, when my spirit left my body in the monastery. I raised my hands. They were translucent, confirming my fear. I was in my spirit body, but this time, my brother hadn’t caused the phenomenon.

Was I dead?

A torrent of thoughts surged through me, more terrifying than the air raid itself: What would happen to Eldad if I were gone? If Alex was still alive, how would he manage without me? And if he wasn’t, would I find him in this other plane? Was Mr. Brown safe? What was I supposed to do now?

Find my body . That was the only way to be sure. I raced, my heart heavy with sorrow as I passed the injured, writhing in agony amid the ruins. I could do nothing for them. I had no physical form, no way to intervene.

I came to a pile of bricks and twisted metal. There—fingers protruded from the debris. I looked closer. A man’s hand. The sight churned my stomach, but I had to keep searching. Beyond the vestiges of a green-and-white awning, my gaze fell upon a lifeless figure in a burgundy dress and overcoat.

I fell beside her—beside me.

My ethereal hand hovered over the flesh one, but the disconnection was absolute. An impenetrable wall separated my spirit from my body. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t breach it. I couldn’t return to the mortal world. The realization left me utterly alone and lost.

“Mrs. Sterling, it’s good to see you again.” The voice was pleasant, soothing.

I whirled to see its owner and was rendered speechless. He was younger than when I last saw him, his countenance aglow with wisdom and joy. Any lingering doubts about my disembodiment were now gone. He was here, speaking to me. And he was dead.

“Doctor Jones . . .” Was he here to reprimand me for unearthing my son’s remains? I assumed my mistakes would trail me into the next world, where I would be left to unravel them.

“You are perplexed, Florence, but I assure you all is well.”

“Are you here to take me into the next life?”

“None of the sort. Do you remember the last time we spoke?”

“The circumstances were . . . different,” I reflected.

“I was old and crippled then.” He chuckled.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but I was. Being younger and free to move, even if in this spiritual form, is a gift. But enough of that. As I told you before, my thoughts have always wandered back to your case.”

“ My case ?”

“Yes, Florence, your case. I know who you really are.”

“I’m glad you do. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.”

“When you came to me that day, my mortal body was near its end, but my spirit hovered in the space between realms. In that heightened state, I recognized you the moment you walked in, but not understanding the phenomenon of your existence, I dared not tell you. However, I wanted to help, but I lacked the answers you sought—the same answers I had failed to uncover in life.

“I somewhat discouraged you from your quest because I feared you’d waste your life chasing shadows. Yet, ironically, I couldn’t abandon my own suspicions. They followed me here, to this sphere. And I’ve learned the truth about your child’s fate. There was indeed foul play.”

“You know?” Would I finally know the full story?

“I do. I’ve been granted the knowledge because I played a role in his birth. However, I still don’t know the truth about your accident. That’s why I’m here—to give you the piece of the puzzle you’re missing and to receive the one I’m missing from you. Only then can I finally find peace.”

His words struck a chord deep within me. Life, in its infinite wisdom, had orchestrated this meeting to mend both our souls.

“You first,” he urged.

“Mrs. White was infatuated with Alex. So much so that she wanted to eliminate me. On the day of the accident, she followed me into the stable. I was with Sunny in her stall when she threw a snake at our feet.” Even after so many years, the memory carried a profound sadness. “I turned to protect the baby while Sunny, panicked, kicked at the striking snake. Her hooves hit my back. Before I lost consciousness, I heard Mr. Vines yelling at her. If not for him, she would have left me to die there.” An awareness hit me. “And now thinking back, I’m convinced that’s precisely what she intended. By the time I was found, my baby and I would have been beyond saving.”

“Oh, that explains my suspicion that your accident happened much earlier than when I was called to the house. She must have taken her time transporting you inside.” Shock filled the doctor’s eyes. “Deborah White will not escape justice. Sooner or later, it will catch up with her. Her soul will find no peace until she accounts for her wicked deeds.”

Her wicked deeds. “Please, tell me about my son.”

“You must see for yourself. We are going to take a short journey into the past.”

“The past?” I had walked its corridors before. It held truths veiled by time but never erased.

“Because this matter is eternally linked to you, you must live through it. It’s both a reward and a price you must pay. You’ll see, feel, and understand things as they were and are. And you’ll be bound to your baby by the same love you would have developed had you raised him. But I must warn you the truth can be painful. Furthermore, you’ll be held accountable for the knowledge you acquire and the feelings you develop from it. Can you handle that?”

The truth was the truth, and there was no moving forward without it. “I can.”

“Well then.” Excitement flickered in his eyes. “Unless I’m terribly mistaken, you’re already familiar with time travel. Am I correct?”

“You are.” I cast my mind back to Lucca’s instructions. “But it’s been a while.”

“Time is of the essence. You must return quickly, or you risk losing your connection to your physical body permanently. In other words, you may die in the mortal realm. Also, remember that in this sphere, you will neither be seen nor heard. We may observe, but we are not part of it. You will be a silent witness.”

A ghost, drifting through time. Nothing new. “Let’s go.”

He took my hand, and instantly, we stood at Forti Radici.

The bright day was etched into my soul forever, for it had changed me to the core. This was the day I became a mother.

Dr. Jones and I stood on the front drive as the scene unfolded. Mr. Vines burst through the door. Looking grim, he stumbled to the Silver Ghost. He turned the key, and the engine sputtered to life. Then Mrs. White emerged, carrying my child in her arms.

“My son . . .” My pulse quickened as I tried to move closer. Dr. Jones stopped me.

“You mustn’t disturb the elements,” he warned. “Doing so will pull you back to your physical body.”

That was enough to keep me still.

Mrs. White entered the car, and it sped away.

Dr. Jones reached for my hand. We were now outside the town’s dispensary. Like a specter from another dimension, the Silver Ghost rolled down the deserted road toward us.

A cry of anguish split the air.

“What is that?” I turned toward the woods.

“It’s the sound of a mother’s heart breaking. Come with me.”

We skirted the dispensary as the cries grew louder. A dark-haired woman emerged from the trees, clutching a bundle in her arms. She ran to the entrance and pounded on the door in desperation.

Silver arrived, and Mrs. White stepped out, holding my baby close. A muffled sound came from within the blanket—he was alive.

“He did not die on his way here.” He was so close, yet impossibly far. My heart longed to comfort him, to hold him, to answer his soft cries.

The distressed woman turned to face the newcomer. “Mrs. White, is that you? Please, help me! I beg of you. The nurse must be out—the door is locked!”

“What’s the matter, Agnes? Why are you here?” Mrs. White said.

Agnes? I took a long look at the woman. The past two decades had not been kind to Mrs. Haywood. Here, her skin was supple, her cheeks high, her posture straight.

It might have been a mercy from heaven that brought them so near, but the women edged closer and closer until they were just inches from me. Being taller than both, I had a clear view of the infants. The blanket swaddling my baby concealed his face, so I turned to the child in Mrs. Haywood’s arms—and recoiled. The tiny body was gray and still, resembling a marble sculpture.

“Mrs. White, my tragedy is too painful to bear. Last night, I noticed something wrong with Will.”

Will? I shot an inquiring look at Dr. Jones. He motioned for me to keep listening.

“He wasn’t his usual self. He fussed all night and well into the day,” Mrs. Haywood sobbed. “When he finally fell asleep, I did too. I awoke to total silence, no more crying, no heavy breathing, just dreadful silence.” She couldn’t speak anymore, an unchecked stream of tears coursing down her cheeks.

“Come now, Mrs. Haywood, try to calm yourself,” Mrs. White encouraged, swaying my son, who whimpered and wriggled in his blanket.

“I can’t bear this. I waited a lifetime to have a child, and now he is gone. This is going to kill me and my poor husband.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s gone to collect his brother’s body. He was killed in the war. As if that wasn’t atrocious enough, we’ll now have to bury our son too.” Mrs. Haywood let out another mournful sob.

Tragedy upon tragedy. I felt for the Haywoods.

Like the flip of a switch, Mrs. White’s demeanor changed. “Come, come now.” She maneuvered Mrs. Haywood to the trees and away from the dispensary. “Listen carefully. This baby in my arms just lost his mother, and his father is missing in action, most likely dead.”

Liar! I wasn’t dead. I was severely injured, thanks to you. And Alex was very much alive and on his way home.

“I came here to leave him with the nurse, but I doubt he’ll survive without a mother to nurture him.” Mrs. White lowered her voice, assuming a compassionate tone. “But even if he did, he’d be put up for adoption, which would initiate the endless and costly process of unnecessary paperwork. Think about it—you’ll go home to bury your child and lament what could have been, and this baby most likely won’t make it. Instead of losing two precious souls, however, we can use this opportunity to save one.” She pulled back the blanket, revealing my son. “Look at him.”

Mrs. Haywood leaned closer, her features softening at his sight.

My precious child. At last, I saw him. He was so peaceful and perfect, his tiny fingers curled into soft fists, his light skin and dark hair resembling his father. I extended my hand but stopped before I touched him. His eyelids parted, and his brown eyes met mine. In that instant, Dr. Jones’s prediction came to pass. An incomprehensible depth of feeling flooded through me. This love was stronger than life or death and would have developed over the years had we not been separated. The eternal bond between mother and son had been restored.

“Whose child is this?” Mrs. Haywood asked.

“It’s better you don’t know,” Mrs. White replied smoothly. “Here, hold him.” The women exchanged babies.

My son whimpered again as Mrs. Haywood cradled him with the tenderness of a mother. “Hush, hush, little one. You’ll be all right.”

“Let’s forget this meeting took place. You never came here with a dead child. I did. Raise him as your own and never tell a soul. You must take the secret to your grave.”

Mrs. Haywood nodded, her arms tightening around my son.

Mrs. White smiled, a wicked gesture. She reveled in the power of keeping our son’s existence a secret, a sinister satisfaction that gave her control over Alex’s life. Meanwhile, he drowned in sorrow. Alone and vulnerable, he was easier for her to manipulate. “ It’s not what I have taken, but what I have not taken, that will hurt you most, ” she had said. At last, I understood.

“Have Mr. Vines drive you a few blocks away to avoid curious eyes. I’ll wait for the nurse and inform her of his passing as though he were the child I carried here.” Mrs. White glanced at the lifeless infant in her arms. “Once everything is settled, we’ll take you to your house.”

Of course. A child was deceased upon arrival at the dispensary, only it wasn’t my child.

Mrs. Haywood headed to the Silver Ghost.

“Agnes—wait. What about your husband? Surely, he’ll recognize the difference between the babes.”

“Don’t worry about him” Mrs. Haywood replied, her voice trembling but resolute. “Babies change rapidly, you know, and men don’t notice these things the way women do. I’ll emphasize that Will has been sick and lost weight.”

Lost weight. Of course. Mrs. Haywood’s son, Will, had been a little older than mine. Hence, the date on his birth record didn’t align, and the Haywoods were listed as his parents. Will, the one I knew, was my son.

In a split second, my son, the women, and the Silver Ghost disappeared, and I stood staring at the silent road.

“Mrs. Sterling, how do you feel?” Dr. Jones placed a hand on my shoulder. I had forgotten his presence.

“Feeling?” I repeated numbly. “I don’t know.”

“You are processing the truth. That’s natural. Now, if I may, I’d like you to consider that your son might have died under the nurse’s care. Agnes Haywood might have saved his life so he could grow into a man.”

“I guess we’ll never know.” But I did know that justice had interfered when Alex came across the Haywoods and hired them on the spot. And certainly, our pull to return to Breamore had been guided by something far deeper—our connection to Will. The dreams, his sweet familiarity, and the curiosity I’d felt toward him all made sense now. No wonder I mistook him for Alex when I first saw him. Other than his bright eyes, which he clearly inherited from his uncle Lucca, he was the shadow of his father. Of course, I had questioned his supposed death. The truth had guided me all along, just as it had in the past. “There is so much to take in,” I said, overwhelmed.

The doctor extended his hand. I grasped it, and the scenery shifted. We were back to the present, at the bombing site. Mere seconds had passed here. My physical body still lay amid the rubble, awaiting my return.

“I know my son. The Haywoods work at our house. Since we came back to England, he’s been near us.”

“That’s an advantage,” Dr. Jones said. “Now, while I don’t know how you’ll proceed, remember to be fair with the knowledge you have gained and to bestow mercy upon others as life has bestowed it upon you. And one more thing—you had a dream about your son. You met him at the parish.”

“How do you know?” I thought back on the way the Breamore church bells summoned me there, and after a painful journey, I’d found my grown son awaiting me.

“When we transition permanently into this sphere, we become aware of many things. Now, I want you to remember that your dream is a living dream.”

“A living dream? What does that mean?”

“It’s a dream tied to life itself. Often, it carries through into the hereafter. When the light seems to have gone from your soul, you must remember the dream.” His words were a riddle.

“I don’t understand.”

“In time, you will.” He smiled warmly. “Goodbye, my dear Mrs. Sterling.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, gratitude heavy in my heart. “Thank you for everything.”

Some unseen force propelled me to my motionless body, and intense pain seized me the moment I reentered it. I struggled to breathe, acrid smoke burning my lungs. Sirens blared in the distance. My vision blurred, and I slipped into unconsciousness.