The root of her fear

By Arianna (aka wavBec)

"You have a present from Gervase Blue." Julian held up one of the pages from the Federal Express envelope he'd just opened.

"What is it?" Arianna was sitting on the floor amid stacks of CD's they'd brought back from her apartment. Trying to alphabetise them into the new cabinet next to Julian's collection was proving to be a monumental task.

"A chit from accounting with a rather generous allowance for a shopping trip."

*Windham Hill samplers, W? Or V for various artists?* she wondered. Looking up at him she asked, "What for?"

"I suppose it's his way of apologising. He feels somewhat responsible for the slashing incident, Dr. Klaus escaped from what should have been a secure facility, and she did shred most of your clothes. I'd look for those under W."

"Everyone thinks Gervase is such a cold fish. He's really a softy at heart."

He chuckled, "I don't think he'd appreciate hearing that, he enjoys his reputation. They ask that you use the allowance by the end of the month, for records keeping purposes. Where would you like to go for your shopping spree?" he asked.

"White Plains would be easier than the city. Lord & Taylor and Bloomingdales are near each other, and there's parking available there."

"I don't mind driving in the city if you want to go down again," he offered. Their 'quick' trip down to her Manhattan apartment yesterday had taken all day, due to road construction and a truck roll-over.

"I mind, it's too crowded. When I lived there I walked nearly everywhere. It seems too confining when you're in a car stuck in traffic, no thanks." The meditation techniques he'd taught her had helped greatly, but closed in spaces still bothered her and the city was not worth the aggravation.

"White Plains it is then. Tomorrow?"

"Sounds good, I'll unpack the rest of what we brought up from the apartment, see what I have and what needs to be replaced."

"This time I'm going to buy you some pyjamas of your own."

She pouted briefly, "Awww, but I like the tops of yours, they're comfortable."

"All right then, I'll just buy a few more pairs and we can fight over them." He laughed at her happy grin.

"How do you file movie soundtracks and show scores, alphabetically by title, or in a special section?"

"By title generally. What do you have there?" She looked at the three plastic cases in her hands, two of them were double CD sets.

"The soundtrack from Out of Africa, and the complete scores of Chess and Jesus Christ Superstar, the London cast recordings." She could see he approved of her selections.

* * *

Julian was always teasing her about not hanging up the long black raincoat she'd bought while they were in London, but when Dr. Klaus broke in and destroyed her side of the closet in a fit of jealous rage, she was very glad the coat had been tossed over a chair downstairs. Aside from what she kept in her carry-on for short notice travel, the only items that had escaped the slashing were a pair of jeans, an ivory cotton sweater, one black mock turtleneck, and the black knit slacks that were in the laundry hamper. The things brought back from her city apartment were mostly dress clothes, winter weight blazers, and sweaters. She definitely needed to buy some casual things, and lingerie, but she'd rather shop for that alone.

"Are you sure you want to come along? You'll probably be bored," she asked him as they cleared the breakfast dishes to the sink.

"Not at all, I enjoyed shopping with you the last time."

She turned toward him with a sarcastic look. "The last time, you couldn't see anything Julian."

There was a playful gleam in his eyes as he grinned. "That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it." When he reached around her to put the teapot into the sink she noticed a damp spot on his right shirtsleeve on the outside near the elbow.

"Did I splash you with the dishwater?" she asked. He bent his arm up to look at the dark stain spreading on the teal blue silk and frowned.

"No, it's from underneath, one of the damn glass cuts re-opened last night. I'll go change." While Julian went upstairs, she quickly rinsed the last of the dishes and set them into the drying rack. Suddenly sensing his frustration and remembering the resident who treated him the night of the accident had said the glass shard they'd removed from one of the cuts was only a fraction of an inch from severing a major vein, she tossed down the dishtowel and ran upstairs.

"Let me see before your cover it up again." He was standing at the bathroom sink trying to find the pull string to open a Band-Aid packet when she came up behind him. Most of the cuts from falling through the sliding glass door were mere scratches now, but several had been a bit deeper. The worst was on the outside of his forearm, about an inch below the elbow. Now that it had opened again, it was red and weepy. "Eeew, that looks nasty," she muttered, opening the medicine chest and reaching for the brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide solution and the box of gauze pads.

"It's my fault, I scratched it last night." He looked at her and shrugged, "It itched."

"Well, this'll probably make it sting." He held his arm over the bowl while she poured the clear liquid over the cut, it instantly turned into fizzy white bubbles. "This should help pull out any infection. That Band-Aid is too small."

She carefully dried around the edges of the gash with a cotton ball and gently laid a folded gauze pad along the length of the cut, covering it crosswise with short strips of adhesive tape. "That should do, for now, but I want to keep an eye on that one, it was the deepest of the cuts."

He gently nibbled her earlobe as she finished and laughed, "It's nice to have a private nurse. Thank you, I'll get a clean shirt and we can go for your shopping spree."

* * *

White Plains was less than a half hour drive from Hastings and their first stop was Lord & Taylor. Arianna's friend Ann had always teased her that it was a stuffy conservative's store, but she liked it all the same, and could always count on finding the basics for building a wardrobe. Not one to impulsively go out and buy new clothes each season, Arianna had built her closet over the years, adding pieces here and there. Now to suddenly have to start virtually from scratch was a challenge, but she knew she could count on L&T to have the fundamentals. Slacks in black, brown, burgundy, and navy, with an assortment of tops and blouses, both prints and solid colours. A black knit material jacket and cotton cardigan sweater with large antique brass buttons were also good building blocks.

At Bloomingdales, she found a rayon faille jacket that was black with an art-deco type print of ivory, bittersweet, and pale yellow and a lemon chiffon colour knit top to match, as well as a couple of long crinkled gauze skirts. She tried to convince Julian to go look for pyjamas while she went to lingerie, but he would have none of it. She was a bit nervous of what he might suggest as they rode the excalator to the third floor.

"There's a chair over there, why don't you hold the packages and wait for me?" she suggested when they reached the department crowded with racks of silky and lacy things.

"Nonsense, I want to help." She could tell he was enjoying making her squirm.

The salesclerk came bustling over to offer assistance, a pencil tucked behind her ear and a clipboard firmly clutched in one arm. "May I help you? We're just checking in a new shipment of lovely teddies."

"I'm just looking, thank you," Arianna answered, hoping the woman would go away.

Julian leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Maybe something in red lace?"

"No!" she hissed back. "And if you mention the word thong, I'm leaving right now."

"I wouldn't dream of it, camisoles and these are much sexier," he whispered, pointing to a rack of tap pants. Then just loud enough for the clerk to hear he added, "besides, unwrapping the gift is half the fun." When Arianna had turned the desired shade of beet red, he lightly kissed the side of her neck and retreated to the chair to wait patiently while she made her selections. *You'll pay for this later Mr. Sampson* she thought as he set the shopping bags down beside his feet. He smiled back at her with a very satisfied smirk.

On their way back toward the escalator when the lingerie purchases were completed, he took her hand and dragged her into the evening gown department. "But I don't need any evening gowns," she protested.

"Humour me, you've got what you wanted and we still have all afternoon."

*Just call me Eliza Dolittle,* she thought to herself.

He went straight past the assorted party dresses hanging on the racks and headed for the expensive designer section, where you sit down and are shown gowns by the sales staff. "I don't think Gervase's allowance will cover this," she whispered.

"This is my treat, just be quiet," he ordered.

"May I help you?" A matronly woman approached them, wearing a classic black Chanel suit and crisp white blouse, her glasses suspended from a beaded chain around her neck.

"Yes, we're looking for a gown suitable for next week's opening night at Lincoln Centre." He glanced back to see Arianna's surprised expression. "Something long, classically styled." He turned to Ari with his eyebrows raised. "Long sleeve or short, hmmmm?"

"Uhm, long please."

"Right, long sleeves."

"Well, we have several that will fit those criteria, please have a seat and I'll arrange for them to be brought out for your viewing."

When the woman had left them, Arianna whispered to him, "When did you get tickets for Lincoln Centre?"

"While you were unpacking yesterday afternoon," he grinned.

The first gown modelled for them was a flashy black sequinned sheath with a high neck, long sleeves and a very low cut back. Arianna was pleased that Julian vetoed it without even a second thought. Next came out a model in a red satin gown with crystal beading around the shoulders. It was pretty, but looked more like a night-gown. He shook his head no to that one as well. The canary yellow velvet was not well received either.

After several more unacceptable displays, the saleswoman was running out of ideas. "We do have one other possibility, it was a sample from a new designer but unfortunately, is too long for our models. If you'd care to try it on yourself miss, I think it will fit your height."

"I'm willing," she shrugged, then followed the woman into the dressing area. As soon as she saw the dress, she loved it, and hoped he would approve. The silver-grey brushed silk felt wonderful as she put her arms into the sleeves and dropped the fabric down over her body. At the ends of the long sleeves were rows of six tiny grey pearl buttons with loop closures. The neckline was cut in a triangle coming straight down from her left shoulder, then angling up to her right, and the gored skirt hung gracefully from her hips just to the floor. With her grey suede heels it would be the perfect length. "I love it," she whispered to the salesclerk. *And it will look great with my black freshwater pearls, and his grandmother's earrings,* she thought.

When she stepped through the curtain and saw Julian's reaction, Arianna immediately forgave him for embarrassing her in the lingerie department. There was no question that he liked the gown, *absolute perfection* was the thought she heard from him.

"We'll take it," was what the salesclerk heard.

* * *

"I've got everything on my list and then some, and there's a bit of cash leftover - how about dinner on Gervase?" she asked as they passed an advertisement for the newly opened Garden Terrace restaurant on the top floor of the department store.

After checking the listing of salads and entrees he answered, "Could be worth a try. Let's take the bags out to the car and visit one more department first." After stowing the bags in the boot of the car, and disappointing another shopper who hoped to take their parking space, they re-entered the store and went to the index next to the escalator.

"What department are you looking for?" she asked.

"Bedding and furniture, those pillows we borrowed from the guestroom are too small, and I've been looking for an excuse to re-decorate the bedroom. The oriental laquerware is part of my past, it's time to move on." Arianna could feel a slight twinge of sadness in him, she had sometimes wondered if he'd chosen the oriental furniture to remind himself of Mei-Ling. It had taken repeated Hoovering to get the slashed pillow fluff out of the dark red Chinese wool carpet. "Here we are, second floor." When he took her hand and started toward the escalator, the sadness had been replaced by expectation.

In the bedding department, they first selected new king size pillows, one soft and one firm. Moving into the furniture department they wandered through a labyrinth of set up display bedrooms. Pausing in front of a delicate four posted canopy bed, they both thought *no* at the same time. At the display of a polished brass bed Arianna for a moment playfully thought of the blindfold and handcuffs in the storage box of things from Julian's Goth days, she giggled when he glared at her and said a firm "No."

The king size wrought iron frame with the ring of mosquito netting suspended from the ceiling was a distinct possibility, as was the rosewood sleigh bed, until they turned the corner and laid eyes on a rugged mahogany bed frame with medium height cannonball topped posts at each corner. The matching dresser and night stands were Queen Anne style with antiqued brass drawer pulls. Made up with a navy, burgundy, and green plaid duvet cover against dark burgundy sheets it was a striking ensemble.

"Do you like it?" Julian asked her.

"I love it," she answered. "It reminds me a bit of your grandfather's room at the house in England."

"It does at that. Well then, decision made." Julian made arrangements with the salesperson to have the new bedroom suite delivered next week. The store had an option available that for a nominal fee, the old furnishings would be removed and donated to a local shelter, the pickup and delivery trucks would hopefully arrive just hours apart. With all the shopping finally done, it was time for dinner.

Julian could feel her tension as the elevator doors closed. The top floor of the building was 11 floors up, above the executive offices and storage rooms, so there was no other way to get there. "It's okay, just breathe," he chided.

"I know, I know." She could manage tight spaces like elevators and subway cars as long as they were moving.

* * *

The Garden Terrace was lovely, a greenhouse overlooking the city. The entire top floor was filled with lush tropical plants and rattan furniture with soft comfy cushions. They watched the sun disappear behind rather ominous looking clouds over first courses of fruit cup and cream of cucumber soup.

"You forgot to get more pyjamas," she reminded him playfully as they were enjoying their garden salads with raspberry vinaigrette dressing. Arianna was carefully avoiding a large black olive on her plate and was quite pleased when Julian reached over and speared it with his fork.

"That's all right, last night I realised I'm quite used to sleeping in just the bottoms," he smiled wryly.

After delicious meals of poached grouper and veal francaise with lightly sautéed Spring vegetables and a bottle of white zinfandel, they split an enormous slice of truly decadent chocolate cake smothered with raspberries and white mint chocolate sauce. By the time they finished their coffees and paid the check, it had started to rain, hard. In the not too far off distance, bolts of lightning were visible.

"This place would be interesting for observing the storm, were it not the top of one of the tallest buildings in town, are you ready to leave?" he asked.

"With pleasure, thunder and lightning are not my favourites." She shuddered as a loud boom of thunder sounded too close for comfort.

Both of them saw the flash of lightning just as the elevator doors closed and the car started its journey down. A few moments later, everything stopped and they were in total darkness. Julian heard a small whimper from Arianna in the instant before the emergency lights kicked in and tried to re-assure her. "Don't worry, it's just a power failure."

"I know, but we're not moving." He could hear the beginning of panic in her voice and pressed the emergency call button on the control panel.

"We will be soon, take a deep breath and think about the island." She moved into the corner of the car and sat down, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I can't," she murmured.

"Yes you can." He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. He wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort her but the last article he'd read recommended giving a claustrophobic plenty of space. "Look at me," through her hands he could feel her heartbeat racing and when she looked up at him his eyes could see the flush of colour rapidly covering her face.

"Good, now close your eyes and let your mind take you back to Maine." He could sense the suffocating feeling overtaking her reason. "Think back to Summer and tell me what it was like when you were young." Even held hostage at gunpoint she'd not been this upset. He knew closed in spaces were a problem, but he'd never actually seen her like this. "Try to breathe normally."

"We used to swim in the lobster pound," she finally murmured, trying not to gasp for air. Her trust that Julian would keep her safe helped balance the feeling that she was suffocating, and she seemed to draw strength from his hands firmly holding her own.

"In the what?"

"The lobster pound. It's sort of a lagoon. A wooden structure lets the tidal water come in but keeps the lobsters penned up for storage until they're sold."

"And you swam with lobsters?" He could hardly imaging putting his hand into the tank of live ones they kept at the grocers, let alone actually swimming among the spiny beasts with the razor sharp claws.

"Its deep, and they were only at the bottom. We used to swim there every afternoon."

"But the water felt so cold when we were there."

"It seemed warmer when we were young."

"What other amusements did you find on the island?" She was starting to breathe a little more evenly and he wanted to keep her talking. "Keep your eyes closed and try to relax."

"Once every summer, we'd walk around the perimeter of the island, it was about five miles by the shore."

"That must have taken a long time climbing the rocks."

"We'd take sandwiches and make a day of it. You had to leave on the high tide so that when you reached the cliffs on the West side it would be low, otherwise you had to go up into the woods to pass. The back side is uninhabited."

"Did you ever visit the nearby islands?"

"Once for a fourth of July picnic, we went out to Burnt Island. From the room you slept in, it would be the next island you see past the end of the point. It's actually five miles away. Outward Bound, the survival camp, is using part of it now, but back then it was deserted. There was an abandoned Coast Guard station. We climbed to the top of their watch tower, high above the trees. The view was incredible, you could see all the way back into Port George, and all the way on to Monhegan another five miles away."

"What would you eat at a fourth of July picnic?"

"Hot dogs, hamburgers, munchies and chips, you'd call them crisps. Potato or macaroni salad, with brownies and watermelon for dessert. We always got the unusual flavours of soda and put the cans in the ocean to keep cold. Invariably we'd forget about them and have to go diving to retrieve them when the tide came in."

"What do you consider unusual flavours?"

"Grape, lemon-lime, black cherry, pineapple, strawberry, I loved strawberry. Oh, and sarsaparilla."

"What is sarsaparilla?"

"It's like a strong root beer."

"Is root beer alcoholic?"

"No, it looks like cola, but it's a little sweeter with a tangy flavour, you've never tasted it?"

"You'll have to educate my palate to American sodas when we get out of here." He felt her tense up again and regretted saying that as soon as the words were spoken.

"Eek," she uttered, clutching his arm tightly. It felt as if the bottom dropped out from under them as the elevator car suddenly started moving again. When it jerked to a stop and the doors slowly opened, they were facing a grey uniformed maintenance man on the second floor. What had seemed like an eternity to Arianna was actually about 25 minutes.

"Is everyone okay?" the store employee asked anxiously.

"A little shaken, but intact," Julian answered as Ari stepped quickly out of the car.

"Sorry about that, the storm must have hit one of the transformers on the roof. With just the emergency lights, we've had to evacuate the store and close up. I hope you'd finished your shopping."

"We had," she said, edging further and further away from the elevator.

"Please accept my most profound apology for this inconvenience." A short, balding man in a pinstripe suit rushed up to them, offering his hand. "I'm the general manager."

"No harm done." Julian shook hands with the man who continued to offer apologies.

"Please is there any way I can make it up to you, I see the lady is upset." Arianna was still wandering further away from them toward the open centre of the floor.

"A touch of claustrophobia I'm afraid," Julian told him quietly. "She'll be fine."

"Please let me have your name and address so I may at least send you each a gift certificate. I feel terrible about this inconvenience."

"I imagine she'd like that. You can send it here." He reached to his inside jacket pocket and handed the man one of the nondescript calling cards they both used. Printed on grey flecked vellum with black script, it listed just a P.O. Box in Hastings, no names or phone numbers. "If you need a name for it, just use MacDuff."

"Very good, it will be in the mail tomorrow morning."

"Excuse me, but where are the stairs down?" Arianna asked meekly when she returned to where the men were standing.

"Of course, right this way." The manager escorted them to the stairway and down to the exit, again apologising and promising to take care of the mail first thing. The rain had lessened to just a drizzle as they ran across the nearly empty parking lot to Julian's car.

"What is he going to mail tomorrow?" she asked when they were safely headed home.

"A gift certificate."

"Ugh, not more shopping," she groaned.

"Well, they do have a mail order catalogue," he glanced at her and winked.

* * *

"How long have you been bothered by closed in spaces?" he asked as she cleared the breakfast dishes the next morning. The rainstorm had returned after they went to bed and she'd had a fitful night. Twice he'd had to wake her from nightmares where she was crying and gasping for air.

She refilled the teapot from the kettle on the stove and came back to sit beside him on the sofa. "I didn't know I was until about six years ago on a business trip for Hamilton. On a flight from Prague to Frankfurt, I'd been ticketed a bulkhead aisle seat instead of the window I'd requested. I had no idea what was wrong, but the friends travelling with me said I suddenly turned bright red and looked like I was suffocating. Fortunately, it was a short flight, on the next leg of the journey I had a window and everything was fine. That night at dinner my friends started to tease me about it and the supplier we were in Germany to visit got very angry with them. He asked me some questions and after we talked for a bit he knew exactly what had bothered me. As it turned out, he was plagued with it as well."

"What sort of questions did he ask?" He refilled their tea mugs and set the pot onto the cork trivet on the coffee table.

"Just trivial things mostly, about closing doors and curtains, that sort of thing. As far back as I can remember, I've always hated closed rooms and kept the curtains open."

"I've done some reading on it since we've been together, have you ever tried to find out what initially created the phobia?"

"How?"

"Well, there was a paper in one of the journals that theorised that some phobias result from a trauma of one kind or another. The test cases cited were able to regress to the original event to find the root of their fears. Some of them reported that it made it easier to cope with afterward."

"And how did they manage that?" He had her curiosity aroused now.

"Hypnosis."

"Oh no," she set her mug down on the table, shaking her head. "I don't trust anyone enough to try that. I've seen too many people do foolish things at parties."

"Those are just silly parlour tricks. Do you trust me?"

"You know I do. Why, could you do it?"

"Not as easily as Jacob, but I've had some success in the past. It mostly depends on the subject's willingness to co-operate."

"Well, I'll give it a try if you think it might help. Just promise you won't leave any post-hypnotic suggestions behind?"

"I was thinking something on the line of hang up your coat?" he teased. Facing her sincerely worried look he smiled sweetly and shook his head saying, "No tricks, you have my word."

She cleared the tea things while he was rummaging in the library desk drawers. The rain had finally stopped but the sky was still overcast and very grey, making the whole house seem dark. Switching on the peacock feather tiffany lamp she settled into the corner of the couch and picked up the unfinished crossword. The soft light coming through the stained glass shade of the lamp filled the room with a warm amber colour glow. When he returned to the living room she thought she saw the flash of something shiny in his left hand.

"Finish it yet?" he asked.

"No, I still can't remember that ridiculous word from Mary Poppins."

"Well, depending how far you can regress, perhaps we can find it in your memory."

"You promised no tricks, remember?"

"Don't worry, just sit back and relax." She put down the puzzle and turned to sit sideways into the corner so she was facing him. The shiny thing in his hand turned out to be a gold pocket watch on a long intricately woven foxtail chain.

"That's beautiful, may I look at it?" He handed it to her for inspection. It was a ladies watch of slightly rose colour 14kt gold, decorated on both front and back with carved flowers and scrolled flourishes. Pressing down on the winding knob caused the front cover to pop open revealing a white watch face with delicate hands and black roman numerals. An indentation allowed the back cover to be opened to uncover a smooth polished gold surface engraved with three sets of initials. Obviously a family heirloom, Arianna thought it strange that only the last set ended with S. She looked up at Julian, curious but not wanting to ask, his family history usually brought back painful memories for him.

"It was great-grandmother's, passed down through the daughters in the family," he shrugged, "until my generation. Mother always said it would someday go to my brother's wife. After he drowned, it came to me."

"It's lovely," she whispered softly, handing it back to him.

"Are you comfortable?" He shifted position slightly to face her.

"Yes." With his elbow resting on the back of the couch he held the watch suspended so that he could roll the chain between thumb and forefinger, making it turn slowly.

"Just relax, and keep your eyes on the watch. See it's movement, try to look through it. Block out all other thoughts and listen to my voice. You feel safe and very relaxed." He stared at her eyes as the watch rotated, after a few minutes they lost their usual shiny brightness and she blinked lazily. "Close your eyes and enjoy the relaxed feeling." Running his hand through his hair, he took a deep breath and shook his head to try and clear his own thoughts. He hadn't realised being able to sense each other's thoughts would carry over to hypnosis as well, it would not do for them both to be asleep.

"Try to remember any times you've felt suffocated, or closed in and afraid. Let's go back before the flight from Prague. What's the next time you can remember before then?"

"Maine, June 1986."

"Tell me about it, you're perfectly safe. Let the memories come, they can't hurt you."

"I fell last night on the pier, the ladder. My ankle is swollen." He remembered the entry in the medical report of her dossier.

"Yes, it's fractured."

"There's a thunderstorm, no!" she cried.

"Ssssh, it's all right, it can't hurt you."

"The chimney."

"What about the chimney?" he asked when she'd quieted a bit.

"Lightning struck it."

"All right, the storm is over now. What else do you remember?"

"I'm all alone in the house, I can't walk on my ankle, but I smell smoke."

"Is there a fire?"

"No, it's just some singed electrical wiring from the lightning strike."

"Okay, let's go further back than that, try another ten years, can you remember anything from the seventies?"

"High school." She sighed.

"What happened in high school?"

"The music room, I got locked in."

"Someone locked you in?"

"No, the lock was broken. We always propped the door open with something but the book fell and the door closed."

"How long were you there?"

"Long enough to sort three file cabinets."

"Further back now, it's the 1960's can you remember anything happening then that made you feel closed in or afraid?"

"Yes."

"How old are you now?"

"I'm not sure, four, maybe five." He saw her eyebrows knit together as she tried to remember.

"You're still very relaxed, tell me what you remember."

"I'm in the car, parked near a telephone pole. Mom and Dad have gone into a fruit stand across the parking lot. It's raining so hard I can't see out the windows. There's thunder and lightning all around, I'm frightened." She reached out toward him and he gently took hold of her hand, when she felt his touch she grasped his fingers firmly.

"It's all right, you're safe here, there are no more storms. Can you remember anything before that?

She suddenly gasped and whispered, "Yes."

"What is it, let the memories come, they can't hurt you. Tell me what you're seeing."

"I can't see anything, it's cold and damp. I can hear voices, it sounds like a church service, and there's a man weeping, but I can't move."

"Where are you?"

"In a box."

"My God," Julian whispered under his breath when his mind saw her memory and realised the box was actually a coffin.

"Do you know what year it is?"

"Of course, it's 1686."

"And just who *are* you?"

"Mercy Standish, wife of Caleb Sampson. There's a musty, earthy smell, I don't like it. Can you get me out of here? Please?"

Julian felt as if his blood had turned to ice water at the mention of those two names. After his own trips into regression hypnosis with Jacob years ago, he'd done extensive research into the history of the Sampsons who emmigrated to America shortly after the Pilgrims. He'd needed to find out all he could about Caleb, the young farmer who from all accounts seemed to shut him self off from friends and family after the death of his wife due to a concussion. The diaries had talked of him being quiet and broody after her death, going through the remainder of his life with no emotion, no feeling, no joy.

He'd understood Caleb and the regression to that past life had somewhat helped him deal with the loss of Mei-Ling all those years ago. Now, his mind was reeling to have learned that Jacob's suspicions from that first time he met Arianna were right, they were truly soul mates, together again after three and a half centuries. On the flip side, his hands were shaking with the realisation that the feeble old doctor had been mistaken, and Mercy had been buried alive. Although this memory would explain her claustrophobia, he was afraid it could upset her more than the fear itself, and decided to let it remain forgotten. He ran a hand through his hair and took a calming breath.

"Yes, I can get you out. Just listen to my voice. I'm going to count slowly back from five. When I reach one, you'll wake up feeling refreshed, as if you've just had a long nap. You'll be able to remember the events you've just seen, up to the storm at the fruit stand, but only if you want to. *And you'll love Thai food,* he thought, secretly wishing he could try just one harmless little trick, but he had given his word. Five..... Four..... Three..... Two..... One.

Arianna opened her eyes slowly and stretched like a cat awakening from a long snooze on a sunny windowsill. "Did it work?" she asked, yawning.

"I think so, do you remember what you saw?"

She looked ponderous for a few moments. "I think I understand why I hate thunderstorms."

"They did seem to play a big part in your fear. How do you feel?"

"Wonderful, like I just had a good night's sleep. What time is it?"

He opened the watch to check that it was still running, until this morning the last time it had been wound was years ago. "It's a quarter to eleven, why?"

"I'm hungry, how about lunch at Star of Siam?" She grinned mischievously.

"You want Thai food? That's usually my choice." He was a bit concerned that his joking thought may have carried through to her relaxed and open mind.

"I'd rather have pasta honestly, but we haven't been there for a long time, and I thought you might be having withdrawal symptoms." She sat forward and playfully kissed the side of his cheek. "Relax Julian, and thank you for being true to your word."

He put the watch back into it's leather jewellery box and handed it to her, his expression serious but smiling. "Next time we go in town I'll have your initials added to the back."

"No Julian, it should go to your w..." She stopped herself before saying it and looked down at the box, remembering his thoughts that first night they were together in the English manor gatehouse. 'Men in his line of work can't have wives, families and quiet homes in the suburbs'.

He gently cupped her chin with one hand and raised her head until their eyes met, then smiled warmly and whispered, "It has."

Next Chapter: A Whole New World