One Great Year (40 page)

“Like where?” Nate asked, and Quinn wondered why he hadn't already heard this story. How could it not have been his first question?

“Everywhere: the Internet, other moms, then the shaman of a local Native band who's a friend of a friend. Eventually, as he got a little bit older, I just asked Elijah what was up with him.”

“Wise,” Quinn said, smiling. He wanted to reach out and touch her. It was painful to sit so close and not feel her skin and complete their connection. “What did he say?”

“He said he's a traveler, an advanced soul with a special mission,” she said, smiling, “I know it sounds crazy,” she added, taking a sip of her wine and sensing the skepticism Nate was trying to conceal.

“Cheers,” Quinn said, tipping his glass. “But you believe it,” he added.

“I do. I've just seen too much. There are three-year-olds painting like Monet, playing piano without a single lesson, speaking foreign languages, and telling stories of ancient times that they can't possibly know. Yes, I believe it.”

“There are lots of things that sound crazy but are true … they require a leap of faith. I think you are definitely on to something,” Quinn added.

“You do? Wow, I wish everyone was that easily convinced!” Eden laughed.

“I've had some background; you didn't hit me cold,” Quinn smiled.

Nate watched the bonding pair in distress, anxious to jump in, to be a part of the exchange.

“How old was Elijah?” Quinn asked, intrigued. He stared at her perfect little nose, her sparkling blue eyes, and he basked in the tingle of her.

“He was three and a half then. He still couldn't say his L' s and R's, he sounded like Barbara Walters, all W's instead. ‘Messenjow.' But the stuff that kid knew blew my mind.”

“How old is he now?” Quinn asked, certain that the boy must be an Emissary. Quinn had wondered many times if the Crystal Children he had read about were Emissaries, but the way they spoke and communicated on the Internet implied some past-life memory. They had an advanced connection to their higher consciousness that he had not seen in Emissaries in prior ages, but they were moving into a Bronze Age, so changes were bound to happen. Would all of the Emissaries have memory soon? Would Theron? There was no way to know, but meeting Elijah would get Quinn one step closer to an answer. Was Theron's Crystal Child one of
them
?

“Eleven. He just had his birthday, he's an Aquarius,” she said, taking a gulp of wine.

“I'd love to meet him,” Quinn said.

Nate was dumbfounded, aware that he was outside what was happening between them, and he grew more annoyed by the minute. “Hey, uh … Eden, you said something about an early night 'cause of your sitter?” he reminded. Maybe she would invite him in if he could just get her out of there.

“Yeah, oh, it's getting late … yeah, we should go,” she stammered, looking at her watch and draining her glass.

Nate was relieved, and he jumped up quickly.

“You sure I can't pay you something? I really appreciate you fixing me up,” Eden said.

Quinn shook his head without a word, his eyes locked with hers once again. Eden stood and, as she walked toward the door, realized her wine glass was still in her hand. She reached to place it on a stack of books on a side table and noticed the title of the top volume:
Hamlet's Mill
. She gasped. She had just read about that text in her favorite blog and there it was.

“We'll let you get back to your blog,” Nate said, as he opened the door.

“What's your blog called?” Eden asked, looking from the book to Quinn, certain she already knew.

“The Emissary,” Nate and Quinn both answered at once, and Eden's mouth dropped open.

“I read you all the time!” she said excitedly. “Holy shit! What are the chances?” she squealed.

“Chance or synchronicity?” Quinn said calmly.

Eden spontaneously hugged him like an old friend, and Quinn's entire body was on fire at her touch.

“I can't believe it's you! Nate, you never said! Oh my God, it's unbelievable! I'm Anderson88! I have so much I want to talk to you about! I've thought more than once how fun it'd be to have dinner with you and talk!”

Nate mumbled sullenly. He was completely obscured by their connection now, and he resented his pal's intrusion into his plans, no matter how unintentionally it had begun.

Quinn ignored the emotions emanating from Nate and swirling miserably around him. He didn't want to injure his friend, but he wouldn't let anything come between him and Theron.

“I thought Anderson88 was a guy,” Quinn said, thrilled by her response.

“Nope, not a guy,” Eden said, smiling, her eyelids lowered seductively, her enthusiasm obvious.

“Lucky for me,” Quinn flirted. “I'm so glad you enjoy my ranting.”

Eden opened her mouth to reply, but Nate cut in. “You must have known,” he realized out loud. Suddenly it made sense. “When we got here, you must have known. You had just worked on her computer for three hours. Did you know when we got here?” he asked, his tone accusing and disappointed.

Quinn swallowed; he wished he could say no. “I knew,” he confessed.

Eden put her hand to her mouth. “But you didn't say anything? Oh, I mean … you know everything that's on there, don't you?” she said. “You should have said, but … I guess you have a ton of readers, don't you? Silly me to think I would matter to you! Oh, I must sound like a total egomaniac!”

“You stand out,” Quinn said, his voice full of emotion, wishing he could pull her back into his arms.

Nate's face was flushed with anger. “Let's go. Thanks a lot, Max, for fixing her computer. I … okay, let's go,” Nate said, taking hold of Eden's elbow and steering her out the door. He had used Quinn's first name, something he never did.

Eden waved as the door closed behind her.

Amazing! The whole thing had been so extraordinary, and Quinn sympathized with how confused the others must be feeling. He was overwhelmed with emotion and
he
understood why. He pitied them their disadvantage.

Nate didn't come home to Quinn's apartment that night. The Emissary blogged and waited. He stayed online, desperate to reconnect with Eden. It grew late and then early. Nate didn't return and Eden didn't write. Quinn felt a lump from stomach to throat burning inside him. Had she invited Nate in? Were they together now? Finally at dawn Quinn collapsed onto his rumpled bed. His sleep was restless and riddled with lucid dreams of sacrificial caverns, searching, and loss.

The next morning at eight Quinn was at his computer, coffee in hand, when he heard Nate's key in the door.

“I was hoping you'd still be sleeping,” Nate said, without looking at his friend. He walked across the room and began picking up his belongings from among the disorder.

“Listen Nate, I know I have some explaining to do,” Quinn began, and Nate rounded on him, his eyes flashing furiously.

“Seriously? Dude,
seriously
? You tried to back door me! I
told
you how much I like this girl and you just … you tried to sweep her up into your charisma or whatever! You blow off
everyone
! All the women I've seen hit on you, and you move in on
her
? Why?”

“What's happening here is bigger than you know. I think you were meant to guide her to me, Nate,” Quinn said simply, still seated.

Nate fumbled with his sneakers and a pair of sweatpants. “Fuck you, you condescending prick!” he said, his face dark with anger.

“Nate, listen to me, please,” Quinn said, getting up and walking toward him. “There's something I have to tell you … I … you've always said you felt like we've known each other before … we have. Many times, but she and I have too. This is how it's supposed to be.”

“Nice for you! And who are you to say how it's
meant
to be? And suddenly this talk of
knowing
each other before … that's convenient! Bullshit!” Nate snapped, like a wounded animal.

“The truth is in you, you've just forgotten.”

“Save it. Save your shit, man. I told you I loved her,” Nate countered.

“You just met her.”

“Not according to
you
! I'm outta here, man.”

“Did you spend the night with her?” Quinn couldn't help but ask.

“Yeah, I fucked her brains out,” Nate said venomously. He stuffed a few more items into a bag, and he grabbed the cord of his phone charger with an angry tug, breaking it as it ripped from the wall, sending pieces flying in different directions. He threw the shrapnel down at his feet and quickly left, slamming the apartment door.

Ping! There was an incoming blog comment.

 

Anderson88
: How about getting together?

 

Quinn had planned for this.

 

The Emissary
: I added myself to your contacts. Call me.

 

Moments later Quinn's phone rang, and he was full of anticipation as he answered.

“Hey.”

“Hey, it's me, Eden.”

“Yeah, I'm glad you finally logged on. Thanks for calling.”

“You put your number on my computer?”

“In case you needed more repairs,” he lied.

“Really?” she asked doubtfully.

“No.”

“That was pretty wild last night … meeting you like that after all that blogging. I felt pretty bad for Nate when we left your place, he seemed so pissed. He didn't say much, but I hope I didn't give him the wrong impression.”

“He's a big boy,” Quinn said, uncharacteristically coldly, relieved that Nate had obviously
not
fucked her brains out.

“Well, I hope it won't mess up me and him working together. He seems like a really good guy and I felt a real connection there.”

“He is a good guy, it'll work out,” Quinn said coolly. He didn't want to talk about Nate. He didn't want her to feel guilty or conflicted about him. He knew her heart and her empathy, and he knew it had derailed them more than once. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“How about lunch, while Elijah's at school?” she replied.

“Better. Can I pick you up?” he offered.

“Sure. I'll give you my address.”

“Got it,” he said. “Don't worry, I'm not a stalker,” he added, though he knew that for her, he could be.

“I'm not worried,” she half-whispered, her throat choked by the energy that flowed between them, even over the phone. “See you at noon.”

Quinn hung up and, beaming with satisfaction, looked at the ceiling and silently said his thanks with a deep celebratory breath. Only three more hours. He had waited so long already, what was three more hours?

Quinn picked up Eden at her tidy-looking, one-story bungalow in Seattle's Capitol Hill neighborhood. He had chosen a restaurant close by with old-fashioned booths that were cozy and private, and from the moment they came together the conversation flowed easily. Eden knew so much! She understood the Universe. She meditated daily, she did yoga, and she volunteered at the rape relief shelter down the road. She had read everything that Quinn had ever deemed worthy of reading, including Plato.

Marcus was amazed by her insight, though he knew he shouldn't be. Theron had always astounded him. In each lifetime, she had not required past-life memory or kinky potions to keep her on track. She was truly a worthy Emissary. He maintained his belief that he had become an Emissary only because of her.

Quinn sat across the table from her determined to suppress his eagerness lest he frighten her away. He encouraged her to speak, listening blissfully while her voice vibrated through him.

“There are so many people asking how to become enlightened … wanting to embrace spirituality and not knowing where to start. Your blog is such an inspiration. Would you consider being a part of the Crystal Project? There's no money in it, but if this documentary goes big enough, we could really help in this shift of consciousness that's going on,” Eden said. Her chestnut bangs fell over her forehead as she took a sip of her green tea.

“I'd love to work with you. I agree people
are
looking for answers, I see it in my blog all the time. Do you think you can show people how simple it is? It's just a matter of plugging themselves in to the humanity around them, looking around and asking questions, and not droning after the material bullshit we're constantly told is so important.”

“I think that anyone who is ready and willing will pick up on the simplicity of the connected Universe. We are all wicks lit from one eternal flame, we only need to join together to increase the light and understanding,” Eden declared.

“I'm no filmmaker, but I think those are the kinds of whimsical statements that tend to lose the skeptics,” Quinn said, laughing.

“Shit! I know! You're totally right. I have to work on that! That's why I need you. Your blog is so no-nonsense. You just say it and make it seem so normal.”

“And rambling and crazy! Like I said, I want to help. I'll do everything I can. I'll be at your disposal for whatever you need.”

“I need you for the way you think, for what you know … don't forget I'm an Emissary blog devotee! Plus, if you help with the website, social media, downloads, connections, all the technical stuff I just don't do, you can help take this thing big … viral, I hope!”

“You overestimate me,” Quinn said, reminded that she always had. Quinn wondered, as he had many times before, what he was supposed to be doing in this lifetime. He was certain that the coming together of Eden, Nate, and himself must be significant. Events would unfold and become clear, but he still cared first and foremost about pursuing his great love.

“I don't think so. I'm a very good judge of people. It's a lot to ask, I know, you barely know me and I'm making demands … I understand if you don't want to do it, but of course I'll pay you!” she said.