Prologue & Ch 1. Destiny Remembered

Prologue



         “Calista! Calista! Come quick!”

         The little girl with copper colored hair perked up from  the crayon-drawn  family she was creating on paper and looked towards the doorway of her room. Her father burst in with an excited grin on his face. He waved his hand towards the hallway with a twinkle in those beautiful moss-colored eyes of his.

         “Hurry outside! You’re going to miss it!” Calista glanced towards the window of her room, seeing that darkness had indeed blanketed everything. Daddy knew she didn’t like being in the dark. She was only five years old, and it seemed like the darkness would swallow her.

         Daddy must have seen the fear on the little girl’s face, because he held out his hand with a gentle smile that invoked trust and safety. “Come, Calista. It will be alright. I’ll be there with you, and you won’t want to miss this!”

         Calista tentatively stood up from her little desk and put her chubby fingers into her father’s bigger ones. She felt the energy calmly float into her hand from his, and felt better. She gave a confident nod to her father and replied with a quiet, yet firm, “Okay, Daddy.”

         He pulled her down the stairs and towards the door leading outside with such enthusiasm that the girl giggled with delight. His answering chuckles bounced off the walls of the entryway as they raced to the door. He pulled the door open, gently pushed her ahead of him, and pulled the door closed behind them with a quiet thump.

         She was so entranced by his rambunctious behavior, that she didn’t even notice that the sky was alive with color. He spun her around to face the sky and her eyes widened in wonder.

         “What is it, Daddy?” she asked as she reached out to clasp his hand again. Things always seemed more alive and the emotions more vibrant when she was holding Daddy’s hand.

         “The Northern Lights…Aurora Borealis,” he replied in a quietly excited voice. He watched his daughter’s face, delighting in seeing the excitement of discovery and the awe dancing across it. He could feel the wonderment that surrounded her.

         “Aurora…bore-liss?” she questioned in her little husky child’s voice.

         “Aurora Borealis,” he repeated, and then went on to explain what it was and why it happened. She followed every word in rapt attention, and he could tell she was soaking it in. It was still a shock to him to see the potential she had to become quite gifted.

         Calista gave a sweet smile as they turned to head back into the house. “Thank you, Daddy. I will remember it always.”

         He gave her a kiss on the top of her head and replied, “I hope so, honey.”



         At only five years old, I seemed to know that the sweet memory would stick with me for a lifetime. Now, at eighteen, I can still remember the strong feelings I felt on that night. Not only the feeling of being loved by Daddy or even feeling safe and secure in his presence; but the biggest emotion I felt was of feeling so small. I felt like there was so much more I didn’t know and hadn’t seen. It hit me, at the tender age of five, how big the world really was and how I was such a tiny part of it. At the same time, I felt very in tune with the world. It felt right and I felt like I was a part of it all. While my part was tiny in the grand scheme of things, I felt like it was still very important. I just wasn’t sure how.

Chapter 1

         The tension in our house was so strong that I felt like when I would have to do a class presentation. My chest had that tight feeling and I couldn't help feeling so anxious that I wanted to bolt. I felt closed in - almost caged.

         It was late June. It should have been a time of family vacations and great plans for my first year of college. Instead, my high school graduation seemed like an event that we just had to somehow live through; and every day Mother seemed to become more and more agitated. At first I thought it was because she was afraid to see me go. The whole “empty nest syndrome.” Now I think back to my first thought on the matter and cringe to think I was that clueless. I finally saw that the interactions between my parents were even more terse than before. Over a year before, I was already thinking I would find myself summoned to a “family conference” where the big announcement would come out. Divorce. It never happened, though. Now, mere months before I would leave home as an adult, it looked like they were going to take that final step. I know it sounded very self-absorbed, but I couldn’t help thinking it was so cruel of them to choose to do it in such a transitional time for me.

         With the house feeling like it was waiting for the inevitable, I found I couldn’t spend much time inside. I was always drawn to nature, so I didn’t find that aspect of all that was going on to be too unbearable. I spent most of each day wandering the gardens, swimming in the pond, or helping Jill, our housekeeper, with some outdoor chore. This irritated Mother (most things did at the time), but she rarely walked the grounds of our home anymore. So, the chances of her following me to nag were slim.

         One Friday morning, I planned to escape early since it was one of the worst days as of late for the mounting tension in the house. Dad had left early for the hospital, so it was just Mother and me in the house. I was grabbing a carton of yogurt from the fridge when I could just feel Mother come up behind me. Of course I knew she would start chiding me about skipping out on breakfast. I spun around, yogurt in hand, ready to confront her. I was shocked to see a look of resignation on her face. So shocked that I didn’t know what to say.

         She just stood there for a moment and I watched her, unsure what she would do. She took a deep breath. I watched her push a lock of honey-colored hair behind her right ear. Her earring, a simple but elegant gold swoop, dangled a bit as she bumped it. Then she spoke up, in a quiet, almost defeated-sounding voice.

         “Wandering all day again, huh?”

         I was not prepared for that reaction. I was prepared for an argument, for her to pick me apart and for me to bristle. She would lament again about how I was “wasting” my summer already and ask, yet again, why in the world I didn’t have friends to do something with. Then we would both storm off in different directions. I think I actually needed an argument. It might temporarily break up the feeling of suspense all around me.

         I looked down at the ornate tiled floor, avoiding eye contact. The soft earthtones of the tiles were suddenly very interesting to me and I studied the pattern made to look like stone. I wasn’t sure how to react to such a change of routine. Finally, I just decided to escape as quickly and quietly as possible. I nodded and murmured, “Uh-huh…I just need some time to think.”

         Before her mood could change, I stepped around her and grabbed my spoon off of the breakfast bar counter. I kept my head down as I hurried to the door and heard her sigh again. When I got to the door leading to the gardens, I glanced back quickly and saw she had her back to me. Her shoulders were slumped and she shook her head a bit. I was struck again by how defeated it looked. What was going on?



         A little while later, I was sitting on a stone bench in the garden as I finished my breakfast. I licked the last of the yogurt off of the spoon as I contemplated what I would do for the day. If Dad wasn’t working, I could have spent time with him. I was already dreading leaving him in August when I went off to college. I was much closer to him. It was like he understood me more. I used to be fairly close to Mother as well, but she had grown so distant and closed off. All we did was argue. August couldn’t come fast enough for me to get a break from that.

         I considered calling a friend from school. Despite Mother’s belief, I actually did have a few friends from school. I probably should call them acquaintances, though. We rarely did something together outside of school. I tried getting close to people, but I just never seemed to fit in. I felt different from everyone else, even though I couldn’t quite put a finger on as to why. Maybe I had inherited that annoying character flaw of pushing people away from Mother. It would just be my luck to inherit all of her flaws. I rolled my eyes at the thought.

         The endless days of summer stretched out in front of me. Perhaps I should get a job, I pondered. If I wasn’t home, Mother couldn’t be hounding me about not spending so much time outside and how I should be spending my time preparing for college. I remembered last summer, when Mother had even threatened to ask our family doctor, Dr. Bennington, for a referral to a psychiatrist. She contended that it just wasn’t natural for a teenage girl to be so withdrawn with her peers. She said this, among other things, made her think I was either depressed or had some other mental illness. Dad told her it was nonsense, though. The argument that ensued went on for at least an hour. While I hated the fighting, I was extremely thankful Dad came forward and “rescued” me. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mother had gone as far as to have had me committed somewhere.

         Sick of mulling over the past and fretting over my future, I decided I would go down to the pond and sketch for awhile. Surely that would pass the time until Dad came home. I had my bag with me. It was the bag that I never left the house without. It contained almost anything I would need to stay outside all day if I wanted to. I was thinking it would be another day like that, and was glad that I was prepared.



         I spent the whole day sketching, writing in my journal, rowing across the pond, and just sitting outside enjoying the weather. I ate a granola bar and an apple I had stashed in my bag for lunch. It hadn’t been terribly filling, but it worked. Now, as the time was getting close to dinner, my stomach began rumbling its protest of the meager offerings. I gathered my things and started back to the house. Dad would be home. Even if Mother would be in a foul mood, it was always easier to handle when Dad was there. I walked faster, eager to see him and show him a sketch that I had made.

         I entered through the kitchen, and was surprised to find the house still fairly quiet. The kitchen smelled wonderful – it seemed it would be roast chicken for dinner – but there was no one in there. I peeked into the dining room to see the whole meal laid out on the table, but the lights were dimmed in the room. Mother sat at the table – alone – in silence. She looked up, startled, when I walked in. There was a momentary look of despair in her eyes before it vanished and her cool façade returned.

         “Oh, Calista. There you are. It’s about time.” She motioned to my plate as she picked up her fork. “Your food is getting cold.” She began to eat, but it seemed very mechanical. It was obvious to me she was hiding something.

         “Where’s Dad?” I asked as I pulled my chair out to sit down. “He was only going in for some paperwork today. He should have been home by now.”

         She went totally still for a second and I saw the sadness in her eyes again. Once more, she pushed it away and put her mask back on.

         “Oh, I’m sure he was just held up or something. We’ll start without him. If he doesn’t have the common decency to call and let us know he’ll be late, then he can have cold food.” Her words seemed hollow to me. I could sense more was going on than I knew, but I also knew that she would not say another word on the subject. Questioning her on it would be futile.

         We continued to eat in an awkward silence. I began to wonder how long we could possibly continue like that, when she finally broke the silence. “I have a meeting with clients tonight, so I will be leaving shortly.” Her words were clipped and emotionless. I wondered why she suddenly would have a meeting that she never put on the calendar. She was always so annoyingly organized that I could find her every minute of every day based on her posted schedule, if I really had wanted to. I got the feeling again that she wasn’t going to tell me anymore, so I just nodded in understanding.

         She took a sip from her glass of water and set it down delicately before adding, “These clients are very old friends of mine, so we may go out for drinks afterwards. I probably will be home late. No need to stay up for me. You might want to do some of that reading for college that I recommended for you.”

         Not in the mood for an argument, I just nodded again in acquiescence. An unscheduled “meeting” with clients and then drinks for hours afterwards? It all sounded suspicious to me. Added to Dad not being home when he said he would was making me extremely uneasy. Something was up, and it was infuriating that they were still treating me like a child instead of disclosing it to me.

         Another stretch of awkward silence developed, until Mother cleared her throat as she placed her utensils on the plate. She didn’t look me in the eye as she said goodbye and stood up to  clear her dishes. “Please clean up after yourself and put the leftovers in the fridge,” she threw back over her shoulder as she left the room.

         “Yes, Mother,” I murmured.

         As soon as I heard the front door close, I grabbed my bag from under the table and pulled my cell phone out. I clicked on a picture of Dad and held my breath as the phone rang and rang. Two more rings, and then I heard, “ Hello, you have reached Dr. Grant…” Tears began to blur my eyes as I hung up. I dialed his office next, and got a similar voicemail. Something was definitely going on and I was scared to know what. Dad always answered my phone call when he could, unless he was with a patient. He didn’t see patients this late at night.

         No longer hungry, I wiped the few tears that had rolled down my cheeks as I stood up and cleared the table. I resolved that I wouldn’t jump to conclusions and would wait to see what was going on. Of course that was easier said than done since I faced an evening alone. I decided I would spend the next few hours watching movies and go to bed early.



         I woke up to the front door being closed as quietly as possible. I glanced at my alarm clock and saw that it was 12:34 am. I had kept myself busy until bedtime, when the stress of the day had caught up to me. I had then cried myself to sleep.

         I threw back the covers and jumped out of bed, hurrying as quietly as possible out of my room and to the stairs leading to the entryway. I stopped in the shadows and peeked around the wall to see who had come in.

         It was Mother. She laid her coat and purse on the table in the entryway as if in a daze. Her shoulders were slumped in defeat again. Dad had not come home, and Mother did not look like she was returning from a fun night out with old friends.

         As silently as possible, I crept back to my bedroom and got back into bed. I heard her footsteps come up the stairs and they stopped outside of my bedroom. I closed my eyes and pretended that I was sleeping. I heard her push the ajar door the rest of the way open and she came in the room, standing a few feet away from the bed. She sighed heavily and then came closer to gently push the hair off of my face. I was so shocked that I was motionless, which was good since I was still trying to feign sleep. She sighed again, and then left the room and closed the door. I heard her footsteps get quieter as she walked away towards their bedroom.

         I sat awake for hours after that, contemplating the events of the day and night. I finally fell into a deep sleep shortly before dawn.