Sisters, Long Ago Page 7

  When Gretchen arrived, Willow showed her the Lost ad and told her about the dog next door. “I think she takes someone’s dog and keeps it until a reward is offered. Then she pretends she found the dog. After she returns it and collects the money, she steals somebody else’s dog.”

  “I can’t believe anyone would do that,” Gretchen said. “How could she be sure the dog’s owner would pay a reward? Some people wouldn’t even bother to advertise. Then she’d be stuck with a dog she doesn’t want. What would she do, try to sneak it back home again?”

  Willow shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said.

  “There’s no way she could be certain, before she took a dog, that its owners would be willing to pay a reward.”

  “You’re right,” Willow said. “It’s probably just a coincidence that she happens to be taking care of a cocker spaniel named Jericho who’s wearing a red collar.” She looked at the Lost ad again. “Unless . . .” she said. “Unless there’s another way to get money. If the owner doesn’t offer a reward, maybe Mrs. Clauson sells the dog somewhere else.”

  Gretchen looked dubious. “Where?”

  “I’ve read about cosmetics companies that use animals to test products like shampoo and mascara.”

  Gretchen shuddered. “But they’re pets,” she said. “I can’t believe she would sell someone’s pet. Would she?”

  Willow didn’t answer. She looked at Muttsie. She thought about the way Jericho’s tail had thumped on the car seat when she spoke kindly to him. She remembered how Mrs. Clauson sounded when she was negotiating for a larger reward for the poodle. Willow picked up the newspaper and walked to the telephone.

  “What are you going to do?” Gretchen asked.

  “Call the people and tell them that I think my neighbor might have their dog.”

  “What if they come here and it isn’t their dog? Mrs. Clauson will be furious.”

  “I know. But I still think I should call.”

  “So do I.”

  Willow dialed the number. The line was busy. She waited a few minutes and dialed again. Still busy.

  Finally, on the third try, it rang. Someone answered almost immediately.

  “Hello,” Willow said. “I saw your ad in the paper about a lost dog and I . . .”

  “We already found our dog.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, just a few minutes ago. But thanks for calling, anyway. Good-bye.”

  Willow hung up. “They already found him. I guess I really jumped to the wrong conclusion that time. I would have sworn that . . .”

  “Shhh.” Gretchen stood beside the window, peering out. “She’s putting Jericho in the car.”

  Willow walked to the window and stood on the other side. Both girls watched as Mrs. Clauson opened her car door and urged Jericho to hop inside. Then she got in the driver’s side, started the engine, and drove away.

  “Where do you suppose she’s taking him?” Gretchen asked. “Less than an hour ago, she told you his owners weren’t back yet, so she can’t be taking him home. Besides, they would probably come here, to get him.”

  “She’s taking him to meet his owner,” Willow said slowly. “And collect the reward. When she realized I was suspicious, she called the owner and arranged to return Jericho right away.”

  “That’s why the line was busy when you called.”

  “Right.”

  “But why would she wait until you acted suspicious before she called? I can’t believe she would keep him longer than necessary.”

  “Maybe . . .” Willow thought about the conversation she’d overheard. “Maybe she waits until the owners are so worried that they’ll agree to a bigger reward. Probably the longer the dog is missing, the more frantic the owners get.”

  “That’s terrible,” Gretchen said. “Mrs. Clauson doesn’t seem that mean. And we can’t prove it.”

  “We can’t prove it yet. But I’m going to start keeping track of what kinds of dogs Mrs. Clauson has, and when she has them.”

  “Good idea.”

  “And we’ll read the Lost ads every day, to see if any of them match the dogs Mrs. Clauson has.”

  “Right.”

  “If she really is stealing the dogs in order to collect the reward money,” Willow said, “we’ll be able to prove it eventually.”

  “Let’s call Jericho’s owner again tomorrow. Ask who returned him.”

  “I’d bet two weeks’ allowance,” Willow said, “that it’s Mrs. Clauson.”

  12

  DEAR HELEN:

  I’m going to be hypnotized. Not plain old hypnotized. I’m going to be hypnotized by a professional hypnotherapist for the purpose of being regressed to a previous life.

  Can you believe it? I can’t, either.

  Here’s what happened. I called Mrs. Evans to tell her how Sarah is. Mrs. Evans said she is conducting a workshop in Past-Life Regression and she offered to let me come. For free! She said she knew I was going through a hard time right now and she thought I might like something else to think about. Would I ever!

  The workshop will be a guided visualization, where a group of people gets hypnotized at the same time and each one regresses to his or her own past lives. I can hardly wait!

  There’s only one catch. Mrs. Evans says I must have permission from my parents and I haven’t told them anything about Kalos yet. Cross your fingers that they’ll let me go.

  If they do, I’ll write and tell you about it. Maybe I’ll get to see Kalos again. And Tiy.

  Love,

  Willow

  P.S. Why don’t you write? Should I keep thinking about you at five o’clock or not?

  P.P.S. I think my next-door neighbor is a dognapper!

  13

  WOULD SHE see herself as Kalos again tonight? Would she see Helen as Tiy? As Willow rode the bus to the workshop, she hoped Mrs. Evans would help her go back to that other life, to learn more about the time when she lived in a mud house near the Nile River and worshiped the sun god, Amun-Ra.

  Willow had not yet told her parents about Kalos or even about her vision of Grandma and Grandpa. They knew she’d met Helen but they had no idea that Helen used to be Tiy.

  It wasn’t that Willow wanted to keep her experiences secret. Mr. and Mrs. Paige had always encouraged Willow and Sarah to explore new ideas, so she knew she could tell them about the visions and the dream and about sending her love to Sarah through visualization. She was sure they would understand her curiosity and be interested in her experiences.

  But she couldn’t tell them now. Her parents were so concerned about Sarah that they hardly listened to anything Willow said these days. And she didn’t want to discuss something so important until she had their full attention. After Sarah got well, she would tell them everything.

  At breakfast that morning, she gave her father Mrs. Evans’s business card and said, “This woman is giving a workshop tonight and I’d like to go, if it’s OK with you. I’d need a ride home afterwards.”

  Mr. Paige read the card. “Where did you get this?” he asked. “Do you know her?”

  “I heard her give a speech one Saturday at the Bellefield Library.”

  “What’s the workshop about?”

  Before Willow could answer, her mother came into the kitchen and said, “The hospital just called. They’ve put Sarah on oxygen.”

  “I’ll try to get away from work early,” Mr. Paige said. He looked at Willow. “What time should I pick you up tonight?”

  “Ten o’clock. The address is on the card.”

  Mr. Paige nodded and put the business card in his pocket. Nothing more was said about the workshop.

  At seven o’clock that night, Willow sat in Mrs. Evans’s office, along with the ten other people in the workshop, and listened to Mrs. Evans talk about reincarnation.

  “There are several theories,” she said. “My favorite is that before we are born, we are in a planning room, where we plan who we will be and who we will be with. At birth, we come through a tunnel to the Ea
rth Plane. When we die, we go back through the tunnel to a debriefing room and eventually, we return to planning again and the whole process is repeated.”

  Willow wondered if that was possible. Do we have some choice about when we are born and who we have for parents or brothers or sisters?

  If that’s true, Willow thought, and we really can choose who we will be with, people who love each other might be able to be together again in more than one lifetime.

  Someone said, “That’s why some people call each other soul mates. They believe they find each other in life after life.”

  “It’s one theory,” Mrs. Evans said. “There are others and there’s no way to prove any of them.” She smiled. “Not in this life, anyway.”

  After some more discussion about reincarnation, Mrs. Evans instructed everyone to lie down on the floor. It was time for Willow and the others to try to see a past life.

  Willow’s head rested comfortably on a pillow. She closed her eyes and listened.

  “Nothing negative can happen in this workshop,” Mrs. Evans said. “Only positive feelings will result from what we do.”

  Willow was glad to hear that.

  “Take deep breaths,” Mrs. Evans said. “Relax your feet. Breathe deeply and relax your legs.”

  Willow took deep breaths and followed instructions.

  “Imagine a big jar,” Mrs. Evans said. “Put all your worries into the jar.”

  Willow pictured herself putting Sarah’s leukemia in a jar. Then she put Gretchen’s talk of The Devil in the jar. Next she put in her suspicions about Mrs. Clauson and, for good measure, she added her concern about why she hadn’t heard from Helen.

  “Now put a lid on that jar,” Mrs. Evans said. “Screw it on tightly. None of your worries and cares can get out until you unscrew the lid.”

  Mrs. Evans’s voice grew softer. “Imagine a hole in the top of your head,” she said. “You can see out through the hole, out into the vast beyond. See yourself lift out through the hole. You float upward and enter a tunnel. You move through the tunnel. On the other side is a safe place . . . your favorite place. As you approach this favorite place, you are surrounded by white light. It is a bright, white light which protects you and keeps all harm from you.”

  Willow felt the white light surround her. It encased her like a glowing shield. Safe and relaxed, she slipped easily out the hole in her head and floated up through the tunnel.

  When she emerged from the tunnel at the other end, she was in a huge room with high ceilings and fancy carved woodwork. Her long green gown had lace trim on the sleeves and throat. Massive oil paintings hung on the walls and marble statues stood on the floral carpet. Through an archway, she saw a group of men, all wearing white wigs and buckled shoes.

  “Continue backwards in time,” Mrs. Evans said. “Leave the place you see now and journey farther, back to another time.”

  Willow felt herself float away from the room with the paintings. It was like watching herself in a movie. The film gradually faded away from one scene and into the next one.

  This time, she was on horseback. It was a white horse, wearing lavish red and gold trappings. Willow wore red tights, high boots, and a short white uniform with long red sleeves. A dagger hung from her belt. She realized she was seeing herself as a man. She was in a procession with many other riders, climbing a rocky path up a steep hillside.

  While she saw these scenes in her mind, Willow was still aware that she was on the floor in Mrs. Evans’s office. She heard the person next to her clear his throat and she heard the coffee pot gurgle. It was as if she were in two places at the same time.

  “Leave this scene now,” Mrs. Evans said. “Let it disappear as you continue backwards in time. Go farther this time. Go as far back as you can and look for someone you recognize.”

  As the horseback procession faded, Willow felt buoyant, as if she were a puff of cotton candy, floating through the sky. Gradually, another scene came into focus. Willow saw palm trees against a cloudless sky. She smiled as she recognized Kalos.

  Kalos and Tiy sat on the ground, playing a game. There was a board between them, and many small carved pieces of wood. Some of the wooden pieces had dog heads and some had jackal heads.

  “If you think you see yourself as you were in another lifetime,” Mrs. Evans said, “step back through time and greet that other self. Hug him or her.”

  Willow saw herself approach Kalos and hug her. Kalos laughed and hugged her back.

  “Ask that person if he or she has any message for you,” Mrs. Evans said.

  Willow didn’t ask right away. Instead, she hugged Tiy. Although Tiy seemed surprised, she let Willow hug her.

  A small girl stood watching them. The girl smiled shyly at Willow and held out her arms to be hugged, too. Willow looked questioningly at Kalos.

  Kalos smiled. “Huzein,” she said, pointing at the child.

  Willow took a step toward the girl. Something about her was familiar, though Willow was sure she’d never seen the child before.

  As Willow approached the little girl, she heard Mrs. Evans say, “You’re going to come back now. Back through the tunnel. Back to the present.”

  Willow wasn’t ready to leave. She wanted to find out who the little girl was and she had not yet asked Kalos about a message.

  “You’re drifting up,” Mrs. Evans said. “Back through time. Back to the tunnel.”

  Although she was reluctant to leave Kalos and Tiy so soon, Willow decided to follow instructions.

  Kalos, Tiy, and the little girl faded away.

  Willow entered the tunnel again and slid easily back into her own body.

  “Rest a few moments now,” Mrs. Evans said. “Breathe deeply. Sleep, if you want to. You are safe. Only good things will happen here tonight.”

  Willow took deep breaths. She felt the white light around her like a transparent slipcover. She relaxed completely. Her breath came slowly. She fell soundly asleep and began to dream.

  In the dream, it was early on a Sunday morning. Willow decided to go out, to buy fresh rolls for breakfast.

  As she walked away from her house she saw a festive, outdoor carnival where people sold handmade crafts. Pottery jugs, painted rich blues and golds, bloomed in the green grass. Papier-mâché dragons lounged on red picnic blankets. The aroma of cinnamon hung in the air.

  Everywhere she looked, colorful flags flew from long poles and bright banners waved in the breeze. Warm sunshine filtered through the leaves of large chestnut trees. Underfoot, smooth cobblestone streets curved gracefully in all directions, inviting her to explore them. She was astonished that such a place existed so close to her home. Why had she never discovered it?

  Music played in the distance—happy music, the kind that a circus calliope might play. Willow strolled down one of the streets. Everyone smiled at her. Clearly, all of the people at the carnival were there because they wanted to be there and not because they needed to sell their wares to earn money. She had never seen any place like this, had never felt this kind of community joy.

  She stopped at a wooden booth where a glassblower in a purple cap was making glass unicorns.

  “How long will the carnival be here?” Willow asked.

  “Why, it’s always here,” the glassblower said. “It’s open, free of charge, to anyone who chooses to come.”

  “Always?” Willow said. “Every day?”

  “Every day. Forever.”

  Willow thanked him and started to walk on.

  Forever!

  She stopped. She had to share this discovery. She would bring Sarah here; she would show Sarah this splendid place. She would tell Sarah that, any time she wanted to, she could visit the carnival.

  She turned and hurried down the cobblestone street, going back to get Sarah.

  When she passed a booth that sold prancing clay ponies, she heard Mrs. Evans say, “You’re going to come back now. Wake up. Come back to the present. Come back to this room.”

  As Willow listened to Mrs
. Evans, the cobblestone streets faded away and she began to wake up.

  “You feel rested,” Mrs. Evans said. “You feel relaxed and energized. As you return to this room, the white light still surrounds you. It is all around you, keeping you safe. When you wake up, you will feel happy. When I count to five, you’ll be completely awake. One . . . two . . . three . . . the light is around you . . . four . . . ready, now . . . five.”

  Willow opened her eyes. No one spoke. She wondered if the others felt as good as she felt. She had expected the workshop to be interesting but she had not anticipated anything like what she had experienced.

  She was elated, especially by the carnival. The carnival had been fantastic and the delight she felt while she was there stayed with her when she was back in the room with Mrs. Evans and the others.

  Best of all, since the carnival was only in her mind, she could go there any time she wanted to, simply by thinking of it. The glassblower was right. The carnival was always there. It would be there forever.

  After a few moments, Mrs. Evans said, “Does anyone want to share what they saw?”

  Several people told of seeing themselves in other lifetimes but Willow did not speak. She wanted time alone, to examine her feelings. She needed to think about the little girl with Kalos. She wanted to write down everything about the carnival, to be sure she would never forget it.

  Tomorrow, she would tell Sarah about it. She was sorry she ran out of time in her dream before she could get Sarah and take her to the carnival but at least she could describe it to Sarah.

  There was just one thing that bothered her.

  People stood up, gathered their coats, and began to leave.

  Willow approached Mrs. Evans. “After I came back through the tunnel, I saw myself at a carnival,” she said. “A wonderful carnival. Only it was me there. Me, Willow, not some other me who lived long ago.”

  “That’s all right,” Mrs. Evans said. “You were probably dreaming.”

  “I don’t understand,” Willow said. “Was it just a regular dream, like I might have at home? Or was I seeing myself in another life even though I still looked the same?”