Date: Mon, 28 Jan 2002 14:57:32 EST
From: MystryAuthr@aol.com
Subject: Chapter 1 of The Truth of Yesterday

	We like to think of life as a story, complete with a nice, neat
beginning, middle, and end. Real life is seldom that orderly. We often
forget just how powerful the past can be. After all, it's over and done
with, so how can it affect the present? The truth is, while it may be over,
it is seldom done, especially in matters not properly dealt with. It has a
way of twisting our perception, our feelings, and even our reality. Things
we thought long behind us can suddenly be very much before us.

	 Our past affects every waking minute; it defines who we are today,
whether for good or bad. It even has the power to affect the future in ways
we can't even begin to understand. Like echoes returning from a great
distance or ripples in a pond, it can come back to haunt us; torturing us
with might-have-beens, taunting us with unrealized potential, terrorizing
us with truths we tried to ignore, tormenting us with losses too great to
take in.

	In our own ways, we each try to move on from our past. Some try to
do so by closing their eyes in the time-honored ostrich approach: if I
can't see you, then you can't see me. Others try to outrun it. Some manage
to convince themselves it never happened. There are as many methods of
avoiding as there are pasts to avoid. In the end, however, if you live long
enough, the past will catch up to you. If you aren't careful, you may live
just long enough for it to do so...and no longer.


Chapter 1

	I sat slumped in my chair, eyes on the clock, counting the seconds
until I would be released from this class. The professor droned on and on
in the background but I'd stopped listening half an hour ago. Lucky for me,
he wasn't saying anything of any real importance anyway. This class was a
waste of time. I could have just read the book and showed up for the tests,
and done just as well, but I was always afraid I'd miss something important
if I did that. So far, I had not been rewarded for my diligence. The
professor was simply having a love affair with the sound of his own voice
and we were all voyeurs.

	Finally, the class ended and I was the first person out the door. I
was supposed to meet Micah, my boyfriend, on the other side of town. He
said he had something he wanted us to talk about; I didn't know what, but
that phrase alone is enough to strike fear in my heart. I wasn't exactly
looking forward to it, but I did want it to be over. Then again, maybe I
was just overreacting. It didn't have to be anything serious. I checked my
watch as I slid into my car. I had twenty minutes to get there. As long as
traffic was light, I'd have no problem. I go to school at a small college
on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Pemberton University is located in the
small city of Salisbury, and while it is home to no less than three
colleges, it isn't really a college town.

	Fortune smiled upon me and traffic was as light as it gets around
here. I actually arrived a bit early at the diner we had agreed to meet at
and had to wait for Micah. Micah writes for the local daily newspaper. He
isn't originally from the area but he moved here last year when he was
hired as a reporter. For a long time he was relegated to puff pieces and
jobs everyone else passed over, but his report on a bed and breakfast with
a resident ghost (more on that later) had garnered him a little more
respect not too long ago. He'd even begun a weekly series on local
hauntings.

	The bed and breakfast in question was owned by my surrogate father,
Adam Connelly and his partner, Steve Redden. By the way, I mean partner in
the romantic sense as well as the business sense. Adam had taken me in
several years ago when my real father had kicked me out of the house after
finding out I was gay. Adam's son Seth, who was also my friend and gay as
well, had been killed not long before that and I'd been stabbed in the
process. I'd lived with Adam, Steve, and Adam's younger son Kane from that
day on.

	Steve had bought the house that he and Adam had turned into a bed
and breakfast at the beginning of summer, about 5 months ago. It was a
pre-civil war era mansion that had needed a lot of work. They managed to
get an awful lot done in a short amount of time and they had opened the inn
just a month ago. What Steve hadn't known when he bought the house was that
it was already inhabited by a woman who had been dead for over 150 years. A
family friend, Judy, who is something of a psychic and very familiar with
supernatural phenomenon, volunteered to help in an attempt to move the
spirit, named Amalie, on her way. In the process, I'd discovered that I
have several unwanted psychic Gifts, as Judy refers to them. When I say
psychic, don't imagine that woman on TV who exhorts you to call now for
your free tarot reading. It's not like that at all. Judy describes it as
sensitivity to the spiritual plane. Whatever you call it, it wasn't
anything I wanted and I no intention of pursuing it. I'm still wondering
where you return this so called gift. Meanwhile, we thought we had found a
way to lay Amalie to rest, but an uneasy feeling still made me avoid the
house. I'd only been back once since the day we thought we'd said goodbye
to her, and that was for the Grand Opening of the newly named Amalie
House. When Amalie herself made a surprise guest appearance, no one had
really been all that shocked.

	Business at Amalie House had been slow thus far, but that was to be
expected with a dead woman showing up for the Grand Opening. Besides that,
Steve had only just started advertising and construction was still going on
nearby where Steve and Adam were building a small house for all of us to
live in. It was being built to look like an old guest house that had once
stood on the property but had burned down at some point over the last
century. While the house was being built, we were still living at the beach
house, which was a half hour away. Because of the distance, Adam and Steve
took turns staying at the B&B while the other stayed home with Kane.

	I'd started college a couple months ago and so far, it had been
fairly easy. I'd taken a light course load since I was also working for
Novak Investigations. I'd started working there at the beginning of the
summer as a secretary type deal. The owner, Shane Novak, a retired cop, had
heard of me because of my involvement in discovery of Seth's killer, which
is another story in and of itself. Now I was an investigator for Novak,
although not yet licensed. You have a few years experience with a licensed
PI before you can get your own license. I was taking courses that Novak had
said would be helpful in the business and for the most part I was enjoying
them, with the one notable exception mentioned earlier.

	If your idea of PI work comes from watching TV then you are most
likely very mistaken. For the most part, it's a rather boring, low-key
job. We don't even get to carry a gun, although Novak had made me take a
self-defense class after I was almost killed while looking into a murder
for my ex-boyfriend a couple months back.

	Currently we were working on two cases, neither very exciting. We
had been hired by a local insurance company to check out a work related
injury claim. It seemed they had reason to believe the older woman who had
made the claim was not as disabled by her accident as she claimed. Novak
was handling that case pretty much by himself and I had been given almost
free reign over a case of my very own, my first official one. A woman had
come into our office the week before and asked to speak to Novak. I'm still
manning the front desk so I asked her what it was concerning.

	"I think my rat-bastard of a husband is cheating on me and if so I
want to know about it so I can file for divorce and sue him for every
penny," she'd replied quite calmly.

	I'd been working there long enough by this time to not be too
surprised. This was actually our most common type of case. Novak had
accepted the case since things were pretty slow at the moment and then
assigned it to me. I was still pretty nervous about handling it on my own,
but I'd assisted Novak on several similar cases so I pretty much knew the
ropes. It involved a lot of following the guy from place to place and
sitting around being bored spitless. So far, he'd gone faithfully from work
to home and back again each day. His only variations so far had been a stop
at the grocery store one night and the liquor store another. Of course, I
wasn't watching him every second with classes during the day, but I'd paid
off one of the secretaries at his office to let me know if he left or had
any suspicious phone calls. There had been nothing of the sort to date.

	I was just beginning to get a little concerned that Micah wasn't
going to show up when I saw his silver Saturn pull into the lot. I'd met
Micah while working that case for my ex. It was all very professional at
first; he helped me get some information I'd needed, but he'd asked me out
and it turned out we really hit it off. We'd been dating now for a few
months, but not too seriously. I referred to him as my boyfriend but we
hadn't made any sort of real commitment, much to Micah's chagrin. I liked
Micah a lot, but I just wasn't ready for that. My first boyfriend, Asher,
and I had moved too quickly into the couple thing and it eventually
destroyed our relationship to the point that I wasn't sure if we were even
capable of being friends anymore, despite the fact that we still cared very
deeply for each other. He'd moved away when school started and there were
times when I still wondered if I was really over him.

	I watched Micah unfold himself from behind the steering wheel and
turn to face the restaurant. He stood by the car for a minute, just staring
into the windows almost as if he was posing. I waved, but I was pretty sure
he didn't see me. Micah is several years older than I am, in his early
twenties, and very handsome. He has straight brown hair which tends to fall
into his eyes in the cutest way and huge, dark puppy dog eyes. He's a
little taller than I am and in great shape. He shook his head as if
clearing his thoughts and moved quickly across the parking lot, where I
lost sight of him. He reappeared inside a few seconds later. He scanned the
room, spotted me, and headed in my direction.

	"Hey Killian," he said, sliding into the booth across from me. We
were meeting in a small old-fashioned diner that Micah was particularly
fond of, though I didn't really share his enthusiasm. While the atmosphere
was cozy and comfortable, the food was only mediocre at best.

	"Hey, I was beginning to think you were standing me up," I said
with a grin to let him know I was only teasing.

	"Yeah, sorry about that," he said distractedly, "I got hung up with
the story I'm working on right now. I told you they finally gave me
something with some real weight, right?"

	"Yeah, the town council thing?" He'd just told me yesterday about
being assigned his first big story, the possibility of major corruption and
pay offs within the town council. He was as excited as I'd ever seen him
about his work. Today he seemed withdrawn and disturbed though and I
wondered if something had gone wrong. I hoped the newspaper hadn't taken it
away already and given it to their star reporter, a jerk named Walters. "Is
everything ok with that?"

	"Oh yeah, it's going great. That's why I was late. I was on the
phone with the former secretary of the council member we think was up to
his eyeballs in grafts and bribes. He made the mistake of firing her last
week and she's just dying to blow him out of the water. She's talking so
fast I can barely write it down quick enough. Of course, it will all have
to be verified."

	"Cool," I said. So if he wasn't upset about the story, what was he
upset about? I knew he'd tell me in his own time, but I was not known for
my patience. "What are you ordering?" I asked to make conversation.

	"I think I'll just get a hamburger," he said without even looking
at the menu.

	A waitress was approaching our table at that moment, a silver ring
flashing in her nose, so much black mascara framing her eyes that she
looked like a raccoon, and long, greasy looking brown hair.

	"Hi, I'm Ellen. I'll be your waitress today. Are you ready to order
or do you need more time?" she asked all in a whoosh without taking a
single breath. I was impressed. I would have been more impressed if she'd
given the slightest indication that she cared one way or the other.

	"I'll have a hamburger - lettuce, tomato and ketchup, no pickle,"
Micah ordered.

	"I'll just have a house salad," I said.

	"Drinks?"

	"Water is fine with me," Micah said.

	"I'll take a root beer."

	She made the proper notes on her little pad and moseyed off towards
the kitchen.

	"So, what's wrong? What did you want to talk about?" I asked after
a minute or so of awkward silence. This was not like Micah at all.

	"Hmm? Oh, it'll wait until the food gets here."

	"Why? You afraid that I'll lose my appetite if you tell me now?" I
tried to keep my voice light, but inside I was tensing up like crazy.

	"It's not that." He looked away, suddenly entranced by the giant
fish tank by the door.

	"Micah, what's going on?"

	He turned back to face me. "Where are we going?" he asked.

	"Huh? What do you mean?"

	"Our relationship, where is it going?"

	"I...I don't understand what you're asking."

	"Killian, we've been dating now for several months, but I feel like
we're not going anywhere. I've tried to be patient but how much can a guy
take?"

	"Is this about...sex?" I said in a low voice. I was eighteen and,
for all intents and purposes, a virgin. Asher and I had never gone all the
way and Micah had said from day one that he didn't want our relationship to
be about sex, and, to his credit, he had never pushed me.

	"No, this isn't about sex," he said with a sigh in his voice. "You
know it's not about sex. And you know what this is really about; I need
more from you then just companionship, someone to go to dinner with or to
the movies or dancing. I want intimacy and I'm not just talking about
sexual intimacy. I feel like you are constantly holding me at arms
length. I want...no, I need to be closer to you. I want you to let me in."

	"Micah...I...wow." I stammered.

	"I told you it should have waited."

	"No, I...wow. Look, Micah, I don't know what to say. I thought we
were doing fine."

	"We are. We're doing just fine. But I don't want to just do fine; I
want to be great. I want to be completely satisfied in our relationship."

	"And you're not."

	"No. I'm not. I feel like there's a part of you—a big
part—that I've never even seen. I've seen hints and brief glimpses, but
I've rarely gotten to see the whole and never for very long. I want to know
you completely and totally, Killian, but you have to trust me and let me
in."

	"I thought I was..."

	"Did you?"

	Before I could answer, our charming waitress Ellen appeared at the
table again with my salad and Micah's burger.

	"Enjoy," she said, plopping the platters down in front of us
without finesse.

	I sat staring at the limp, unappetizing salad and realized that I
had actually lost my appetite. Micah was apparently experiencing a similar
predicament. I pushed the salad to one side.

	"Killian," he started again, "I care about you; I really do. I
even...I would even say I love you. I've never known anyone like
you. You're so smart and funny. I love being with you and God knows you're
never boring. And it doesn't hurt that you're one of the cutest guys I've
ever met. But I can't live like this. I can't just keep going on unless I
know there's a reason to hope for something more."

	"I care about you too," I said softly. "I've loved spending time
with you and getting to know you."

	"But?"

	"There is no but."

	"So...what are you saying? You'll let me in?"

	"I... I don't know what you mean."

	He sighed. "He's still here, between us, just like he'd never
left."

	"What? Who?"

	"Asher. That's what this is all about, isn't it? You can't let go,
can't move on."

	"Asher? How'd he get into this?"

	"He's in everything we do."

	"That's not..." I stopped with the word true still on my tongue. He
was right and we both knew it. What was the point in denying it? It would
just cause more of a rift between us then there already was. "I'm sorry."

	"Me too. Sorry won't fix this, though."

	"What will?"

	"You have to move on, give up whatever you are holding onto with
Asher. And you have to be willing to take a risk with me."

	"What do you mean by risk?"

	"Moving to the next level is going to require a certain amount of
risk for both of us. We're risking getting hurt, risking losing what we
have. All love involves risk, what you have to decide is if it's worth
it. Do the benefits outweigh that risk? I've decided that for me they do,
but only if you are willing to commit to this just as much as I am."

	"I..."

	"You don't have to answer right now. That wouldn't be fair, I'd be
putting you on the spot." He pulled out his wallet, opened it, and tossed a
twenty on the table. "Take your time and think about it, be sure you know
what you want, and then call me. I won't call you. If I don't hear from you
in a reasonable amount of time I'll know you decided it wasn't worth the
risk and I'll try to understand." He stood up and looked down at me,
sitting there with what I'm sure must have been a stupefied expression.

	"Micah, wait." I managed.

	He smiled. "For what? I want you to have time to think about this,
about what I'm asking of you. This is the best way I've come up with to do
that, relatively painless for us all. I hope I'll be talking to you soon,
but if not, no hard feelings. I'll always love you."

	He turned and walked out the door. I watched him out the window as
he crossed the lot once more, climbed into his car, and drove away without
ever once looking back. I was still sitting there several minutes later
when the alluring Ellen appeared back at the table.

	"Is everything ok?" she asked disinterestedly, as if our food
wasn't still sitting completely untouched on the table and my dinner
partner hadn't just walked out on me.

	"Yeah, everything is fine," I said, pushing my way out from the
booth. "Keep the change."

	"Do you want a doggie bag?" she asked my retreating back.

	"No thanks," I muttered, whether or not she heard me I didn't know,
and didn't particularly care.

* * *
	I was sitting in my room that night with a book open in front of me
on Seth's old desk, ostensibly studying. In reality, I couldn't have begun
to tell you the first thing about what the chapter I was supposed to be
reading was about. I kept replaying my conversation with Micah over and
over in my mind, wondering what I could have said differently, and
wondering what I was going to do about what he had said.

	I liked Micah, I really did. It was not entirely out the question
that I could fall in love with him...if I let myself, which was the
problem. Micah was right; I had been holding a part of myself back from
him. He was also right about the reason. I was far from being over Asher. I
still missed him and it had been months since we were a couple, and we
hadn't been happy even before that. Still, he was my first boyfriend and I
had loved him. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I had always
thought we'd get back together. I had been thrown for a loop when he
announced he was moving away.

	I wasn't sure I was ready to do what Micah had asked. I had hurt so
much when Asher left, more even then when we'd broken up. I'd lost so many
people I guess in some ways it was natural that eventually I'd begin to
throw up some sort of defenses to keep people away. It wasn't even entirely
intentional. I knew it wasn't fair to Micah to expect him to just keep
coasting along uncertainly, but I didn't know if I was prepared to take
that risk he'd been talking about. I was afraid to let him in for fear I'd
lose him, but the ironic part was, it looked like I was about to lose him
anyway by keeping him out.

	I slammed the book shut and let my head drop onto the desk with a
thud. "What am I going to do?" I moaned out loud.

	"Why do you always have to make everything so hard?" A familiar
voice asked from behind me. I snatched my head up and around so quickly I
felt something snap in my neck.

	"Ow!" I yelped. "Damn it, Seth. Why'd you have to go and scare me
like that?" My deceased friend reclined on the bed, his arms behind his
head and his feet crossed at the ankles. He wore what I was beginning to
think of as his uniform, faded jeans, heavy black shoes and a clingy black
shirt. His expression was one of benign amusement.

	"What? No hello? No gee, Seth, it's been a long time, how've you
been?"

	"You're dead. I don't have to ask how you've been. I wish you
wouldn't just appear like that. It scares the crap out of me."

	"Oh, quit being such a drama queen. For God's sake, you're never
happy unless you have some sort of crisis going on."

	"That's not true," I said in an injured tone.

	"Ok, so maybe that was a little harsh, but you do make mountains
out of molehills. Shall I list examples?"

	"Please don't."

	He shrugged and grinned.

	"So where have you been the last few months? I'd pretty much
convinced myself that you were just a stress-induced hallucination. When
was the last time I saw you? At the barn?"

	"Yes, at the barn. I got in a little trouble over that, broke a few
rules. I guess you could say I'm on probation."

	"Probation? What rules?"

	"I've told you there are certain rules I have to obey if I'm to be
allowed to come here."

	"No, I mean what rules did you break?"

	"Oh. Well, that's another rule; I can't tell you what the rules
are, remember?"

	"You just like being mysterious."

	He stuck his tongue out at me. "No, there really are
rules. Although, I have to admit, this whole mystical entity thing does
appeal to me. Look, we're supposed to help out by dropping enigmatic hints,
no direct advice. And we're never supposed to interfere with the
Pattern. When I gave you the strength you needed to get out of those ropes
I crossed the line."

	"You gave me...? The pattern?"

	"Pretend I didn't mention that, ok? If I keep this up you'll never
see me again. Anyway, I didn't come here to enlighten you about how this
all works."

	"Why did you come?"

	"You need me."

	"I do?"

	"Yes."

	"Oh."

	"I'm here to help you figure out what to do about Micah."

	"It's like having my very own fairy godmother."

	"Fairy something anyway. So, as usual you've gotten yourself into a
quandary over something that should be simple."

	"Simple for you, maybe."

	"It could be simple for you. Do you like Micah?"

	"Yes, you know..."

	"Do you care about Micah?"

	"Yes, but..."

	"Do you love Micah?"

	That one stopped me cold.

	"Killian, do you love Micah?"

	"I...I don't know."

	"Yes, you do. Stop hiding and face what's going on. If you don't
stop it you're going to lose him forever."

	Hearing his words echo my thoughts so closely caused my stomach to
lurch. I didn't want to lose Micah.

	"I do love him."

	"Then tell him so; and work with him to get past your fears and
insecurities. He'll work with you if he knows there's something to work
for, but if you don't give him anything, what reason does he have to stay?"

	"I don't even know why he'd want to stay with me. I mean, I'm a
freaking mess. I'm scared to let someone I care about love me, I'm hung up
on my old boyfriend, and I'm sitting in my bedroom talking to a dead guy."

	"Hey, let's leave the dead guy out of this. He wants to stay with
you because he loves you. You can get past your fears if you try and Asher
is a part of your past now. He'll always be a part of you but you have to
let that go now."

	"What if I can't?"

	"Can't what, let Asher go? You can."

	"You sound so sure."

	"That's because I am sure. I know you, Killian. I know you can do
this. And deep down you know you can, too. You're just scared, and it's ok
to be scared. Just don't let it control your life."

	I sighed. "You're right. I have to stop being an emotional
cripple. It's time to move on. I'll call Micah right now."

	He grinned. "That's the spirit. Now all you have to do is confront
your fears about your Gifts."

	I froze with my hand hovering above the phone. "What?"

	"Your Gifts? You haven't forgotten them have you?"

	"No, despite the fact that I've been valiantly trying."

	"Why are you so scared of them, Killer? You have them for a
reason."

	"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for them."

	"You didn't ask to be blonde either. Or have blue eyes. Or to be
gay."

	"This is different."

	"No, it's just another facet of who you are, and the sooner you
deal with it, the better."

	"I'm doing just fine without them, thanks."

	"We'll see."

	"What's that supposed to mean?"

	"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'm going to head
off now and let you call Micah." He stood up and stretched, his body
twisting in an almost feline manner.

	"Wait, when will I see you again?"

	He shrugged. "Who knows? When you need me."

	"Seth, wait."

	"Ta-ta." And he was gone.

	If you've never had it happen to you, trust me, it's very
disconcerting to have someone simply vanish from in front of you.