The Rock Star Next Door, a Modern Fairytale (39 page)

“I a
m Madame Aria
. Please
sit, relax. Allow all the cares of the outer world to drift away.” The woman sat in a plush easy chair and gestured to the sofa opposite Jessie. As Jessie sat down on the large, comfy sofa
that seemed to embrace her
, Madame Aria nodded to her bag. “I see you found something in our shop that appealed to you.”

“Yes, amethyst.” Jessie replied, feeling dumb for being such a novice at all this.

“
Ah, how appropriate
.” Madame Aria commented. “Amethyst is used frequently for past life regression. That is what you are here for this afternoon, is it not?”

It was
. Jessie kept having those annoying dreams
about
Lex as a
medieval singer
. About
Lex being in love with her
in the distant past, of
Lex begging her
to
leave her mistress,
run away
with him to Paris
and be married. She missed Lex
but
realized th
at until she could move forward in their relationship
it was unfair to call him and suggest they pick up where they left off. If she couldn’
t get past
whatever it was that made her hesitant about marrying him, then the
re was no use getting back together
. It wasn’t fair to either of them
.
Lex wanted more from her
and until sh
e could give it to him
she shouldn’t expect him to settle
for less.

“
You mentioned dreams troubling you
and a disagreement with your boyfriend over something important to both of you?” Madame Aria steered the conversation to the main reason for Jessie’s visit.  “Why don’t you tell me a little more about it?”

“
We were
engaged,
sort of. My
fiancé
pushed me into the engagement. He
kept telling me we were destined to be together, that we were lovers in a past life and he recognized me in this one. He pr
oposed to me almost imm
ediately and . . .”

“
It scared you?
”

“
Yes. It was too sudden. I started to worry
about it, about his motives
for pushing the wedding
and
wondering
if he was really on the level with all this past life stuff.”  She glanced uneasily about the room as she spoke, still feeling silly for actually seeking out this stranger and expecting her
to have answers for her problems
. Well, it was
this or
a the
rapist, and this seemed
a little
lower
key than the lat
t
er.

“I see. He may be more advanced in the process of past life regression, but from your stand point, how can you know for sure he’s not just giving you a line?”

“Exactly.” Jessie sat upright, surprised and relieved by the woman’s ability to understand her side of the equation. Everyone else just seemed to overlook Lex’s quirk,
or l
augh it off. It bothered Jessie
that ev
eryone just expected her
to go with it.

“We should never go in
one
direction merely because someone else feels it’s the right path for us.” Madame Aria continued. “
It has to be the right path for you.”

Okay, she was starting to like this woman a little more. She sounded like a therapist, but Jessie wasn’t here for her approval or support, she was here to try to work through
those weird dreams and try to figure out if they were pieces of a past life coming to her in dreams. “I want it to be the right path, but something deep down is holding me back.”

The spiritualist nodded. “And yet, you’ve progressed to the point where you realize this. You can’t imagine how long it takes a person to get to this point. You are far ahead of many of my clients.”

“My boyfriend doesn’t think so. He makes me feel as if I’m dumb for not getting it.”

“And how long has he been on the path to enlightenment?”

“Six or eight
years, I guess.”

“A long time.” Madame Aria nodded. “And how long have you been seeking to understand the connection between your relationship now and the one you
may have
had in a past life?”

“
Two
months?
He talks about it as if it’s a fact, like we dated in
high school or something
but it’s not like that for me. I don’t remember him. Except for the dreams I’
ve been having
. S
ometimes I wonder if they’re just there because of his suggestions.
I never had any dreams about him or a life in the past before I met him.
” 

Talking about it
made Jessie uncomfortable. She felt
disturbed deep in her soul. Why, she didn’t know. It shouldn’
t upset her. S
he knew that in her head. She should be able to j
ust laugh it off like Jack
, dismiss it. Instead she felt angry, hurt, and scared.

Yeah, that was the biggest thing; feeling afraid because
it
just
might be the truth.

“Shall we begin?”

“Don’t you want me to tell you about my dreams first?”

“No. I don’t need to know them. If I did, it would be too easy for someone to accuse me of planting the ideas in your head.” Madame Aria replied.

Jessie was impressed. This woman knew how to protect her own backside.

Madame Aria guided Jessie in a meditation sequence. She helped Jessie rela
x with some breathing exercises
and told her to empty her mind of all worries and concerns, all thought, if possible. Jessie did her best to merely focus on her breathing and on the soft chime music playing. After several moments of quiet, the spiritualist began to direct Jessie toward her goal, remembering the rest of the story in her dreams.

“Just relax
and think about that place you go to in your dreams. Deep, cle
ansing breaths, that’s it . . . J
ust let go, Julianna, let the images come to you, like waves washing up on the shore . . .”

Jessie felt her limbs relax, her muscles, even her jaw, which she didn’t realize had been tightly clenched until she felt it relax. She felt her body melt into the soft cushions of the sof
a. It was like a bean bag chair;
it just hugged your body and conformed to it.

His voice was like magic. Jessie moved though the co
rridor and into the great hall
where the troubadour was holding court--rather, her mistress was holding court but the handsome singer, Gaston Devereaux, was mesmerizing the throng of ladies gathered there. Even Maude, the head servant of her ladyship, was standing in the arched doorway, her hand on her heart as she stared longingly across the room to the handsome singer.

Jessie stood quietly beside Maude, entranced, like the rest of them by Gaston’s beautiful voice and by his dark, handsome features. He was swarthy,
like those born in Gascony
and his pale blue eyes were like lodestones when they fixed upon you.

The song ended, and the ladies murmured and clapped. Lady Marcella gestured for Gaston to come forward and kiss her hand. She was drunk on his enchanting so
ngs of love. T
hey all were. A few ladies were crying, weeping softly into a silk handkerchief at the tragic ballad he had ended with. Gasto
n stepped forward as he was bid
and placed
a chaste
kiss on his patroness’ hand. Marcella leaned close and whispered something in his ear. He laughed and smiled that soul stealing smile of his.

Jessie’s jealousy stirred. She knew he had to play the part, court the lady, make her feel loved and admired in order to garner hi
s pay. She still didn’t like it
or the possessive way Lady Marcella looked at him, as if he, too were bound to her
for her pleasure.

The m
oment passed, as it always did.
Jessie struggled to hide her distress. She attempted to look distracted. After the evening drew to a close, he would me
et her in the gardens or in the
solar
ium
. He would ply her with kisses and talk about
their plans for the future. In another week he would return to Paris
and he was taking Jessie with him. Secretly, of course, as she could not leave of her own free will. She was indentured to the L
ady Marcella for the next ten
years of her life. Nay, it may as well be her whole life,
for
she’d be an old maid
by the time the terms of her indenture were served and she could leave by her own will.

The week passed fretfully. Jessie worried over his plans for her. Gaston said they would be married when they reached Paris . . . and yet, it was a long way to Paris from the Normandy coast. Weeks of travel. Weeks in which she might be compromised and then abandoned on the road. No, she must trust him. He loved her. He pledged his love to her. She must trust Gaston Devereaux and not question his motives for marrying her.

Tomorrow they were leaving. Jessie would s
lip out after the night watch
announced the curfew, but before he locked the doors. Gaston would be waiting for her, outside the castle walls. He would leave in the morning, as planned, and wait for her in the woods beyond the stream. He and his men would wait for her to join them befo
re partaking of their journey. T
hat way the alarm would not be sounded over the missing status of an indentured servant until the next morning. He was smart that way, her Gaston.

Jessie watched him as he and his musicians set up their instruments for the coming night’s entertainment. She stood in the small alcove leading to the chapel across the green, shocked and angry as a lone figure emerged from the other end of the hall and approached Gaston. His back was to the maid who crept soundlessly toward him, like a cat approaching a saucer of milk. It was Lucy, a slut by all accounts as she’d kept most of the Lord’s men entertained with her body during the long winter nights.

“
Hi-ho, my pretty French songbird.” Lucy whispered in her throaty, sensual voic
e. “Must you away on the morrow?
I should like to fly with thee.”

“I must away. I have engagements in Paris anon.” Gaston replied. “Have you not a good supply of men here to keep you satisfied, good wench?”

“I do, but none have satisfied me in the way that you do.” Lucy purred, leaning provocatively into his frame from behind. “Your French tongue plies me with magic that I scarce can bear to do without, Devereaux. Kiss me, quickly, before the hag who rules us all sees
. For she is fair jealous
and
clings to the belief that
you have eyes for her alone.”

Lucy’s taunt managed to turn him about. Gaston embraced her quickly and gave her a kiss that could not be misconstrued as playacting to gain the favor of a patron. He kissed her long and hard, and when he pulled away, his smile said it all, even without the words that burned though Jessie’s soul.

“Aye, Mistress Lucy. You and I have had some good tangles
before the dawn. Much as I enjoy making the beast with two backs with thee, I must away, for duty and a wife await me.”

“Duty a
nd a wife, anon. And when your
duty brings you back to us, I shall be waiting to welcome you back to my bed.” Lucy’s face was finally revealed to Jessie as
as the woman turned about and Gaston
returned to his
tuning
instrument.

It was a face she knew well.

“And I shall gladly join you on your pallet, little wench. A wife in Paris will not know what goes on in Normandy, nor should she care, if she knows what is good for her.”

“Easy, now, Julianna, breath
e
deeply. That’s it, shhh, it’s all right, wake up, come back to us.” A woman’s soft, cooing voice pulled Jessie from the horrible dream.

Was it a dream? God in heaven--it had to be a dream. It couldn’t be true!

Jessie was panting, gasping for the air her lungs craved and been denied for too long.

Madame Aria was sitting on the sofa beside her, holding her wrist in her hand and measuring her pulse with concern. Jessie noticed the lights had been turned up in the room as well. “You were in quite deep.” She explained. “You entered the trance state very easily, Julianna. You have a natural inclination to soul travel. Surely you must have had dreams before that seemed too real?”

Jessie didn’t answer the woman’s query. She was too shaken by the events revealed in this recent dream. Lex--
Gaston-
-was betraying her, with
Lucy
, and if he were that cavalier about sleeping with Lucy again after he married her, than how many other women would he sleep with on his travels while she remained home in Paris? What hurt the most was seeing them
laughing about it, talking about it in such casual terms, as if her heart meant nothing to either of them.