Secrets & Souls - prequel to The Soul Guide

It had been almost a month since Mellissa had left Clayhill. Carlo had been kind enough to let her sleep in his spare room above the coffee shop. He didn’t ask her for rent, which was fortunate because she certainly had no money. Instead, he asked her to help him in his café as a waitress of sorts. In reality, whilst she was happy to wait on tables and serve coffee to the many customers, Carlo rarely asked her to complete a shift. Although, she always did a few hours every day just to keep herself busy and her mind off all that she’d left behind. The rest of her free time was spent with Genevieve who came back daily. They had struck up an easy friendship and despite the age gap had become firm friends. Mellissa loved Genevieve’s exuberance. She was so full of spirit and spunk, something Mellissa felt she lacked these days. In a way, Genevieve reminded her of herself, before all this began.

The only sticking point was that Genevieve was forever asking Mellissa questions about her abilities. It was just as well Genevieve was as young as she was, because she didn’t think her lies would be so well hidden from someone her own age. So far, by telling Genevieve partial truths she had managed to keep the inquisitiveness at bay.

“So, what are we going to do today?” Genevieve asked, as she plonked herself on Mellissa’s bed. Mellissa had given up asking her to knock before she entered, Genevieve treated Carlo’s café and everything above it as her own anyway.

“I was going to help Carlo get ready for the gathering. Have you forgotten it’s the last Sunday of the month tomorrow?”

“Of course, I haven’t forgotten. Tomorrow you’ll get to meet Victor. I’m so looking forward to seeing him, it has been almost a month. He’s great, you’ll love him.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Perhaps we could go to the cinema, see that new film everyone’s been talking about. Carlo won’t mind.”

“Not today, Gen. Carlo’s been so good to me, allowing me to stay here whilst I figure out what to do next. I don’t want him to think that I’m taking advantage,” Mellissa said, as she ran a brush through her hair.

She was so grateful to Carlo. To be perfectly honest, she hadn’t expected to stay as long as she had. Every day she considered returning to Clayhill, but something always stopped her. She felt at ease here. Carlo didn’t judge. He gave her space to just be, and he had no expectations of her, none whatsoever. It was only now, after living with Carlo, that she realised just how unhappy she had become. It wasn’t Bertram’s fault, he was a good man, a great man in fact, and in other circumstances it could have been very different. He had taken care of her, had provided her a home. Had become a friend, and for a couple of months they had been happy. The trouble was, Bertram hadn’t been able to hide his feelings from her as successfully as he had thought and, in the end, it was too much for her to live with. She remembered what she had promised Bertram before she left, but in all honesty, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go back now.

“Earth to Mellissa,” Genevieve said, laughing.

Mellissa grimaced. “Sorry, Gen, I was somewhere else for a moment.”

“Was that somewhere or someone? Are you thinking about Bertram again?” she asked, a mischievous look on her face. Genevieve was nothing if not romantic. When Mellissa had given her a couple of Mills & Boon books she had finished reading a few weeks ago, Genevieve had devoured them and hadn’t shut up about all things love and romance since.

“That is none of your business young lady,” Mellissa chided.

“Ha! I knew it. You’re so hung up on him, it’s so obvious.”

“I am not ‘hung up on him’. It’s complicated. Bertram is a friend, that is all.”

“You could’ve fooled me. You’re always talking about him with Carlo. In fact, you never stop talking about him. On and on you go, anyone would think you loved him.”

“That’s not true,” Mellissa said, quickly. She did not love Bertram.

“Then why does your aura do that funny thing whenever you talk about him?”

“What funny thing?” Mellissa turned and looked in the mirror to see if she could spot what Genevieve was talking about, forgetting that the only soul she was unable to see was her own.

“It kind of sparks, like there are a ton of firecrackers going off around you. Your aura has its own fireworks display. It’s pretty cool, actually.”

Mellissa frowned. “Well, you are clearly misinterpreting what that means. I am most definitely not in love with Bertram.”

“What’s the saying? She doth protest too much?”

“Genevieve, really. You’ve got it all wrong. It’s not like that.”

“Oh, come on, it’s me you’re talking to Mellissa. Even if your aura didn’t have its own fireworks display every time you spoke about him, I could tell how much you like him by that gooey look you get.” Genevieve winked at Mellissa who, at that precise moment in time, wanted to shake the words from Genevieve’s mouth. An unreasonable anger boiled in her chest. She did not love Bertram.

“Enough already, Gen. I am over this conversation. You are just a child. You have no idea how the world works or what love truly is. This isn’t some bloody Mills & Boon story. There aren’t always happy endings all tied up in a neat little bow. So, give it a damn rest!” Mellissa shouted, unable to stop herself. It was the first time she had ever raised her voice at Genevieve and she felt immediately guilty, even more so when she saw tears well in the poor girl’s eyes.

“Oh Gen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” she said. Mellissa sat down on the bed and placed an arm around Genevieve’s shoulders, her anger dissipating.

“I am not a child. I know what it is to love someone. I loved my mother. I love Victor,” Genevieve said, her lips wobbling.

“Of course, you do. I shouldn’t have said that, it was unkind. It’s just, well, it’s complicated.”

Genevieve sniffed and wiped at her eye. “Does this have something to do with the baby?”

Mellissa stiffened, her heart rate ratcheted up a notch. “What are you talking about,” she asked.

“This baby,” Genevieve said, as she pulled out a photo of a cherubic looking child, with curly brown hair, from the folds of the Mills & Boon book Mellissa had given her to read.

Mellissa’s hand trembled as she took the photo from Genevieve. She stared at the baby’s beautiful brown eyes and curly hair that was so soft to touch. Apart from its colouring the child was the image of its mother. For a moment, she couldn’t form any words. At least not the ones she knew she should say to Genevieve. Those words caught in her throat and burned her tongue, and she coughed them back down knowing she couldn’t bring herself to tell the lie this time.

“Do you know who this baby is?” Genevieve asked. Her voice was soft, gentle, and Mellissa found herself leaning into her arms a little bit.

“I do, yes,” Mellissa said, as she traced a finger over the photo. “This is my son.”

“Your son? You have a child? Where is he? Why isn’t he with you? Is it Bertram’s?” Genevieve fired the questions at Mellissa and every single one of them pierced her heart. She could feel it bleed.

“He’s not Bertram’s, no,” Mellissa said, although a tiny part of her wished he was. Everything would’ve been so much easier. She gritted her teeth, pushing the thought aside. She could not entertain such thoughts.

“Whose then? You can tell me Mellissa. I promise, I won’t tell a soul.”

Mellissa looked at Genevieve. Saw the pink of her soul dusting her silver-blonde hair. She looked like some magical nymph who existed in the fairy tales Mellissa had loved to read as a child. Genevieve wouldn’t tell anyone, Mellissa understood that. But, could she bring herself to tell Genevieve everything after she had kept it bottled up for so long? Would she be risking too much if she told her the truth? Why tell her, when she wouldn’t tell Bertram?

“Mellissa, please. You can trust me.” Genevieve squeezed her hand and Mellissa felt something release inside her chest. She started to speak as though on autopilot. She would deal with the fallout of her confession later.

“His father never knew about him,” Mellissa started with a shaky breath. “He wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

“Didn’t he have a right to know?”

Mellissa clenched her fists. “No, no he didn’t. He wasn’t a good man, Genevieve. He was violent and abusive. As soon as I realised I was pregnant, I left him. I was only a couple of months gone, so it wasn’t obvious. I am glad I did what I did, and I’m glad he never knew I was carrying his child.”

“And your son, where is he now?” Genevieve asked.

“I gave him up for adoption when he was a few months old.” Mellissa said the words, thinking she would feel lighter somehow, but suddenly, saying them out loud only brought home just what she had done. She couldn’t help it, she cried. Tears fell hot and heavy, and all the months of hurt and pain she thought she’d managed to bury came rushing out.

It was a good few minutes before she could pull herself together enough to carry on. Genevieve remained quiet, her hand stroking Mellissa’s back.

“Can you tell me why?”

“I had nothing to give him, Gen. I had no home, no money to speak of. It was such a struggle…” Mellissa choked on the lie. She couldn’t tell Genevieve the truth. That she gave him up because she was the Soul Guide, and her responsibility to the souls overruled everything else. Besides, he did have a mother, it just wasn’t her.

“That’s so sad, Mellissa,” Genevieve said, going quiet for a moment.

“Yes, it is.” Mellissa took one last look at the photo before placing it back in the book and tucking it into her bag. She would not be parted from it again. It was all she had left.

“We’ll get him back!” Genevieve said, making Mellissa jump.

“What?”

“We’ll get him back,” Genevieve said, jumping up. “We should tell Carlo, he knows so many people, he can help you. We’ll find your baby and we’ll get him back. You’re OK now, you have Bertram. I know you say you don’t love him. But, you have a home with him. He’d take you back. I bet he’d take the baby too. He’s a good man, you said as much to Carlo a thousand times before. I heard you. We can do it Mellissa. We…”

“STOP,” Mellissa shouted. She stood and grabbed Genevieve by the shoulders. “You don’t know what you’re saying. That can’t happen.”

“Why? I’ll help you, we can all help you.”

“It just can’t. It’s not as easy as that. I gave him up. I signed him over officially. He doesn’t belong to me anymore. What right do I have to take him from a couple who love him? Who can provide him with a home, with security, with love? I made a choice, Gen, and now I have to live by it, whether I like it or not.”

“But…”

“No. He is my child, and the decision is mine. Please do not mention this again. I told you in good faith. I trust you to keep this to yourself. No-one else knows, not even Bertram. Do you hear me Genevieve? This stays between us. You cannot tell a soul, promise me.”

Genevieve seemed to deflate in front of Mellissa’s eyes. “I understand,” she nodded. “I understand that you cannot get him back. But how can you live without knowing how he’s getting on? Doesn’t it tear you apart? I just want to help.”

Mellissa looked at Genevieve, and a thought occurred. She may not be able to get her son back, but there could be a way for her to at least know he’s happy, safe. “Perhaps there is something you could help me with,” she said.