Nightchild--The SeriesBook 1--Falling

Book 1--Chapter 1

There is a bonding of auras, a kismet or karma that makes one certain they have known someone before, that their destinies are somehow interlocked, their paths will surly cross. It is felt when eyes meet and, inexplicably, there is a mutual understanding of souls that have known each other before--of times past and times that have not yet happened--but will someday. It is something that cannot be explained, only felt. It is from time beginning to time eternal. It is a destiny that can only be fulfilled when it chooses--when the time is right, it will be consummated. There is longing in a brief moment, sadness in departure, mystery in a look or glance across the room--and there is knowledge that this was meant to be. The feeling and understanding is so strong, you know you will meet again, and surely the goodbyes will end and become a beginning. It is a certainty that gives us patience, and in that patience is wisdom, wisdom that knows the time is not yet ripe. Destiny cannot be rushed or jumped into headlong. It must be measured, trusted, and listened to, as the heart must be, for true fulfillment takes time, and the journey must be slow and arduous--to be worthwhile, it must be earned, and is all the sweeter for it.

Gentry Blythe MacLarren, Puerto Vallarta, 1986

New Year's Eve, 1989

He set the book of poetry on the windowsill and rubbed his eyes. It was hard to think of Blythe back then, when their relationship was so new and tumultuous. She'd written those words three years ago, gazing out at the ocean, a whimsical smile often touching her lips, her feet in the sand, the sea wind disheveling her titian man. But her words now resonated with a foretelling of what their future would hold.

Nate felt the sting of tears as they trickled down his cheeks and he ran his hands over his face and across his lids. Blinking, he and stared beyond his image, reflected in the glass, to the world beyond and he tried to push away the thoughts that threatened to take him into a vortex of emotion he didn't want to go.

The earth was gray and still. A low fog hung only inches above, caressing it like a soft patchwork quilt, a light mist whispered against the pane. Nate considered it odd, all the years he'd been unable to see beauty in the various forms of weather as he did at this moment. Unlatching the window, he opened it wide, allowing the warm moist air to flow into his second story dressing room. Resting his hands on the windowsill, he took long deep breaths, letting the clean, heavy air fill his lungs and the gentle breeze that had just begun to blow wash over him.

It was strange that this room, in the same auditorium where he would perform tonight, should be his sanctuary, his haven. Surely, no one would think to look for him there, not for a while anyway. When he'd arrived at dawn, he had wanted nothing more than a place to rest, where he wouldn't be looked for by friends or recognized by well-meaning fans.

Nate had no idea of the time, only that it moved so slowly, and sleep eluded him again, as it had for days. He wondered if he would ever be able to close his eyes in slumber and not be haunted by memories, as he was now.

Nearby, a bolt of lightning shot across the sky, cutting into his thoughts, followed closely by the low rumble of thunder, threatening...no, promising...rain. The sky gradually grew dark as black clouds rolled in, bringing with them wind flurries that precede the first scattering of raindrops. Nate felt something familiar stir within, the brief calm he'd felt moments before replaced by long forgotten sensations.

He stayed at the window, content to watch the encroaching storm draw near. With each flash, each thunderclap, each gust of wind that brushed against his skin and tousled his hair, he became more aware of the electricity coursing through the air and through his veins. The thoughts of the past, he had so carefully and deliberately repressed, began to surface and he no longer had the strength or desire to fight the flood of memories he would inevitably have to face.