Ch. 7 – Dominick Trevor

Hope everyone is doing well. I’ve just posted Chapter 7 – Dominick Trevor of my paranormal romance, A Quiet Moment.

Dominick Trevor:

Chapter 7

It was a small, but very slick sort of restaurant on the Downtown Mall. Or that was how it seemed to Aimee. The place was dimly lit with and decorated with dark woods and brass accents. Jacob seemed to look to her a bit anxiously as they approached it, which considering their last foray into the culinary world was entirely appropriate. But on initial observation there seemed to be no psychic skeletons rattling around the place. It felt cozy, exotic, and potentially romantic, except for the fact that there were three of them.

They had collected her at six o clock as was promised. Mary, as she insisted Aimee call her, was sitting in the back seat and greeted her with a very warm smile and relaxed demeanor. If Jacob seemed a bit reserved on occasion, his mother was the antithesis. She was very lively, could be described as energetic, but not in an irritating way as Joan tended to be on occasion. She at first glance appeared to be a woman at peace, fully accepting and enjoying her lot in life, whatever that may be at the moment. There seemed neither dilemma, nor angst in this mortal shell. She was more than ready to take things as they came, absorb what pleasantries she could, and leave anything else behind.

Aimee, who rarely was comfortable in anyone’s company, decided that she liked Mary immediately. She felt put at ease, and what could have potentially been an awkward situation was turned on its head into a blessing in disguise. Whatever unease and trepidation she felt concerning Jacob, was not an issue tonight. Mary served as a pleasant buffer between them. Things would not in any way become complicated, so she relaxed a few notches.

They spent the first forty-five minutes back at the gallery which was closing at seven. Frances Sanders was there to greet them, evidently renewing an acquaintance with Jacob’s mother. But her eyes seemed to become particularly animated when she discovered that Aimee was in their company.

“So glad to see you again, Bob and I are looking forward to reading your article on the opening. When is it coming out?”

Aimee responded, feeling instinctively a little anxious at the mention of the piece. All of the sudden her writing was under the scrutiny of a personal kind that she’d not experienced before. No one she knew had cared what she thought about the opening of a new bookstore or the effect of a local fundraiser. But suddenly there were acquaintances now that were becoming connected to her who had a vested interest in what she’d written, particularly and most especially the man standing at her side. “Actually, I think its tomorrow morning.”

And then Jacob jumped in jarringly with, “We’ll have to decide what to do with her if she pans the whole thing.”

Frances’ blue eyes widened a little, although she did sort of laugh in response. Apparently, her business sense didn’t appreciate his sense of humor. Aimee interjected reassuringly, “Well, it won’t be as bad as all that.” She glanced behind her. Jacob’s mother had disappeared into the gallery, evidently trying to quickly take in all of his pictures. It was easy enough to pick up without going very far beneath the surface how much his mother cared about him.

Jacob followed her eyes. “There’s quite a few of these she hasn’t seen,” he commented.

“She must be proud of you.” They wandered away from Frances’ post, a sort of stylish looking desk near the front of the gallery, which she had abandoned moments earlier to greet a new arrival.

“You miss your Mom a lot.”

She smiled at him. “At times, she had a way of understanding me that I haven’t found elsewhere.”

He nodded, “I know what you mean.” He casually hooked his hand in hers. “I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

“Me too.” The contact felt nice. It was refreshing not to be second guessing everything. Maybe there was a lesson in this. There seemed to be a calmness that had set in. With all the anxiety and intense emotion of their first night together, this night was proceeding with a smoothness, an unruffled simplicity that she was enjoying. Perhaps her decision to not resist whatever was happening had been freeing somehow. Now she could stop trying to maintain control and just see where things were taking her. At least, maybe she could do that tonight.

Jacob’s mother was approaching the seaside painting that had so captivated her a few nights before. Gently, she pulled away from Jacob and walked beside her. “What do you think of this one Mary? It’s one of my favorites.”

Mary smiled, studying the seaside house. “He’s always liked the water. I was a bit surprised he settled here. I always pictured him by the ocean somewhere.”

Aimee again felt the gentle pull of the scene that he’d painted reaching out to her. “I guess from time to time we all end up in places we wouldn’t have pictured ourselves in,” she murmured distractedly.

The blond-haired woman looked at her with an expression that reminded Aimee of her grandmother, one that seemed to keenly see beneath the layers. “Is that you too, a fish out of water?”

She laughed, “From time to time.”

He hadn’t joined them. But she could feel Jacob’s eyes on them watching very closely.

“I think it’s mostly Italian food, although Bob said it might be a bit of everything.”

They’d been seated at a small round table toward the back of the restaurant. It had a bright red tablecloth and a white candle on it that was dripping down the sides of the wine bottle that served as its holder. Aimee glanced around, still feeling that odd veneer of tranquility that had settled over her. The place wasn’t terribly large, but it was interesting. Its tables were situated around several plateaus in the room, each connected with four of five stairs. And there were several abundant hanging ferns about which definitely agreed with her. Plants always seemed to add a positive energy to any room.

She turned to him as she felt Jacob’s hand on her arm. “What do you think?”

She smiled, “I like it.”

He glanced across the table to Mary whose eyes seemed to be absorbing every nuance of activity around her. “Mom?” Throwing her the same question.

“It seems nice, but let’s taste the food before we give it five stars.”

Jacob responded amiably with, “Why don’t we order a bottle of wine, then we might not care as much about the food.” Aimee stifled a giggle. She enjoyed Mary’s no-nonsense approach to things, and the ping pong sort of rapport between mother and son. In some respects, it seemed as though Mary Wyss was intent on shaking her boy up a bit. Although to his credit, Jacob seemed to take everything with a grain of salt.

Aimee had marked Mary as a very independent spirit the moment she laid eyes on her. Mary had dressed casually but with a great deal of style. She wore a comfortable shirt but that was made of what Aimee had pegged as raw silk of a very deep sort of indigo shade, with off-white pants. And she wore a sort of pendant on a chain composed largely of what seemed to be Amber. Wherever she’d acquired it from, it gave off a lovely vibration of energy.

Mary reached over and patted Aimee on the arm. “Now let’s get down to business. When is your birthday?”

“Mom here is a big astrology buff. She makes her most important life decisions based on the position of the stars.”

Mary frowned, “I’m not that bad about it, although it might do you good to be more conscious of such things.”

Aimee allowed her impressions to flow freely, unchecked. The contact from Mary hadn’t bothered her. As her initial impression had indicated, Jacob’s mother seemed to be an independent but extremely sensitive spirit. She put on much bravado but in many ways, she was genuinely concerned about her son. An image rose up in her mind of a younger Mary staring at her little boy perhaps six years old and being perplexed at the depth and intensity of such a young child. She could already see in his young eyes the burdens his spirit carried with him.

“It’s in October, around Halloween.”

She seemed pleased, “Scorpio, that’s a strong sign, a water sign too.”

Jacob met his mother’s eyes for a flash second then looked away. Evidently, that meant something to them.

As the waiter arrived and Jacob was involved in giving their initial order of wine and some sort of appetizer that he’d recommended, Aimee let her eyes wander for a moment placidly around the restaurant. It wasn’t as crowded as she’d expected, but then again it was a Tuesday night. As she serenely took in the faces around them, her eyes stopped at a table across the room from them. Her eyes remained fixed there, although she did not recognize its occupants. There was a young, dark-haired woman, no more than in her mid-twenties she thought, with a nice-looking man, more blondish around the same age. There seemed to be nothing in particular amiss, but her eyes would not leave them. The sounds around her hushed into the background. She wanted to return her attention to Jacob and Mary, but something had clicked within.

It seemed pointless to fight it. She allowed herself to open a bit, and the focus of her eyes shifted. A prickling sensation on her forehead began to signal her change of perception. She began to see the auras of the place, the energies jumping off from various objects and people. The tightness began in her chest, like a pain, but it was a side effect that just came with the territory. It came from expending a great deal of energy and having this sort of sight.

The muddy brown aura surrounding the woman was disturbingly intense, thick like a heavy fog, but what was even more disturbing was that the man across from her had nearly none, nearly no energy at all. What he had left of his spiritual light was pouring or rather being sucked into hers. Her stomach flipped over into nausea. This was a phenomenon that she had only witnessed twice before in her life. Both had ended badly. She closed her eyes and forced her focus back to her companions. Jacob was staring directly at her with concern. “Are you all right Aimee?”

But Mary’s eyes weren’t looking at her at all. They were focused beyond her to the table that she had just been looking at. She shook her head, raising her wineglass to her lips. And then quietly, she commented, “That’s trouble in the making over there.”

And Aimee felt a chill transverse her spine at Mary’s perceptiveness.

It was a sunny morning, a day early in June as she remembered it. She was fifteen years old, and her grandmother took her for a momentous ride in a streetcar down St. Charles Avenue. They had planned the day together nearly a week earlier, or rather her grandmother had. Once they’d moved into Metairie, visits were not nearly as frequent, so like clockwork every other week Aimee would spend an entire day with her grandmother. Sometimes they would go out, but more often than not they would go to Marie Roussel’s apartment on Ursuline Street. There they would look at old books, sometimes work on cooking projects together, and other times practice meditative exercises to sharpen Aimee’s power of awareness.

But on this day, it was an unusually cooler day for the summertime. They went out, and she was introduced to an old acquaintance of her grandmother’s. Actually someone, that for some reason Aimee suspected to be an old beau of Marie Roussel, whose name was Dominick Trevor.

This rather curious man lived in a very elegant old house on St. Charles Avenue. The house, although well kept, felt remote, as though it was not lived in often. Her grandmother explained that Mr. Trevor spent most of his time in Europe but occasionally visited the states. They were old friends who had not seen each other in many years but corresponded quite frequently.

Dominick Trevor’s house was not the grandest on the avenue, nor was it the most sedate, but at that time in her young life Aimee found it quite impressive and most intimidating. The man himself was odd looking in a way. His hair was pure white, thick, and a bit longish falling an inch or so below his shirt collar. He appeared to be at least in his late seventies, and he was thin, nearly wiry looking. He greeted them at the door dressed in a dark suit, looking very much as though he’d been out not long before their arrival.

His greeting of her grandmother, Marie as he called her was warm, affectionate, and very continental kissing her on both cheeks. And then he turned to Aimee grasping her hands gently, holding them and looking closely at her with eyes that she could only describe as a silvery, grey color. “I’ve heard much of you my dear.” There was an inflection in speech, a slight accent although exactly what it was, she couldn’t pinpoint at that young age.

“What have you heard?” she asked directly.

And he smiled, seeming pleased with her frankness. “I have heard you see things as they truly are.”

She picked up her wine glass and sipped it. Jacob’s eyes hadn’t strayed from her face. She smiled placidly, “I’m fine. I like this place. It has a nice atmosphere.”

His mother turned her attention back to him as well. “Yes, it seems very nice. Do you need any more reassuring?”

He frowned, now this was lovely. These two seemed in some fashion to be ganging up on him, although just how, he wasn’t sure. His eyes darted around them. Something was amiss here. He could feel it in his skin, and they knew what it was, and he didn’t. Was he being thick? His eyes moved across the restaurant to the couple at the far table his mother had commented on. They just seemed like any sort of couple, maybe. The man he had to admit looked a little whipped and the woman, well definitely not his type, looked a bit cold, the type who might run you over and get a good night’s sleep afterward. But so what, was he missing something?

Aimee glanced at him and smiled. “What are you ordering?”

He stared blankly for a minute. And then his mother tapped him. “The menu, are you eating tonight honey?”

He looked down. He hadn’t even looked at it. “I don’t know maybe spaghetti.”

Mary grinned, “My boy the risk taker. She tapped her fingers on the menu, this crabmeat fettuccini looks interesting, what do you think Aimee?”

“That does sound good. I have a weakness for anything that’s remotely related to seafood. They also have ravioli stuffed with crabmeat or the fettuccini with shrimp.”

His mother’s eyes widened, “That does sound good but which one?” Her eyes twinkled a bit at him in an irritating way. “And Jacob, you have to decide whether you want your spaghetti with meat sauce or meatballs. That’s a big decision too.”

Aimee looked down, in an effort he suspected to keep from laughing. But then she threw in a bit of a conspiratorial tone, “Or you could get pizza.”

Now Mary was grinning from ear to ear. “All right you two.” He interjected rather sternly, “This is not the let’s gang up on Jacob evening.”

But just then, the waiter arrived to break up the commotion and out of stubbornness more than a desire for it, he ordered spaghetti.

“What you must come to realize is that there are some limits to what you can do.”

“I don’t understand.”

He seemed as though he was struggling a bit in his explanation, so he looked to her grandmother. Marie Roussel walked back to them from the window where she’d been standing. Aimee suspected that she’d been giving Mr. Trevor and her space to get to know each other a bit. But he looked to his old friend now, for guidance. “What Dominick is trying to say is that your particular gifts may allow you to see many complicated spiritual situations, but you must learn to distinguish those you can truly help, and those you cannot.”

Now, he continued. She noticed that he used his hands very expressively as he talked. Something Aimee was not accustomed to in her more sedate acquaintances. “The spiritual path is very individual and unique for all of God’s children. Sometimes, in the goal of learning, success is not the aim.” Her eyes questioned him, and he responded, “Sometimes, the greatest gift is to allow one to follow their path, even if you perceive danger or destruction for them. It is not yours to judge what is best for another.”

“That seems very difficult.”

His smile was very comforting but burdened, she thought, with all he had experienced and seen. “I did not say it would be easy. But it is the only way.”

She needed to get a few moments alone to gather herself. Excusing herself, she left for the ladies’ room. As she walked in, she just stood in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection, puzzled at what move to make now. She’d dressed sedately tonight, a soft pantsuit in earth tones and her moonstone necklace. It had been Anna’s, her mother. She’d given it to her three years before she became ill. Aimee had been surprised because she knew it was a cherished piece. But it was at that point that her mother had begun letting go of all her ties to the earth, as if she sensed the change coming.

She held the moonstone in her hand and breathed deeply. She remembered Dominick Trevor’s voice in her mind. At that first meeting, she hadn’t realized his significance, but he would be her first teacher outside of her family.

She was lost in thought when the door to the ladies’ room swung open. Their eyes met, or a more apt description would be clashed. The woman’s eyes were a very dark brown shade, and her skin deeply tanned with an olive sort of tint.

Some people you will instantly be drawn to, Marie Roussel had told her, kindred spirits, but then there will also be the others.

There was an instinctual animosity here. But Aimee steeled herself, ignoring it and just walked around her and out of the room. What this woman was doing was not conscious, although there were some out there who did. She just was what she was, however, repulsive that might seem to be.

The first time she’d witnessed it was with a married couple living near her grandmother’s apartment. The two had been walking to their car together and Aimee, not yet completely adept at controlling her sight, was shocked at what she’d witnessed. Marie Roussel had grabbed her granddaughter’s hand and instantly led her in another direction. Her chest hurt, and her head was pounding furiously. “Did you see that Grandma? What was that?”

Quietly, Marie looked at her with a serious expression, “Yes I know dearest. Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot we can do.”

“What was it?”

Her expression was very calm but also very grim, “I suppose the best way to describe it is to call him a spiritual vampire.”

“Yes, it is an odd phenomenon, and disturbing to witness.”

They again were in the library at Dominick Trevor’s great old house on St. Charles Avenue. During that summer, her grandmother had arranged to take her there at least once a week. When school started, it was less frequent, but she spent the balance of a year under his intense tutelage.

“But why would someone do that, steal someone else’s energy?”

He sat down in a gold-colored, winged back chair that was positioned near a rather impressive marble fireplace. From what she gathered, the house was an old family home that he used when he was in the states. He rubbed his eyes. He looked tired and distracted. “The first thing you should do Aimee is suspend judgment. There is all manner of things seen and unseen, by most at least, in the world. Attaching judgments to all of them is a foolhardy and fruitless endeavor.”

She crossed her arms in front of her in thought. Mr. Trevor had this very odd way of making her contemplate situations from angles that she’d never considered before. “But if you see someone doing something bad.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I know you are gifted my child, but are you all seeing? Can you see past, present, future, and all nuances of every person’s experience and life?”

She pursed her lips a bit, “Of course not.”

“So, without seeing everything, what makes you think your judgment is not flawed?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly, if you don’t know, then why not release yourself from the burden of this way of thinking?” He laughed, pushing his rather longish white hair dramatically behind his shoulders. “Trust me, you don’t have enough energy to spare to waste any of it. The universe takes care of itself. There is a system of checks and balances, of karma if you will. If harm is done by you in one lifetime you must restore balance and atone for it in another. The spirit must have balance to evolve.” He shrugged, “So we must be careful to not incur more karma. It is a messy business.”

“But what about the vampire thing?”

“Oh yes, well you know about energy. Every living thing has a spiritual energy. Although it is not readily apparent to the eye of most, you and some others being the exception. So, what we know is that the body, the mind, and the spirit are intimately linked. What impacts the body or mind also impacts the spirit.”

He seemed very distracted today. Aimee sensed something odd was going on with him. “Yes, so this business of losing energy.”

He nodded, “Yes, if you don’t have enough spiritual energy, and there are a variety and myriad ways to lose it, you can’t think properly, and eventually it will impact the body in physical ways.”

“You can feel it physically.”

“Most do, they simply don’t recognize what they are feeling. It’s a headache. It’s pains in the body, excessive fatigue, and so on.”

“But this woman, her husband was taking her energy.”

“Yes, it seems that every spirit goes through an evolutionary process, like a frog evolves from a tadpole and different stages of development over many lifetimes. And one stage, when a spirit is garnering energy to ascend to a higher level of development, is that it is capable of draining other spirits. Only some spirits, however, are vulnerable. They too have to be in a specific stage of development to be vulnerable.”

She swallowed trying to wrap her young mind around this, “So, these vampire spirits use the other spirits to gain energy and evolve.”

“Well, they try to, but of course nothing wholly positive can come from taking from another. Another karmic law, you don’t truly gain by depriving another of something.”

She frowned, “Not according to our capitalistic society.”

“Yes, well, we are talking of spiritual matters. And of course, what we choose to perceive is often quite different from what is true. The truth does sustain whereas a perception lasts as long as it takes a rock to hit the water and change everything.”

“But the woman, who is being drained, she can’t feel well. Why doesn’t she leave?”

He sighed, “It’s complicated. In the most basic sense, it’s addictive, like a drug that in many ways destroys your life. It does give you something. It’s addictive to the drainer and the one being drained, very difficult to break. Sometimes, it takes a very long time for things to be set right.”

Jacob stared at his mother who was looking at that table across the room. The woman had left not long after Aimee. “What is it?”

Mary turned back to him and shrugged, “I don’t know. I just feel sorry for him. He seems unhappy. Don’t you think?”

He glanced at him again just perceiving a guy that needed to move on. Maybe he looked that way when he was with Talia. He had no idea. “I don’t know, don’t see it so much Mom.”

Her focus was back to him now. That he could feel. “I like her very much Jacob.”

He sipped his wine and fiddled with a languid looking piece of fried cheese. “Yes, you two seem to be hitting it off.”

“She’s very intense, sensitive I guess.”

He glanced up, “Think so?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “And cautious, you’re probably going to have to take your time here.”

He smiled a bit, “Meaning what exactly?”

She tapped his arm, “Meaning, I think this one is definitely worth the effort. So, take your time and be patient, so you don’t scare her away.”

“Me scary? You must be kidding.”

Her soft blue eyes narrowed a bit. “I’m serious. You can be impulsive when you see something you really want my darling. In this particular instance, I would advise you to put a rein on that, steady wins the race.”

He laughed, although he did hear what she was saying loud and clear. “Mom, you are really something.”

And then the waiter showed up with steaming plates of food. “Thank goodness,” Mary sighed, “I’m starving.”

Copyright © 2019 by Evelyn Klebert

Jacob Wyss is caught in a rut, in fact on the verge of being engulfed by it. After an excruciating and disillusioning divorce, his life as an artist in a sleepy-college town at the foot of the Appalachian mountains has become quiet, routine, and maddening in its predictability. One wintry day, his deep restlessness drives him out in precarious conditions to a largely empty bookstore nearly devoid of another living soul, nearly.

Aimee Marston isn’t like everyone else. On the surface, she lives a sedate life working as a feature writer for a small local newspaper in addition to several other editorial jobs to help make ends meet. But just beneath, her existence is largely not her own. She is a sensitive, an empathetic psychic, guided by her calling to use her gifts to help others. Unfortunately, as a result, her secretiveness has made her defensive, protective of herself, and prevented her from having much of a life of her own.

A psychic call for help sends Aimee out on a freezing January morning where her destiny and Jacob’s collide sending both their lives spiraling onto an unexpected and often disturbing track. Two lonely souls connect, not by accident, but by design. Theirs is the intersection of two spiritual paths, two lovers who must struggle to overcome the phantoms of a past life, as well as the challenges of their own inner demons to carve out an extraordinary future together.

More Chapters of A Quiet Moment

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