Eternal Flame
As the tour bus traveled down the Italian highway, Nan Lozier, a fifty-two-year-old high school math teacher watched the young woman sitting in the seat beside her write an address and a brief message on a postcard and then affix an air mail stamp to its upper right corner.
"Another one?" she laughingly asked. "You do realize that you'll be back home in Pennsylvania before any of those cards get there?"
"Before I left on this trip, I promised everyone I'd write," Deanna Turcotte explained.
"How many does that one make?"
The fresh-faced kindergarten teacher counted off on her fingers as she answered.
"Let me see, I sent one of Florence to my parents, one of Naples to my sister, the Leaning Tower of Pisa to my brother, the ruins of Pompeii to my aunt and uncle and one of Venice to my best friend. That's five. I'll send one of the Vatican to my grandparents, which will make six."
"Do you always send everyone postcards when you travel?"
"This is my first time in Europe. In fact, it's the first time I've ever left the country."
"Really? It must be quite an adventure for you then."
"It is! In my twenty-four years on earth, I've never been west of Ohio or south of Virginia. The farthest I've ever been is Maine when I spent a week at Old Orchard Beach one summer with my family."
"I'm surprised you're not going to send anyone a postcard from Rome," Nan said. "To many people, that's the highlight of a trip to Italy."
Deanna blushed and admitted, "I'll send one of Rome to Wade."
Prior to arriving in Italy, the two women had never met. The sole reason the strangers were sharing accommodations was that they were the only two people in the group traveling alone.
"Who is Wade, your boyfriend?"
The question caused Deanna's cheeks to become a darker shade of pink.
"Kind of. We've only had two dates, but we agreed to go out again once I get back home."
"Have you known him long?"
"No. We just met a couple of months ago. He works part-time as a veterinarian assistant, but he's going to school to become a vet himself."
"Then he must like animals. That makes him okay in my book. Speaking of books," Nan said, taking a paperback novel out of her oversized handbag, "I want to finish this one before we get to Rome."
While the woman beside her read, Deanna worked on a crossword puzzle, but it was hard to think of an eight-letter word that meant "gregarious" when ancient Roman wonders awaited her in the Eternal City.
The first place they visited when they arrived in Rome was the Vatican. Although not a Catholic, Deanna enjoyed seeing the Vatican Museums, St. Peter's Basilica and the Sistine Chapel. Religion aside, the artwork alone was absolutely amazing. Tears came to her eyes as she strained her neck and gazed at Michelangelo's masterpiece ceiling.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked Nan, who stood beside her, staring at the fresco of the Last Judgment that covered the altar wall.
"I wish I could take a picture of it," the math teacher replied. "But they don't allow photos inside the Sistine Chapel."
"You can buy a postcard featuring the chapel in the gift shop."
"That's a good idea. I can keep it with my pictures of the trip."
After leaving the Vatican, the group, all teachers from Pennsylvania, visited the Pantheon and the Trevi Fountain. They ended the day with dinner in a restaurant near the hotel.
"I can't believe the day after tomorrow we'll be on a plane to Pennsylvania," Deanna said when the two women went back to their hotel room. "This vacation went by so quickly."
"When you get to be my age, you look forward to going home after sightseeing for ten days."
"Really? I could go another ten days—at least."
"I hope we have time for some shopping tomorrow," Nan said as she towel-dried her hair after taking a shower. "I still have a few souvenirs to buy. Honestly, I don't know what to get for my son-in-law."
"My family are all avid readers, so I bought each of them a book."
"The only thing my son-in-law reads is the sports page of the newspaper."
Since most of the programs on television were in Italian, the two women played cards until it was time to go to bed. As usual, Nan immediately fell asleep, but Deanna tossed and turned for nearly an hour. Memories of all she had seen in Italy kept her awake as she listened to the older woman's gentle snoring.
Maybe someday I'll come back here with Wade, she thought. It would be a nice place for a honeymoon.
She imagined a romantic gondola ride through the canals of Venice, but then an image of the Eiffel Tower glowing with light on a summer night appealed to her more. Paris was an even more romantic setting for two young lovers. Thus, it was with a smile on her face and a hope in her heart that she finally drifted off to sleep.
The following morning Deanna was awake before the alarm on her iPhone sounded. As had been the case at the start of every day of her trip, she was full of energy and eager to go exploring. She dressed quickly and hurried down to the hotel restaurant where teachers, in various stages of wakefulness, were stumbling in and heading for the large coffee urns at the front of the breakfast buffet line.
"God, I hate mornings!" Nan grumbled, plopping down in a seat with a steaming cup of espresso.
"I was just reading this brochure about the Circus Maximus," the perky young teacher sitting across the table from her announced. "Did you know it was the largest sports stadium ever built? It could hold nearly three hundred and eighty thousand people, which is almost four times the capacity of the largest stadiums we have today! In 2016, Bruce Springsteen had a concert there. It says here ...."
"You really ought to go get something to eat," the older woman suggested before Deanna could begin reading the brochure out loud. "We have a busy day today."
"I suppose you're right. I'll be right back."
Nan smiled. Although she liked the young girl she was traveling with, she enjoyed having her morning coffee in silence. It was usually the only time of the day when she had any peace and quiet, and she savored it while it lasted.
Half an hour later, the two women boarded the bus and found their assigned seats. As they headed for Palatine Hill, the guide told them about the three triumphal arches that remained standing long after the fall of the empire, one of which, the Arch of Constantine, was located just outside the Colosseum. Although listening to every word he said, Deanna never took her eyes from the window, not wanting to miss a single building they passed. Nan, thanks to the caffeine from three cups of espresso, was unusually energetic. She was able to easily keep up with the younger teacher as they crossed the parking lot toward the ancient Roman ruins.
"It kind of reminds me of Yankee Stadium," her young companion said. "If half of Yankee Stadium had eroded over time, that is."
"The sports played here in the Colosseum were a lot rougher than baseball."
"Don't be too sure. Have you ever seen New York play Boston?"
As she walked into the ancient amphitheater, Deanna tried not to think about the blood that had once been shed inside the crumbling stone and concrete structure. She had seen the movie Gladiator and could well imagine the spectators eagerly watching the violent gladiatorial games. She had also read the book Quo Vadis and recalled the harrowing part where the Christians were fed to the lions.
"I wonder if this is where the term 'Roman holiday' originated," she said.
"You mean the movie with Audrey Hepburn?" Nan asked.
"No. I'm referring to the early nineteenth-century expression that is used to describe an entertainment event where pleasure is derived from watching gore and barbarism."
"Roman holiday, huh? I thought it was called hockey."
"Very funny."
"It's as funny as your joke about the Yankees and the Red Sox."
"I have a thing for etymology. I love to read books about the origin of words and phrases."
After touring the Colosseum, the guide allowed his group ninety minutes of free time. The two women headed directly to the nearest souvenir shop. Deanna purchased a postcard to send to Wade Brockden, and Nan looked for a gift for her son-in-law and grandson.
"Which do you think is more appropriate for a five-year-old?" the grandmother asked. "A set of toy Roman soldiers or a Pinocchio marionette?"
"I'd go with the puppet," the younger woman replied.
Afterward, the two women sat on a bench eating gelato until the guide began corralling the group.
"Gather around everyone," he called. "We're heading to the forum now."
Like the Colosseum and the Circus Maximus, the Roman Forum was in ruins. The guide pointed out the key sites: the Regia (once home to the kings of Rome), the Umbilicus Urbis (the symbolic center of the city) and the Comitium (an assembly area where the Senate began). Since Rome was a polytheistic empire, there were also quite a few temples dedicated to its gods and heroes: Romulus and Remus, Castor and Pollux, Saturn, Venus and Roma, Antonius and Fuastina, Vespasian and Titus and Caesar.
One of the most famous of these temples was the Temple of Vesta. Located behind this circular temple was the Atrium Vestae or Casa delle Vestali, the House of the Vestal Virgins. The three-story, fifty-room palace must have been a beautiful place in the days of the Roman Empire. Sitting at the foot of the Palatine Hill, the complex was built around a long court with a pool. However, there was little left of it now.
"Wouldn't it be nice to have a time machine and go back and see what this place looked like before Rome fell?" Deanna, still a virgin herself, asked.
"Frankly, I'd prefer a less barbaric time," Nan replied.
"What's that?" her companion suddenly cried.
"What's what?"
"Over there, near the remains of the temple. It looks as though something is on fire."
"I don't see anything. Maybe it's just the sun reflecting on a piece of metal."
As Deanna neared the remaining columns of the ancient edifice, she felt the afternoon sun beating down on her.
"It's gotten so hot out," she cried. "I ...."
The kindergarten teacher swooned. Thankfully, Nan caught her before she fell to the ground.
"Let's get you back on the bus," the high school teacher said.
"I'm okay. I'm just hot."
"There's bottled water in the cooler on the bus."
"Did the heat get to her?" the driver asked in a heavily accented voice.
"I think so."
"Come inside. I have the air-conditioning on."
Once she finished the bottle of cold water, Deanna felt fine.
"I've never reacted to the heat like that before," she insisted.
"We'll just wait here for the others. They're heading back this way now."
The young woman nodded her head in agreement. She was not eager to return to the Forum, a place that, unlike the other sights she had seen in Italy, had a strange effect on her.
* * *
When the Alitalia flight landed at Newark Airport, the Turcottes were there to meet their daughter.
"Welcome home!" Carol Turcotte cried, hugging her child. "Did you have a nice trip?"
"It was fantastic!" Deanna replied.
"You've got quite a tan, sweetheart," her father said. "It must be really hot in Italy."
"I hope you used sunscreen," his wife added. "You don't want to come down with skin cancer."
"I'm fine, Mom."
As they drove along I-80, through the northwestern part of New Jersey, Deanna shared with her parents the highlights of her trip.
"I hope you took lots of pictures," Carol said.
"Hundreds! Probably more than a thousand, actually."
"And what about the people in your group? Was there anyone you knew?"
"No, but they paired me with a really nice woman. A middle-aged widow who teaches math at a high school up in Scranton."
"How does it feel to be back home?" her father asked, when they crossed the Delaware Water Gap Bridge into Pennsylvania.
"Good, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'm looking forward to next summer's trip. The group is planning on going to England."
"You haven't even stepped foot in the house after seeing Italy, and you're thinking about your next trip," her mother laughed. "It seems you're becoming a real jet-setter!"
"She might as well enjoy it while she's young and single," Stan Turcotte said. "When she gets married, she won't have the time or the money to travel."
Her father's words brought an image of Wade Brockden to mind. Wouldn't it be nice if they went to England together as man and wife?
I mustn't rush things, she cautioned herself. We've only had two dates. Even if things get serious between us, it's not likely we'll get married in a year's time.
Twenty minutes after crossing the Delaware River, Stan pulled his Subaru Forester into his driveway and announced, "Home sweet home."
"What's that?" his daughter cried from the back seat of the car. "Did you leave the living room light on? I thought I saw ...."
It was a similar experience to the one she had in the Roman Forum. It seemed as though a fire was burning inside the house.
"It's nothing," she said, brushing the odd feeling away. "I think I must need a good night's sleep."
Once the excitement of the homecoming was over and the souvenirs were distributed, the weary traveler decided to turn in early.
The first dream occurred that night. Like most dreams, it consisted of fragments, none of which made much sense. It took place in a mashup world that contained elements of both Italy and Pennsylvania, one where Ancient Rome met the Poconos, the Appian Way and Via Sacra (Sacred Street) overlapped Interstate 80 and Route 611. Besides Deanna herself, the only other person in her dream was Nan Lozier. However, the older woman's role was not one of friendly travel companion but of a strict teacher.
"You must always remember, on pain of death," stressed the woman dressed in a long, white stola (the female equivalent of a toga), "the flame burns eternal."
"But I thought you taught math?" the dream-Deanna asked.
"There is only one math lesson you need to know: one and one must never make two."
The remainder of the dream was a senseless hodgepodge of images of souvenir shops, Newark Airport, hotel lobbies, Italian restaurants and the Turcotte family's kitchen.
* * *
"You had a good night's sleep," Carol said when her daughter finally came downstairs well past nine the following morning. "Are you suffering from jetlag?"
"I suppose so," Deanna replied. "I've never had it before, so I don't know what it feels like."
"Want some breakfast?"
"I'll just make myself some coffee and toast."
"Did you sleep well?"
"No. I had a really weird dream."
"Oh? What was it about?"
"It was as though I was in two places at once: Italy and Pennsylvania. Nan Lozier, the teacher from Scranton, was in it. She was my instructor, but she wasn't teaching me algebra or geometry. She was talking about fire. I'm not positive, but I think it had something to do with Rome's Vestal Virgins."
"That is a weird dream," her mother agreed. "But I suppose it's better than dreaming of being thrown to the lions in the Colosseum."
Carol continued vacuuming the living room as her daughter made a light breakfast. After putting the Bissell in the hall closet, she walked into the kitchen. Deanna was sitting at the table, dunking her buttered toast in her coffee.
"Aren't we formal?" the mother laughed. "Eating breakfast by candlelight. Is that something you picked up in Italy?"
"The flame burns eternal," her daughter said in a low monotone.
"Are you all right?"
"What? Yes ... yes, of course. I'm ...." When she saw the lit candle on the kitchen table, she turned to her mother and asked, "What's that doing here?"
"You must have put it there while I was vacuuming the living room."
"Why would I do that?"
"Maybe you didn't get enough sleep after all. Why don't you take it easy today?"
"I can't. I've got a suitcase full of laundry to do."
"Don't worry about that. I'll wash your clothes for you."
"I appreciate the offer, Mom, but I can do it. I'm a grown woman now. You have to stop treating me like a little girl."
"You may be old enough to travel to Europe on your own, but don't think for one minute that you'll ever stop being my little girl."
After getting dressed and making her bed, Deanna brought her suitcase down to the laundry room in the basement.
It's funny, she thought as she separated the whites from the colors, I was away for ten days, and yet I feel as though I don't quite belong here anymore. It's like they say in that old song: "How ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm after they've seen Paree?"
Once the first load was in the washer, she went up to her room and retrieved her camera from her handbag. She then removed the memory card, put it into the slot of her laptop and downloaded its contents onto her computer. Then she opened the folder to view her photographs. A smile spread across her face as images of the Renaissance beauty of Florence, the ruins of Pompeii and the splendor of Venice brought back vivid recollections of her recent experiences.
That trip may have wiped out my savings account, but it was well worth every penny! she mused as she gazed at a picture of a stripe-shirted gondolier navigating his vessel beneath the Rialto Bridge.
The last hundred or so photos were taken in Rome, the final stop on the tour. There was a good picture of Nan Lozier standing in front of the Colosseum, which she would email to her new friend. There was another of Deanna standing in the same spot, which she wanted to get enlarged and printed.
I can have it framed and hang it ....
The following image, taken in the Roman Forum, was marred by a large red circle, sometimes referred to as an orb. For years, people have claimed orbs were images of ghosts despite photographic experts explaining the phenomena away as dust particles, water droplets, insects and pollen in the air. There was nothing supernatural about a glowing red circle, yet seeing it there in front of the Temple of Vesta sent a wave of nausea over Deanna. Thankfully, she made it to the bathroom just in time.
"You're not coming down with something, are you?" Carol asked when she heard her daughter throwing up her coffee and toast.
"I don't think so. It's probably just something I ate."
"Well, you go lay down and get some rest. I'll finish your laundry."
This time Deanna did not give her mother an argument.
* * *
That evening, as Deanna was loading the dinner plates into the dishwasher, her cell phone rang. She instinctively knew who was calling before she saw the name on the screen.
"Welcome home," Wade said when she answered. "How was your trip?"
"Every bit as wonderful as I imagined it would be."
"Great. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. How would you like to have dinner some night this week, and you can tell me all about it?"
Her heart leapt with joy at the prospect of a third date.
"I'd love to. When?"
"Is tomorrow night too soon for you?"
She did not admit to him that she had been longing to see him since her plane landed in Newark or that she had thought about him every day while in Italy. At this nascent stage in their relationship, she did not want to appear too eager.
"No. I ought to be over my jetlag by then."
At half past nine, Deanna rose from the dining room table where she had been putting together a jigsaw puzzle and bid her parents a good night.
"You're going to bed already?" Carol asked, putting down her book.
"My sleep cycle is still out of whack," she replied, wanting to get a good night's rest so that she would be wide awake the following evening for her date with Wade.
"Sweet dreams, sweetheart," Stan said and turned his attention back to the baseball game he was watching.
When she got into bed, Deanna tried to decide what she would wear on her date. Before long, she drifted off to sleep. Once again, she found herself in a hybrid world of reality and fantasy, of modern America and ancient Rome. This time, however, she was a little girl, not an adult. While she was roller skating on her parents' driveway, a delegation of Roman citizens arrived at her house and spoke to her mother.
"I have come for your daughter," a stately matron announced with authority. "Her name was one of the six drawn from the twenty candidates chosen by the pontifex maximus."
Despite being only seven years old, the dream-Deanna knew what the woman's words met. A captio ceremony had been held, and she and five other girls were selected to enter the service of Vesta, goddess of the hearth who, along with Minerva and Diana, was one of three major virgin goddesses of Rome. She was to be taken from her parents' care and live at the Atrium Vestiae, the three-story House of the Vestals at the foot of the Palatine Hill.
As a vestal, she would be expected to take and keep a thirty-year vow of chastity. For the first ten years, she would be taught the duties and responsibilities of a Vestal Virgin. During the next decade, she would perform her duties: tend the holy fire at the Temple of Vesta and look after its religious artifacts; purify the temple with water from the sacred spring; attend festivals and bake salsa mola, a cake of meal and salt that would be sprinkled on the horns of sacrificial animals. The last ten years, she would become a mentor, and her duty would be to teach the novitiates the ways of the temple.
After arriving at the Atrium Vestiae, Deanna was stripped of her jeans and T-shirt and dressed in a white stola, and her sneakers were replaced with sandals. Her long hair was then plaited in six braids, a style referred to as seni crines. Atop the braids was placed a suffibulum (a short white cloth similar to a bride's veil), which was kept in place by a fibula (broach) and an infula (headband). Not long after her transformation from twenty-first-century child to ancient Roman priestess, Deanna was taken before Nan Lozier.
"Your most important duty is to tend the fire. The flame is eternal. It must never go out," the mentor solemnly warned. "If it does, disaster will befall Rome."
The Roman version of the high school teacher from Scranton did not stress the importance of their vow of chastity. Her charges were pre-adolescent girls, after all, just children. Once they were old enough to understand, the importance of their chastity would be drummed into their heads, for it was believed impure priestesses would cause the fire to go out. It was for that reason that punishment for loss of innocence was death.
"Of all things I teach you, remember this: the flame is eternal. You are but one person to keep it, but do not underestimate the importance of your task. If you fail, the consequences will be dire."
Although she had gone to bed early and slept late the following morning, Deanna was not well rested when she woke. She took a shower, hoping the water would invigorate her, but she was still sluggish when she dressed and went down to the kitchen. Both her parents were at work, and she was alone in the house.
Coffee! she thought as she put a K-Cup pod into the Keurig coffeemaker. I'm probably going to need more than one cup this morning.
After finishing her second, she was awake enough to clean the house. She took her time since her date with Wade was not until six.
I'm not used to having so much free time on my hands, she thought once the last of the housework was done. Thank God, I start my summer job on Monday. Hopefully, by then, I'll be fully recovered from my trip.
The afternoon dragged by, but eventually it came to an end. First her mother and then her father returned home from work. At last, at five minutes to six, Wade's Honda pulled into the driveway.
"He's here," Deanna called to her parents, who were finishing their dinner. "I'll see you both later."
"Have a good time," the Turcottes said in unison.
Their daughter opened the front door just as her date raised his hand to ring the bell.
"You're ready," he said, pleasantly surprised at her promptness.
"I know women are supposed to be fashionably late," she laughed, "but as a teacher, I'm used to being punctual."
"I suppose all those bells keep you on your toes."
The evening started out pleasantly enough. On the drive to the restaurant, Deanna shared the high points of her Italian vacation.
"I sent you a postcard, but you probably won't get it for another day or so."
"I'll keep my eye out for it. I don't want it to get tossed out with the junk mail."
The evening began to sour when the hostess showed them to their table.
"The candle is out," Deanna said, her eyes immediately drawn to the glass candleholder in the center. "Have you got a lighter or a match?"
"No. I don't smoke."
"Waitress! Will you please light this candle?"
That should have been the end of the matter, and the couple ought to have enjoyed a romantic candlelit dinner. However, Deanna's attention was soon drawn to the candleholder on the next table.
"What's wrong with these people? Doesn't anyone notice that the candles are out?"
"It's early," Wade said. "The servers probably haven't had a chance to light them yet."
Deanna left her seat and got a complimentary pack of matches near the cash register. She then went from table to table and lit each candle. Once she had accomplished that task, she returned to her seat and picked up the menu. Throughout the meal, she kept watch over the candles, her eyes going from one to the other to make sure they remained lit.
Despite his date's odd behavior at dinner, Wade took Deanna to a movie afterward. Once away from the restaurant, the couple enjoyed themselves.
"Want to go back to my place?" he asked after they shared a long, romantic kiss in his car.
"Not tonight. I'm really tired. Jetlag."
"If you're not doing anything on Saturday, maybe we can spend the day at Knoebels," he suggested, not put off by her rejection.
"Sure. I love amusement parks."
"Great. I'll call you on Friday to set up a time."
This promise was followed by another kiss, one much more chaste than the first.
* * *
When her head hit the pillow later that night, Deanna anticipated pleasant dreams of a possible future with Wade Brockden. But for the third night in a row, Morpheus's kingdom was part Pennsylvania and part ancient Rome, but less of the former and more of the latter. In this installment of what seemed to be one ongoing saga, the high school teacher from Scranton warned her not to see Wade anymore.
"It is best to avoid all temptations of the flesh, lest you yield to them."
"But I think I might be falling in love with him."
"You are a priestess in the Temple of Vesta. You must keep your vow of chastity."
"Once I have served my thirty years, I'll be free to marry."
"True, but you are not even halfway there yet. You cannot keep seeing him," Nan warned. "Even if you keep your relationship a platonic one, it might cause suspicion and make you vulnerable to the jealousy and malice of your sister priestesses, which could lead to false accusations of wrongdoing."
"I am as pure as the day I was born," Deanna protested. "And I will remain so until I am free to leave the House of Vesta."
"I hope so. For you risk not only your own life but Wade's as well."
The following morning, she woke early. The sun was not yet up, so the house was still dark. Rather than turn on the electric lights, she lit a candle to light her way to the kitchen. While she waited for her coffee, she found four more candles her mother kept in case of power outages. She lit them and placed them on the table.
"What's all this?" Carol asked when she entered the room. "Has the power gone out?"
"The flame is eternal," Deanna intoned in a voice void of emotion. "It must not go out."
Is she sleepwalking? the mother wondered. I've never known her to do so before.
"Why don't you go back upstairs to bed?" she suggested. "It's early yet."
"The flame is eternal. It must not go out."
Deanna then walked into the living room and put kindling and newspaper into the fireplace.
"A fire in July?" her mother asked. "It'll be hot as hell in here."
"The flame is eternal. It must not ...."
Her mantra was interrupted by her father, who was walking down the stairs in his bathrobe and slippers.
"Is everything all right?" he asked.
"I don't think so," his wife replied. "Deanna is not herself."
Working together, the parents managed to convince their daughter to return to bed. She slept for two hours and woke up unaware of the earlier episode with the fireplace.
"What are you doing home?" she asked her mother who was sitting alone in the living room.
"I took a personal day. I was worried about you."
"Me? Why?"
"Don't you remember coming down here earlier this morning?"
"No. Did I?"
"You were sitting in a dark kitchen, surrounded by candles. Then you tried to light a fire in the fireplace."
"Why would I do such a thing?"
"That's what I'd like to know. Maybe we should take you to see Dr. Shermer."
"What's he going to do? Give me a shot and send me home with a prescription for Amoxicillin?"
Deanna was right. What good would Dr. Shermer, a general practitioner, be in this situation? Her daughter's problem was mental, not physical.
"Maybe you just need some sleep."
"I've been getting plenty of sleep since I got back from Italy. The problem is I get sleep but no rest. Every night I have these strange dreams."
Carol smiled with relief. Nightmares was something she could understand.
"Maybe Dr. Shermer can give you something to help you sleep without dreaming."
"Something" meant medication: a pill, the great American panacea. Today, Big Pharma had a cure for everything. Normally, Deanna did not believe in taking "something" unless it was absolutely necessary.
I suppose taking a pill would be better than my burning down the house in the middle of the night.
Thanks to Dr. Shermer's little white pills, she fell asleep quickly and enjoyed a restful, dreamless night. Yet when she woke the following morning, she had the peculiar sensation that she was not alone. It seemed that unseen eyes were watching her every move.
It's Friday, she thought, looking at the calendar on the wall. Technically, my last day of vacation. On Monday, I start my summer job.
Deanna forced herself not to think about Saturday. She had promised Wade they would spend the day at Knoebels Amusement Park. When he had asked her to go, she was excited. Date number four was to be an all-day event. But now an element of fear crept into her excitement.
I'm being ridiculous!
In an effort to take her mind off the eerie sensation that she was being watched, she took her laptop into the living room and touched base with her friends on Facebook. Most of the comments people made during the past week dealt with vacations. Several friends were planning camping trips, others were heading to the beach, an old college classmate was going to San Francisco and one of her fellow teachers was taking a cruise to the Bahamas. All of these excursions paled in comparison to her ten-day journey to Italy, but she was not one to boast of her good fortune.
After commenting on her friends' recent posts, she then opened her email program. Hundreds of newsletters, advertisements and unsolicited junk mail appeared, nearly all of which she deleted. There were only a handful of important notices: a reminder that her Amazon bill would be due soon, a notification from her auto insurance carrier stating that her policy was up for renewal and an email confirming shipment of an item she purchased on eBay.
The one message she was surprised to see was an email from Nan Lozier. When their trip came to an end, they had decided to keep in touch, but she had not expected to hear from the math teacher so soon.
"How do you like being back home?" Nan wrote. "I'm finally sleeping normal hours again. Hope you are, too. I've been having the weirdest dreams, though, and you're in them. We're both serving as Vestal Virgins. Funny, huh? I have two children, and one grandchild. I don't think I qualify as being a virgin."
Deanna caught her breath. How was it possible both women were being troubled by similar dreams?
"I try not to dwell on them during the day," the email continued, "but I can't seem to stop myself. I get these overwhelming urges to phone you, but you didn't give me your number. So, I decided to send you an email instead. You probably think I'm crazy, but I feel as though you might be in some kind of danger. Please write back and tell me I'm wrong."
Although her hand trembled, Deanna was able to click on the REPLY button and position her fingers over the keyboard. She wanted to assure her new friend that there was nothing for her to worry about, but her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.
"The flame is eternal. It must never go out," she typed.
She was not conscious of clicking the SEND button, but a moment later the message was on its way to Scranton.
Why did I do that? she wondered fearfully. First, there was that business with the candles and the fireplace and now this. My strange behavior can't all be attributed to jetlag. I wonder if ....
Deanna's thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of another email from Nan, a response to the one she had just sent. However, when she opened it, she saw that it was addressed to someone named Aurelia.
Aurelia? Why does that name sound so familiar?
"Aurelia," she read, "you must not see Lucius again. It is too dangerous."
Lucius. Seeing the name on her laptop screen caused her heart to flutter. It was an odd sensation, one of both happiness and dread. It conjured an image of a handsome man in the uniform of a Roman soldier.
Suddenly, it seemed as though the air had been sucked from the room. As Deanna struggled for breath, her computer fell to the floor.
Am I having a panic attack?
She forced herself to remain calm.
Take slow, deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.
Once her breathing returned to normal, she picked up the laptop, hoping it was not broken. Microsoft Edge was now open to Wikipedia, not her email program. The title of the page was Aurelia. It could not be a mere coincidence since, at last count, there were more than fifty-three million pages on Wikipedia's website. Some unknown force had to be at work here.
As she read the article, she began to understand. Aurelia was a Vestal Virgin during the reign of Emperor Diocletian. She was accused of breaking her vow of chastity with Lucius Metellus, a Centurion in the Praetorian Guard. The penalty for both transgressors was death. Lucius suffered the draconian execution of being whipped to death; but since it was unlawful to shed a vestal virgin's blood, Aurelia was condemned to immuration: being bricked in a chamber and left to die.
The truth struck her with the force of a lightning bolt.
I am—was—Aurelia. And Wade was the doomed Lucius Metellus.
No sooner did this realization hit her than she received a third email from Nan. All it contained was a quote: "Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it" — Winston Churchill.
Convinced that she was the Vestal Virgin Aurelia, she was determined not to repeat the sins of her past. When Wade phoned to confirm their plans for Saturday, she broke the date.
"I'm not feeling well," she lied. "I don't think I can walk around an amusement park all day."
"We can go to the movies, if you prefer."
"I think I'd better just take a few Tylenol and rest."
"I'll call you tomorrow night and see how you're doing. Maybe we can plan something for Sunday instead."
"I don't think so. I start my job Monday, and I want to get to bed early the night before."
"What about the afternoon? We could go out to brunch. Play some miniature golf."
"I'll see."
"Well, you take care. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
It broke her heart to hear the disappointment in his voice. But what choice did she have? It was not only her own life that was in danger, it was Wade's, too. While he would not share Lucius Metellus's fate of being flayed alive, he would come to a tragic end nonetheless if he continued to pursue her.
If I were really a Vestal Virgin, all I would have to do is wait until I served my thirty years, and then I could marry without danger. Oh, it's all so unfair! Why has fate thrown us together again?
It took several more phone calls and rejections for Wade Brockden to realize he was getting the brush-off. Finally, he took the hint and his calls stopped.
* * *
When Deanna Turcotte woke that June morning, she sensed something was different. For the first time in twelve years, she did not feel as though unseen eyes were watching her. She savored the new sensation of freedom that enveloped her.
Today's my birthday, she remembered as she reached for her robe.
It was also the last day of school, and she looked forward to having the summer off.
"Good morning, Hemingway," she greeted her cat as she filled his bowl with Meow Mix.
The animal rubbed against her leg and began to purr. Hemingway was not a finicky eater; he began to devour his food as soon as she placed the bowl on the floor.
"You must be hungry."
She poured herself a cup of coffee only to discover that the milk had gone sour. One sip and she poured it down the sink.
I'll stop and get a cup on the way to school, she decided and went upstairs to get dressed.
Normally, she would have gone through Dunkin's drive-thru, but since it was the last day of school, she decided to treat herself to Starbucks. As usual, the popular coffee shop was crowded. When she told the barista that she wanted a dark chocolate mocha, a well-dressed man on the next line recognized her voice.
"Deanna, is that you?"
The voice sent a shiver down her spine.
"Wade! How good to see you!"
"How have you been?" he asked, his smile melting her heart.
"Fine. And you?"
"Good. Are you still teaching?"
"Yes. What about you?"
"I have my own veterinary practice."
"That's wonderful. Maybe I'll bring my cat to you next time he needs a checkup."
The barista handed Wade his coffee, but he made no effort to leave.
"Funny," he said. "I pictured you as a stay-at-home mom with a house full of kids."
"I never married."
"No? Me either."
"Deanna?" the barista called, reading the name off the cup. "Grande dark chocolate mocha."
"That's me," she said, reaching for her coffee. "It's been really great seeing you again."
"Same here."
She made it as far as the door.
"Maybe we can get together some time," he said, catching up to her.
"I'd like that."
The words left her lips before she had time to think. Years had passed since they parted ways, but had anything changed between them? Still, what harm would a shared dinner bring? It was not as though he was proposing marriage.
When the last of her students left at the end of the day, Deanna rushed to the school's computer room. She found the Wikipedia page on Aurelia, the Vestal Virgin and learned the priestess was taken into the service of Vesta at the age of seven. That would mean by the age of thirty-seven, she would have been free from her vow and able to marry.
Today is my thirty-seventh birthday. If I'm really the reincarnation of Aurelia and Wade is Lucius, then our love is no longer forbidden!
On the first Saturday in July, the two had dinner in a romantic restaurant. When the hostess seated them at a table for two, Wade took a pack of matches out of his pocket.
"I remember how much you dislike unlit candles on the table," he laughed.
"Not anymore," Deanna said, with a smile.
Then she leaned forward and blew out the flame, anticipating the life that was now ahead of her and the love that had been denied her for eighteen hundred years.
The only flame Salem worries about keeping is the one in our barbecue grill.
