Part One

by Doreen Grégoire

Rating: PG-13.

PS: If anyone disagrees with my characterizations or limited knowledge of herbalism and biochemistry, I have four syllables for you. Please repeat them over and over like a mantra: par al lel time :-)

CHAPTER 1

In the void there was nothing. No sound. No light. No time. No space. Those who existed in the void just *were*. The billions of souls who existed in the void drifted, pushed to and fro by gravities and forces mankind had yet to discover. They were unaware of each other, as they were unaware of their surroundings, or indeed, even of their own existence.

One soul drifted with the others, following in the endless ebb and flow of the eternal, invisible tides. She was a part of the massed souls drifting aimlessly in the void.

Awareness came upon her gradually. At first she felt confusion, then she felt fear, then she felt surprise, then at last, acceptance. "So this is what it is like to be dead," she thought to herself as she drifted.

Acceptance turned to boredom. The void was not meant for those capable of thought. She cast out with her mind and found she could move, though there was no point; one place was the same as any other. Her thoughts turned to reminiscences of her life and those she had left behind.

And she found herself there. She found her husband, now stooped and grey, and watched as he became the leader of the gypsy band, then turned it over to one much younger, then died. She felt sadness at that, then curiosity: would she find him here?

She cast out further, and found her daughter. She felt regret now, regret that they had been forced to declare her marime when she married an outsider and was outcast. She searched back in time and watched as her daughter hid at the dockside and wept silently as her parents' ship sailed away from Europe to the New World.

She saw her granddaughter marry. In their turn this family also came to America to settle in a city, their gypsy roots forgotten.

And she watched her great-granddaughter as she grew up in a world with horrors and marvels beyond comprehension. She was an unseen spectator at her great-granddaughter's high school prom, and at her valedictory speech at the end of her college years. She suffered with her when she was shunned by her peers for being too intelligent, for being a woman striving to learn what was thought of as a man's profession. She watched as the young woman drew upon her inner strength and courage, straightened her spine, and persevered to become a brilliant psychiatrist and physician.

And she grieved when this woman married, for in the void where there was no time, she could also see the future.

* * * * *

Julia White started awake as a key rattled in the front door to the apartment. Moments later the door opened, slamming against the wall behind it. It was closed just as noisily, followed by sounds of stumbling footsteps and a muttered curse when a shin met a coffee table.

She turned away from the bedroom door and closed her eyes, hoping that in feigning sleep she might avoid the notice of the one who stood weaving in the doorway. It was not to be, however. The light was flicked on, momentarily blinding her, and a heavy hand dragged the covers away from her.

"Come on, I know you're awake." The slurred voice cut through the silence of the apartment.

She sighed wearily and stood to face him. "You're late, Stan." Her voice was calm and level.

"Yeah, so?"

"It's 3:00 a.m. You have an appointment at 8:00 to show the house on Maple Street." She moved past him, blanket and pillow in hand, towards the living room.

His hand snaked out and caught her arm above the elbow. "Just where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded.

She raised her chin and regarded him levelly. "I have no desire to carry on a conversation with you in the shape you're in. I'm going to sleep on the couch."

Her quietness angered him. He ripped the blanket from her grasp and tossed it back onto the bed then grasped her other arm and squeezed.

Julia bit her lip. She would not give him the satisfaction of letting him know he was hurting her.

Her stoic silence infuriated Stan further. "You think you're so good. I work my ass off. But it's not enough that you make more money than I do, but you have to act like such a cold bitch as well!"

He threw her onto the bed and raised his fist…

* * * * *

The soul in the void watched as Julia's marriage to Stan White deteriorated into one fight after another. She watched as the number of bruises increased as the fights became more frequent. And she watched as one day Julia was taken to the hospital in an ambulance.

The soul witnessed the divorce -- another gadje custom, she mused. In her society, divorce was almost unknown. Although she was glad it had happened. Now, maybe her Julia could heal.

Several years went by, and the soul watched as Julia buried herself in her work, eventually acquiring an old sanitarium and converting it to a private hospital. Julia devoted herself to her patients with a single-mindedness and devotion the soul found disturbing. Where were the friends? Where was the kindly husband to replace Stan? Where were the children?

The soul mused on this for a time. A woman was not meant to be alone, even in this strange, modern age. She realized that Julia's work was important to her, but it was eclipsing everything else.

The soul cast her mind further afield, to other worlds, other times, other timelines. She searched for Julia in these other places, to see what kind of a life she had made for herself there. In a few of these worlds Julia was no longer there, and the soul hurried on, for this was disturbing. In some she and Stan had achieved a happy marriage, but the soul moved on from these as well, for this was not an option in her Julia's world.

Then she came to another timeline and watched the Julia there interacting with a man, slim and dark-haired, whereas Stan had been stocky and sandy. There was an air of tragedy and mystery about this man, and the soul knew that this Julia loved the man unconditionally. The soul watched them overcome many trials and obstacles, their relationship going from adversarial to loving, strengthened by what they endured together.

The soul pondered. How to find this man? Could her Julia, so hurt and wary, find love at last?

* * * * *

"Dr. Hoffman, Mrs. Crandall is ready for you in Room 3."

"Thank-you, Patsy. I'll be there in a moment." Julia flicked off the intercom button and eyed her still nearly full cup of coffee longingly. She hadn't slept well the night before, and her eyes felt gritty and heavy. She massaged her temples with hands that felt like lead, then sighed and went to meet her patient.

Edna Crandall was a birdlike woman in her mid-eighties. Whenever Julia saw her, she was reminded of a heron, even to the meagre blue-tinted hair that grew on her scalp in whispy, downy puffs. Her long arms and legs were like sticks, and she had the way of sitting perfectly still until she wished to speak, then her head would bob forward to punctuate her sentences and her long, pointed finger would stab the air in emphasis.

Julia sat at the desk across from Mrs. Crandall, who, as usual, was still as a statue, only her alert eyes moving in her peaceful face.

"Good morning, Edna. How are you today?"

Edna nodded slowly. Julia stifled a yawn and tried again.

"What can you tell me about what we were discussing yesterday?"

Suddenly Edna erupted into agitated motion. The orderly stationed behind her chair moved to restrain her, but Julia motioned him back and listened intently.

"There are birds, you know, and they fly around in circles inside my head." In contrast to Edna's constant motion, her voice was slow and monotonous. "They bring dreams -- dreams of hands that reach out …"

As Edna's voice droned on, Julia could see the birds, flying in lazy circles in the sky. A raven spiraled down to her, and as she watched, it transformed into a hand, a hand with an onyx ring on the forefinger. The hand reached out to her, almost touched her --

"Doctor Hoffman?" The worried voice of the orderly penetrated through the fog that surrounded her. She started awake and glanced over at Mrs. Crandall. With the loss of her audience, the woman was again motionless, for which Julia was thankful. The orderly peered down at Julia suspiciously. "Are you okay, Doctor Hoffman?"

"I'm sorry, Carl. I must have dozed off. Can you please take Mrs. Crandall back to her room?"

Carl nodded curtly and placed a hand on Mrs. Crandall's arm to escort her out of the room.

When the door had closed behind them Julia leaned her elbows on the desk and rested her head in her hands. She took a deep breath to still her heart. She was lucky that Mrs. Crandall was non-violent. If she had zoned out with some of the other patients, the results could have been disastrous.

After contacting her secretary to let her know she'd be out of touch for a while, Julia went back to her private apartment for a nap, reasoning that if she was this tired, she was a danger to herself as well as the people she worked with. Her eyes closed almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

* * * * *

The soul knew what to do now. Being a disembodied spirit had its advantages. She was momentarily amused at the thought of what her own people would think. They would declare her to be a mulo, an evil spirit, bent on harming those still on earth. Nothing could be further from the truth in her case.

She sent out a tendril of thought that brushed gently against Julia's mind. She embroidered on the image she had sent previously of the hand of the man in the other timeline. Now the man himself inhabited Julia's dream, faceless as yet, but a strong presence nonetheless. The soul strengthened the tendril and sent vague intimations of longing and desire. Then she withdrew.

* * * * *

TO BE CONTINUED.

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