“It’s scary sometimes, I know,” Eileen said softly. “I remember one of the first sessions I went to with Kathy. A man there was having trouble with his wife and teenage daughter. There was a great deal of bickering, he said, and he couldn’t understand why. None of them could, really. Well, Kathy used acupuncture on the man to release his past. It was scary. I had never seen anyone being pierced with needles, but it didn’t seem to hurt him, and then when Kathy began to lead the man back through time, he reached this point where he was an Indian living on the plains. In that lifetime the soul who’s now his daughter was his wife. That was the problem. His wife today was jealous of their daughter because she was her husband’s lover in America before Columbus landed here.”
“It all seems so crazy,” Jennifer whispered, doubting for a moment why she was going to see Kathy Dart, why she needed to see the channeler.
“It’s not so crazy. Reincarnation is a part of every religious tradition.”
“I’m just having such a hard time rationalizing it.”
“That’s the trouble. You shouldn’t try to rationalize reincarnation. You’ll see, once you speak with Habasha. Then you’ll understand why you are on earth. And what the purpose is for all your heartaches and joys.” Eileen was speaking curgently now, with conviction. “If you believe in reincarnation, all the coincidences have meaning.”
“That’s what I don’t like,” Jennifer spoke up. “I don’t like thinking that all those coincidences are linked together. It seems too planned, too neatly worked out to be real.”
“But it makes sense, Jenny. Your spirit is created by God, or whoever, and it passes through lifetime after lifetime. The spirit never dies, but it keeps changing. You’re born a man. You’re reborn as the same man’s great granddaughter. It’s wonderful when you step back, when you think of all the possibilities, and the wonderful art of it, really.”
“Maybe it’s not so wonderful,” said Jennifer. “Maybe somebody’s ‘soul’ has come back from another life to kill me.”
“Easy, Jenny. We don’t know that.” Eileen shifted again into the left lane and passed a long distance trucker. As they sped by, the driver blasted his horn. The noise startled Jennifer, and she spun around and gave the finger to the truck driver.
“That wasn’t such a great idea,” Eileen said coolly.
“Why? I hate it when jerks like that think it’s cute to harass women drivers.”
“Yes, I know, but now every trucker on Route 80 is going to be watching for two women in a gold ‘87 Buick.”
“How? What do you mean?”
“CBs, honey. They’re all linked together.”
“Damnit! You’re right.”
“It’s a long trip, and these guys have nothing else to do but amuse themselves. Don’t worry. We’ll avoid their hangouts. It’s okay.”
“Thanks. I guess I’m like someone’s obnoxious teenage daughter.”
“Well, you might have been mine.”
“Yes, I know. In another life.”
They both laughed and then fell silent, watching the white lines flash beneath the car as they sped west, and listening to the hum of the tires and the wind whipping against the windows. It was cozy in the station wagon, and Jennifer slipped down into the sleeping bag and curled up in its warmth.
“Do you mind if I go back to sleep?”
“Please do. I’d like you to drive later, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” mumbled Jennifer, already half asleep.
“Sweet dreams,” Eileen said, glancing back. Jennifer had closed her eyes. She couldn’t see that the smile was gone from Eileen’s face. Her high-school friend’s bright green eyes had glazed over and were as cold as crystal.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
“WHAT DO YOU THINK, Jenny, are we ready to stop?”
Jennifer glanced at the dashboard clock. It was six o’clock, and Eileen had been driving in the dark for over an hour.
“Yes, I guess. I need a drink and an early evening. Have we covered enough territory?”
“Yes, you made good time on the second leg. We’ll catch the turnpike first thing in the morning and be just south of Chicago by tomorrow evening.” Eileen moved the station wagon to the right lane. “I’ve stayed at the Howard Johnson at this exit before,” she explained as she exited Route 80.
Jennifer, now sitting in the front seat, watched Eileen’s profile reflected in the windshield. They took the brightly lit exit, then turned right at the intersection and drove into the Howard Johnson parking lot. “What are you looking at, Jenny?” Eileen flushed under Jennifer’s steady gaze.
“I was just thinking that you’ve been incredibly nice to me, that’s all.” Jennifer usually found it difficult to tell people how she felt, but she had always been able to talk to Eileen, ever since they first sat next to each other in their freshman home-room class.
“Oh, you’d do the same, if I needed help,” Eileen said quickly.
Jennifer saw that her eyes were glimmering with tears. She reached out and squeezed her friend’s arm as they pulled into a parking space. Then, as she reached to open the car door, she said, “Let’s check in and then hit the bar.” She stopped and turned back to Eileen. “Do you mind if we share a room? I mean
” Jennifer looked away, suddenly embarrassed. She saw several men opening the trunks of their cars and taking out luggage. “I mean, I’m still a little nervous. I’d feel safer with you sleeping in the same room.”
“Sure, of course. I hate traveling alone, myself,” Eileen answered quickly. “It’s scary, all the weirdos out here. You never know.”
“Listen!” Jennifer said, laughing. “The weirdos I can handle. I’m worried about Mr. Nice Guy.” She lowered her voice as they entered the hotel lobby. “I’m afraid I might cut off his balls if he steps out of line.”
“It would serve him right, cheating on his wife,” Eileen replied.
The vodka on the rocks made Jennifer giddy. She was telling Eileen about Bobby Scott, a boy they had gone to school with, and how he had tried to kiss her underneath the stadium stands when they played Westbury for the division championship. “Here I was trying to go and take a pee. It was cold, remember? And he just wouldn’t let go. I started to cry from pain.”
“He was not too smart, Bobby.”
“Whatever happened to him, anyway?” Jennifer stared down at her menu and tried to concentrate. Now that they were out of the car and in the warm hotel, she suddenly felt very hungry.
“Oh, he married Debby O’Brian. Do you remember her?”
“He married Debby? She was such a sweet girl, with that beautiful long red hair.”
Eileen nodded. “He went to Queens College, then married her, and they had four kids quick as rabbits. She was a big Catholic. Anyway, now he works for Goldman Sachs. I hear he owns a brownstone and is worth millions.”
“Well, good for Debby.”
Eileen shook her head. “Oh, he dumped her for someone else, a real hotshot investor herself. I met them both a few years ago at a benefit. He was with his new wife, who bought junk bonds, or sold them, or something, and she and I talked. The men were working the room, you know, and here was this woman—Rita, that was her name. She was so unhappy she started to cry, right there in the Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf.”
“With millions of dollars and a brownstone! Why?”
“Bobby beat her. She told me it was the only way he could get it up. Here we were two strangers, and she unloads this gruesome story on me.” Eileen shrugged, then sipped her drink. “She had to tell someone. She was so pitiful and desperate, and I, at least, had known Scotty when he was a kid.”