Love Across Lifetimes

By Debby Ng

I'll Always Find You
This story is about love; a love that lasts through different lifetimes. The main character, Raphaela, grows up in a dysfunctional family, on the beautiful north shore of Oahu, Hawaii. She grows up with a love for horses, especially her own, feeling as though there is a lack of love in her home. Even though she leaves home at seventeen for Waikiki she never loses her love for horses and riding. She eventually finds her way back to horses and encounters a cowboy that touches her soul. She realizes through past life meditation that she has had previous lifetimes with this cowboy and is brought back to him again and again. There are always obstacles and this time she finds out the obstacle is his marriage. This is a huge conflict for Raphaela and she has great difficulty pulling herself away from this man. After feeling confident in the idea they will have another lifetime together, she is able to pull herself away; however, not without great pain experienced by all involved. This novel includes love, loss, passion, and pain set against the beauty of Oahu. It includes a poem or quote at the beginning of every chapter and most of the novel is written in first person. The theme centers on the idea that love is never easy and has many obstacles, some that will take more than one lifetime to overcome.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Debby Ng
• Release date: Aug 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393760610

Debby Ng

I work for Teach for America - it's a beautiful company with a beautiful mission and vision. I am blessed. I did not always have the easiest life when it comes to family and love but life is peaceful now and very fulfilling. I have 3 absolutely beautiful children who helped me to be a better person without them I have no idea where I would be today. I've always been an adventure seeker and wanted to write books about crazy adventures and create characters people could relate to. I love writing and am currently working with Author King Guru on a blog, instagram and youtube. We just published our first book together with more to come.  I love hiking, swimming at the beach and traveling. I hope you enjoy my books and leave a review.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The knot had been a constant in her life since she was three years old. It started off as a small butterfly, and had become so thick and so tight over the years, she had believed it could never be undone. But then, one ordinary summer night, it evaporated.  

In Haleiwa, after they finished dinner in one of the quaint little restaurants in this small town, he grabbed her hand to cross the street and held her under the star-filled sky. He looked down into her eyes and told her he loved her.

You do? she whispered, almost as if she thought she had imagined he had spoken those magical three words to her.

Yes, yes, I do! he stated with such sincerity and tenderness not only did she believe him, but the knot evaporated, it was gone, simply gone. She understood this to be the beginning of their relationship, but she would soon realize it was the really the middle of the long journey they would share together throughout many lifetimes.

She had always believed the eyes were the windows to the soul, and this man’s eyes told her he knew her soul and she knew his. How, she wondered, do I know him? How is it I have never believed those words until now, and why from this man I barely know? These questions would be answered but not yet . . . and not in the way she thought they would be.

Chapter 1

The butterfly in her stomach began the way it does for many young children: a fluttering experience, which occurs when you are still naïve about the world and the butterfly represents an unknown, tingling, nervous, and excited feeling. Unfortunately, some children are born into a world of negative situations, where the butterfly represents a different feeling because you know you must determine if the situation is going to turn into abuse of some sort. Raphaela’s butterfly feeling began when she needed to determine if she must tread on careful ground because her dad was drinking, and she was not sure if he was a happy drunk or if he had progressed to the get the hell out of my face drunk.  The butterfly quickly metamorphosed into a small knot as life got harder and her dad drank more and more, causing her mom to yell things children shouldn’t hear—I never should have had children. I wish you had never been born. And then, it became even more difficult when, just to get her out of their hair, they left her, at three years old, alone in a room with the thirteen-year-old neighbor.

This is when the butterfly became a rock. Every afternoon, as her dad was passed out on the floor and her mom was cooking in the kitchen, complaining about her life, the teenage boy from next door came to play with her. As the days passed, the rock twisted and turned with every game he played with her—post office and then doctor—and by then, the rock has twisted into a huge, solid knot, which took up a large part of her stomach.  She tried to pretend she was not really there when these things were happening to her.  She would imagine she was off riding horses and looking for Native Americans, anywhere but in a locked room with a doctor while she was the patient.

This was when she realized she loved horses and Native Americans, and her vivid imagination became her saving grace. She would later realize, when she was a grown woman, this wasn’t her imagination—it was her strong ability to recall her past lives. It would explain why this little Portuguese girl, whose family was from Brazil, could be so infatuated with Native Americans and wild Mustangs. A people and animals she could not have known at such a young age. 

Raphaela was born in Honolulu, Hawaii, but her parents were from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. They came to this country with the hopes of making money and having their children in a place with not much crime, a place, which had many similarities to their country, good similarities. Hawaii shared similar weather to Brazil; it was breezy and warm for most of the year. The people were welcoming and friendly in both places, and both Hawaii and Brazil were absolutely beautiful, with oceans and mountains everywhere one looked. The one thing they had forgotten to do was make sure their home remained safe. Raphaela’s dad, Anderson, drank in Brazil, and it did not stop when he came to Hawaii, as a new country and new life was nerve-racking for him. In fact, he drank even more. Her mother, Renatta, had a strong desire for material wealth and was determined to work as hard as she could to get money to buy the things she thought would make her happy and perhaps make her forget her husband loved alcohol more than he loved her.

They worked hard the first few years they were here; they both gained employment quickly and, with money on her mind, Renatta also learned to sell real estate and was making quite a bit of it. Anderson wanted children and begged Renatta for them. Thinking it would make him stop drinking, she reluctantly agreed, money being more important to her than children. She rationalized if her husband stopped drinking, they would save a great deal of money, and she could have him work a graveyard shift and stay home with the children during the day. She could not have realized the irreparable damage this would cause her children; or maybe she just didn’t care. Either way, one year later, Raphaela was brought into the world on the twenty-first day of June, the longest day of the year. She came out screaming, full of life and energy, and never really quieted down, a trait her mother would come to despise. Almost exactly two years later, on July twenty-first, her brother Roberto was born. He came out quiet and calm and, lucky for him, his personality was always like this. Obviously Roberto was their mother’s favorite, and because he was such a chubby, happy baby, Raphaela adored him, too.

These two were as opposite as any two children could be; however, the violence, which surrounded them inside their home, fused a bond between them no one could break apart. Their parents’ fighting got worse, and Raphaela became very protective of Roberto. He was very quiet and shy by nature, and she felt the need to shelter him from the world, as everything made him nervous. She chose to shelter him from many things; he was always afraid of dying, for instance, and because he worried so much about it, Raphaela decided to make his world as happy as possible. When their mother came home from work, Roberto would be showered with attention and Raphaela would then be taken into the bedroom by the neighbor and touched in ways she knew were wrong, but she kept this from her family, for she knew her brother adored the time with their mother alone. Besides, her mother would have never listened to her. It was easier to imagine she was a great Native American princess running across the mountains and into canyons on wild Mustangs, looking for waterfalls and cute Native American boys.

As they grew up, the siblings grew apart, and Raphaela learned to run away. She often felt so out of place and ignored in her home, she once packed a small bag with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, grabbed a blanket, and hid at the beach across the street from their home on the North Shore. She fell asleep and didn’t return for hours. When she came back, her brother unknowingly made a comment, which changed her life. He asked, Oh Raphaela, can you please go away again? It’s so quiet and peaceful when you are not here.

It was as if someone had put a knife in her heart. Her brother, whom she had so adored, had finally turned against her, too. Her father had not really turned against her; however, he was too weak to stand up to her mother, so if her mother thought she was bad and stupid, her father went right along with it. Running away became her favorite activity after this. By the time she was sixteen, all the police on the North Shore knew her and got used to bringing her home. She couldn’t figure out why they would bring her where she did not want to be. When she was seventeen, she left for the last time, running away to Waikiki, where no one knew her.

This is where I met Raphaela. She had left home at seventeen after her mother had sold her horse without telling her and she’d had had enough—enough of living with people who did not want her around except to use as a scapegoat, a person to blame all their problems on. She had felt like their punching bag, which explains why it was her first purchase for her new apartment. We have had so many adventures together; even one where the plane came back to the gate; however, this is a whole different book—the book of Jay. I always told her to write a book, write a book, write a book, but she would just laugh; however, she agreed this story must be told and is important to share. I cannot do this story justice, so she will tell it in her own way, which might remind you of a spicy soup: a bit of other languages and all the drama of Rapha! It will be in her voice as it should because she finally listed to me.

Love, Keala

Signs

The universe gives us signs—

it whispers them at first—small signs

meant for our soul.

When we don’t listen,

the signs get louder and come more often. . . .

If we pay attention, a whisper is enough . . .

The signs are important

they are a guide—

a map—

to this life—sent from us

before this life.

Don’t ignore the signs,

slow down,

listen to your inner voice,

and

most importantly,

pay attention—

they are there for a reason!

Chapter 2

Ibegan riding horses when I was a young girl, and I got my first horse when I was eleven. She was mine - all mine. I felt peaceful and happy when I was alone and riding my horse in the hills of North Shore, feeling the wind in my hair as I galloped across the lush green hills up the mountains until I could turn around to see the gorgeous blue ocean surrounding this exquisite paradise I lived in. Heaven could not be more beautiful.  I loved all the smells—guava and oranges along with plumeria and pikake on the way up the hill. The weather up this high was always cool, and it was easy to find old trails and make new trails in the woody hills of North Shore.  There was a certain freedom, which could not be explained; it just had to be felt.  I felt as though I were a horse—there was no disconnect between my horse, especially when riding bareback, and me.  When I rode, I thought of nothing but the moment, and it was incredible—every time. 

I rode until I was seventeen. One day, I arrived at the ranch to find my horse was gone. Everything was gone: all my tack and food and everything.  The owner of the ranch had no idea I didn’t know, and when she saw me at her door with tears in my eyes, she was shocked.

Raphaela, surely your mother told you—she sold Kuuipo.

I shook my head, unable to stop the tears and unable to speak. I went home and didn’t speak to anyone for a whole month, and then I left. I packed two duffel bags filled with clothes and pictures of my friends and my horse—none of my family. I went to Waikiki and never looked back. I missed riding . . . but I had a good time living in town.  

I met Keala at Liberty House, where I worked in the boys’ department and she worked in the cosmetics area. She was my best friend instantly, and we found excitement and adventure all over Waikiki. She was married to a homebody who was kind but not very social and preferred to stay home and listen to music and watch television. (Boring!)  I dated a lot and then finally found a stable relationship with a humble local boy who was an avid motorcycle rider. He owned a Ducati. We met at University of Hawaii, where Kalani was studying sociology and I was trying to become a teacher. After graduation, we decided to move in together, which was a huge step for me but felt right. I went to work as a first-grade teacher and he went to work at Frito-Lay!

There was one problem with my relationship with Kalani, but I kept it to myself. He had a brother named Peter who Keala was definitely crushing on, in a bad way. I knew what a killer attention was. He gave her so much attention, and her husband gave her none.  I tried to understand and not pass judgment; as best friends are supposed to do, but it really bothered me I may be lending a hand to the cheating, which seemed inevitable.  It had not happened yet, and I tried to hint to her husband she needed more attention but he was plain lazy. Kalani seemed totally oblivious to the entire thing and stated they were just friends, there was no way his brother would mess around with a married woman but . . . I wasn’t so sure. 

One day while we were riding his motorcycle around the island with some friends, I saw some horses on the beach in Mokuleia. This is when I got the bug again, the bug to ride horses. Horseback riding is like surfing; it never leaves your blood. I couldn’t stop talking about it, and Kalani piped in saying he was willing to try riding with me since I rode his motorcycle with him. The next weekend, we drove all over the island and finally decided to try riding at Turtle Bay on the North Shore. We booked a private ride so we could do more than just walk and he could get a real feel for riding. We walked around Turtle Bay, holding hands and talking about horses, while we waited for our ride.  It was serene and peaceful there, it made me miss the North Shore, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to ride up there because someone would tell my parents. Here, in Turtle Bay, among all the tourists, I felt safe; none of them knew my family or me.

Finally, it was time so we walked over to the stable.  We were introduced to our tour guide, Sara, and given two horses who seemed rather mellow. They were both chestnut geldings, one was about sixteen hands and the other was fifteen hands. Kalani was nervous, it was so funny, and he quietly asked me to take the bigger horse. No problem, I replied with a wink. We mounted the horses on this cute little stepstool they had and began following our guide, Sara. She was great and told us we didn’t have to follow her in a line and we could all walk together since it was a private tour. She explained to us we should not run in the sand since it is hard on the horses’ legs, so we walked out into the ocean a little and along the beach for about half a mile. The Pacific Ocean is hypnotizing, with its many shades of blue and the peaceful lull of the waves hitting the shore. The best part is you can see down to the sand because the water is so clear! Kalani looked so happy; he had a smile on his face the entire time. 

When we came out of the water, we walked across the sand to the woods and found a good-sized trail carved out. Sara told us we were fine to canter now. I took off immediately, and when I came to the part of the trail with an s-curve, I stopped my horse and turned around.  Kalani was talking to Sara then I saw him get ready to go. His horse began trotting and then Tammy yelled, Kick him again! Kalani did, and the horse began to canter, right then, I could tell Kalani was hooked. The smile spread all the way across his face from ear to ear. There is nothing like the gait of cantering; it feels so natural and fluid, like you are part of the horse. I began cantering again and Kalani followed. When we got to a new part of the trail, which was really small and wooded, I slowed to a walk and then Kalani’s horse slowed down.

Sara came around the corner and said, Perfect job, you two. How’d you like the trail ride?  We told her how much we loved it. We finished up the trail ride after walking for about another twenty minutes. It was heavenly. On the way home, we talked about riding again, but at $120 a person, it seemed so expensive. I mentioned, not really thinking he would buy into it, we could lease a horse together and see how much we enjoyed it.  He thought it was a great idea, so I began checking Craigslist every day. Finally, after about two weeks of research, I finally found a horse for lease at a ranch in Waimanalo. I went to the ranch with Kalani, his brother, Peter, and of course, Keala. She loved this opportunity, as she was in love with Peter and any extra time they could have together made her happy. Peter hadn’t noticed yet, but eventually he would.

When we pulled up next to a round pen, we saw a man on a horse. He turned around when I got out of the car and asked, Are you looking for Monique?

Uh, yeah, I answered a little caught off guard by the way he looked at me.

He replied, Follow me. I will take you to her pasture.

Shootz! I answered, but I was thinking I would follow him anywhere. He looked like a real cowboy. He wore a black felt cowboy hat, Levi’s, which showed off his tight butt, and boots with spurs. His eyes were light brown, displaying kindness and a quiet strength, and they sparkled as he spoke with a soft Mexican accent. He was so sure of his riding ability and had such control of the horse; I longed to learn from him. As soon as I got back in the car, I tried to let it go by looking at my handsome boyfriend.  Kalani smiled at me, making me realize I was just being silly.

When we got to the pasture, a lady rode over on her horse at a dead gallop. She stopped and introduced herself as Monique and her handsome quarter horse as Doc. She asked if I was ready for a trail ride and explained Dakota was the horse for lease.  She pointed at the horse near the tack shed.  He is a thoroughbred gelding and needs to be ridden more often than the few days a month, which is all the time I have right now, she stated.  Monique also explained he was an ex-racehorse and needed an experienced rider. I assured her I was up to the task. She pointed me in the direction of the tack shed, told me which bridle to grab, and asked if I wanted a saddle. 

Nah, no saddle, I will just grab the bridle and be right back, I answered. I returned, called him over to the edge of the tack shed, put on his bridle, and jumped on bareback.

Monique yelled, Follow me! She led the way up a trail toward the top of the mountain.  We walked for about fifteen minutes and went through several gates. Then, as we rounded a corner, Monique shouted, Ready to giddy up?

We go! I shouted back, and we sure did!  We galloped up a large hill to the top where we could see to the ocean. Behind us was Olomana, a place I had gone hiking many times. It was so beautiful. Monique was satisfied with my riding ability, so we returned to her pasture at a leisurely place, talking story the whole way. All in all, we were