Always on My Mind (Stanmore FC Soulmates #2)

20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Tessa stuffed her Christmas jumper into her suitcase. It was already overflowing with clothes and presents for her family, but the jumper was a gift from her father, and she wore it every year for their Christmas dinner. Jamie reclined on the bed beside the suitcase. It should have been impossible for someone to be that hot in joggers and a t-shirt, but Jamie pulled it off. Tessa swallowed as she looked at her girlfriend.

“Are you sure you can’t come to Derry?” she asked. “Even for a few days?”

“I’m sorry, Tessa, but I’ve got a match on Boxing Day,” Jamie replied with a sigh. “I can’t miss anything more now that I’m back.”

“They’re hardly giving you any minutes,” Tessa argued.

“Because they want me to take it easy. I need to make use of those fewer minutes so I don’t lose my place as a starter. God, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Tessa inwardly cursed Dexter Hupp, but that wasn’t unusual. For a moment, she wished she wasn’t going home. Nelle had offered Tessa time and a half pay to work the holiday. But her family had made the effort to come to London, and she wanted to return the favor. She hadn’t been back to Derry in a couple years. Besides, she didn’t need the money now. Her cabinets were properly stocked, and she’d already paid rent.

“I understand,” she said. She flopped down on the bed next to Jamie and pouted. “I’ll miss you though.”

“I’ll miss you more.” Jamie pecked her protruding lip.

Tessa giggled in surprise. “Do you want to bet on that? There’s not much to do in Derry.”

“I promise you, you’ll have more fun without me,” Jamie said. “I’m not sure your mum really liked me. Or us together.”

“Come off it,” Tessa scoffed.

“I’m serious! Last time I was there, I got the distinct impression she didn’t approve.” Jamie rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling. “Are you sure she isn’t a little homophobic? Because Eliana’s parents are also Catholics, and apparently, they—”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there, that’s not it,” Tessa said. “My ma is not homophobic. She didn’t dislike you because you’re a wee lesbian, Jamie. She dislikes you because you’re English.”

Jamie sat up, eyes narrowed. “What?”

“It’s the English thing. And you being gay isn’t enough to cancel that out, you know.”

“I can’t help that I’m English! I was born this way!”

Tessa pushed herself to her knees and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, and I suppose you were just born Protestant too?”

Jamie blinked, bewildered. “Yes! I was!”

“That’s what they all say,” Tessa said, rolling her eyes. “Even so, my ma isn’t really prejudiced. She simply doesn’t approve of the lifestyle.”

“The lifestyle of. . . being English? Or Protestant?”

“English, mostly. The Protestant thing, she might have been able to see past had you been Irish.”

“But. . . I can’t help either of those things.”

“Aye, so you say.”

It was Jamie’s turn to roll her eyes. “I mean, I’m not exactly a practicing Protestant. I don’t consider myself religious at all. We didn’t go to church growing up, except for Easter and Christmas.”

“Sweet suffering Jesus, you’re one of those ?”

“Oh, are you attending mass every Sunday?”

“Fuck, no. But don’t you dare tell my ma or she’ll lay me out.”

“Your secret is safe.” Jamie smiled. “Should I convert to Catholicism? Would that help my case?”

“Absolutely not. You’ve spared yourself religious trauma so far, no use picking it up now.”

A chuckle escaped Jamie’s throat. “I suppose there’s no winning her over then.”

Tessa frowned and tapped her chin. “There’s really nothing to be done about the English thing, is there?”

Jamie reached for a pillow and whacked Tessa’s arm with it. Tessa laughed, swatting it away before swinging one leg over to straddle Jamie’s hips. Jamie’s arms fell into place around Tessa’s waist. They held each other for a long moment until their foreheads came together. Tessa closed her eyes and let herself get lost in Jamie’s embrace.

Visions danced behind Tessa’s eyes of previous embraces in their centuries-long history. No one’s arms had ever felt more right warped around her. No place was safer than with her. She made life worth living. Again and again, apparently. They only needed to make it stick this time.

“I really will miss you,” Jamie whispered. “Our first Christmas back together, and we’ll be apart.”

“I know. But it’ll be alright. We’ll have some time to do that research we keep talking about.”

Ever since discovering their past lives, they had discussed investigating who the women were. They had some basic information, such as first names and general locations, but they both wanted more. Tessa wasn’t sure it would come as easily as it had to Billie and Ethan and Jordan and Laci. They were in direct connection with the places and things in their past lives. Billie and Ethan had Henry and Maggie’s photographs and letters. Laci and Jordan had been at the estate where Caroline and Samuel had lived. Laci’s parents owned the place. The only thing Tessa and Jamie had was the book of Emily Dickinson poems. A first edition, published by the author’s sister. It was incredibly valuable. Tessa knew there was more out there if they only knew where to look.

A side effect of reuniting with your ex, though, was the desire to spend every moment they had wrapped up in each other. Especially with their busy schedules. Jamie was working extra hours at training, and Tessa had articles to catch up on since falling behind with the work for Stanmore. When they had a moment, neither were compelled to take a trip to the library or spend hours on the computer doing research.

Mostly, they made love and talked. It was bliss.

“Do you think we’ll find anything interesting?” Jamie asked. “Maybe something that triggers more memories?”

“I hope so,” Tessa said. “I don’t want to stop looking into it just because we’ve found each other again.”

“Me neither. I think the more we understand our past, the better we’ll be able to navigate the future.” Jamie reached out and toyed with the sleeve of Tessa’s jumper. “Is it like that for the others?”

“Billie and Ethan have their things framed from their past life,” Tessa said, enjoying the tingles Jamie’s touch sent up her arm. “Jordan and Laci have some artwork I think. They were all able to find out how their people lived and died. But neither of their pasts were as far back as ours.”

“True.”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned in the vintage community, it’s that the older the thing or the information, the harder it is to track it down.”

Jamie heaved a sigh. “That’s not exactly encouraging.”

“Let’s not think about it for now,” Tessa suggested and lowered her lips to Jamie’s. “Why don’t you show me how much you’ll miss me before I go?”

Jamie smirked. With one hand, she shoved Tessa’s suitcase off the bed. With the other, she flipped them to put Tessa on her back. Tessa yelped with surprise, but was quickly silenced by Jamie’s insistent kiss.

Tessa often didn’t realize how much she missed home until she was back in Derry. Especially at Christmas. Wreaths and trees in every window, mistletoe and holly hanging in doorways, the streets lit up with fairy lights. The best part was the massive tree in the town center. With a dusting of snowfall, it could have been a picture in a magazine.

She stopped to admire it for a long moment on her way to the library. Cold air filled her lungs on a deep inhale, and vapor appeared from her mouth on the exhale. She pushed her glasses up on her face before she continued walking.

The library was of course quiet when she arrived. The heat brought some feeling back to her numb fingers, which she rubbed together to speed up the process. A lone librarian sat behind the desk. She was a middle-aged woman, about in her forties if Tessa could venture a guess, with coppery red hair rolled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her thick glasses sat low over her nose as she read the book lying flat in front of her. They were attached to a beaded chain around her neck. She pulled her red cardigan—adorned with a wreath brooch—tighter around her when the cold air from the doorway reached her. She looked up with round, hazel eyes.

“What about you, love?” she asked politely. She stuck a pencil between the pages to mark her place. “Looking for anything in particular?”

“Aye, I’m looking for some records that might be in the archives,” Tessa said.

“What sort of records?”

Tessa shifted on her feet. She wasn’t sure where to begin. She knew she wanted to start with Rosie, the most recent of the past lives, because it would be easiest to find something on her. However, she only knew that Rosie was Irish. Likely Northern Irish from her accent, but was it a leap to assume she was also from Derry?

She cleared her throat. She had to try if she wanted to know.

“About nurses from the First World War,” she said. “I’m looking for a record of someone who served.”

“A relative, perhaps?”

Tessa paused for a beat. “Aye, something like that.”

“Let’s see what we have in the wee system here.”

The librarian typed away on the computer, and Tessa got closer to the desk. Beneath the wreath brooch was a name tag which told her the librarian’s name was Caoimhe. Caoimhe’s eyes scanned over the screen. Tessa toyed with her scarf.

“There were many Irish nurses serving at the time,” Caoimhe said. “Have you got a name, perhaps?”

“Only a first name. Rosie, so it is.”

“Rosie was her given name or a nickname for Rose?”

Tessa blinked. She hadn’t thought of that. “Could we try both?”

“Oh, aye. One moment.”

Caoimhe typed some more. In the reflection from her glasses, Tessa saw the screen populating with dark lines she assumed was text.

“I’ve given Rose a go, and there are a few records,” Caoimhe said. “Do you know where she served by chance?”

“A hospital in France, I think,” Tessa told her.

Caoimhe clicked something, but the screen didn’t appear to change. “That doesn’t quite narrow it down. Let’s try Rosie.”

She typed again. Tessa turned her face toward the ceiling and prayed. Was there a saint for past lives? Whoever they were, she needed their help now.

“Oh, only one result,” Caoimhe said. “Rosie Horan, born here in Derry in 1894. She passed away in 1975, and her family left her things from the Great War here for preservation since she had no descendants. Would you like to take a look?”

Tessa’s heart leaped. “Very much.”

“Right this way, then.”

Caoimhe rose from her seat and beckoned Tessa to follow her. Tessa didn’t hesitate. She followed Caoimhe into a room behind the desk. She glanced around to see a small storeroom of boxes on shelves lining the walls. They were organized by date. Tessa’s eyes landed on the World War I box before Caoimhe reached it. A desk stood in the center of the room, where Caoimhe put the box down and opened it up. Some dust plumed up from the disturbance. Tessa watched Caoimhe finger through file after file until she reached one.

“Ah, here it is,” she said, pulling it free and placing it on the desk. “Rosie Horan’s file.”

“May I?” Tessa asked as she approached.

“Certainly,” Caoimhe said. “I’m afraid I can’t let you check it out, but you can look through it.”

Tessa nodded, stepping up to stand beside the desk. With a trembling hand, she flipped open the manila file folder, browned with age, to reveal several documents, also dried and tinted from the years. First, she saw Rosie’s birth certificate. Then her records from the war where she signed up to serve. To know for sure if this was the Rosie, Tessa needed—

There it was. A photograph. Through the age, grain, and sepia tones, she recognized her own face. She looked rather grimly at the camera, her expression stern beneath the nurse’s cap. The photo wasn’t in color, but Tessa remembered the colors of the uniform—gray, white, and red crosses. She also remembered ending up with more red splattered across the apron before the day was done.

“Oh my, you’re certainly a relative,” Caoimhe said, peering over Tessa’s shoulder. “That’s quite the resemblance.”

“Aye, so it is,” Tessa said, her voice hoarse with emotion.

Her eyes welled up when she saw the nurse beside Rosie and found Jamie. Or Dinah, as she was called then. There it was, in black and white. Them together over a century ago. The things they remembered were not imagined. It was real. It was all real.

“Could I take a picture?” Tessa asked. “To send to my ma?”

“Of course, love,” Caoimhe said, patting her shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

Tessa plucked her phone from her pocket and snapped a photo of the old picture. She texted Jamie.

Look at us!

Jamie first sent several mind-blown emoji.

Jamie

Holy shit! Where did you find that?

This magical place called the public library.

Incredible. D’you think we have one in London? lol

Can’t hurt to look

Seriously, Tess. What an amazing find. Thank you for sending it to me.

I wish I could bring it home, but alas, it’s library property now.

You mean they wouldn’t believe you if you said you’re the woman in the picture reincarnated? Bastards!

That’s the government for you.

I’m going to stare at this all night.

Me too.

She locked her phone and slipped it back into her coat pocket.

“Thank you for showing me this,” she said, facing Caoimhe again. “D’you think you could point me in the direction of a couple books for some other research?”

“That’s what I’m here for. Which subjects?”

“The tobacco wives for the colony of Jamestown and English aristocrats in the American South during the Revolution.”

Niche as the subjects were, Caoimhe found a couple books on each and helped Tessa find them and got her checked out. Tessa couldn’t wait to start reading. If she could find any references to herself and Jamie in those volumes, she could use their cited sources for further research. It would be a lot to wade through, but she was up to the task.

“Thanks again, Caoimhe,” Tessa said on her way to the door, sticking the books in her tote bag.

“Slán,” Caoimhe replied with a wave.

“Slán.”

Tessa braced herself against the cold when she stepped outside, but nothing to dampen her spirits. She had confirmation now, concrete evidence that she and Jamie were soulmates. She hoped it would strengthen Jamie’s resolve in her next confrontation with her father. For now, Tessa had to get started on the next part of her research.

“Tessa Gallagher, is that you?”

She whipped around at the sound of a somewhat familiar voice, though the face was unmistakable. Jet black hair, gray eyes, and strong jaw, the same as he had back when they were teenagers. Her first boyfriend, Dominic Keegan. She beamed at the sight of him.

“What about you, Dom?” she cried, laughing as she strode to embrace him.

“Grand,” he told her, hugging her in return. “And you?”

“Grand, so,” she replied.

“London life suits you, then?”

“Oh, aye. I love the rush and all the excitement. You’re still here with your ma and da?”

“I’ve got my own place now, but I’m only down the road from them.”

“I’m sure they love that.”

“Oh, aye. They can still be up my hole about getting married and giving them grandchildren.”

Tessa chuckled, but inwardly thanked the heavens her parents were not the least bit concerned with any of that.

“Is that why you moved so far away?” he joked.

“Ach, no, but I can see why that might be a draw.”

He smiled softly at her. “Say, Tessa, would you join me at the pub for a pint later? I’d love to catch up some more. Perhaps get reacquainted. You, er, look good.”

“Oh.” Tessa let her gaze drop to the sidewalk. “Sorry, Dom, I’m away to the chippie to get dinner for my family, and then I’ve got to read these,” she paused to hold up the bag. “Before I fly back to London.”

He stepped back. “I see. Sorry I asked.”

“No, it’s fine, but I. . . I can’t.”

“Is there someone else? A boyfriend or girlfriend?”

Tessa repressed a smile. Dom was one of the first people she told that she was bisexual. She thought he ought to know, being her boyfriend and all, and he’d taken it remarkably well. When she came out to everyone, he was hugely supportive. A notable feat considering they were seventeen years old. Oddly enough at thirty, she wasn’t sure what to tell him. She and Jamie had not discussed what the story would be to others. Her mouth turned down. Would it be a betrayal to tell him she was involved? He might have follow-up questions. Would it be a worse betrayal to deny Jamie’s role in her life altogether? What were the parameters?

“I. . . it’s complicated,” she told him. “That’s all I can say.”

“Well, if you ever need a break from your holiday homework, let me know,” he said kindly. “A pint can just be a pint, if that’s what you want.”

“Aye, well, I might be able to do that.”

He smiled. “Merry Christmas, Tessa.”

“Merry Christmas.”

She walked toward the chip shop again, her chest heavy. When she thought she had all the answers, she ended up with more questions. Her situation with Jamie wasn’t nearly as clear-cut as she had hoped.