Chapter 1
At 3:30 a.m. Zion Calvert crawled into bed. Although she’d had many offers of company for the night, she lay in bed alone staring up at the ceiling. Her club, Fancy’s, was doing incredible business lately. The new influx of clientele was due to the closing of another club in the Castro, another primarily lesbian bar that had dominated the scene for years. Fancy’s had started out as a bar with a small dance floor, and it was named simply Z’s. Over the first three years in business, Zion had managed to acquire more space and had expanded into a night club, that was when she’d acquired a silent partner . Slowly but surely her business had climbed, even as her personal life had gone to hell, thanks to that same partner.
When The G Bar, the other lesbian bar, had closed three months before, everyone had been surprised. Sadly, everyone knew the couple that owned it had broken up and the bar was sold from the result of their divorce. The new owner had decided to go a different direction wanting to cater more toward gay men in the Castro and had drastically changed the club to reflect the change. It wasn’t something the lesbians in the Castro were interested in and had therefore started checking out Fancy’s.
Now Zion was facing the need to expand yet again. She’d heard one night that the bookstore next door was closing its doors. It was her intent to talk to the owner about buying him out so she would own the entire building. She was fairly sure she could swing the money, but there was the nagging worry in the back of her mind; would her business partner show up to throw a wrench in the works, like she liked to do on occasion.
Grimacing up at the ceiling, Zion did her best not to think about Fancy. It didn’t work, memories of the beautiful blonde slid through her brain like an insidious snake.
“So, you come here often?” the beautiful blonde with the ruby red lips asked coyly.
“Does that line actually work?” Zion asked, giving her a pointed look as she waited for the woman’s drink order.
“No,” the blonde said laughing, “but I figured I had to say something to get your attention.”
“I’m sure you get attention wherever you go,” Zion stated flatly. The woman was beyond hot, but she didn’t want to be too easy.
“What can I get you?” Zion asked, her cornflower-blue eyes direct.
Jane Farro looked over at the handsome butch bartender, wondering at her lack of interest. Usually, the butches reacted to her overt sexuality, like dogs in heat. Her look oozed sexuality. With her long, tanned, toned legs on full display in the long white dress slit up to almost the top of her thigh, her feet clad in four-inch red stiletto pumps. Her makeup was perfect as always, understated but with enough sparkle to light her sweetheart-shaped face, even in the dim lighting at the bar.
“White wine,” Jane answered, her brown eyes framed by long sooty black lashes, watching the bartender move.
The bartender was tall, Jane figured she was at least five ten. She had dark hair. It was short on the sides and worn back from her face. Her hair had a long section at the top that was bleach blonde. It gave her a sexy kind of wild look. Her face was quite handsome with a strong jawline, and a nicely shaped mouth and dark eyebrows. She was also dressed nicely, with a long-sleeved, white button-up shirt, dark navy-blue trousers and a matching vest with a red and navy tie at her throat. She also wore a thick black leather cuff on one arm and a thick silver watch with a navy face on the other. The bartender was definitely stylish in a sexy way that Jane found she couldn’t stop watching.
“So, what’s your name?” Jane asked as the bartender set the wine glass up on the bar, lifting the bottle of wine and uncorking it. Holding the base of the glass with two fingers, she poured the wine, looking back at Jane.
“Zion,” she said simply, setting the glass of wine on a napkin. “That’s seven,” she said with a wink.
Jane smiled, taking out her credit card. “Can you run a tab for me, Zion?” she asked, her red lips parting in a seductive smile.
“I can,” Zion said, inclining her head and picking up Jane’s credit card. She ran it and handed it back to her. With that she moved off to help someone else.
Jane continued to watch Zion from her spot at the bar; she saw how she smiled and leaned across the bar to kiss certain women that came in. At one point, a small group of butch women walked up to them, and Jane heard one call the bartender “Z.” Zion reached her hand out, clasping her hands with one of the butches, putting her other hand over their clenched hands as she smiled warmly. It was obvious that Zion knew the group.
A little while later, Zion was relieved by another bartender and Jane couldn’t help but notice that Zion seemed quite popular. A lot of women seemed to hover around her, and all the ones that hung around her were femmes. There were a lot of hugs and kisses exchanged, both on the cheek and lips. Zion seemed to know everyone…
One of the butches that Zion had greeted at the bar approached them, ordering a drink from the bartender now on duty. She was good looking with short dark hair, worn just slightly longer at the top. Her arms were adorned with tattoos that all seemed aviation related. She could distinctly make out a jet and one that said Top Gun.
“Heya Zip,” the butch woman said, nodding to the bartender, “can I get a Hefeweizen for Z and a Corona?”
“You got it, D,” Zip said, smiling brightly at the woman.
The woman Zip had called “D” glanced at Jane, her lips curling in a grin as she inclined her head acknowledging Jane’s presence.
“How’s it going?” Jane asked smiling, her tone friendly.
“It’s going,” the woman responded, nodding. “How’s your night?”
“It could be better,” Jane replied, sighing, “the cute bartender apparently got off her shift…” Her voice trailed off as she smiled again.
“Who? Z?” the butch woman asked, her lips curling in a more sardonic grin this time. “She is the owner, not the bartender, Zip was late tonight.”
Before Jane could respond, Zip appeared with the beers. The woman tossed a twenty on the bar. “Thanks, Zip.” She looked at Jane again, nodding as she picked up the beers and walked away.
Jane watched her go, thinking it made more sense that Zion was the owner of the bar, with the way she dressed and her smooth way with her customers. This information had Jane watching Zion more closely that night.
Rubbing her face with her hands, Zion did her best to push aside her memories and get some sleep. In the end, she gave up and got up, grabbing her laptop and turning it on. She spent the rest of the night running numbers to calculate her financial needs, versus what she had to spare at the moment. She finally fell asleep as dawn was breaking.
***
Jaims woke to the sound of cabinets being slammed in the kitchen. The noise continued long enough for her to decide to get out of bed and see what was going on. Walking into the kitchen, she saw Raquel opening drawers, shoving things aside looking for something, then slamming the drawer when it became apparent she didn’t find whatever she was looking for.
“Dude! What are you looking for?” Jaims had to practically shout over the sound of items falling out of the drawers and hitting the floor.
“My fucking keys!” Raquel exclaimed.
Jaims closed her eyes slowly as she shook her head. Turning around she went into her room, picking up a set of keys from her dresser. Walking back into the kitchen, she leaned against the doorjamb, and whistled to get her roommate’s attention, holding the keys dangling from her finger.
Raquel snapped her head around, her eyes widening, then narrowing when she saw the keys.
“What the fuck, man!” Rock snapped as she snatched the keys away from Jaims.
“How else was I going to get all the shit done on your Jeep?” Jaims glowered.
Raquel grumbled as she sat down, tossing the keys on the table in front of her. Jaims watched her friend for a long moment, then shook her head, turning to go back to bed. She had no idea what was up Rock’s ass this morning, but she was in no mood to deal with it.
In the kitchen, Raquel got up to make coffee, she had to tamper down her irritation that her roommate had kept her keys. As she put coffee in the machine, her subconscious told her she was being unreasonable; after all Jaims had taken care of things for her, in order for her to come home. Her lips twitched as she did her best to let go of the anger, her head hurt, damn it! Why were her meds not working like they were supposed to?
As her coffee brewed, she took out her pill bottle and popped another. This one had better work! she thought angrily.
***
The heat was so oppressive, Jack felt it sticking to everything, his clothes, his rifle, his hair! The cool water of the river was so inviting, but they were marching, no time to stop for a dip.
The lieutenant said they were looking for a way to cross. The Confederate troops were certainly nearby, Jack could hear the sounds of cannon fire in the distance. He shuddered inwardly, is that how he’d die? By cannon fire? He thought that volunteering to fight the Confederates would bring him glory, but so far it had only brought him heartache and exhaustion. His friend Will had died at the Battle of South Mountain a couple of days before. Now they were marching to claim a bridge, and Jack was certain it was his turn. He’d had a feeling for days now.
“Watch your flank!” screamed one man to his left, as bullets started to fly.
They were at the bridge, the one General Burnside had sent them to protect, but the Confederates were everywhere! Even so, they were charging down the hill, trying to take the bridge. Men were falling in front of him, Jack did his best to skirt around them. He was fast approaching the bridge with members of his brigade. There were screams and yelling as men were hit and went down. Jack slipped in blood on the hill at the bottom, but then ran headlong toward the bridge, doing his best to keep his head down.
He was surprised when a bullet struck him in the chest. Feeling a burning heat and pain. He felt himself stumble, grabbing at his chest, as if to take the bullet out. He realized that it was too late, that he was now on the bridge. Jack felt himself falling into the water. I’ll drown, he thought, just as his body hit the water. The water cooled the pain in his chest for a moment, then it returned, and he felt himself sinking further into the water. He struggled to swim up to breach the surface. I’m running out of air! came the panicked thought, I can’t breathe!
***
Morgan Collins woke with a start. Rubbing her eyes she sat up, trying desperately to catch her breath. I can’t breathe! The thought screamed through her head. She felt the searing pain in her chest, still feeling the panic he felt. She sat rocking back and forth on the couch, trying her best to calm herself.
“I don’t like this,” she told the therapist with a shake of her head, her long red curls bouncing around her shoulders.
The woman sitting across from her nodded her head, looking circumspect. “But you did just see something, didn’t you?”
Morgan looked over at her therapist, knowing that the woman already knew the answer, but nodding anyway. Closing her eyes, she could see the tall grass in the meadow, and smell the acrid smell of gun powder mixed with blood. She could hear the echoes of screams from men as they fell, likely to their death, the sound of gunfire bouncing off the trees. It was awful!
“Tell me what you saw,” Charlotte Thompson prompted, her pen poised to take notes.
Morgan recounted what she’d seen and felt, and Charlotte dutifully wrote down notes. It was a long day.
At home, Morgan sat down with a glass of wine, her laptop in front of her. She did her best to work on her latest novel, but the words just wouldn’t come. She sighed, picking up her wine, walking out onto the small terrace of her condo. She stood staring out at the ocean, letting the ocean breeze calm her mind.
Her writer’s block was becoming a concern; if she couldn’t write anymore, what would she do? It wasn’t that she made millions writing her romance novels, but she did make enough to afford this nice condo in Pacifica, just south of San Francisco. How long would that last if she couldn’t write? She felt like she was at a dead end, and it was terrifying.
***
“What’s going on with Rock?” Zion asked Jaims.
Raquel had just snapped at one of the bartenders for giving her the wrong beer. Usually everyone on the crew was very respectful of the staff at Fancy’s.
Jaims shook her head, shrugging. “She says she has a headache.”
Zion shrugged. “Makes sense.”
“Yeah…” Jaims nodded, thinking of the scene in the apartment earlier that evening.
Once again Raquel had been angry and throwing things.
“What the fuck, dude?” Jaims had asked, walking into the living room, in complete disarray.
“Can’t find my fucking keys again!” Raquel raged.
Jaims had blown out a breath, shaking her head as she pitched in to search. It had taken another ten minutes before Jaims finally walked into Raquel’s room, finding the keys sitting on the other woman’s dresser, plain as day. Raquel had accused her of fucking with her, and had stayed mad all the way to the bar. It seemed to be Raquel’s new normal. Jaims wondered if the bullet that had struck her friend in the head months before had altered her personality permanently.
***
As he awoke, the room came into focus; it was unfamiliar. Moving to sit up, the pain in his chest screamed through him, making him lay back with a wince. That is when he remembered, he had been shot! He remembered falling into the river, being breathless…he remembered nothing after everything went black.
Hearing a door open behind him, Jack tried to look, but it sent another ripple of pain through his chest. He smelled the scent of lavender.
“Hello?” he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.
“You’re awake!” a woman’s voice exclaimed, sounding shocked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack replied.
From his right, a woman came into view and he looked up. He was surprised by her bright blue eyes; they reminded him of the cornflowers he’d seen in a vast field in Maine once. Her hair was dark and pulled back from her sweetheart-shaped face. She was probably the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, and for a moment he was dumbstruck. Even when she sat down in the chair next to where he lay, her eyes sweeping over him as she did, he couldn’t seem to find his tongue.
“How are you feeling?” the woman asked solicitously.
“I…um, I think I’m okay,” Jack stammered.
She nodded, smiling at him. “You will need to lie still for a bit, the doctor had a hard time getting that bullet out. I’m afraid you’re going to have a scar.”
“A scar?” he squeaked in surprise. “How am I even alive?”
The woman pressed her lips together, as her eyes sparkled in subdued pride. “I was picking flowers along the riverbank, I found you. My pa helped me bring you to the doctor.”
Jack blinked a few times, unable to believe his good fortune. “I was sure I was a gonner.”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m Amelia, by the by.”
“I’m Jack.”
“Where are you from, Jack?” Amelia’s tone was casual, but Jack read more into it.
“I’m with the Union,” he told her proudly.
Her smile was patient this time. “Your uniform gave that away.”
“Oh.” He blushed. “I’m from New York.”
“Well, I am pleased to meet you, Jack from New York.” She put her delicate hand out to pat his hand gently. “You rest now. I’ll bring you some food soon.”
“Thank you, Amelia,” Jack said softly. After she left the room, Jack wondered at his luck. To not only be saved, but to be saved by such a beauty!” He sighed, smelling the lingering scent of lavender that seemed to hang in the room, it comforted him.
Morgan woke from the hypnosis with the scent of lavender still in her nostrils. She shook her head, to try and clear it of the visions that still swam through her mind.
Once again Charlotte waited for her to tell her all about what she’d seen. Morgan blew out a breath and began to tell the other woman about the experience. When she was finished, she made a face as she got up off the couch.
“I’m not sure this is worth the trouble,” she grouched.
Charlotte made a clicking sound with her tongue. “You said you wanted to get in touch with the faces that were haunting you.”
“I know,” Morgan snapped. “But it’s moving so slowly, I don’t know that it is doing any good.”
“You have to trust in the process!” Charlotte told her. “If it’s moving slow, it’s probably because you need to learn something.”
Morgan twitched her lips, feeling uncertain she believed that. The fact of the matter was, she had initiated this process, so she needed to try and see it through. It had all started when she had begun having dreams, but the dreams weren’t about her, they were about different people, and different times, times she knew very little about.
She had contacted Charlotte who was a renowned hypnotist that claimed she could get her in touch with her past lives. Well, it had worked so far, but she hadn’t figured out why these past lives were surfacing in her dreams. It was driving her a little stir crazy!