The Simpatico Series Box Set (3 books in 1) Read online

  “No, I didn’t,” Andrew said.

  “Yes, you did, bro,” Bobby interjected. “Said that she talks to spirits and reads auras and—“

  “That was in the beginning,” Andrew said, interrupting. “I maybe thought that she was a bit weird at first but she’s not really like that; she’s a totally cool person, actually.”

  “Ooh, touchy-touchy,” Bobby jeered. “Must be getting fond of her, huh?”

  “Yeah, you guys doing the nasty all the time, kinda goes to your head, huh, lover-boy, lose your grip on reality,” Tony joked, messing Andrew’s hair for effect.

  “Andrew’s in love, uh, uh, uh,” Bobby sang as he accompanied himself on air guitar.

  “Andrew’s in lu-uh-ve, da, da, da, da,” Tony joined in, playing air bass.

  “No, I’m not,” Andrew denied sheepishly.

  “Andrew’s in lu-uh-ve, da, da, da, da,” his buddies had continued, circling him and messing up his hair as they mocked. Andrew now clearly recognized that he had strong feelings for Fiona. However, he was disturbed and worried that the reading his girl had done had seemed negative and might put her off the relationship, for good.

  Sitting opposite Fiona on the cool earth, surrounded by a circle of flickering candles, Andrew adjusted his position. “There’s a lot of pain in our future,” Fiona said somberly, taking Andrew’s hands into hers. “You have to truly decide if this is what you really want. There’s lots of relationships out there for you that are much less challenging. You'd probably have lots more fun and happiness.”

  “I don’t want to be with anyone else, Fi,” Andrew said with full sincerity. “I want to be with you, whatever happens; however hard it gets. I only want to be with you and know that I… I’m pretty sure I’ll never meet anyone else like you and I’d hate to think that I gave this up, gave you up and ended up regretting it every day for the rest of my life. Even thinking about being without you fills me with regret… and dread.”

  “If we go forward with this, from tonight on, we are together. Nothing will part us,” Fiona said as she looked deeply into Andrew’s eyes. “Not even death.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Andrew said as he was unable to prevent a nervous grin from breaking out on his face. “We’ll have them bury us in the same grave, me on top.”

  “We’re linking our souls, Andrew, not our bodies,” Fiona corrected, as a smile broke out on her face. “I can’t believe you that you can’t be serious about this.”

  “I can, I am,” Andrew insisted, holding her hands tighter. “This is so totally what I want. You can be so serious sometimes, Fi. I don’t mean to make jokes, just some things you say are so, I don’t know, heavy, I guess. And weird.”

  “You need to know what you’re getting yourself into, both of us, that’s all I’m saying,” Fiona said.

  “Fiona, my soul was yours long ago, without all this hocus-pocus and candles and stuff. I love you with all my heart and I know I always will.”

  “I know you do, Andrew. I love you with all my heart also. I’m just scared, that’s all. I’ve never seen the future be so dark before. It doesn’t mean that it will be; nothing’s written in stone, it could all change. I just want you to know what I see, what I’m sensing, I guess.”

  “Come graduation, we hit the road,” Andrew said with full seriousness. “We get our own place and start a new life together. How awful can that be, huh?” he asked, smiling.

  “Sounds pretty terrific to me,” Fiona said, her face flushed with a mix of excitement and bashfulness. As Andrew leaned in to kiss her, she stopped him. “Not yet,” she said as she reached down and took out a large needle from her purse. Holding it in a candle flame for a few seconds, she then took his right hand and held the needle above his open palm.

  “What are you doing?” Andrew asked, more curious than alarmed.

  “We’re going to join our souls together,” Fiona answered. “You okay with that?” she then asked, smiling.

  “Cool. Yeah, absolutely,” he answered, grinning. “Ouch!” he then said, as Fiona pierced his palm with the needle, drawing blood.

  “By merging our blood we join not just our hearts but our souls,” Fiona said seriously. “I join my life force with yours, Andrew, as you join your life force with mine,” she continued, as she pierced her own palm. Placing her palm on his, their wounds and blood melded together.

  “My joys are now your joys also, as is my sadness and grief. My gifts are yours to use and share, as you so choose. I entrust to you my heart, my soul, my life. You should know and always remember that even if we’re apart or maybe even if I’m cross with you or arguing or fighting or being silent with you… that I do love you and I will love you always. Know this, in your heart,” she said, touching his heart with her right hand, “and remember.”

  “I will, Fi,” Andrew answered, his eyes getting tearful.

  “No matter what it may look like on the surface or even when you may be engulfed in your own fear and confusion, never doubt my love for you. However it may appear, or even when it may seem hopeless to you, let your heart remind you, always know, that my love for you will always shine; my undying love will always be there for you,” Fiona continued.

  “Same goes for me, totally,” Andrew said, a lump in his throat.

  “You can never disappoint me, Andrew. You can never fail me. The only time my love will not be there for you is if you chose not to receive it, if, for whatever reason, you block me out and decide not to feel the deep, deep love I will always have for you.”

  “And vice-versa,” Andrew said, feeling overwhelmed by her passion and candor. “Same goes for me… to you. I’ll always love you also, Fiona, no matter what.”

  As Fiona leaned forward to kiss him, Andrew, for the first time in his life, felt ill-equipped and out of his depth to deal with the love and passion that was surging up from the depths of his being. He felt a hunger for Fiona that felt desperate and so primal that he felt like he couldn’t hold her tightly enough. If he could somehow pull her into himself, body and soul, he most certainly felt like doing it. Instead, he kept his passions in check and kissed her so softly and tenderly that he surprised himself with his own restraint.

  “Wow, I feel like we just got married or something,” Andrew said as they slightly pulled apart.

  “This goes way beyond marriage, Andrew,” Fiona said, now feeling a bit giddy. “Let the sky be our cathedral and the stars our congregation,” she said, her head jerking up to look at the star-filled, blue-black darkness above. “Let the moon be our witness and let the heavens above rejoice!”

  “Hallelujah!” exclaimed Andrew loudly as they rose to their feet and, holding each other’s hands, danced around the circle of candles. “Dancing in the moonlight!” Andrew half-sang, half-shouted.

  “When that moon is big and bright!” Fiona joined in.

  “It’s a supernatural delight!” Andrew sang.

  “Everybody’s dancing in the moonlight!” they both sang together and laughing, fell to the ground in a tight and ecstatic embrace.

  Sleepless and restless, Fiona lay in her bed trying to rid her mind of thoughts and images of a dark and perilous future. Although she didn’t regret casting her lot with Andrew, deciding to bind her reality together with his, she couldn’t help but doubt if she had truly done the right thing. Was she being reckless? Was she being selfish for wanting Andrew so much that she would ignore the warnings of her intuition? Would it not have been more loving to let him go back to his safe world rather than keep him and risk him finding harm in hers?

  Was her selfish need of him clouding her mind? Even though every cell and fiber of her being longed for his touch, what cost might she now have to pay for ignoring her better judgment and the negative confirmation provided by the reading? Had she done wrong?

  There is a cost to everything, she considered, and the heavier the denial or disregard, the steeper the price. As loving and giving as the universe truly is, so also is its justice; just like
any finely tuned, successful system, when you play by the rules, you prosper. If you ignore the warnings or even worse, deliberately break the rules, then heaven help you, for the rains will surely pour. When that time comes, all you can hope for is that you don’t fully drown.

  Glancing at the digital clock on her bedside table–3:03 AM–she slid out from her cozy down comforter and stepped into her flip-flops. The large house was quiet as she left her room to walk down her preferred (right-hand) side of the twin marble staircase. Only a slight hum from the four-door stainless steel refrigerator broke the complete silence of the spotlessly clean kitchen.

  “Three nights in a row?” a voice asked from behind, startling her as she opened a refrigerator door. “What’s troubling you?” her father, Simon, asked.

  “I was hungry,” Fiona answered casually, not at all startled, as she stared into the fridge for inspiration. “I didn’t have supper again, trying to lose some weight.”

  “You wouldn’t be keeping secrets from me, would you?” Simon asked, placing his whiskey glass under the fridge door ice dispenser.

  “It’s like 3 AM; don’t you sleep?” she asked, knowing quite well that her father slept at odd hours.

  “Come here,” Simon said gently, taking her shoulders into his two hands. “What’s your little secret, huh?” he asked, looking her in the eyes. “You think I won’t find out?”

  “I want a glass of milk, that’s all,” Fiona replied, matching his straight look.

  “Is it money? School? Boys?” he asked, watching her carefully. “Ah,” he said, noticing a micro flinch in her eyes on his last guess. “Love trouble. Any boy in particular?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Fiona said as she broke from his grasp. “It’s kinda personal.”

  “It can’t be that Andrew boy, can it?” he asked pointedly. “Not after your promise to me.”

  “Telling you that there’s nothing for you to worry about is not a promise of any kind, dad,” Fiona said kindly.

  “We talked about this, Fiona,” Simon said more sternly. “No boys until your gifts are fully matured.”

  “You can’t always rule my life, daddy,” Fiona said softly. “I just want to have a normal life, you know?”

  “So you are still seeing this boy, then? Even after your promise.”

  “I didn’t make you any promises, dad!” Fiona said, her nerves on edge. “I’m not doing anything that will hurt you in any way and it's not something that I can’t handle. Your concern is flattering but—“

  “My concern is flattering?” Simon interrupted. “Don’t you know what you are messing with? You can’t live a normal life, child; you’re not a normal girl. Infatuations and… lust energies will mess everything up, don’t you understand? Your gifts haven’t fully arrived yet and until they do you need to remain contained; alone and celibate. I thought you understood?”

  “I understand more than you know, father,” Fiona answered as she walked towards the door. “I can’t give up Andrew any more than I can give up taking my next breath; Andrew is the oxygen I need to survive, to live… to be me. I’ve told you this before, daddy. As your daughter I will do what I can to abide by your wishes but as my own person I need to do what is first of all in my own interest. I thought you understood.”

  “I thought you said you were trying to lose weight?” Simon asked, noticing that she was walking away with a spoon and a tub of Rocky Road ice cream.

  “It’s low calorie, sugar-free and non-fat,” Fiona answered with a smile.

  “Good night, sweetheart,” he said, smiling back. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, pops,” she said warmly and left her father alone in the big kitchen. Appearing a bit lost, he looked around at the counters as if he had forgotten what he was doing there. Remembering, he picked up his glass and returned to the library where he reopened his ancient-looking book with the title: Blood Rituals of the Sacred Mysteries.

  Chapter 2

  In the mid-morning sunshine of Southern California, Andrew drove his pickup north to the Pacific Palisades. Singing to the tunes on the radio, his left arm propped on the open window door, feeling the warmth of the golden sunshine, he was in high spirits. Impressed by the large houses and mansions with their immaculately-kept landscaping, he tried not to admit to himself that he was out of his league by dating Fiona.

  So what if she came from money and before enrolling in a private school was home-schooled by expensive tutors? So what if she had no idea what life in the real world was like; never having to work, everything simply handed to her?

  Andrew shook his head, as if he could banish his negative thinking. He focused again on the current song by his favorite band, The Stokes, that was bringing joy to his world, joining in when he recognized the lyrics.

  At least the one good thing about living in America was that there was no class system, he thought. Everyone was born equal and just because he couldn’t look after her in a way that she had become accustomed, didn’t mean that he was a loser. Besides, she’d said numerous times that she didn’t care about that stuff. She loved him for who he was and not where he was from or for the family he was born into or the amount of money he had in the bank.

  It may all be a cliché but he knew that, when Fiona said it, she meant it; Fiona was not a liar and she didn’t make stuff up just to please whomever. In fact, she was the most honest, truthful person he had ever met. No way was she amusing herself by dating some working-class kid just because she was curious or wanted to piss off her old man or something.

  “Shit,” Andrew said out loud when he pulled up to the address. “You’ve got to be kidding…” he said to the mansion laid out before him. Fiona’s address was a huge estate that was now blowing him away. Outside of some British TV show, he didn’t even know houses this big really existed. Three stories high with balconies and patios all over the place, not to mention a huge front and back lawn with huge old-world trees. “Holy shit,” he said to the piece of paper in his hand where he had scribbled her address. Could this be the right house, even?

  “Andrew?” a female voice said from out of nowhere.

  Looking around to see where the voice came from, he couldn’t see a soul. “Yeah?” he answered uncertainly.

  “I’ll let you in,” the voice said as the huge wrought iron gates began to swing open.

  “You can see me?” he asked, now realizing that Fiona was talking to him through the gate intercom. Focusing his ears to the speaker, he waited for a response. When he saw Fiona waving joyfully to him before the open front door, he smiled and drove up the gravel driveway.

  “You made it!” she yelled as he approached. “I’m so happy!”

  “I guess this is not a rental,” he said, still overwhelmed by the grand scale of the estate.

  “I had nothing to do with it, I promise,” she said smiling. “Come in and I’ll show you where I was born.”

  “You were born here?” Andrew asked, looking reluctant to even leave his truck. “Am I okay here?” he then asked, wondering about the parking situation.

  “Everybody is away today; the place is all ours,” she said excitedly.

  “Who’s everybody?” he asked, looking around at the expanse of it all.

  “Just Daddy. And the maids and gardeners and stuff…” she said, her voice trailing. “Get out of that truck and give me a hug, you doofus!” she said impatiently. “I’ve been waiting for you all day! Like I couldn’t wait, come here you!”

  Once out of the truck, Fiona wrapped her arms around him and hugged him so tightly that all his nervousness left his body. He finally allowed himself to relax and smiled. “It’s so good to see you too,” he said softly into her ear. “I love you so much!”

  “Come,” she then said, taking him by the hand. “Welcome to my world.”

  Taking off his Angels baseball cap, Andrew flung it through the open window of his truck. He didn’t see it sail right through and out the other open window, landing on the gravel.
r />   Open-mouthed, Andrew took in the majesty of the interior: the marble floors, the twin staircase, the hand-carved balustrade of dark, rich exotic wood, the multi-colored stained glass windows; statues that looked like they came straight from the ancient world, the massive chandelier that hung from a domed ceiling, like something you might see in a medieval cathedral or some place. “You live here?” he asked and then quickly laughed at his own question. “What does your father do, exactly? If that’s not too personal a question.”

  “I’m not too sure what he does; we don’t talk about things like that,” Fiona answered disinterestedly. “I know that he sits on lots of boards and stuff.”

  “What kind of boards? You mean, like, boards of different companies? Board of directors?” Andrew asked.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Fiona answered, like she was weary of the conversation already. “I don’t know what kind of salary he’s on, if that’s going to be your next question.”

  Andrew laughed, expecting her to laugh also – wasn’t she joking? When she didn’t laugh, he felt like obviously this was not the kind of conversation that she wanted to have. “Lots of old statues and artwork, huh?” Andrew remarked. “Looks like he’s got a kind of ancient Egyptian thing going on, what do you think?” he joked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Fiona nodded her head, “big on ancient Egypt.”

  “Are they real?” he asked as he took a closer look at a statue of what looked like an Egyptian Goddess.

  “I don’t think so,” she answered, pulling him away. “This is not what I wanted to show you, anyways.” Leading him upstairs, she walked quickly, hoping not to be detained by more questions about where the wall hangings might have come from or who the people were in the framed oil portraits lining the walls.

  “This is where I grew up,” she said as she opened wide the door to a huge room filled with toys. Huge cuddly stuffed play animals, a swing set, trampoline, seesaw and other toys were sprawled around the floor. A mini hot-air balloon and a bunch of toys and planets and flying horses and unicorns, a toy airplane were all hanging from the ceiling.