Spirit of Gettysburg: Soulmates Across Time

Chapter 12

She memorized his dear face. His clear, tender, cobalt blue eyes with the twin pools of sadness in them looked into her soul. His full emotions were hidden from her dream perception. His skin was tanned and his hair was shiny black. His strong, square jaw, aquiline nose, high, prominent cheekbones, full lips and wide, passionate mouth, the upper lip curving, the lower lip full, and straight, white teeth were striking. A thin, jagged scar pulled the corner of his right eye down and curved to his upper right cheekbone. It stood out because it marred his otherwise flawless good looks.

He wore his usual gray uniform with the black mourning armband on his upper left arm sleeve and a black sash around his thin waist. His doggie was with him.

He was indeed the soulmate she dreamed about since she was a teenager. He appeared when she was scared and defeated by despair.

Throughout the years he held her hand and smiled at her with loving eyes. He touched her cheek, his calloused fingers, gentle, and told her he loved her beyond life itself, that true love was always and forever and to wait for him, that the veil of death parted them but they would soon reunite. He called her heart of his own heart, my sweet or my own dearest wife pronouncing wife like whiffy.

He told her little of their lifetime. Specific details were sparse. He asked for forgiveness, apologized and asked for a second chance. That she was correct, that he should have listened to her and trusted her clairvoyance. That she had failed him.

She awoke sobbing from these dreams.

Twice she glimpsed an antebellum, four stories high, stately, red brick house cloaked in broken mist with Doric columns and a wide front porch. The house's clear, multi-paned windows were bracketed by hunter green colored shutters. The house captivated her and was significant. Perched on a bluff, it overlooked a sluggish, silvery river flowing in the distance.

Hundreds of roses climbed the house's trellis sides. The scent of roses, honeysuckle and herbs permeated the house in summer when the windows were open.

She ached for the house. Its mysterious beauty and grace haunted her. Sometimes he showed her their other lifetimes together. There were thick fogs, dense, dark green forests, high, craggy mountains, wide plains and lime green rivers. She saw white stone castles and temple columns covered with hieroglyphics and dusty, barren desert landscapes. She saw unearthly places populated by giants, angels, demons and bizarre creatures.

Once he appeared as an American Indian warrior with black braids, mahogany skin, high cheekbones and soulful, brooding eyes. Another time he was a gladiator in Ancient Rome and she was his beloved wife. In the dreams and visions he held her close and stroked her hair.

His heart beat against her heart in perfect rhythm. They never consummated their love and his eyes were often sad. It frustrated her because he never explained his sadness. They mostly communicated telepathically or nonverbally. When he spoke she was silently listened to him and felt his love. His gentleness soothed her.

Way, way too much! Her eyes flew open. So real. She stared at her hand. A man's big, calloused hand grasped it. Was she still dreaming? No, an actual flesh and blood male held her hand! Her eyes penetrated the moon-lit darkness.

Him! She bolted up and gaped at the tall, slim man standing beside the bed and the huge, muscular, gentle-looking black dog sitting on the rug. The dog rose and licked her wrist. His rough tongue was warm.

"Darling sweetheart!" She reached for him. He shimmered in the air and she saw through him. Seconds later he was solid and she gazed into his cobalt blue eyes as dark, hurried clouds darkened the moon's radiance. His face in fractured moonlight, he spoke. "Heart of my own heart we have missed you, welcome back to us. Thank you for coming. Thank you for saving me...us."

She recognized that easy drawl. The darkness dissolved and the bedroom glowed. She fully saw him and stared at him unafraid. He was indeed her husband. Semi-darkness and filtered light returned.

"Follow me, my sweet!" His boots hit the carpet. He sped to the door, the dog glued to his side. They vanished through the oak door. Her heart skipped a beat. She huddled on the bed stunned into silence and immobility. His words, voice and form! He was real. She clearly heard and saw him! Follow him!

She hopped to the floor, shoved her iceberg feet into her slippers and charged after him. Her breathing choppy, she stopped at the steps leading to the third floor and watched them disappear through the locked door at the top of the stairs.

She scrambled up the curving steps to the third floor and pounded on the door. Open, she screamed inside her head, in Jesus' name I ask it! The door opened.

Author's Note:  Next Chapters Friday!