Across the Chasm

By Richard H. Grabmeier

Christopher Redding, a middle-aged businessman, experiences a psychic phenomenon that changes his life. He meets a young woman who triggers the event. In the course of events, he finds himself in the body of another man in Mexico during the Mexican War. He meets a woman he feels he's always known.

On his return to the present, he finds that

• Language: English
• Publisher: Authors Press
• Release date: Sep 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781643147604

Richard H. Grabmeier

Richard H. Grabmeier started writing as a Heavy Equipment instructor and technical writer with the rank of Staff Sergeant at the Army Engineer School in Fort Belvoir, Virginia. In 1957 he served with a Military Assistance Advisory Group, training Vietnamese soldiers in Saigon, Vietnam. His civilian career included training workers in the construction of early computer memory systems and the supervision of heavy construction and transportation equipment maintenance. Later, he served as a school board chairman and an insurance company president. He is now retired and writes novels because he enjoys mental stimulation. Across the Chasm is his fourth published novel.

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Copyright © 2022 by Richard H. Grabmeier

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 978-1-64314-758-1 (Paperback)

978-1-64314-759-8 (Hardback)

978-1-64314-760-4 (E-book)

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California, USA

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Contents

Chapter 1 The Arousal

Chapter 2 Into the Past

Chapter 3 New Friends

Chapter 4 Banished

Chapter 5 The Return Home

Chapter 6 In Search of Answers

Chapter 7 The Space Age Bar

Chapter 8 Attempt at Normalcy

Chapter 9 Return to Mexico

Chapter 10 Laredo

Chapter 11 The Search for Cristiana

Chapter 12 Destruction

Chapter 13 Home Forever

Chapter 14 The Aftermath

INTRODUCTION

This is the story

of a few weeks in the life of Christopher Redding. Some portions of his story are taken as he wrote them. More often Christopher’s journal consisted of bare bones and I was required to make numerous inquiries to gather enough information to be able to flesh out the skeleton.

Despite the artistic license which is used throughout the book, care was taken to remain accurate to the meaning and spirit of Christopher’s account. And while he meandered occasionally I believe that his story is quite fascinating, if not totally believable. While there is no question in my mind that Christopher was in earnest about everything he wrote in his journal the reader is advised that he was very much interested in mystic, psychic and spiritual phenomena and that he was a student of reincarnation and transmigration of the human spirit.

He also was subject to manic depression and suffered the extreme mood swings of that disease. This does not in any way imply insanity because he was not insane. He had quite a normal life, doing normal family things and conducting a successful business. But one must consider that perhaps his increased emotional sensitivity might indeed have been the trigger to the experiences he claimed to have encountered in another era of time.

Chapter 1

The Arousal

On a sunny Saturday

morning last June, I met a young woman who would cause extraordinary changes in my life. It was a warm day with a gentle breeze blowing from the south, which would later turn into a searing wind that was already plaguing the nearby countryside, turning the lush green landscape to one of shriveled browning grass and dust-blown fields.

I was working in my shop, building cages for Maureen’s Miniature Schnauzers. Maureen, my pretty, blonde stepdaughter, raised the Schnauzers as a source of income for her college fund. The project had soon become a family activity. It was a pleasant activity for me, releasing the stress that built up through the week of designing and building construction machinery.

I did well through the years, and now on the brink of my forty-fifth birthday. I was modestly successful. I told myself I could back off a little to savor the good things in life. This brought satisfaction to me, particularly because I had been on the outer fringes of popularity as a youth. I had not been good in athletics and I was not tall and muscular. These factors seemed to be the prerequisites for popularity in high school, so I dropped out, vowing I would achieve recognition without them. I had, I was well liked and respected in my community and I had money.

Still, I sometimes felt a restlessness deep inside that I could not define. I shrugged it off as a midlife problem that most men face at some time. Thinking back later I wondered if it was this feeling that made me susceptible to the peculiar happenings that occurred. Now I had no such feelings as I stopped to light a cigarette. As I stood there enjoying the morning sunshine pouring through the big sliding door of the shop a beat up Chevy Nova roared into the yard. I watched Maureen walk out to the car to greet the occupant, a girl I surmised, from the giggling voices that floated down the breeze to me. The girl got out of the car and stated walking toward me with Maureen. The two of them were pleasant to watch, they both had the easy, slightly undulating gait I enjoy in young women, unlike some of the jock type he girls one saw so often now.

As they approached, I was instantly aware of a difference in the girl with Maureen, and as Maureen introduced her, Dad, I want you to meet Lisa. We are going shopping together. I was struck by a feeling unlike any I’d ever experienced. It could have been her black-brown eyes that awakened a strange restlessness, an eerie uneasiness in me such as animals might display before a storm, a feeling somewhere in the recesses of my mind that this was not the first time our spirits had touched.

Hello, Chris, she skipped the formality of surnames naturally, I’ve wanted to meet you, Maureen talks about you all the time. Then with a barely perceptible wrinkle in her brow, Haven’t we already met, maybe at a school activity? I assured her that I hadn’t had that pleasure, but it didn’t deter an instantaneous rapport between us. It was as though we were picking up an old relationship rather than beginning a new one.

Oh, you’re building cages for Maureen’s dogs, I love dogs. She reached to stroke the head of Monty, my Collie, who had come up to press his head against her thigh.

Yes. I’m the handyman here, she’s the boss. We laughed as I nodded my head to indicate Maureen.

You must care a lot about her to do all this for her, Lisa said with a trace of pout around her full lips, My dad wouldn’t, all he does is go fishing or dinking.

Punkin does anything I want, Maureen disclosed this fact and her private name for me with a smile, I don’t know what I’d have done if he hadn’t come along after my father left us. Maureen had a talent for getting all the facts into the open in the shortest time possible.

I wasn’t so lucky, Dan doesn’t give a damn about me, Lisa almost whispered this, with a glint of pain crossing her eyes. Then added brightly with a wide smile, I guess I’ll have to adopt you, Chris.

You can borrow Punkin, but you can’t adopt him, Maureen said petulantly. He’s mine. Always.

Don’t worry, Baby, I grinned at Maureen, you and your mom are all I can handle. Besides, Lisa wouldn’t be interested in an old man like me.

Lisa looked at me, You aren’t old, Chris. And besides, I like men, the guys my age are such,—boys! You know, they act so childish.

Feeling a little embarrassed, I changed the subject. "Do you like horses, Lisa?

We’ve got two Arabians."

Do you? I love them, but I don’t get to ride very often, I’m not very good at it.

Lisa said with obvious interest, I don’t have any place to go riding since we moved into town.

Then, maybe I’ll have to give you some advanced lessons. Free, of course, I said jokingly.

"Could you? I mean, you really? Lisa clasped her hands and hopped up and down with excitement.

Sure, anytime. Would you like to see the horses? They are in the pasture. I said, indicating a pair of gates to the west of the shop.

Oh, yes! said Lisa, placing her hand on my arm as we turned toward the pasture, Are they nice horses?

Gentle as lambs, I said, acutely aware of the delicate arm slipped casually through mine, but spirited and fast.

Maureen, her face mirroring surprise at the rapport between middle aged dad and her eighteen year old friend, took my other arm, Hey, you guys, I’m here too, remember?

I turned toward her and kissed her cheek, I never forget you, Baby, you’re my number one girl.

Maureen was placated, just don’t forget, okay?

The horses were grazing quietly near a grove of white oak trees down a little knoll about a hundred yards away. Can you whistle them up? I asked Lisa. Maureen, would you get the oats?

In a minute, I want to watch. I don’t think they’ll come for her, Maureen said.

Lisa looked unsure. I used to whistle for Pete out at my Uncle’s farm. She put two fingers to her mouth and emitted a loud, piercing whistle.

The bay gelding, Mirage, lifted his head and cocked his ears forward. Then the sorrel, Lady, lifted hers and started walking toward the gate. Mirage, not to be outdone, broke into a canter, nipping at Lady’s flank as he passed.

Maureen ducked into the tack room and returned with a pail of oats, We’ve got to give them a treat, that’s how we get them to come, she smiled at Lisa, you feed them since you’re such a pro.

Oh golly, they’re pretty! Lisa exclaimed. Can we go in with them? The question was hardly moot, since she was already swinging her shapely, jeans clad bottom over the gate, with Maureen right behind her. Lady thrust her muzzle into the oats, while Mirage watched from two feet back.

He wants the oats, but is afraid we’ll catch him, Maureen laughed.

Lisa spoke in low tones to Mirage in a language I didn’t understand. He whickered softly and stepped up to the oat’s pail.

What was that? I asked as I placed a hand on his halter.

Dakota Sioux, Lisa laughed, I told him I’d let the dogs eat him if he wasn’t good.

We all laughed at that and Monty gave a loud Woof, which sent all of us into spasms of laughter.

How would you girls like to take them for a ride?

I’d love to! Lisa was on the verge of exploding.

I can’t, my back is still sore from that spill I took yesterday. moaned Maureen.

She had dumped over Lady’s left shoulder, landing on her neck and shoulder.

Okay, then I’ll ride with her; but she doesn’t have any boots, her ankles will get chafed. Are you about the same size?

A size larger, I think, but mine’ll do with heavy socks, and I’ll bring the fringed leather jacket and hat. There is some brush on the trail.

Okay. I’ll saddle up. I placed western saddles on both horses, a bridle on Mirage and a hackamore on Lady. By then Lisa was dressed in the leather fringed jacket with her black hair flowing from under the matching leather hat with little tassels around the brim. She was smiling a broad smile, her eyes flashing with excitement, her even teeth gleaming white in the sunshine. I felt an inward jolt and the uneasy feeling returned. Lisa was very attractive; but that wasn’t it, I felt I had seen her before, somewhere, sometime. But I hadn’t of course!

I’ll help you up on Lady, she’s not quite as antsy as Mirage, I said holding Mirage by the reins and stepping toward the mare.

Is it done like this? Lisa laughed, putting a foot in the stirrup, swinging lightly into the saddle and shortening the reins at the same time.

Yes, exactly like that. I said as I swung on to Mirage’s back. Would you open the gate, Maureen?"

As the gate swung open, Lisa kicked her heels into the mare’s belly and clucked her tongue. Lady responded by breaking into a fast trot, head up, tail arched.

Mirage, seeing his Lady Love leave him so abruptly, reared slightly, then surged forward to Lady’s side in a series of short leaps.

I laughed, Mirage just can’t bear to be second, he wants to lead, always!

Lisa laughed too, a deep, throaty, melodious sound, Only the fastest can lead. Is he the fastest?

Want to find out?

What are we waiting for? Lisa bent slightly forward, giving the mare a gentle lash across the shoulder with the free end of the reins. Lady responded by shifting from her trot into a smooth, ground-eating canter.

Mirage needed no lash. A soft He-ah! from me and the gelding was digging his feet into the road with a clattering acceleration that still makes my muscles tighten and my adrenalin flow fast. He whipped past Lady as though wolves were snapping at his heels. Leaning low into the turn at the end of the drive we headed north. Mirage’s head was stretched out now, his flying hooves throwing sand as his body stretched in the long leaps of his rhythmic gallop.

I looked back, trying not to disturb my balance on the straining creature under me. Lisa was crouched low over Lady’s shoulders, her hat now gone, long black hair flying in the wind. The mare was stretched full out in her undulating gallop which always seemed smoother and more deliberate then Mirage’s urgent thrusts. The first and second bends of the little gravel road disappeared as the two horses stormed ahead, each intent on the leadership position. Lady was at Mirage’s right flank now and I smiled inwardly as the gelding clenched the bit firmly in his teeth. Normally I would have yanked the reins to free the bit and bring him back under control, but this was a contest. Glancing back, I saw that Lady was no longer gaining on Mirage.

Reaching an abandoned field, I turned the gelding off the road and up a hill into the field amid a storm of dead cornstalks and sow thistle down. Looking back, I noted with satisfaction that the mare was now trailing by two lengths. At the top of the hill I reined in the sweaty and blowing horse. Lady and Lisa pulled up alongside, the mare’s bright sorrel coat now dark with sweat. The fastest always leads. I said, smiling at Lisa. I detected a glint in Lisa’s black eyes that was something other than excitement.

But she caught him! She caught him, but I couldn’t get her past him! Lisa spoke with a frustrated look on her face.

I’m sorry, I said to the unhappy girl. But you see, I knew Lady wouldn’t pass Mirage. He’s her man, and she knows her place, she always follows him.

Lisa snorted, Then she’s a dumb broad! You mean that we weren’t really racing at all, just riding fast?

I laughed, Yep, I guess you could say that!

Chris, you ass! Lisa grinned now, as she turned the mare back down the hill. I brought Mirage up alongside her as we settled the horses into a gentle walk.

Turning to Lisa I noted again her olive skinned beauty, I know she had Indian blood, but her features were finely chiseled with a straight proud nose and full lips. Her hair was raven black but of a fine texture. So, who taught you to speak Dakotah?

Lisa looked at me thoughtfully, as though the question might have some hidden intent. My grandmother on my mother’s side, she married a Swedish lumberjack. Mother married a man in Quebec, he was French. He was my father, but I don’t remember him too well. He died in a truck accident when I was three.

I’m sorry, I felt a twinge of sorrow for her hardship, your mother moved here then?

Not right away, we went to North Dakota first but there wasn’t much work for Mom to do, so we were kind of poor. Then when I was seven, Mom met Dan. He was a truck driver and owned a little farm north of here. Lisa looked troubled.

So your mother married Dan and moved here?

She moved here with Dan, but they’re not married, her words came out almost sharply. Dan and I never got along too good. But there’s Maureen’s hat by the side of the road, let’s get it.

With the house in sight we nudged the horses into a run then make a grand entrance into the yard at a graceful canter.

Maureen had grown impatient, "Where were you guys? Golly, you’ve been gone for hours!

Lisa swung out of the saddle and smiled sweetly at Maureen, We had a good time, I think I’ll adopt Chris.

I thought I better intervene, Honey, it was only thirty minutes and I’m not up for adoption.

Maureen began removing Lady’s saddle, Just the same, at this rate we’ll never get to town.

I pulled Mirage’s saddle off, Why don’t you girls go? I’ll rub down the horses.

Lisa took my arm in hers and reached to kiss my cheek. Thanks for being so nice, can I come again?

I like having pretty girls around, come often, The invitation at that moment seemed like a little more than a casual one and I felt embarrassed.

With a hint of jealousy, Maureen kissed me goodbye and hurried her friend off to do whatever it is that young women do in shopping centers on hot summer days.

After the two girls had gone, I rubbed down the horses and returned them to the pasture. Returning to my shop I distractedly put away the tools and materials I had been using. I had been working with the contentment that Saturday projects always seem to instill in me. But now, tools once again in place and projects forgotten, I stood in the shop doorway staring past the kennels and across the shriveled corn standing half-heartedly in broken, drought stricken rows.

I stood there, eyes unseeing, as I struggled to capture a memory that seemed to be waiting just beyond the reach of my conscious mind. Why did I have this intense feeling toward Lisa? It is true that she is a beautiful young woman who, I am sure, turns heads wherever she goes. With her blood mixture, Lisa has been given the best of everything. She has the black flowing hair, tanned skin and devastating black eyes of a haughty Indian princess, combined with the build and finely chiseled, full-lipped face of a Swedish sex goddess. When she speaks, it is with a low-pitched, throaty sound that stirs thoughts of a bed of lustrous animal skins beside the barely glowing remnants of the night’s cooking fire. She is a primitive young woman who stirs the primal urges of a man. And yet, she like many others, has taken on the silly, superficial ways of the modern world.

It made me want to strip her of her blue jeans and sweatshirt and dress her as one would dress a princess of some regal tribe in days gone by. Yes, Lisa has the power to stir a man. But this was more than sexuality. Why was I so mesmerized by her the moment we met? And why had she so obviously reacted to me in the same way? What was the bond that invoked the sense of familiarity? How could that feeling exist when we had just met? Had we met somewhere in the past, in another time, another life? I am a believer in reincarnation, but I have never applied the concept to my own life. Was the sense of recognition I felt toward Lisa a wisp of knowledge that had somehow slipped out from behind the veil that I placed between us and our former lives? It had happened to others, was it now happening to me?

As is my habit when I’m disturbed, I called for Monty, my big male short-haired collie, and went for a walk. Down in the horse pasture the two Arabians were grazing beneath the big white oak trees. They lifted their heads to watch us approach as their tails