Enchanted Parapet: A Novel

By Susan Reintjes

Enchanted Parapet is the tale of a wedding planner’s journey to the truth when she sees startling visions of her clients’ past life together that she must decipher before disaster strikes.

Bryn is co-owner of Anything Goes, a wedding planning company like no other. After seeing an ad for a romantic castle in the Shetland Islands, she snaps it up for her engaged clients without a second thought. But Bryn arrives to find the castle in disrepair, leaving her and her younger business partner, Jamie, only a week to transform the crumbling structure into an idyllic wedding venue.

Unfortunately, planning the wedding is not their only challenge. Bryn has been having visions of the couple’s past life together that are slowly revealing unfinished karma that must be resolved before a catastrophe unfolds. She follows these startling revelations back in time to weave together clues as she unravels the history threatening the couple’s future. Plagued with visions of a Viking battle and a love triangle, Bryn must now piece together the couple’s former life in ninth century Scotland. All the while, Bryn and Jamie are battling their own trials trying to deliver a storybook wedding.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Feb 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781982257682

Susan Reintjes

Susan Reintjes is a psychic and healer who was featured in the bestseller, Proof of Heaven, and served as a consultant to Oprah Winfrey. To date, she has helped thousands of clients clear illnesses, develop psychic abilities, resolve relationship dilemmas, and discover life purpose and creative potential. This is her fourth book.

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 Susan Reintjes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

844-682-1282

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-5767-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-5769-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-5768-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020921366

Balboa Press rev. date:  02/19/2021

For Jamie, whose contagious sense of humor inspired Anything Goes and

for Betty, who listened with the patience of a saint to its unfolding.

A special thanks to Katie Haywood, editor extraordinaire

I did not begin when I was born, nor when I was conceived. I have been growing, developing, through incalculable myriads of millenniums. All my previous selves have their voices, echoes, promptings in me. Oh, incalculable times again shall I be born.

—Jack London

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 The Castle

CHAPTER 2 Laura and Jim

CHAPTER 3 The Red-Haired Girl

CHAPTER 4 Heaven’s Cook

CHAPTER 5 The Puffin Rescue

CHAPTER 6 The Kiss

CHAPTER 7 Lightning and Lace

CHAPTER 8 The Lighthouse

CHAPTER 9 Scotch Eggs and Bridie Pies

CHAPTER 10 Mrs. MacMurdair

CHAPTER 11 Visitations

CHAPTER 12 Kindred Spirits

CHAPTER 13 Synchronicity

CHAPTER 14 Hens and Stags

CHAPTER 15 Oracles

CHAPTER 16 Odin’s Chariot

CHAPTER 17 Suit of Armor

CHAPTER 18 It’s Time

CHAPTER 19 Shampoo and Seals

CHAPTER 20 Frigga’s Day

CHAPTER 21 Love and Death

CHAPTER 22 Return

CHAPTER 1

The Castle

44248.png

Bryn looked around her in dismay. What am I going to do? Her anxious words rebounded off the ruins, their echo sounding more desperate than ever. She sank down onto the nearest pile of rubble and put her head in her hands. The uneven stones cutting into her backside were all that remained of the west side of Drochil Castle. A sole turret stood on the east end, and the castle’s south wall was the only one still intact.

Surveying the ruins, Bryn shook her head, perplexed. This was not what she had expected. She recalled the rush of adrenaline she had felt the moment she spotted the ad for the castle among possible venues for the wedding. The headline had caught her eye: Too good to be true: Romantic castle in good repair with stunning view located in the Scottish Isles. She now knew that the ad’s author, a Mr. Cormac Farrell, had hidden a clue for Buyer Beware that she had completely missed.

Bryn had to admit that the view was spectacular, but the castle purported to be in good repair was crumbling before her eyes. Presenting an idyllic wedding on this site was going to be as challenging as turning a pumpkin into a carriage.

She stood up, dusted off her derriere, and looked out at the North Sea, her long hair held aloft by the steady wind. The waves struck the rocks before a white-capped surge flung them onto land. Looking to her left, she saw hills dotted with Shetland ponies grazing on the heather that blanketed the moor. To her right, the remnants of fourth-century stone hovels were silhouetted against the sky. Returning her gaze to the sea, she admired the tall lighthouse on the isle of Muckle Flugga, the rocky outcrop standing near the smaller islet, Out Stack.

Bryn was in Unst, an ancient Norse village at the northernmost tip of the Shetland Islands. Once known as Hjaltland, Unst had belonged to Denmark before it became part of Scotland. It stood as a boundary between the Atlantic Ocean to the west and the North Sea to the east.

A loud crack brought her sightseeing to an abrupt end. A large boulder had broken free and was tumbling down the cliff below. Her body froze as her eyes followed the giant stone’s course, which ended with it bouncing off a jutting ledge and crashing into the sea. The instant the rock hit the water she felt the paralysis of her despair turn into the fire of anger. She should have known that too good to be true meant exactly that. And now she had only one week to turn this disaster into a fantasy wedding for Laura Wozinsky and Jim Strathmore.

She could scarcely believe that it had only been a month since she had opened Laura’s e-mail. Bryn could almost hear Laura’s flurried tone as she read: Need a wedding planner for my wedding in the Shetland Islands on July 30. Please let me know as soon as possible if you can do it.

After reading the request, Bryn had eased back in her chair, feeling a sense of challenge. Sometimes the very specific and detailed desires of her clients limited her, but in this case, it seemed that the whole of the Atlantic Ocean was laid out before her. Were the Shetland Islands even in the Atlantic Ocean? And she wasn’t sure how many islands there were, or how she would choose the best one.

Now, standing in the ruins facing the gale buffeting off the sea, Bryn felt her confidence flag. She took a deep breath and shook off her despondency. She took enormous pride in her company’s ability to live up to its name. Bryn believed in Anything Goes Wedding Planners and was not going to let Mr. Farrell taint her reputation. Bracing herself against the unrelenting wind, she was more resolved than ever to succeed. Although confident in her ability to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles, she had to admit that this job would require more smoke and mirrors than usual.

Stepping back from the cliff’s edge, she turned to reexamine the remains of the castle. A lone raven, perched on the opposite wall, looked down and saw a youthful forty-eight-year-old woman with long silvery hair, bright blue eyes, and boundless creativity. Imitating the crow, Bryn cocked her head and stared back at the inquisitive bird. The cry of the crow seemed to mock her and she shooed it away.

Bryn and her business partner, Jamie, had started the wedding company two years earlier. Jamie was twenty years younger than Bryn, with thick auburn hair and a twinkle of mischief in her hazel eyes. The two began it as a lark, yet soon found they had plenty of clients interested in their made-to-order weddings. Jamie and Bryn dared go where no wedding planners had gone before. Their clients wanted unique experiences, and many had quirky requests that would stump the less courageous, or the more prudent, wedding planner.

Thinking of Jamie made Bryn smile and she comforted herself with the knowledge that Jamie was flying in later that evening with the lighting and décor. She was counting on her partner to add a hint of hope and more than a dash of inspiration to the ruins.

With that reassuring thought, she decided to head back to the inn, anticipating the pleasure of a warm bath and a bowl of hot soup. But before she could take a step, an unknown force stopped her cold. Knowing better than to ignore the sign, Bryn resigned herself to staying a little longer.

As she climbed a set of stone steps to the remaining tower, she kicked a small pile of rocks out of her way in frustration. Unrattled by the flying debris, the raven flew close behind as if to accompany her. As soon as she stepped onto the uppermost ledge, a sudden chill seized her and held her in an icy grip.

Suddenly, the dust swirled around her in mini-tornadoes as two massive Vikings battling on the rampart materialized before her, each thrusting an iron scabbard and wielding a shield. The castle had been miraculously restored, and the walls, thick and imposing, loomed over her as the heavy swords collided, metal meeting metal, or struck stone sending sparks flying. Grunts of effort and rage flew between the warriors as the tension mounted. Nearby, a waif of a young maiden crouched in a corner. Her green eyes, wide in terror, shone from an oval face framed by bright, red curls tumbling in the wind.

Sigdan! the girl cried. Lochlan! Stop! The fierce gale caught her voice and flung it out to sea before the men could hear her plea. The combat raged on, her words drowning in the waves below.

The vision was over as quickly as it had arrived. Bryn shook her head, and the castle ruins came back into view. She’d been having these visions since starting her business—unforeseen and uncontrollable forays into the past that appeared to come out of the blue. Even though she was only an observer of the ensuing drama, the visions always left her shaken and disoriented.

Bryn knew from experience that the visions had everything to do with her clients and their upcoming nuptials, and that they presaged events that were driven by the unstoppable sway of karma and were beyond her control. It was as if she were drawn into the intimate theater of each couple and given a private showing of their long history together and the unpredictable forces still lurking in their psyches.

Before Bryn studied yoga or the ancient Hindu language of Sanskrit, she thought that karma was punishment for past bad behavior. However, she soon learned that the word literally means action, and that according to the principles of karma, each soul reaps the consequences of every act carried out during a lifetime. This universal law gives everyone an opportunity to correct a past action and, in the process, grow in awareness and compassion.

It was a concept that Bryn knew well. She felt a sense of instant karma when she was annoyed with a slow driver who pulled out in front of her only to find herself, later that day, moving into traffic and slowing down another car. She clearly saw her former annoyance reflected in the driver’s face. In that moment, she got what it was all about.

It was not unlike the golden rule of her childhood Do unto others as you would have them do unto you or the old adage of Try walking in another’s shoes. Since her awareness of the law of karma, Bryn had more patience for daily hassles and was more willing to extend to others the kindness she would like to receive. Knowing the consequences of her behavior made right action easier to embrace and wrong actions easier to reject.

As Bryn delved deeper, she learned that karma and reincarnation are wedded to each other. She also learned that only a third of Americans believed in transmigration. The rest considered their former life to be an earlier chapter of their current one, rather than their soul’s previous life in a different body. It made sense to her that each soul traveled through many lifetimes to gain knowledge. She liked what the French writer Voltaire said on the matter. It is not more surprising to be born twice than once; everything in nature is resurrection.

Coming back to her surroundings, Bryn hurried off the parapet and peered over the crumbled wall to the precipitous drop below. The raven, startled by her rapid descent, flew off in a flurry of black feathers and disgruntled caws. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the fresh scent of heather and felt her shoulders relax. Ironically, witnessing the Viking battle had calmed her, reminding her that the troubling details of wedding arrangements were but a small dilemma in the grand scheme of things. Bryn resolved to focus on the challenge before her. She didn’t have time to puzzle over her vision and indulge in karmic musings. That would come soon enough.

Resting on the stone sill, Bryn narrowed her eyes, as if squinting would help her achieve her goal of turning the castle ruins into the site of a storybook wedding. Her mind began to buzz with creative solutions.

The Pictish Pub in town can provide the food, but where will I put the tables? she wondered. And can I trust the Scottish weather to cooperate for an outdoor event? She looked skeptically at the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. She knew from her research that rain fell on Unst 270 days a year.

Heaven only knows where I’ll put the altar and the wedding couple, Bryn grumbled, knowing to avoid the east side with its hot-wired past-life parapet. With this thought, a remnant of the vision arose in her mind and she heard the faint echo of the young woman’s haunting cry. The battle scene was the first intimation of the couple’s past life, and she was certain that more vignettes would follow.

In her role as an unorthodox wedding planner, Bryn followed clues like bread crumbs to unveil forgotten events that each couple needed to come to terms with in order to thrive in their current relationship. Mysterious forces compelled them to return to the exact geographical location where they had shared a past life together.

At times, the whole wedding party played a part in the drama. She had witnessed long-lost acquaintances who, after centuries, still harbored grudges or nursed old obsessions. Sometimes they met peacefully, though more often they collided in conflict when their ongoing battles resumed where they had left off. Bryn’s job was to interrupt the reenactment and help the couple move forward into their new life together. So now the setting was Drochil Castle. This thought retriggered her disappointment as she felt again the sting of Cormac Farrell’s betrayal.

And I thought hiring the magician would be a big mistake, Bryn lamented with more than a hint of self-reproach. She smiled despite her frustration, recalling the bold and blatant confidence of one internet ad. When she had begun her search for the best Shetland Island for the wedding, she found that only fifteen of the one hundred islands were inhabited.

Not knowing where to begin, she had typed wedding Shetland Islands in the Google search box and hit return. One headline caught her eye: Wedding Magician available in Unst. Upon further investigation, Bryn saw that the female magician was dressed in a scanty pink tuxedo and promised astonishing feats of telepathy, telekinesis and pole dancing. She had decided that she didn’t require a female magician, but she was captivated by the description of the island, and her interest led her to Farrell’s fantasy castle.

Sitting at her computer that day earnestly imagining the wedding on Unst, a familiar shiver of affirmation had traveled up her arms and along her scalp. The goosebumps were always a sure sign that Bryn had serendipitously stumbled across the site of the couple’s past together.

That saucy magician had led her directly to the castle ruins before her. The jagged edges of the crumbling wall sharpened beneath her, and she stood up to relieve her sore rump before settling back down on her uninviting roost. I need some serious magic to get out of this mess, she admitted, picturing the unavoidable dismay on her clients’ faces.

But for now, her only witness was the raven, who had returned to her side, shifting its head left and right as if to survey the ruins. How romantic is this? she asked the raven. With her own sarcastic comment still ringing in her ears, the proverbial light bulb sparked and Bryn saw the castle in a new light. Turning on a dime, she began to scheme in earnest. In her mind, she cleared the rubble, set the starry sky as nature’s chandelier, and sent impassioned prayers heavenward that the erratic Scottish weather would cooperate. All of a sudden, she was certain that the ramshackle castle was the perfect venue for the wedding. Her imagination ignited, Bryn stood up and began to pace with animated confidence.

The wedding party will wear long cloaks to chase off the evening chill and add to the charm, she said, as if reciting from an article in a bridal magazine. Harnessing the emboldened courage of the creative, she envisioned velvet double-hooded cloaks in various rich colors and recalled the name of a clever Renaissance tailor known for his timely deliveries.

Lost in her imaginings, Bryn was startled by footsteps mounting the rocky cliffs. Turning her head cautiously, she saw a looming figure rising out of the late evening mist. Uncertain whether the vision was real or part of a past-life scenario, she stood as still as a deer watching a hunter approach. Her nose quivering and goosebumps popping up on her arms, she wondered if she were about to witness, or worse participate in, a second otherworldly battle, when the figure spoke.

Bryn? A man’s voice, deep and resonant, boomed through the damp fog. It was MacAllister, the manager of the Pictish Inn. Mac was well over six feet tall and solidly built, and he was rarely without a smile. Mac’s Uncle Cormac, the owner of the Pictish Inn, was the one who had posted the ad of the castle in good repair. Upon her arrival, Mac had offered to show her around the village and introduce her to helpful townsfolk.

Bryn was torn between her relief at discovering that the apparition was flesh and blood and her anger at her own gullibility in trusting so-called Uncle Cormac. Reminding herself that it wasn’t Mac’s fault, she pushed down the caustic remarks gathering on her tongue and greeted him civilly.

Yeah… yes, it’s me, she stuttered, feeling shy and awkward. He stood before her, his broad hand lifted in greeting—a hand that could easily cup Bryn’s entire skull in its palm.

Is the castle to yer liking then? Mac asked. Did my uncle Cormac do it justice in his ad?

Well, Bryn began, searching for a diplomatic way to answer his questions. The view is even more… panoramic than I imagined.

Aye, that it is, Mac said.

Bryn was painfully aware of Mac’s masculine charisma as he looked over her head and out to sea. As she followed his gaze, she spied several puffins landing on the rocks below and a flock of lapwings soaring by. She shivered, not certain if she was experiencing a chill from the wind or a frisson of sexual tension.

It’s time for some supper and then off to bed with ye, Mac said, turning toward her. Bryn blushed to the roots of her snow-white hair and hastily stifled a girlish giggle at his choice of words. Looking down to avoid his gaze, she took his proffered arm and clambered over the rubble to his side.

44831.png

The next morning a ray of sunlight nudged Bryn awake. Opening first one eye and then the other, she groped around for her phone. Jet lag and anxiety over the castle’s disrepair had distracted her, and she had forgotten to set the alarm. Still groggy, she hurried to wash and dress, grabbed an apple and some nuts from her carry-on bag and started out toward the castle. She was late for her meeting with Jamie and the electrician, Thorfinn Farrell, another one of Mac’s uncles, who had promised to set up the lighting and sound system for the festivities.

The morning air was crisp, freshened by sea breezes. The weather was cooperating, and she was grateful for one less stress. Through the low scrub of trees, she heard Jamie giving the electrician directions on the placement of the lighting. Bryn smiled at the perfect blend of politeness and bossiness that was quintessential Jamie. The woman had a knack for getting the best out of hired professionals.

She had met her business partner when she’d attended one of Jamie’s yoga classes. She remembered with fondness her first sight of the dimple in Jamie’s right cheek. Her deep reservoir of energy, mixed with the persistent nature of a badger, made Jamie the perfect partner for the cautious and conscientious Bryn. Only occasionally Jamie’s wild side took charge, and Bryn would be saddled with a few extra errands or last-minute odds and ends. Most of the time, though, Jamie was reliable and hardworking. With her expansive view of the world, nothing was too bizarre for her. Her occasional lapses were a small price to pay for such a willing partner, especially when Bryn’s past-life explorations took them beyond the realm of everyday reality.

Thoughts of Jamie brought Bryn back to her Viking vision. She had not seen Jamie since her arrival late the night before and she had neglected to email to tell her to avoid the troublesome turret. Quickening her pace to a run, she rounded the bend in the road and stopped in her tracks. The east tower was filled with lights, a PA system, and the electrical crew. Before she could catch Jamie’s eye, or give a warning cry, one of the men switched on the power.

For several seconds light flooded the scene as all four spotlights came together on the rustic altar that Jamie had devised. Then a loud pop erupted as one of the lights caught fire, emitting a steady stream of dark smoke. The men began to scatter, one rushing to turn off the generator while the others scooped up dirt to put out the flames.

In the confusion, Bryn had difficulty finding her way to Jamie’s side. Finally, she caught Jamie’s arm and hissed in her ear, We’ve got to talk!

Jamie raised an arched eyebrow. She knew Bryn’s tone well. The past-life drama had begun.

What happened? Bryn asked, pulling her out of the way of the men rushing past.

I was talking to Mac when the lights just exploded! Jamie exclaimed. I don’t know what it is about him, but that man makes me nervous. She shivered as she glanced in his direction.

He’s a sweetheart, Bryn reassured her, surprised at Jamie’s reaction to the friendly Shetlander.

So, what’s going on? Jamie asked, quickly changing the subject and clutching at Bryn’s arm. Have you already traveled?

Yeah, Bryn told her. This one’s a doozy. We have two Viking warriors and a battle on our hands. And I saw them on that very tower, she added, pointing to the east parapet still bustling with activity. I don’t know who is who yet, but get ready for a wild ride.

I’m ready, Jamie told her. So, what’s next?

We need to get together with Mac to let him know our plans, Bryn replied. He knows everyone on the island, and he has some good ideas for us.

"I’m going to let you deal with Mac, Jamie said. When Jim and Laura arrive, I’ll get Laura situated and see what she needs me to do."

Puzzled, Bryn nodded. Jamie liked everyone and was naturally the more gregarious one. But she was secretly pleased with Jamie’s request. More time with Mac was not going to be a hardship for her at all.

CHAPTER 2

Laura and Jim

44248.png

The sun was rising over the castle ruins as the early ferry from the mainland arrived in Unst. The constant cry of the seabirds accompanied Laura and Jim off the ferry onto the wooden dock. The wide blue sky spread over them, interrupted occasionally by pillows of clouds plumped up by the moist sea air. Sheep dotted the fields like small errant clouds resting on the hillocks of horsetail grass and heather.

After unloading the passengers and their bags, the bright blue ferry chugged away from the dock, accompanied by a seal, who poked an inquisitive nose out of the water and quickly disappeared beneath the surface. The good-natured ferry workers were decked out in their orange slickers, going about their business with automatic movements oiled with the ease of familiarity. Laura suppressed a childlike impulse to wave to the captain as the ferry headed back toward the mainland.

The interminable trip from Philadelphia had included every mode of transportation imaginable: two cabs, four buses, three planes, and a ferry. None had provided adequate legroom for Jim’s lanky frame and restless spirit, and as he stepped onto the dock, he stretched his arms and legs with relief. Yawning widely, he took advantage of the few