All That Lies Within (4 page)

It was during the run of the production of
Under the Blue Sky,
starring Tate Donovan, Marsha Mason, and a young Vera Farmiga, that Dara was discovered. She filled in for Vera one night when there was a major Hollywood producer in the audience and the rest, as they say, is history.

Rebecca returned her attention to the television just as the interviewer asked Dara about her personal life. For a fraction of a second, Rebecca thought she recognized in Dara’s eyes the same pain she saw when she looked in the mirror every morning. And just as quickly, it was gone, leaving Rebecca wondering if she’d really seen anything there at all.

When the interview ended, Rebecca clicked off the television, rinsed her dish in the sink, loaded it in the dishwasher, and returned to the couch to curl up with Constance Darrow’s latest book.

Dara dredged herself up from a sound sleep and fumbled for the bedside phone as it rang for the third time. “Yes,” she mumbled as she pressed the receiver to her ear. She spied the digital clock with her one open eye. It was 3:34 a.m. 

“Is this Dara Thomas?”

The voice was male and unfamiliar. Dara pushed herself up in the bed. “Are you aware that it’s 3:30 in the morning?”

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Ms. Thomas. You are Ms. Thomas?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“This is Doctor Emanuel at Memorial Sloan-Kettering.”

Dara sat up. “As in the cancer hospital in New York?”

“Yes.”

Dara felt panic well up in her. Surely if Carolyn had been sick she would’ve said something.

“Ms. Thomas? Are you there?”

“Yes.” Dara gripped the receiver a little tighter. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid it’s your mother.”

Dara closed her eyes in relief. It wasn’t Carolyn, after all. That reaction was followed immediately by another—her arms broke out in gooseflesh. “My m-mother?” Dara tried to assimilate the information. Was her mother ill? It had been so many years since they’d been in contact.

“I’m sorry to give you the news this way, Ms. Thomas, but your mother has slipped into an irreversible coma. I don’t believe she’ll be able to hold on much longer. She gave explicit instructions not to bother you unless…”

Dara closed her eyes as a tear leaked out. “Unless she was dead or about to be.” Her tone was flat. Even in her final moments, her mother would disavow her.

“As I said,” the doctor’s voice sounded a little less sure, “I have no reason to believe your mother will regain consciousness, but often even comatose patients are aware of our presence.”

“I understand, doctor. Thank you. What room is she in?”

Dara found a pen and a piece of paper on the night table and wrote down the information. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thank you for letting me know.”

She put the phone down and swallowed down a sense of impending panic. Her mother was dying and she just agreed to go home for the first time since she’d left for college fourteen years ago. Dara wished there was a script for handling this situation.

“The themes in Ms. Darrow’s novel—absolute faith in miracles beyond all rational evidence to the contrary, and the power of belief in unseen forces to light our path in this lifetime—speak to the main character’s deep spirituality. These unwavering ideals propel Celeste with grace through experiences that would bring most people to their knees.” Rebecca looked up from her notes and surveyed the lecture hall full of soon-to-be-graduating seniors. “We can all learn a lesson from Celeste. May your paths forward be filled with miracles. Good luck, everyone. It’s been a pleasure teaching you this semester.”

As Rebecca gathered up her notes, she was surprised to hear the sound of applause. She was even more shocked to see all of her students on their feet, giving her a standing ovation. She smiled and took a mock bow. Moments like this reminded her why she chose to teach.

Dara leaned her head back against the headrest in First Class. The plane would land at New York’s JFK Airport in less than an hour. Her hands trembled slightly underneath the blanket and she clasped them together.

You’re not that little girl anymore, Dara. She can’t hurt you now. Go see her, take care of whatever needs to be done, and get back to your life.

“Can I get you anything else, Ms. Thomas? We’ll be landing in just a little while.”

“No, thank you.” Dara smiled at the flight attendant. The poor woman had spent half the flight playing traffic cop, keeping gawking fans from disturbing Dara. “I really appreciate your interceding on my behalf. Sorry to be so much trouble.”

“You were the easy part,” the woman said. “On the other hand, all those passengers turning on their phones to take pictures and tweet them…” She looked at Dara sympathetically. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Dara shrugged. “Goes with the territory, unfortunately.”

“Well, I can tell you. After watching what you had to deal with today, I’m crossing ‘famous actress’ off my list of dream jobs.” The plane’s intercom system chimed. “Oops. Gotta go.”

When Dara deplaned and cleared security, several photographers stepped in front of her.
So much for privacy and flying under the radar.
She ignored the clicking of the shutters and strode past them to where she could see Carolyn and Stan waiting for her.

“Hey, sweetie,” Carolyn said, as she hugged Dara. “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” Dara turned to Stan and accepted his hug. “Long time no see, Stan. You’re looking good.”

Stan pulled away and put an arm around Carolyn. “My wife takes good care of me.”

As always, Dara was struck by the unmistakable love her friends shared. It was so clear that they were meant to be together. Dara swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back the involuntary tear that threatened to escape. Carolyn and Stan had something she likely would never know. She was so happy for them, but there were times like these when the sight of two people so in love left her longing for more in her life.

“I’ll grab your bags. You two go to the car. That ought to cut down on the mayhem.” Stan inclined his head to where a crowd started to gather.

“I’ve got just one bag. A twenty-seven-inch Louis Vuitton, black.”

Stan laughed easily. “That ought to narrow it down.”

Carolyn looped her arm through Dara’s elbow as they walked away. “So now you can tell me the truth, because I know you were lying through your teeth back there.” She tugged Dara a little, momentarily unbalancing her. “How are you, really?”

Dara sighed and leaned into Carolyn. “Honestly? I’m terrified, I’m nervous, I’m angry, I’m sad.” She shrugged. “Pick one.”

Carolyn nodded sympathetically. “I wish you didn’t have to deal with this. I wish I could spare you.”

“It isn’t yours to do.”

“Dara Thomas! Dara, over here!”

Dara ignored the plea of the paparazzo. She had no idea who already had leaked out word of her arrival in New York, but it didn’t surprise her. No doubt someone had managed to send one of those tweets from the plane. She was glad she’d taken the time to shower, blow-dry her hair, and put on her makeup.

“Let’s get you out of here.” Carolyn tightened her grip protectively and steered Dara out the glass doors and across the way to the parking structure. “Where do you want to go first? You’re going to stay with us, right?”

Dara shook her head. “I think I ought to stay in midtown, close to the hospital.”

“Nonsense—”

“Car, please. I know you mean well, but I won’t be much company and I don’t want to feel badly about that.” Before Carolyn could object again, Dara pleaded, “Please, let me do this my way.”

Carolyn stared hard at her. “Okay, but I don’t have to like it. When Stan gets here, I’ll have him make the reservation under his name. He can go check in for you and the paparazzi will be none-the-wiser.”

“For about five minutes.” Dara kissed her on the cheek. “You’re a good friend, you know that?”

“I do.” Carolyn smiled at her. “It goes both ways.” Carolyn unlocked the car. “Do you want to go to the hotel first, then?”

Dara considered. “Tempting. But I think I should head right to the hospital.”

“I’ll have Stan drop us off there and go to the hotel, then come back and get us.”

Dara hugged Carolyn before getting in the passenger seat. “That’s not necessary. You go with Stan.”

“But I want to come in with you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I love you for that and for so many other reasons, but this is something I have to do by myself.”

“Again, let me say I don’t have to like it.”

“Noted.”  

CHAPTER THREE

Rebecca put her feet up on the deck railing and sipped her second cup of coffee. School had been out for a week and she was relishing the respite and the peace and quiet. She watched as a buck approached the clearing, its head up, alert for any dangers. Apparently sensing none, it began grazing in the open field. As always, Rebecca marveled at the quiet majesty.

Carefully, she put the coffee cup down on the nearby table. She didn’t want to make any sudden movements that would frighten her guest, nor did she want to spill the coffee on the envelope with the now-familiar return address. Unable to resist the temptation any longer, and frankly astounded that she had lasted as long as she had, Rebecca picked up the envelope and slit it open.

Dear Ms. Minton,

I’m glad your class enjoyed
On the Wings of Angels.
I, too, hope they go out into the world and discover miracles of their own.

I find it interesting that some scholars (thank Heavens you’re not one of them) somehow view as incongruent the fact that Celeste is a non-religious individual who believes wholeheartedly in the existence of forces such as angels and ascended masters.

Setting aside issues such as religious affiliation or upbringing, let me start by saying that I have the utmost respect for people of all faiths and belief systems. I’m so glad that you accept that beings of light, i.e. angels and ascended masters, exist; as you’ve discovered, not everyone does. As you mentioned having heated discussions with peers on the subject as it pertains to this book, I offer you the following, in case citing a quote on the subject from the author is helpful to you. I’d be most curious to know what you think of my argument.

Rebecca paused, lowered the letter, and heaved a happy sigh. After three letters back and forth, Constance Darrow wanted to keep the dialogue going. She raised the letter and continued reading.

First, I think it would be incredibly arrogant to think that we’re the most evolved beings in the Universe, don’t you? There is plenty of evidence to suggest otherwise. So, even for a non-religious person, it makes sense that there’s something else out there affecting our fate. From this standpoint, it is easy to imagine that someone with Celeste’s positive outlook and inquisitiveness would investigate the possibilities.

Next, let’s consider and accept that ascended masters such as Jesus, Mother Mary, Saint Francis of Assisi, and Saint Bernadette (who had visions of the Blessed Mother that led her to dig in the dirt at Lourdes), were real people who existed on this earth at some point. The fact that these figures have been adopted by religions and worshipped as religious icons does not, and should not, diminish their power as great beings, period.