Saying goodbye late the next morning, seeing Sue and Amanda off with Lars and Rhys in their rental car—the former pair going by train, the latter two flying—Tom felt so many different ways, he was being stretched out like pizza dough. They’d had breakfast with Sue and Amanda, then built their little altar space for Easton’s spirit and joined Sue in a blessing over it. By then, Lars and Rhys showed up and it was already almost time to go.
There’d been Francesca’s fresh lemonade offered around in the heat and many congratulations placed upon Tom and Sanders for their new engagement. Now Lars and Amanda were loading the trunk—which they all called a boot, as if they could put it on a foot—of the car with Sue’s vast number of bags. These seemed to have multiplied, which made no sense because she was even leaving things behind.
Meanwhile, Rhys was talking with Sanders on the front steps and Tom and Sue remained inside, Tom trailing around behind her while she checked their guest room and most of the rest of the house for any forgotten items. Maybe she checked for certain other things too, but Tom didn’t ask. Knowing what it felt like to see through the eyes of a departed spirit himself now, he felt all kinds of new layers of uncertainties, unsure if he ever wanted to ask about them again.
They walked downstairs and Sue headed for the side door for a last look out back. Tom, still mute, followed her with London in his arms. The cat had not jumped at a single mousetrap all today or yesterday and she was in transports of joy with all the petting lavished on her as everyone had been saying goodbye.
Out back, Sue smiled into a summer mountain breeze, taking in a deep breath, shutting her eyes and opening her arms. She stood still for a minute, Tom waiting silently, then she turned to meet his eyes.
“You didn’t dream last night,” Sue said.
Tom was so startled he got a chill. He had forgotten about the dreams.
“You’re right,” he said after clearing his throat. “And did you figure out why?”
“I did. Only this morning. It’s because they don’t need you to have them anymore.”
Tom just stood there while London watched birds flitting past.
“I don’t follow you,” he said after a long enough space in which he thought it should have been clear that Sue should go on.
“You had them anyway, you said. Just now and then? That lingering uncertainty about what had happened to you. You were starting your new life and your relationship with Sanders in this lifetime. Maybe you still had unanswered questions about what happened to you, about the past lives and how everything fit together, or even confused about what really happened after you rewrote your own history.
“Then you landed in a place full of unsettled souls reaching out to you, confused and hurting, wishing for their own new start, their own clarity and freedom. That energy pushed those dreams onto you both. I don’t think they did it maliciously. They may not have had any control over it. It was the energetic environment you were in. You still had fears and questions, chains binding you to that past. But you would have overcome them here. They should have got better and finally fallen away as your relationship strengthened and your memories faded. Instead, they got worse because you had inadvertently stepped into an unrest war zone, a cage of worries and regrets and fear.
“You had those dreams so much and so violently because you’re both psychically sensitive, and much more so after working with Lee. You won’t have them anymore because the energy in this house has made an about-turn. You’re safe here now. No one is hurting or lost here. This is a place of peace and love and blessings. It’s very difficult to have nightmares somewhere like that.”
When she stopped, Tom again looked at her in silence.
Sue turned her head with London to follow a butterfly, smiling serenely after it. She looked back at Tom.
He swallowed. “You think we’re especially psychically sensitive?”
“Uh...” Sue appeared confused then. “Is that a rhetorical question?” She didn’t sound sarcastic, but uneasy, like she wondered if he was okay.
Tom blew out his cheeks and looked toward the mountains. “It’ll fade, won’t it?”
“What?”
“Psychic sensitivity?” Tom asked. “Like, if we don’t want it, if we do our best not to get into anything like this again, we’re not...”
Sue’s brows were creased. She rested one hand on her hip, cocking her head. “Tom, are you speaking about psychic awareness like you’re hoping it’s some kind of chicken pox that you’ll shake off and never catch again?”
Tom looked at her bright purple boots below a yellow skirt and chewed his lip. “Sanders and I ... saw something last night. And it was not like seeing the ghosts or the weird stuff they did when trying to get our attention. We saw ... the way you talk about seeing, and Hansen did, the telepathic communication. It probably sounds terrible to you that we would say we don’t want it to happen again, but ... it was awful. It was so sad and painful and intense and real.
He looked up. “I’m sorry. We were freaking out and Sanders was in tears over it and he doesn’t cry at stuff and the only reason I wasn’t a basket case was I had to be there for him. It was like the regressions all over again. Seeing through those eyes, feeling those feelings, and, this time, knowing how it was all going to end, knowing what lay ahead for them... Maybe if we didn’t know that it would have only been freaky. But because we knew everything ... I think that’s why it made us both sick.
“So...” He let out a long, slow breath. “Yes. I want it gone and I don’t ever want to catch it again and I’m really sorry because I know to you it’s a gift and it’s magickal and natural and part of who we are. But if there’s anything you could tell us to help make sure we don’t get any visions or communications like that again, I’d be really grateful.”
“Oh, Tom.” Sue sighed as she stepped up to hug him, avoiding smashing London. “You don’t owe me an apology for anything. I understand. And I don’t think you’ll have any more visions. If you do, call me, okay?” She stepped back. “I can help by teaching you mental shielding techniques with meditation.”
Tom nodded. “But you don’t think we’ll need it?”
“Probably not. If you need to, or if you get the dreams again, or if you see anything else that’s making you uncomfortable and shouldn’t be there...?” She raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll call you,” Tom finished.
She put her arm around his waist and steered him back into the house. “Or you can call anyway. I work from home and I love to talk while I paint. It gives me new ideas.”
“Wouldn’t want to deprive you of that.” Tom chuckled as they headed for the front door.
* * *
“So, when you vanished off the scene in London, you can imagine how everybody got ready to try to fill the top spot. It’s ongoing, as far as I can tell.” Rhys gave him a lopsided smile that would have been enough to make Sanders wonder whether this was business or an overture to become “friends”. Though, of course, considering that Rhys Turner had once been a star salesman working for a largish investment bank, it was very much a professional skill. He must have been embedded in the intrigue, back-stabbing and strange camaraderie of the City of London, knowing all the gossip, official and unofficial rankings and stats.
Sanders had usually topped the charts, as it were, because he focused his energy purely on the performance of the money he managed. His former ailments, and overall impatience with pointless jockeying, had led to a laser focus on achievement that had in the end served him well. Still did, of course.
“With the current political situation, and the regulatory chaos it will entail, I’m sure my former colleagues have their hands full.” Safe bet. His timing to get to Switzerland had been as perfect as if some higher intelligence had been behind it. At least he’d be spared most of that nightmare.
“Gods, yeah.” Rhys blew out a breath, perhaps unaware he was using the same expression as his partner. Plural gods? Oh well. No different than remembering previous lives and deaths. “I was pondering getting back into the game, but ... it might be time for something entirely different.”
Much as those last few days in the office had been, Sanders found it difficult to focus and follow what Rhys was saying to him. It didn’t help that the sun just beyond the front steps was blinding, and he was ready to see the backs of the whole lot of them—preferably with sunglasses on.
Evan had more than once called Sanders a vampire. It was true that he was rather photophobic. Tom, however, had informed him that most people with pale eyes were also more light-sensitive. Just the kind of information it was handy to have Tom around for.
There he was, stepping out with Sue, depositing his cat indoors. Now Sanders wished even more to turn his back on Rhys and ignore the rest of them. Yet there would be time ahead for that, for just the two of them.
Sanders didn’t feel confused or misplaced by Sue anymore, even as he watched her kiss London before Tom set her down, then back to smiling at Tom as if he were a long-lost treasure. Perhaps that was indeed what these two souls were to each other. Perhaps there was excellent reason for that strange, instant connection—as there had been between himself and Tom. He remembered what Amanda had said about not being hypocritical, yet he didn’t need the reminding.
Any uncertainty as to how Tom did or did not feel about Sue was gone. Not that Sanders understood it any better. He likely never would. It was only that he didn’t need to know. Somehow, in these past twenty-four hours and more, he had been rediscovering his own firm footing in himself and his relationships.
He had his engagement—that assurance of where he stood with his partner. He still didn’t care who Tom’s friends were. Now, he didn’t even care if there was a crush or two along the way.
For Tom, this relationship with Sue may always be there, an intense but ambiguous bond, and that was okay. Sanders didn’t believe in the type of partnership that gave one or the other rights to ownership of every thought, emotion or breath.
Tom would always be open with him; the man simply had no guile whatsoever. There wasn’t a question that their bond ran deeper than all others. It hardly mattered if there were a dozen Sues. Sanders was the one Tom was marrying.
* * *
The others were ready to go by the time Tom and Sue joined them. As Sue drifted down the stairs like a dancer, she said cheerfully, “It’s time to let another cat find us and invite a familiar.”
Amanda grinned at that and, for some reason, exchanged a look with Sanders, who was also smiling, looking happier than Tom had seen him in a long time.
The men shook hands all around, Amanda also shaking with Sanders before Sue hugged him, saying, “I’m so, so happy for you,” with such feeling Sanders was blushing by the time she let go.
“You’re all invited to the wedding, of course,” Sanders said in his usual stiff manner.
Sue’s eyes, which Tom never had pinned down between blue and gray, lit up even more. She was starting to answer, but Amanda said, “I’ll be busy next spring.”
Sue elbowed her. “We’ll be there.” Then, grinning, “In our ball gowns with flowers in our hair.”
Amanda sighed.
“We’ll be honored to attend,” Lars said. “Any idea where?”
“Most likely London.” Sanders shrugged. “But my mother will be only too pleased to inform us where. And all the other details.”
Sue chuckled. “We’ll keep in touch.”
“Want to come back this winter?” Tom asked her. “Sanders promised he’d take skiing lessons with me.”
“That’s true devotion.” Sue was still smiling.
“I’d have thought you’d be into skiing.”
“I wasn’t speaking for myself. I was speaking for him.” Sue jerked her head after Sanders, who was walking to the car with Lars and Rhys. “I’d have thought he wouldn’t be.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” Tom said. “Well, if you want to come out, you can do any winter activities you like. Or none and sit by the fire. Up to you.”
“Would we get to climb out the upstairs windows to start the snowshoe excursions?”
“We can only hope.”
Sue beamed at Amanda.
Amanda appeared skeptical. “We’ll talk about it.”
Sue turned back to Tom and hugged him again. “Official verdict; we’ll get back to you. Thank you. I’m so glad life works the way it does and we were able to connect this time around.”
“Thank you for everything you’ve done.” They stepped apart and Tom cocked his head. “You’ll look for me in your past?”
“I will. And when you’re next in London you can see Lee again with me.”
“I doubt that very, very much, unless you mean just to have tea, but you can always ask.”
“You might be tempted. What if I told you I was King Arthur and you were Guinevere?”
“Then I’d disavow all belief in past lives whatsoever and all your hopes of getting me and Lee under one roof at one time again would most definitely be lost.”
Amanda gave Sue a look, pretending to check a watch. Lars and Rhys were in the car.
“Okay, I’d stick with the truth,” Sue said, still grinning at Tom. “But that doesn’t mean it couldn’t be something wonderful.”
“Or impossible?” Tom asked.
“As long as you have a little faith,” she finished. She stepped up to kiss his cheek. “We’ll meet again in this lifetime.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Then she was dashing away with Amanda to jump in the car.
He thought he would be more upset to see her go, but, no. This was right. He would see her again, he was positive. And, right now, he needed to be with Sanders, to put all his focus there. No ghosts, no guests, not even Sue.
Tom and Sanders waved from the steps as the others drove away. Tom noticed Rhys smiling back and waving to them as well. Tom let his arm come to rest around his new fiancé’s shoulders as he watched the car down the long drive.
“I hope you told that poor man you’d look at what he was selling,” Tom said.
“I did, in fact, listen to him.” Sanders also watched them go. He lifted his left hand to show Tom a business card. “Though he’s not currently selling anything. This was a social call. Networking, with a view to the future. Sounds like he might move to the continent himself, depending how things go in the UK.”
“Good. You know, if anyone had a tough time out here, it was him. He hardly said a word, but I can just about imagine what he was thinking along the way.” Tom shifted to look at Sanders. “You have the rest of the day off. Which means I do too. Shall we make the best of it?”
“What did you have in mind?” Sanders asked.
“Savoring the elements of nature? And each other if only we can find the time?”
“Mountain lake?”
“Let’s ... forge our own path.” Tom kissed him. “See where the trail takes us.”
“Even better.”