Evidence: A Past Life Memory

By Sue A. Hart

Evidence is an award winning romantic suspense about Maggie Warner, who was born with an autobiographical memory. As a child, this ability was seen as an opportunity by her great-grandfather to teach her all about his life with his wife, Mary. But the stories had a side-effect. Maggie began dreaming about their life and started sleepwalking at the age of six. On many occasions, she searched the house looking for her children.
After the death of her great-grandfather, her parasomnia changes to something similar to a coma making it hard to awaken. But then, a reoccurring nightmare begins regarding a kidnapping she cannot explain nor can anyone else. This night terror stays with her for years. But considering her ability to remember everything, the repetitive dream can be considered normal—for her.
The announcement of a new medical invention that restores memories gives Maggie hope. After an interview, she arrives for her first night at the clinic and meets Dr. Malone’s godson, Jack Paterson. He is charming, attentive, and gorgeous. Their attraction is immediate. But because of her problems, she avoids him. Though, his determination gives her little choice to stop fighting what she wants. Over the next month, they begin dating and she admits why she became a patient at the clinic. His understanding of her hidden secrets surprises her and over time his steady faith in her becomes her strength when her family refuses to agree to the possibility that the kidnapping is a memory from a past-life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sue A. Hart
• Release date: Mar 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463344385

Sue A. Hart

I am a native Texan who has live in seven states and traveled throughout southeast Asia. Since that time, I have made my home in Oklahoma. My writing history began ten years ago. I decided to start with a recurring nightmare and combine it with new technology from Standford University. I love historical books and my contemporary romance novels have a touch of history and comedy. I also write Regency Romance, Western Historical Romantic Comedy, Please look me up... Sue A. Hart

Book preview

Book One

Sue A. Hart

Introduction

Sometimes, we come back to live again.

Maggie Warner has the rare gift of an autobiographical memory concerning all the days of this life, and those of her great-grandmother. Doctor Robert Malone, a neuropsychologist using memory inducing technology, can provide information using his machine about a kidnapping no one in her family remembers. The unexpected is Jack Patterson, the doctor’s godson who steals her heart.

***

Note to readers: Over a decade ago, I heard about a very remarkable invention created at Stanford University. They said it had the ability to recall memories. They also created a way to take the imagery from the brain to see thoughts and dreams through a special MRI machine. I have taken liberties with this invention for my book by linking it to seeing past-life memories. I call the machine, BENA.

The information about reincarnation was taken from multiple accounts of research found on the Internet.

Hyperthymesia is a rare ability to retain all of your memories. Wikipedia has a good account of this ability.

copyright page

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews. This book is a work of fiction.

Evidence: A Past-Life Memory book 1

Copyright © 2015 by Sue Hart

All rights reserved.

Cover Design by: Sue A. Hart

Pictures used from Pixabay

This book is for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Please respect the hard work of this author.

Dedication:

To my husband, who encourage me and became involved in my ideas for this series. Without him, I would never have become a writer. He bought me the computer and taught me to use it. His love shines in my writing as well.

Recognition:

I would like to thank J.J. Kendrick, Michael Walsh, Sheena Macleod, Sue Baron, and K.V. Wilson, for their time and effort in helping me. These authors can be found on Amazon.

Reviews:

From the very beginning, I was intrigued by the concept of a mind that could not only remember details from years ago, but also from a past life. The author has weaved a heartwarming and thrilling journey into both the past and present lives of Maggie. She’s a strong protagonist with a good sense of humour and determination to uncover the truth about her family history. Romance with a dose of sci-fi - definitely a story I would recommend!

K.V. Wilson, Author of the Spirits’ War Series

***

You weave so many interesting components into this story. Maggie's perfect recall, reincarnation, fun careers, fresh romance, sexual tension, mysterious past violence.... I like that you don't keep it heavy for very long and you give relief from the sexual tension by using humor. Skillfully done.

DebbAnn, Author on Wattpad

Chapter One

A Machine Called BENA

Maggie Warner sat across the breakfast table from her brother while he wolfed down eggs. Sunday brunch was a tradition they’d begun after he’d moved out on his own more than ten years ago. Sometimes, he stayed for the day, and they would do things together. This morning she planned to talk about his least favorite topic.

As Larry dipped his toast into the yolk of an egg, she asked, Did you happen to see this article? She swirled the paper around for him to see.

His dark green eyes moved to the title: ‘Technological Breakthrough’. Missed it. What’s happened? He reached to bring it closer, but she swung it back around in front of her and began to read it aloud:

"Memories once hidden by traumatic circumstances such as amnesia, phobias, emotional problems, and a host of other conditions, can now be recalled in minutes by simply using a new technology designed by Doctor Robert Malone, a leading neuropsychologist in the field of memory research, and the director of the Hampton Memory Center.

The machine, a Bio-electromagnetic neuro-interfacing amplifier, he calls BENA, was recently approved by the FDA after ten years of research and testing. Doctor Malone has plans to begin using his machine on selected patients in the near future.

It is the opinion of this reporter that BENA can possibly launch a new age in neuropsychiatry, bringing hope to many."

Larry’s brows knotted as he waved a crisp piece of bacon he’d been eating. That’s pretty impressive. I wonder if the memories he recalls will stick. He examined her freckled face and slowly set the bacon down. I recognize that scheming expression. What does this have to do with your memory? You don’t forget a damn thing. Not ever.

That’s the point. Don’t you know what value I’d be for him? Her enthusiasm burst forth. This machine used on me would help him calibrate it. Any man this smart could probably help me as well.

With a groan in his voice, he said, You mean you want to prove the memories you have of Mary were there before you heard Papa J reminisce about his life with her. Do we really need to go into this again? I don’t get why you think it’s important. If there is such a thing as reincarnation…

She interrupted him with a point of her finger. The desire to discover what happens after death has been a quest of man since the beginning of time. Religions believe in an after-life, whether in heaven or hell or being reincarnated. There are documents that prove some people lived before. What’s so crazy about it?

Larry geared up for the debate. I could have lived a hundred lives before now. What does that prove, other than I keep popping up? You can’t tell me that the lives I’ve lived before have anything to do with this one. What difference does it make if you were my great-grandmother, other than it’s beyond weird? He shoved the bacon in his mouth and began to spread orange marmalade on another piece of toast.

Her voice was whisper soft as she answered him. "Because I can tell you word for word the stories Papa J told me. I can also tell you what he left out of those stories. I remember life during the time great-grandmother lived. Things he couldn’t have told me. Not to mention the memories I have that our grandmother doesn’t know anything about.

Larry, I’m tired of being told that I’m filling in the blanks to make sense of dreams. I dream of being kidnapped, but it’s not me, it’s Mary. Yet, grandmother swears it never happened. Thus, I’m left being told a recurring nightmare I’ve had since a young age is nothing but my imagination. Well, I don’t believe it. I think Mary was kidnapped, and they kept it hidden from grandmother and great-uncle Mathew.

He sat staring at her while chewing the toast. He finally set it down and wiped his fingers. I know how bad that dream is. I also know how many times you’ve roamed this old house thinking you were Mary checking on the kids. He took a sip of his cooling coffee. I won’t give you a hard time about going to this doctor. You know I’ll support you. I just don’t want you getting your hopes up and then meet another dead end. A simple thing to do is visit the archives, see if you can find anything about the kidnapping. Today, they probably have it online.

I looked. I went to the courthouse to look it up too, but you need a year or file number. I don’t have that either.

And you think you can use this machine to discover it?

With a sigh, she sank back into her chair. Yes. But first, I need to connive and beg my way in to see him.

Just tell him about your memory and he’ll be begging you.

I have to get past the female monitoring the phone calls first. I told her about my memory, and you know what she said? I’m sorry, but the doctor is only taking people with memory problems. She sounded like a teenager reading a cheat sheet.

Guess that leaves you paying them a personal visit. He reached over to her plate and took a slice of her bacon she wasn’t eating. But, Sis, don’t give them a chance to shoo you out the door. Make them listen to you. Trust me, if you go after them with as much gusto as you have me, they’ll listen. A man that smart doesn’t ignore anything.

***

Maggie parked in front of the clinic early the next morning. The simple white brick building was not an architectural marvel nor was it new. It appeared as if the building was built in the sixties. She opened the car door and stepped out. With determination in her stride, she walked up the sidewalk to the glass door and pushed it open.

The lobby had a masculine appeal with saddle-brown leather chairs, hardwood tables, and oriental area rugs thrown across oak floors. On the cream-colored walls, they had framed paintings of nature. She was tempted to take a closer look at the one with the waterfall. A built-in book case, made of oak, stood on a narrow wall opposite the seating area. Each shelf was filled with reading material. By the receptionist desk, a fireplace had orange candles sitting atop the mantle putting out the scent of an orange grove.

When Maggie’s attention finally returned to the woman waiting behind the receptionist counter, she smiled and approached her. The grin on her face was friendly. Maggie instantly felt at ease.

May I help you?

The woman had a husky voice, was fashionably dressed, and wore her dark hair in a chin length bob. Maggie guessed her to be in her early fifties. Since your answering service didn’t waver from the script, I thought to come in and explain the benefits Doctor Malone would have by taking me as a patient. I’m Maggie Warner.

Pleased to meet you, Maggie Warner, I’m Janet Simms, his right arm. She grinned as she offered her hand and they shook. If you would like to tell me, perhaps I can help determine the assistance you could be to the doctor.

This is kind of you. First of all, I have a rare gift, hyperthymesia. I feel this could be of great value to the doctor in calibrating his machine since I can give exact descriptions and quotations, as well as remember anything I dream. My problem is parasomnia, which I’d like help with.

Janet’s eyes widened with astonishment. I believe you made a good choice by coming in to talk to us. If you make yourself comfortable, I’ll inform the doctor there is someone he must meet.

Maggie sighed with relief. I’m grateful, Janet. She stepped over to one of the leather armchairs near the waterfall painting.

Janet hurried through an adjoining door nearby and returned a moment later with Doctor Malone by her side. He was a fit looking man, somewhere in his mid-fifties, with intelligent silver-gray eyes matching the gray at his temples. The smile he wore on his face calmed any anxiety she harbored.

Ms. Warner, Janet seems to think we need to go back to screening our own calls after meeting you. I’m pleased you have such determination. If you have the time, we could have a consultation now.

I would be grateful.

He escorted her into his office, which she found as aesthetically charming as the lobby. The room was a large rectangle with mahogany paneling surrounding the walls and ceiling like a cave, but one that was beautiful with boxed wood trim.

An elaborate wood-framed fireplace stood at the far end with a floor-to-ceiling bookcase on each side that wrapped around to another wall. He had it filled with books. She turned her head to see him standing at his desk at the opposite side of the room doing something on his computer.

He looked up and saw her waiting. Please, have a seat. I’ll be right with you.

He waved towards the area she was admiring and chose one of the two chairs by a window, across from a saddle-brown leather sofa. She glanced outside to see a small flower garden before taking her seat. The table beside her chair held a candy bowl filled with peppermints. She picked one up and unwrapped the cellophane.

The doctor finally joined her in the other chair. I hope you don’t mind, but I record all of the sessions for later reference.

Most psychiatrists record my sessions because of my unusual ability. She popped the candy into her mouth and set the wrapper on the table.

He flashed a warm smile and leaned back in the chair. I would like to start with the parasomnia.

That surprised her. Generally, her memory caused the most curiosity. All right. I’ve had various symptoms since I could walk, but now it’s Nocturnal hypersomnia. My coma-like sleep affects my ability to wake and the depth creates vivid dreams. As I told your right arm, my hyperthymesia could be of use to you She grinned because he had laughed at Janet’s term. "As you know, the case of memory retention varies in degrees. For me, you forget where you put your keys; I can tell you where I put mine on any given day of any year. This ability also affects my dreams.

He tilted his head with a wide-eyed expression. Your capability is most rare. Were you tested?

I was the favorite lab-rat from five to eight years old, because this ability is most common in children. When mine didn’t seem to be changing, my father put a stop to the endless testing. If you wish, I’ll give you access to those files.

I have probably read about you. I keep abreast of the research but would appreciate taking a closer look. He paused, seemingly to study her while gathering his thoughts. I understand how important memory is. It’s the reason I designed BENA. But the ability to forget or have memories fade is equally important to our mental health. I’m curious how this affects your coping skills.

Her eyes widened. You want an explanation of how I cope? He gave a nod, so she tried to explain. "You carry a lot of memory in your brain. But you still have to focus on what you wish to remember. I’m no different. I compartmentalize my memories, like shoving them into a file cabinet. When I need them, I take them out. You do a similar step when you go into your computer. You know where things are, but you don’t think of it until you need something. My brain is like the computer.

"But I believe I still cope like other people. We use reason and good memories to help cushion bad moments. When the only memory is far from good, I seek the truth and a deeper understanding.

Papa J, my grandfather, was the first to notice my ability. He would tell me stories and I remembered everything about them. He liked to speak about his wife, Mary. I have vivid dreams about her life. Not only from the stories he told, but from memories of my past life. You see, I was Mary then.

He leaned slightly forward in interest. Could you explain further?

Certainly. Because of the hours we spent looking at the picture albums filled with their time together, along with the countless stories I heard—my family is convinced my dreams came from them because of my memory. But, I remember things they know nothing about. I tried to think it was imagination, but when I mentioned them to Papa J, he would smile and say he’d forgotten that. Most people expect to lose the little things in their memories. She shrugged as if this was an acceptable fact.

"My dreams of her are enjoyable. They had a great life together, but I am hoping you can help me stop my hypersomnia. I want to wake up like a normal person. I also need your help to find evidence of the truth concerning my past life.

Your reputation for memory research is noteworthy and known around the world because of BENA. I would think regressive hypnosis is something you have used as well. So, you must know of people who show evidence of a previous life. This is why I believe we can help each other. You can use me for testing your machine; put me under hypnosis, or anything you need, while digging around for answers to my problem.

His eyes revealed the deep thought behind them. I believe your analysis is correct concerning your family members and what has sculpted their thinking concerning your claim about Mary. Doctor Malone finally nodded with a decision. I’ll do what I can. I would like to begin by monitoring your dreams. Later, we can use regressive hypnosis. But first, I want to document your sleeping patterns. Get a medical update. Have you had a blood workup recently?

No, do you do that here?

Not yet. I have a particular lab I use for specific tests. I’ll make arrangements for you. How soon could you go?

Now?

He grinned. I’ll call and make the appointment. When’s the last time you had, shall we say, a historical dream?

Two nights ago.

He hesitated with an eager grin. Maggie, how soon can you begin?

I’m free on Thursday.

He nodded and stood, ending the consultation. If you’ll see Janet, she’ll set up the details.

Maggie did just that. When she finished, she walked outside, pumped her fist into the air and then snapped it back to her side in victory. Yes!

Chapter Two

Chance Meeting

Jack Patterson worked in a downpour of slashing rain using security lights to see what he was doing. The brilliant meteorologists had missed the trajectory and intensity of the tropical storm; leaving him no choice but to do the job as it hit land.

He pounded the side of his fist against the storm shutter, gave it a jerk, and finally slid it over the window. After securing the latch, he shoved his wet hair back from his forehead and wiped the rain from his eyes. The wind pounded against him as he trudged on to the next window to repeat the process. The bright side of this, it wasn’t a two-story building.

His godfather owned and operated the clinic, and Jack wasn’t about to let him work outside in weather like this. He was where he should be—inside with his patients. Since the weather had turned severe, sending anyone home was more dangerous than having them stay. The Memory Center was a soundly built, fifty-five hundred square-foot brick structure on high ground, with a generator and reinforced roof it was safer than most places. Jack had made sure of it.

As he finished securing the windows, he decided to talk him into purchasing electrical roll up storm shutters. Jack worried he could be out of town when bad weather hit, leaving Doc to do this.

By the time he approached the front door and pulled the storm chain down over the glass, the winds were trying to knock him down. He kept a firm hand of control on the door as he slipped through, and then shoved it closed until it latched. A large rubber backed area rug just inside the door caught the water dripping from his coat. Fat beads of water dripped from his blond hair and ran down the side of his square jaw. He reached up and ran both hands over his head like a squeegee to stop the tickle, then removed his slicker and hung it on the peg by the door.

Across the room, Janet Simms reached into a linen closet and pulled out a towel. She called out, Catch, and he watched the rolled towel sail at him like a football. He snatched it out of the air and popped it open, burying his face in the thick, dry warmth. A few seconds later, he rubbed it over his head and neck, then over his muscular arms. There wasn’t a raincoat invented that could keep the water from running down inside when your arms were held up. He wiped the bottom of his boots against the rug to dry them before crossing the wood floor to join her.

I feel like I’ve had a swim in my clothes. He swiped his fingers through his hair to keep it from standing on end and folded the towel before laying it down on the receptionist counter.

Janet had taken the gloom out of the room by lighting the gas logs in the fireplace and burning orange citrus candles scattered around on tables. She was like an aunt who was always happy to see him walk in her door. On a night like this, he felt more at home here than his apartment.

Twenty years ago, Janet had begun working with Doc as his registered nurse. Over the years her job expanded to a do-all-he-can’t-do helpmate. It left him free to focus on his patients and continue expanding the reaches of BENA.

I’m grateful you came by to help with the shutters, she said. By the sound of the wind, the weather is getting worse.

That’s the prediction. The city lost power over on the eastside, Norfolk too. Virginia Beach is reporting wind damage. Jack glanced out the glass door at another rumble of thunder. Did the guy show up to replace the automatic switch for the generator?

What do you think? They said they’d come on Monday. Course that was the week before, but they promised for sure this week.

Disgust was written on his face. They just don’t get it. He has millions of dollars invested in equipment, and they can’t find an hour to replace a little switch that would help protect it? That is totally unacceptable. Don’t use them anymore.

They’ve been friends for thirty years. Janet defended. You know Doc’s loyalty. Besides, he has you taking care of him. You’re a good son, even if you aren’t related.

Then I’ll compromise. If it’s in any way connected to the lab, you call me and I’ll see it gets done. You can use Bob’s Electrical for other jobs. Deal?

Fine. How’s your dad?

With the quick change in topic, he knew the discussion was over. He leaned his hip against the counter and started sharing news of home when a gust of wind blew in through the door carrying a woman with it. She seemed to be holding onto the handle to keep her balance while struggling to get it closed against the force of the storm. Jack hurried over to help by grabbing the edge above her head. She ducked and moved back while he latched it shut.

She tilted her head back to peek up at him, but her hood drooped down covering her eyes. This wind is ridiculous. Thanks for helping me.

No problem. Jack stood waiting to help her out of the dark orange raincoat she had begun to unbutton. With the release of the last button, her hood fell back revealing hair like flaming fire. It curled damply around a face so beautifully sweet; he couldn’t imagine her any other way. As he stared at her face, he found himself entranced by her exotic blue eyes, framed by thick lashes. Freckles touched her creamy complexion making him grin.

This is kind. Thank you.

The fact that she spoke broke his trance. He believed he smiled but wasn’t sure. He did nod. The anticipation of seeing what was under the coat had his full attention. She spread it open, expecting him to remove it from her shoulders, and it took him an embarrassingly long time to respond. Watching her was like having a gift unwrapped just for him. To him, she was a goddess. Full breasts, a slender waist, and long legs encased in leggings that hugged every glorious inch. His eyes kept trailing down the length until he stopped at her feet wearing matching burnt-orange rain boots. Thankfully, sanity returned along with his humor.

Nice outfit.

She raised a booted foot to wiggle it back and forth showing it off. It matches my hair.

His eyes flew back up to once again admire her dark-red tresses, then he reached out to help her remove the coat. To his delight, soft curls flowed down her back like a waterfall. She stepped away, leaving him holding her coat, to sit in one of the leather chairs by the door. He couldn’t help but stare as she slipped her long fingers inside the top of a boot and pull her foot free. She peeked up and grinned, and he knew it was because he stood there like some kind of mannequin, while her coat dripped over his boots.

"Hey, Handsome, you can put that