Ladies of the Board

Please enjoy some of the fruit that has been provided for your enjoyment.

I remember it well ... it was a Thursday ... a misty rain was falling and I was immersed in the biggest murder trial St. Louis had ever seen. It was my first trial as lead attorney and I had received plenty of unwelcome publicity because of it ... video on the local news, appearances on Court TV, 20/20, Dateline ... and what seemed like a hundred microphones in my face every time I set foot outside the court house.

I was standing at the railing in the courtroom when I looked up and saw the most gorgeous man I had ever seen standing right in front of me.

"Deborah," he said, soft and low, "It's been a very long time.

The sound of his voice sent chills up and down my spine, my heart started beating faster, and my breath ... let's just say I could barely breathe.

"Do I know you?" I asked, though, somehow, I felt as if I did.

"Och, yes, luv, though it's been a very, very long time that I've waited and searched for you. But when I saw you on TV, I knew ..."

"Who ARE you, may I ask?"

I was getting nervous ... how could I possibly have forgotten such a beautiful man?

"Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod."

At the sound of that name, that voice, an image came unbidden to my mind's eye ... a man, this man, with long dark hair and a hand outstretched, reaching, clutching, for me ... my stomach rolled and I felt as though I was falling.

When I awoke I was cradled in his arms. He kept saying, "Deborah," over and over again and I realized two things. One, I had just fainted for the first time in my life and two, this man whom I felt a deep connection to was a total stranger and thought I was someone named Deborah.

I got up quickly, embarrassed at my weakness.

"I think you have me confused with someone else," I muttered as I tried to distance myself from the situation.

He smiled at me and said, "Oh, no, Deborah, I knew it was you the second I heard your voice. I watched your interview on 20/20 last week." He smiled broadly, beautifully. "I don't expect you to remember me. After all, it's been ages since we've seen each other."

"Well, sorry, you can't mean me, my name isn't Deborah." "Isn't it? Really? You're adopted, aren't you? Wasn't the name on your original birth certificate 'Deborah'?"

"How did you know that?!" I exclaimed. "No one knows that! You ... I... I haven't been 'Deborah' since I was six months old! Who are you, exactly?!"

A stalker, that was what was running through my mind, this bizarre trial had caused all sorts of weirdos to come out of the woodwork. I didn't want it to be so, but it was beginning to look that way. I made a mental note to have my investigator do a background check on this "Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod."

I smiled, "Mr. MacLeod, you seem to know an awful lot about me, and I know nothing about you. Why don't you come to my office at the end of court today so we can talk?"

I would make sure there were plenty of people around, just in case.

"It would be my pleasure," he purred, his dark brown eyes sparkling.

Lord, those eye could melt rocks ...

At the end of the day he was waiting for me just outside my office. I would never admit it, but my heart gave a funny lurch in my chest the moment I saw him.

"So Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, how is it that you have no medical history and your background is almost nonexistent? I've seen people in the witness protection program with more of a trail than you leave," I said as I looked at him warily.

"Deborah, you don't waste any time, do you? Don't you feel a connection between us? Don't you feel your heart call out to mine and hear the answer resonating in your soul?" he said as he looked steadily into my eyes.

I tried to keep my emotions in check as I stared back at him expressionlessly, but I could feel my pulse throbbing at my temples as I struggled to keep my breathing quiet and even.

I asked him, "What exactly is it that you want from me?"

"I want to get to know you again," he said, "I want us to have what we should have had, all those years ago."

"Look, Mr. MacLeod ..."

"Duncan ..."

"Look, Mr. MacLeod, I don't have the foggiest idea of what you're talking about! I have never met you before in my life! Believe me! I would remember!"

I was starting to get a little upset. He reached out and took me in his arms. I know I shouldn't have, but I let him. It felt so good, so right.

"Deborah, if you allow yourself, you could tap into your past, your other self, the self I loved." He kissed my hair. "I realize it might be hard for you to accept, but our souls are intertwined, we're destined to be together."

Just then another attorney walked by and looked at us curiously. I realized that this wasn't the time or place for this conversation. I needed to sort out my feelings and to decide if I wanted to explore the possibility that we had known each other before in the past.

"Let's go somewhere where we can talk. Somewhere more private," I suggested.

He nodded and took my arm as we left the building. Outside, from out of nowhere, two reporters and their photographers popped up and began taking our pictures and firing questions at us. Duncan ducked his head trying to hide his face from the cameras and I brushed them off with a irritated, "No comment".

The drawback to being an attorney in a very public case was the constant lack of privacy that I hadn't really minded so much until now.

After finally breaking free of the pack of news hounds, we headed for Duncan's car. Hesitating, he put his arms around me and whispered in my ear, "Go with your instincts."

He kissed my temple gently, then moved away. I stood, for what seemed like an eternity, then breathed deeply and laughed. The lightheartedness of that laughter surprised even me, but I knew that this was a man I could trust.

Duncan opened the car door for me, and I seated myself. After he was seated, he winked at me and said, "I've been waiting for this moment for a lifetime!!"

The car pulled away from the curb.

I knew this whole thing was crazy. It was stupid to get in a car with a stranger, but I couldn't help myself. Later I would look back on this day as a turning point in my life but at the time I was content to just go with the moment.

I didn't even ask him where we were going. He drove the car with a confidence and assurance that in my experience most men didn't have. I watched the scenery go by, and we sat in peaceful silence for so long that I was somewhat startled when he spoke.

"Are you afraid to let yourself remember?", he asked quietly. "I realize it has been a very long time but I cannot believe that you have forgotten our time together- at least I know how special it was for me, and I thought it was for you too."

I turned to look at him and the hurt on his face was just too much for me to bear. Gone were the misgivings and fears, replaced by an urgent need to remember what relationship I apparently had had with this man. Without conscious thought I reached for and gently enveloped his hand.

"Duncan," I said, staring into his eyes, "please forgive me and help me remember. Please tell me something to help me remember."

He pulled the car over to the side of the road and said, "We were betrothed after knowing each other our whole lives. We grew up together in the same village in the highlands of Scotland. Do you remember the sunlight on the heather? The rocky hills and beautiful water? We walked and talked for hours, content to be in each others company. You wove flowers in your bonny red hair...don't you remember any of it?"

Duncan sat looking at me with an expression of longing. I felt a stirring of something buried deeply. I seemed to remember the heather but wasn't sure. Did I really remember or was it the power of suggestion- my need to please him?

"Duncan, if all you say is true then what happened? Why did we not get married? When did this happen?"

"Ssssh, little one," he said. "It is important that you remember on your own, not because I tell you. I've got an idea, if it's okay with you. How about if we go to my house, maybe something there will help you to remember."

I nodded and he put the car in gear.

The car nosed up a long, curved drive. Above us, through the trees, I could see a beautiful stately home. It was situated on a hill, overlooking the ocean. The grounds were beautifully kept, with gardens and walks.

Stepping out of the car was like stepping back in time. The noise of the city was replaced by singing birds. It was calm and serene; tranquillity swept over me like a wave.

I stood, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Duncan came up beside me and enveloped me in his strong arms. I looked up into his deep eyes, peering as if into his soul. As I closed my eyes again, he brought his mouth over mine and kissed me long and hard. My knees weakened, and Duncan swept me up and carried me into the house.

Duncan carried me up the spiral staircase in a scene straight out of "Gone With the Wind". One of my fondest fantasies was coming true. Unfortunately, as we neared the top of the stairs, one of my shoes fell off. Duncan, trying to avoid stepping on it, swerved a bit and off balance we both started to tumble down the stairs. We landed in a tangled heap at the bottom.

Duncan cried, "Are you all right?!!! I did not search for you through the ages to lose you like this!!"

"I'm a little bruised, but otherwise unharmed," I chuckled.

I couldn't help myself. My childhood dream and this is what happens. My chuckles grew until I was laughing, tears streaming down my cheeks. As we separated ourselves, Duncan looked at me with concern. He brushed away my tousled hair and cradled my face in his hands. I was still chuckling as he kissed away the tears.

"Uhm, maybe it would be better if you took your shoes off and we walked up the stairs?" He smiled, "We wouldn't want a repeat, now, would we?"

Silently, I shook my head. I took off my other shoe and Duncan helped me up. He put his arm around me and we walked up the stairs we had so elegantly tumbled down just minutes before.

At the end of the upstairs hall was an ornate door which lead to his private study. He guided me to the leather couch in front of the fireplace. I sat down and rubbed my ankle while Duncan lit a fire and fixed brandies for us. Swirling the brandy in my snifter, I watched as Duncan went to a shelf next to the fireplace and took down a wooden box. I gasped when he brought it over and set it on the couch next to me. It was exquisitely carved and very ornate.

"Open it," he said.

I pick up the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a brooch. In the brooch appeared to be a lock of hair, too old to discern the color. Looking at it gave me a funny feeling, but picking it up gave me goosebumps.

All of a sudden, as though a light switch had been turned on, I remembered wearing the brooch. I could see in my mind's eye Duncan proudly dressed in the MacLeod plaid, his kilt ending just above his wonderful knees. I saw myself with my hand in his, swirling with him in a dance. The sound of the bagpipes echoed in my head. I could see that I was dressed in a long, voluminous dress in a plaid pattern. My head told me that this was the Campbell plaid, but I couldn't see the colors distinctly. All around me, others were also dancing the skirl. Laughter rang out from those around us. Children ran in and out amongst the dancers, playing their own games. The smell of peat smoke hung everywhere, but was unable to mask the scent of the blooming heather. My head swirled with the motion of our bodies and the mournful sound of the pipes, making me dizzy.

All at once, the vision ended and I was standing in the bedroom in front of Duncan.

Looking at him, I stammered, "What... how did I get in here? I was in the study. I was remembering wearing that broach and a dance I was at with you. I remember laughter and children and the smell of heather. It felt so real, but I don't understand. Duncan, what happened to me that I have lost this memory until now?"

Suddenly, instead of feeling warm and happy, I felt scared. Had I lost my mind, had I blocked the memory because something painful had happened later? I felt warm tears start to course down my cheeks. Duncan gently placed his hand under my chin and raised it until we made eye contact.

Softly he said, "Och, Deborah, it was real. At one time in your life you were with me at just that gathering of our clans. It was at that celebration that you were presented with the Campbell brooch. That was held on the day of your 18th birthday. Everyone had such plans then.

"Since then, however, many things have changed that involve both you and me. You dinnae remember it, but we would have been betrothed were it not for happenings that were beyond our control.

"Deborah, my love, if it were in my power to tell you everything, I would. But I cannae, due to a vow I made when I believed that you...."

Duncan’s voice trails off as you put your finger over his mouth.

"Shhhhhhh..." you whisper.

Duncan wraps his arms around you and holds you close. You lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Picking up your head you look around the room and put your hand to your forehead.

"I need some fresh air."

You turn and leave the house, making your way to the walks above the river. The evening breeze is cool, and feels good against your face. As your eyes close, you see yourself standing against a different horizon. There are cliffs, and you are filled with an overwhelming sadness. You are holding a bracelet in your hand, and behind you, you hear the voice of Duncan MacLeod.

"Deborah, come away from the edge."

I can see his lips move as he speaks, but I cannot hear all of the words, only an occasional word or phrase. I can see the pain on his face as he talks, but the words remain muffled.

"I can live with his ghost. But I cannae live with yours."

These words suddenly clarify themselves, causing a feeling of ice water to trickle down my spine. I know that what I am seeing could not have happened, but I can feel the pain of the person facing Duncan. I suddenly see him lurch forward and try to reach her hand, but a scream tears from the throat of the person facing Duncan. Horrified, I listen to MY voice scream Duncan's name over and over, ending with an abrupt jarring of pain.

Feeling hands clutching my upper arms, I look up and see Duncan's worried gaze.

"Are you OK?" he asks. "You turned white as a sheet and then you started to sway. I didn't want you falling backwards over the cliff."

"Duncan, what is going on? I feel as if I have stood on this cliff before. You were there and talking, but I couldn't hear what you said, except for 'I can live with his ghost, but I cannae live with yours.'. What does that mean? Duncan, I KNOW I have never met you before, so why am I seeing you in Scottish clothing- kilts, tartans, and all that other stuff? How do you change clothes so quickly?"

Glancing around, I see no one around but us. There are no other cars around, either. "Duncan, please tell me the truth. Are we on Candid Camera?"

"Deborah, stop joking. This is serious business!" Duncan shook me gently, but firmly. "You have the spirit of my long, lost love. It's as though you were she, but not quite. You have her ways, her voice, yet you are unique. I love you, not just because you resemble my Deborah of long ago, but because you, yourself, are a beautiful person. Will you stay with me and be my love?"

With tears in my eyes and longing in my heart, I gazed into his eyes and said, "Yes," I stammered. "Yes, Duncan, I...love...you..." Colors swirled around the two caught in a lovers embrace. Memories of yet another time filled my head...it was the twenties, I was wearing a beautiful beaded dress, Duncan looked dashing in a tuxedo. We were doing the Charleston, the band was playing loud. It was New Years Eve, and the clock was just striking midnight.

"Happy New Year, darling," Duncan said, as he swept me into his arms and kissed me.