Читать книгу The Reincarnation of Clara - Kevin J. Todeschi - Страница 14

As another red velvet couch came into view, the transparent form of twenty-five-year-old Clara Stuart, formerly Mrs. Paul Gabriel, suddenly realized that she was watching the intimacy between two naked figures lying entwined upon the couch. Although looking sideways had enabled her to see “private business” many times previously—such as the time she had looked in on Paul Gabriel while he was standing wearing nothing but his birthday suit in the boys’ locker room—she had never before seen anything quite so personal. The woman had her legs wrapped so tightly around the man’s naked waist that it appeared she was fearful he would pull out before the time was right. Suddenly, the woman’s soft moans caused Clara to blush and she diverted her eyes elsewhere to give the couple some measure of privacy. It became immediately obvious that she was no longer in 1946.

Even though the light sneaking through the drawn drapes suggested it was midday, Clara could see that the room was very different than the one her conscious mind had just left behind. There was no light switch, no light bulbs, and no appearance of anything having to do with electricity. The dresser might have been considered old fashioned, even when Clara had been a child. By the same standard, the lantern appeared old, as well. The dresser had an old mirror behind it, enabling Clara to see her ghostly reflection. The rest of the furnishings were quaint, all wood, and seemed like they were the product of a handyman, rather than a manufacturer. In one corner of the room, a sleeping baby lay quietly in its crib. The couple’s clothing had been quickly discarded and thrown next to the bed. The coonskin cap and the hide jacket made it apparent that the man was some kind of a trapper. The woman’s dress could only belong to a dancehall girl.

It was immediately obvious to Clara that she was witnessing shadows of the past, and from prior experience with things less dramatic, she knew the couple would never be able to hear her. The thought made her recall Dickens’ Christmas Carol and she whispered: “These are the shadows of things that were . . . but where and when am I?” And suddenly she knew—Fort Laramie, Wyoming in 1852.

“But why?” Clara whispered again. She had never even heard of a place called Fort Laramie.

Clara turned back to the couple and wondered who they might be. The scene between the two became more intense; the woman moaned with pleasure. As though putting his mind on other matters, the man looked up and stared in Clara’s direction. He had several days’ growth of whiskers but appeared to be quite handsome. When he was ready, his own movements began to intensify—pushing himself toward the woman and then pulling back almost to the point of withdrawal. Finally, the woman on the couch let her head fall back over the couch’s armrest. Clara gasped and held her breath.

Clara was staring at a woman who appeared to be her identical twin. In fact, there could be no doubt—she was staring at herself! With that awareness, Clara Stuart suddenly realized that she had once lived in Wyoming as a dancehall girl, and that her name at the time had been Esther.