April 26th, 1992 (Sunday)

Andrea, after returning from the farm on Sunday night, went straight to her room with the excuse of being tired. In truth, she wanted to continue reading Clair Smith's journal. She laid in bed so she would be more comfortable.

*****

Manchester, England

1861

After I was born, William registered me as his daughter. No one ever doubted. The secret was kept in the family. I myself only discovered after my parent's death, when my grandparents decided I had the right to know the truth. That never made a difference for me. William was a wonderful father, the best I could have had.

My grandparents lived in the village, but my parents and I had lived in the city. My father attended patients in all Manchester.

Our life was very comfortable. My mother used to teach piano and singing lessons to the children of bourgeois who wanted their heirs to have a more refined education. Mom could play and sing very well. She sang frequently at events.

My parents were very in love with each other and Catherine was treated with all love and respect by her husband.

Four years after I was born, my mom got pregnant again. William was glowing and hoped it would be a boy.

A fatality happened when she was five months pregnant, when my mother was hit by a cart. She got seriously hurt and took months to recover, but the child didn't survive. It was a girl.

We were all very sad. My mom couldn't get pregnant anymore after the accident.

None of these fateful events the love between my parents. I was very loved too. Me and my mother were very close. She taught me how to read, sew, cook, sing, play piano and violin. We also had a lot of fun. We used to run around the garden, play chess and read book sitting under trees on the very hot summer days.

Physically, I looked a lot like my mother. We were both medium height with straight blond hair, very white skin and blue eyes. William, my father, was very tall, had dark hair and brown eyes.

When I completed ten years old, in 1855, my father hired a painter to do a portrait of the family. We dressed elegantly and stood there for over an hour so the artist could paint us. The result came out pretty good.

My parents hung the painting in the living room, above the fireplace.

I used to go to school and was a good student. I've always been very curious and would ask my father to explain to me his profession, the medications and tools he had in his office. He explained to me everything that I'd be able to understand that young and let me help him with some simple tasks.

When spring comes on the North Hemisphere, there's always excitement in the air, like everyone was hibernating during the long winter and woke up for life. The ball season starts.

My parents loved these parties and they were always invited.

On May 9th, 1861, my parents attended one of these invitations to a ball.

My mother was divinely dressed, and her beauty called everyone's attention. My father was proud to show off his beautiful wife. He was also very elegant.

They came to my room to say goodbye, as they always did, and kissed me goodnight. How could I imagine that would be the last kiss I would get from them, the last time I would see them beautiful, alive.

Only on the next day, when I woke up, I was informed that my parents hadn't returned home. The police went to my grandparent's house, by my father's side, who also lived in the city to tell them what had happened. William had lost touch with their parents, because they never accepted his marriage to my mother, so I barely knew them.

My other grandfather, George, arrived at our house the next night to tell me what had happened. It was very difficult to accept. I heard my grandfather talking to some friends, who had come to hear the news about the weird accident. He had requested the chief of police to open an investigation.

According to the witnesses who found my parents, they drowned after falling off the carriage when they were crossing a bridge over a river. Itseemed to whom found them dead, that the horse got scared, the carriage flippedover the side on the bridge, that broke with the impact and fell on the riverwith the couple inside. Theysupposed they had hit their heads and, passed out, drowned to death. The carriagewas missing.

I was taken by my grandparents George and Caroline to the place where they buried my parents. I couldn't cry anymore. There was an emptiness inside of me. I kept staring at the grave. My grandmother gave me a flower to put there. I knelt and touched the tombstone.

That moment, I heard my mother's voice telling me to have faith, because in a distant future the three of us would be together again and we would be happy.

I still can't understand what that message meant, but I know I heard my mother's voice, loud and clear. My mother would never lie to me. 

So, I was certain of the truth of that prediction.

*****

Andrea closed the journal, because it seemed like her chest was going to explode with pain.

She could feel all of Clair's suffering. It was like she had been transported to that place, to that moment, in that cemetery. If she and Clair Smith were the same spirit, it would be reasonable for her to really feel everything that happened in the past.

She grabbed a piece of paper and made some notes for research. She needed to learn more about reincarnation, about how an incarnated spirit would recognize itself in a past life.

She kept the journal in the same place and decided to take a shower, eat something and go to bed. 

Once she laid down, she looked at the ring and touched on the name embroidered. Where would Ollie fit in on all ofthis?