“I’m Catalina.” She stands and moves around the reception desk. She punches a button on the phone to send any incoming calls to voicemail before turning her full attention back to us. “You’re welcome to be in the room when I put you under, but I don’t do group regressions. My policy is one at a time. It gets too crazy if people interact with each other as their past-life selves. I did that at a regression party once, and it just got too wild. I said to myself, ‘never again,’ and that was that.” She gestures around the store. “Now I just run the shop. None of that off-shoot stuff. I have Meredith and Nathan on the schedule. It doesn’t take a psychic to know you’re Meredith.” Catalina points at me. “Now which one of you handsome young men is Nathan?”
“I am.” Nathan taps his chest.
“Gotcha.” Catalina gives me a wink as if to say, “Lucky you, escorted by the likes of them.” If only she knew being around both boys at the same time was like refereeing World War III. “Now, who would like to go first?”
“I will,” I volunteer. I didn’t realize I was so ready to get this going until the words come out of my mouth. “It’s safe, right? I won’t get stuck in the past or anything, will I?”
“Only in horror movies.” Catalina motions for us to follow her to the back room. It’s decorated much like the outer office with framed art, leather couches, and a recliner. A dark window shade blocks most of the light. Soft music pipes low and soothing from a stereo. I felt safe and comfortable in Mrs. King’s shop, and I feel the same way the second we step into this room at Catalina’s shop. We can trust her. I can relax here.
“What do I need to do first?” I ask.
“I base hypnosis in relaxation techniques, so the key is being comfortable and free from distractions,” Catalina explains. “Pick a couch or recliner—wherever you will feel able to relax.”
I pick the recliner. “Do you just snap your fingers, and it’s done?”
“Hardly.” Catalina sits at a desk I didn’t notice before. “I start by guiding your breathing to help you relax, and then we do a deepening technique to take you further under, and, finally, there’s visualization. If you have a particular past life in mind, I can’t guarantee we’ll go there, but I can help try to guide you there if you feel it’s affecting your life the most now.”
“There is one that I think is being rather, uh, insistent,” I say. “I’m having dreams about it, and now it’s interfering with my day-to-day life.”
“You got that right,” Jay mutters, but I ignore him. We’re here for my answers. I can’t worry about Jay’s reaction right now.
Catalina nods and leans back in her own chair. She’s got paper and pen in front of her.
“Why are you taking notes?” I ask. “Won’t I remember what I see?”
“It’s just so you have a paper trail,” she clarifies. “You’ll remember everything you see and hear during the session. It will be as real as if you were living it except you can’t be hurt. You won’t feel any physical pain. You’ll still feel the emotional connection. I wish there were a way to dull that more.”
“What do you need for me to do?”
“Just close your eyes, relax, listen to my voice, and try to follow my instructions.”
I nod, close my eyes, and take a deep, calming breath that I can feel in my whole chest. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“Let’s begin.”
Catalina starts off by telling me to focus on my breathing. I feel my body relaxing with every breath, especially when she says, “Breathe in relaxation, breathe out tension.” Next, she moves into what’s called “the deepening.” She asks me to imagine a soothing warmth spreading from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. My eyes and body feel heavy, but in a good way as if I’m about to fall into a deep sleep. Finally, she asks me to visualize taking an elevator down, down, down to a circular room. I picture the library at school. There are books all around, each shelf representing a past life. I’m supposed to pick the one that is affecting me the most in the present. I decide on the third shelf from the bottom. To the right, she says, are positive memories from this life; to the left, negative memories. I’m supposed to pick which I would like to explore. I notice a book lying open in the middle—not positive or negative but somewhere more neutral. I pick it up.
“Can you tell me what year it is?” Catalina’s voice penetrates my heavy mind.
“1888,” I answer without even thinking.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Mercy Stone.”
“What are you doing now, Mercy?”
“Arguing with Nate,” I say. “He is cross with me again.”
“Why is he cross with you?”
“Because he says I always do what people expect instead of choosing for myself. He thinks I am being taken advantage of.”
“By whom?”
“By everyone,” I answer.
“Would you like to tell us more about that?” Catalina asks. “What makes Nate feel that way?”
I pause. “I will try.”
“Please. Whenever you are ready.”
The pause is longer this time, but the words come. “I am ready.”
Haunting, 1888
Mercy Stone
“Oh, do stop acting like such a child, Nate!” I scramble down the lake’s stone retention wall after him but make quite a mess of it with my heels and restrictive skirt. All I do—besides sound like a petulant child myself—is land in the sand on my hands and knees.
“I’m actin’ like a child?” He whirls to face me as I pick myself up off the sand and brush off my hands and dress. “You’re the one who lets your father or James lead ya about from room to room and gala to gala like a little china doll. When will you learn that you’re not just some little thing to dress up and parade about? Why don’t ya show some gumption for once, Mercy? I know ya have it in ya. God knows I do, or we wouldn’t row as much as we seem to.” He leans down until his face is only inches from mine. I cannot decide if I want to slap him or kiss him. “Where is the fire I know is in there, Mercy? Let it out. Be your own person for once in your life.”
“It is easier to do as I am told to avoid confrontation,” I say. “I show gumption with you, Nate, and look where it gets us—endless rounds of squabbles. Please, do not be cross with me, Nate. Please?” I look him square in the face, trying to memorize every detail of those dear, dear features. Every moment with him feels like our last. I do not know how much longer I can play these games of running off before Papa locks me down to a formal engagement with James. It is a dangerous line I walk. I cannot shirk my duty forever. Unfortunately, my duty is to society and not my heart. As much as I wish and hope otherwise, I just see no way around that painful truth.
Nate sighs before leaning in for a kiss. It is long and lingering as if he is trying to store up memories as well for the inevitable time when we will need to part. “You know I cannot stay cross for long, Mercy.” His grin turns mischievous. “No matter how vexing you may be.”