― J.K. Rowling
Clare
I was a cub reporter for The Toronto Telegram being asked—make that commanded by my assignment editor, Ben Church, to do an expose on a beautiful clairvoyant named Clare Rosmond.
If I had any intention of doing a serious investigative article my expectations were immediately derailed by her beauty and vulnerability.
She did an impromptu ‘reading’ of me and described my favourite place in the whole world—a secret I had never divulged to anybody.
But then she sealed the deal by offering to accompany me there the following evening.
Unbiased reporting? I hardly think so.
So, the following evening we met and drove out to the Bluffs. We were both dressed in jeans and she had packed a picnic basket. “It’ll be an adventure,” she enthused.
We parked the car and hiked through the woods in gathering darkness, until we were at the very verge of the cliffs.
I carefully picked our way along a well-worn trail being careful to stay back from the cliff’s edge—it was a three hundred foot drop to rocks below.
Finally, I located the tiny peninsula of land that jutted out over the lake like the prow of a boat.
“Well, here we are,” I said, gesturing at the velvet sky glittering with stars.
Clare was delighted. “It’s breathtaking—we’re on an island high in the sky on level with the Moon.”
At that moment, the red rim of the full Moon inched above the waves, making a red track in the water.
“This is incredible—it’s exactly like my memory of that night,” I exclaimed.
“Let’s build a fire,” she suggested. “You gather up some branches and I’ll spread out a picnic blanket.”
Soon our small fire was casting a dull glow compared to the light of the more glorious fire simmering over the water.
She brought wine, bread and cheese and we feasted on cheddar, Gruyere and Brie and drank a delicious Cab sav.
It was so familiar—it reminded me of that night at Gibraltar Point with Elaine—we had also built a fire and drank. The memory of it made my throat tighten and brought tears to my eyes.
I had to wonder at Clare though. Here was this famous celeb picnicking in jeans with me on a remote cliff. If this was a calculated ploy on her part, I had to admit my defences were down.
She was lying on her side staring out at the full Moon above the water and had a far-off look in her eyes.
Then, she turned to me and said dreamily. “Did you know? There are no seas on the far side of the Moon.”
I took a sip of wine and stared at the blotched Moon face before us. “And why is that?”
“It was hidden so long from men’s eyes, there was no one to dream them.”
“So, is that what you think—everything is a dream?”
“Don’t you?”
She looked so vulnerable and innocent at that moment, I couldn’t resist. I leaned across and kissed her
“This is real,” I said.
“It is,” she sighed, “but we’re like a clock in shadows—only occasionally do our hands catch the light. This is one of those times.”
It was a lovely thing to say and it touched me.
“If this is one of those special times, I never want it to end.”
“It needn’t end, Zach—believe in me—believe in you.”
What do you mean?”
“I mean, you had something real with Elaine, but your mind couldn’t grasp it, so you lost her. Don’t spend a lifetime with regret.”
I felt a sudden surge of anxiety. “How do you know about Elaine?”
“Does it matter? What matters is you’re frozen—in danger of turning to stone. You need someone to soften your sanity, Zach—unclench your fists and stop fighting your feelings—open your hands and catch the light.”
I swivelled away from her, turned to look out at the lake and suddenly realized why Ben Church did that—there was a truth he had yet to face.
“You fell in love with a girl from a dream, Zach.”
“Really—what can you tell me about her?”
“Well, she’s quite pretty—she has blonde hair and a bubbly personality.”
“That’s a good guess.”
“Oh really, Mr. Skeptic—would you like her name and address?”
“Actually, I would,” I said bitterly.
A look of consternation crossed Clare’s face. “Oh, oh dear! I’m so sorry, Zach—I didn’t know she was deceased.”
She got very agitated. “I’m usually not off in my readings—I’m so confused.”
“What’s confusing you?”
“Elaine Jeffery passed away in 1985—at eighty years old. Am I thinking of one of her descendants?”
My throat went dry. “Possibly.”
“Don’t you know?”
“No, actually I don’t. I spent a night with her on the Toronto Islands at Gibraltar Point. We lit a fire on the beach and made love and when I awoke in the morning she was gone.”
“You’ve been carrying this desire for her such a long time and you never tried to look her up?”
“I tried, but to no avail. She’s gone. How you knew about her, I have no idea. I’ve never told anybody.”
“I told you I see things. Now do you believe me?”
“I do. There’s no way you could have possibly known about Elaine—I’ve never mentioned her to anyone.”
“And why is that?”
I threw up my hands in a gesture of exasperation, “I never told anyone about her because I’m not even sure she was real. I was blurry with alcohol. She said she was from the 1930’s and she dressed and acted that way. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s what happened.”
She nodded and stared out over the lake, pondering my words. “But do you think it’s possible—that somehow you both met in a moment of time?”
“I suppose anything is possible,” I said lamely.
“Close your eyes,” she whispered.
I did. I felt her place her hands gently over my face, and then suddenly Elaine’s face appeared before me.
“She’s in you now, Zach, and you’re in her. You’ll never forget her—she’ll always be a happy memory for you.”
She lifted her hands and Elaine disappeared, and the heaviness around my heart lifted too.
We drove home in silence and when I saw her to her door, she kissed me gently. “I’m leaving tomorrow, Zach.”
“Will I see you again?”
“That’s up to you,” she smiled. “You need some time, but when you’re ready, if you want me, I’ll be here.”
Ben Church was not happy when I filed my story. Bill Hay said he liked it, and wanted more.
I’m not sure I’ll be able to oblige. I think I’d like to take some time off to write—maybe complete my Masters in Psychology—maybe spend some time down south with the lonely sea and sky.
One thing I do know is each night before I go to sleep, I close my eyes and see a face. I see Clare Rosmond staring back at me…
And finally feel at peace.