I was having my morning coffee at Hart House when I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"I missed you, Prof."
I turned and saw Cindy in a red plaid, patchwork fall coat with a white scooped-neck tee and ripped jeans. She looked like a campus coed only hauntingly glamorous and lovely.
"Who are you today?" I teased.
She fixed her dark eyes upon me. "Does it matter? I'm yours."
No, it didn't matter at all. Much as I hated her working undercover I knew that was her passion and an integral part of who she was.
She nibbled on one of my croissants. "I heard you were chasing ghosts on Abe's farm. Does it spook you out?"
I slid a coffee across to her―I always bought two whether she showed or not―and, of course, croissants.
"No, strangely ghosts don't trouble me."
"Just past lives, huh?" She took another bite of her croissant and feigned nonchalance.
She was alluding to her conviction we shared a life before, back in the Thirties and whenever she mentioned it, I tried to avoid it.
"I'm not into reincarnation and frankly, unlike you, I have no recollection of that and prefer it that way."
"What are you afraid of Laird?"
I stared out the leaded windows faintly steamed by the autumn chill.
"I guess I'm afraid if you give me a name, I'll have a grave―and I can't go go down that road with family and siblings that are dead."
"No siblings," she whispered, matter-of-factly.
"Then you have a name?"
"Oh yeah, and places and dates...and memories of the life we led."
I sat back in my chair, closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"See? I can't do that―I know you can, but I can't. Chasing ghosts is one thing―channeling another life is something entirely different."
"But don't you want to love...all of me?"
Her eyes were huge and sad. I almost hated how this came between us.
"I just want us to be what we are―natural and free."
Her jaw dropped in surprise. "I don't believe you actually said that―it's a phrase you always said, even back then―natural and free."
When she repeated the two words something happened inside me.
"You just reminded me of this song I kept listening to when I was a teenager. Every time they got to this one part, I started to weep and never knew why. The lyrics were:
You are my love and my life
You are my inspiration,
Just you and me
Simple and free
"The words aren't exact, but they must remind me of something way back in my psyche..."
I stopped in mid-thought. "Oh, my God", I rasped, "I know who you were―I remember."
"What was my name?" she asked.
"Amber...Amber Lennox."
Her eyes were bright with surprise. "So, you do remember. Do you want to know what your name was?"
"No, please..." I croaked, grasping her hand tightly in mine. "I'm sorry, Love, I'm just not ready. Some day maybe―but not here―not now."
She leaned over and kissed me. "It's okay, really. I understand. She hesitated and then whispered, "I love you, Prof."
Her voice was a soft purr and her perfume faint and powdery, as it always was... even back then.
It took me a second before I realized what she said and as I gazed into her eyes, recognized I felt even that too, right from the start.
I knew then why I wasn’t frightened by the supernatural—why ghosts don’t terrify me.
I had been haunted by a ghost all my life and didn’t even know it.
