Page 36 of The Soul Never Forgets

He looks at the window. “It feels like it’s only been a few minutes since we ate dinner and then sat on the couch so you could read one of your journals to me.”

“That was last night. It’s a new day.”

He leans forward, resting his head in his hands. “I’m confused. Something has happened to me, but I don’t know what.”

I know what happened. “You went there.”

“Went where?”

“You traveled to Pascagoula, Mississippi, 1939.

“How do you know?”

“You were talking in your sleep.”

“That sounds about right. I’ve always been known for talking in my sleep. What did I say?”

“You said ‘I married Gussy’ and also ‘the marriage license is hidden’ and then ‘the marriage is binding.’ Stuff like that. I remember that night well.”

“I have flashes of the scenes in my mind. I was driving Gussy in an old pickup.” His head jolts up. “She looks nothing like you. Her hair is red.”

“We aren’t genetically tied. We wouldn’t look alike.”

“I pictured her as a blonde.”

“Nope. She was a ginger. A fiery one.”

“For sure.”

He’s remembering. “Tell me what else happened.”

“We went to the boat shop and got the money I’d hidden in my room. Then we went to the Le Blancs’. They gave us their car.”

“And sent us to her sister’s house,” I add, wanting him to realize that we both share that memory.

“Yes, exactly. What the hell just happened?”

“You closed your eyes when I started reading from the journal, and you fell asleep. You pierced the veil of time and drifted back to your life as Frank the same way I drifted back to mine as Augustina.”

“How?”

“I don’t know how it happens. I only know that it does. And it’s amazing, right?”

“Amazing doesn’t begin to cover it. I actually became someone else.”

“Well, not exactly. It’s more like you became your old self.”

“Is this what it was like for you?”

“Yes. It began as dreams when I slept at night. Eight-hour segments or so. That went on for a while, and then the dreams suddenly stopped. I was desperate to make them return and my gut told me that going to Pascagoula was the only way to make it happen. I rented the former Lebeau beach house. That’s where I was when I went to sleep and didn’t wake until three months later in the hospital.”

“Can I do it again?”

“It’s not an exact science, but I think if you’ve done it once, you should be able to do it again.”

“No one else in the world can comprehend what just happened to me except you. You’re the only one who will ever understand. We share an amazing gift.”

He sees it now. He recognizes it. He believes it.

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