The hand that clasped hers was warm and strong, and it tugged gently to claim her attention. When her eyes focused, she found them caught in a gaze of molten silver. A painfully fair but masculine face smiled upon her, apparently amused by her confusion. He pressed a kiss to her brow and murmured, "It will not be long, Annalië."
"Before when?" she asked.
The strange man did not answer, but his smile broadened.
"Why do I always see you when I dream? ...And why do I feel as if I have always known you?"
The faintest hint of sadness dulled his eyes, but he appeared to have no intention of answering her.
"What is this place?" she pressed. She looked about her, trying to penetrate the fog that impeded her vision.
The other grew slightly more solemn before softly replying, "Home."
Upon hearing that softly uttered word, the fog seeped behind her eyes and yanked the delicate nerves threaded through her skull. Searing throbs wracked her cranium with such ferocity that she was unable to unclench her eyes and witness the reaction of her companion to her sudden bout of pain. She felt delicate fingertips press her temple and heard the strains of a soothing, however unintelligible, mantra that seemed to battle the vicious fog.
Anna's migraine would no longer allow her any sleep, and she awoke seeing stars flash before her vision while she felt her stomach turn on itself. However, as soon as she managed to roll off her bed, the migraine faded to a whisper then fled without a trace.
She had never suffered migraines until recently and could not imagine what could possibly be causing them as she had never been one to fall ill. I guess it's time to pay my dues, she mentally grumbled, noting to herself that a gut-wrenching headache coupled with another of her recurring dreams hardly made for a promising start to the school week.
It was still dark, being no more than three-thirty in the morning – early even for Anna. She glanced over to Susan's bed to see if her ordeal had disturbed her roommate and was grateful to see her curled in a tight ball beneath at least four blankets, a slight snore occasionally disturbing the silence.
Knowing she was unlikely to get any more rest before her morning class, she trudged to her little desk and flipped open her laptop. The first thing to catch her eye on the homepage of her student account was the unopened mail icon that hovered over the link to her inbox.
Opening her inbox, a single message waited for her, and her eyes snapped irresistibly to her name in its unabbreviated form. Preferring annoyance to fear, she rolled her eyes at what she imagined to be Gary's continued officiousness and opened the message. She noted, though, that the subject of the message contained her surname as well and that the email address was different from the previous message. It was a campus address.
Ms. Annalië Darcy,
I was once a friend of your parents and learned of their passing a little over a year ago, having had only just returned to the United State from France. I offer my sincere condolences. They were good people, as well you know.
I served as a board member for the Haddon Heights Children's Home for thirty years – I took the position a few years after your adoption, I believe, so you wouldn't remember me. Shortly before my retirement three years ago, I was given some information concerning you and sent it to your parents before leaving the country. However, I did not realize that the packet I sent was returned to my post office box until I got back to the states.
Fortunately – and I must add surprisingly – I find you are a student here. I would like to meet with you and deliver the information in person. I'll be on campus this Friday for most of the day and can meet you at eight o'clock in the morning at the university library. I'll be on the first floor, most likely chatting with the reference librarian.
Sincerely,
Dudley Johnson, Ph.D.
Anna bit her lip as she puzzled this message. She was tempted to rouse Susan, impatient to hear her reaction when she would read it.
Despite Dr. Johnson's assertion otherwise, his name seemed familiar to her. She was certain she had come across the name before, somewhere around campus. Anna typed the name in the school web site's search engine.
Dr. Dudley Johnson – Department of Anthropology – Lakeside Hall, Room 206.
He knew my parents years ago. Decades ago! was the realization that pulsed through her mind at an ever increasing frequency.
He knew of me decades ago.
Anna stood and drifted slowly towards the door to their bathroom where they had hung Susan's full length mirror. As best as she was able, she studied her features with a critical eye and not a little trepidation.
She had always tried to keep herself aloof from her parents' extended family and acquaintances. Her mother and father – the Darcys – had accepted this without question, being intuitive enough to realize it was probably the best way to avoid an incredibly awkward situation. It seemed an expedient solution to attend college out-of-state, and naturally she selected her father's alma mater and former place of employment. Of course, she did not count on time so suddenly catching up with their little family and her being the only one to tidy the loose ends left after her parents' passing.
And she also did not count on one of her father's old friends finding her. Anna wondered if the information he possessed would be worth the uncomfortable encounter ahead.
The university library was fairly busy for a Friday morning. Anna noted quite a few frantic students buzzing in and out of the computer lab nearby and did not doubt that many of them had papers due that day. However busy it seemed, the library could easily accommodate massive numbers of students as it was the tallest building on campus and sprawled in all directions.
Anna rarely felt as nervous as she did then, taking slow, measured steps toward the reference desk. A young student with a messy pony tail and fashionable reading glasses sat behind the desk perusing a pristine text book, obviously having been opened only because mid-terms were looming in the distance.
"Can I help you?" she asked when she noticed Anna, the book tossed aside with no apparent regret.
"I was to meet a Dr. Johnson and was wondering if he's been here," Anna answered.
The girl turned and craned her neck to look behind her through glass paneled walls at a secluded office area. "Um, yeah, I think he's still here. What's your name?"
Anna hesitated, then replied, "Annalië Darcy."
The girl frowned at the name before disappearing around the corner. Voices drifted to her ears, one of which was that of an elderly gentleman. Soon the girl returned with an elderly professor on her heels.
The man looked her up and down with a frown. "You're here to see me? You got my message?"
Anna nodded, waiting for the inevitable.
Dr. Johnson rubbed his cleanly shaved chin in confusion. "I may have made a mistake, but the name was so unusual. I thought you would have to be her. I'm looking for an Annalië Darcy who grew up in New Jersey in an orphanage until she was adopted. That would have been about…forty years ago, was it?"
Anna considered this man's confusion for a moment. Her features hardened as she attempted a feasible explanation, "You must mean my mother. I was named after her."
The old professor's eyes' grew large for a moment before he laughed in relief. "I thought it unusual that one of her age might be a resident college student! How can I get in touch with your mother?"
"I can mail whatever information you have to her," Anna offered quickly. "She won't mind my having it."
"Probably not," Dr. Johnson agreed taking an envelope out of a coat pocket, "though I cannot really imagine what this could be. The person who gave it to me was such an odd sort. I have been rather curious about it."
Anna studied him in puzzlement. "You don't know what this is about?"
The professor shrugged, "A strange man came by the children's home asking for an Annalië back when I was still a board member. I just happened to be there on a sort of goodwill visit – it was a holiday, I believe. Anyway, the man was very insistent and made the few ladies on staff that day nervous, so they sent for me knowing I was in the building. Then, I had this agitated man on my hands demanding to know the whereabouts of your mother, and I was the only one present with the clearance to offer him any information. I told him I would by no means disclose your mother's address, but I would be willing to have a message sent. He complied reluctantly, and after I gave him a sheet of letterhead, he wrote the enclosed." He placed the envelope in Anna's trembling hands.
"How bizarre," was the only thing Anna could think of to say.