By the Grace of God: Chapter 10

Finding lost loves along the cyber-highway of life

What? How?

The incredulous look on Chappy’s face brought a smile to mine.

I might not find her for you, but I can try.

My two companions looked over my shoulder as I grabbed my keyboard and typed in her name. Loo spoke first, then Chappy voiced his confusion.

What are you doing?

What the hell is that?

I pressed enter and waited while the server churned its way to a list of Debbie Winstons on the Internet.

Did you ever read up on computers, Chappy? This is a personal computer, one I can have here at home. It’s smaller than the computers available back in the day.

Chappy nodded, looking like a fish out of water as his mouth flapped open and shut. I shook my head and laughed.

Technology has come a long way since the seventies, Chappy. I turned to the Lieutenant and his confusion as he looked at the computer. Loo, do you remember when the Internet first entered the tech world back in the late eighties?

Yes, I remember, but the Internet always confused me. I preferred good old-fashioned snail mail and a phone call more. I think I was just too damn old for it.

Chappy still looked confused as I explained my actions to him. There was no way I could explain it all in such a short time, so I kept it as simple as possible.

Chappy, I am looking up the name Debbie Winston on the Internet, a massive computer network that connects people from around the world. When did you last see her?

That was when she walked away from me at the airport to board her plane home to Chicago. I couldn’t bear being alone afterwards, thinking I’d never find someone to love again, and took my life two months later.

I found several profiles on social media for a Debbie Winston, so I asked him to chime in on it. He perused the screen over my shoulder and gasped when he spied the picture on the fourth listing.

Debbie Winston Ackland, is this her?

I opened the profile and took a chance on sending her a message on social media.

A long shot, but we’ve got nothing to lose.

With a sidelong glance at Chappy peering over my shoulder, I composed a simple message. With a silent prayer sent out to the Universe I pressed enter and hoped for the best.

Here goes nothing!

Hi, Debbie.

My name is Sarah, and I am a rescue medium from Toronto, Canada. I communicate with the dead.

This will sound strange, but I was wondering if you knew a Marine, a Vietnam War veteran, back in the early seventies. He might have been someone you dated for two years, in Washington state.

Please let me know if this is you, as I have questions for you.

I need you to give me as little information as possible because I want to tell you what I know and see if you are the correct person.

Thanks. I look forward to speaking with you soon.

Sarah

The message included my phone number and showed as being read right away, but there was no response.

A few minutes passed. The tension settling upon us took on a life of its own.

If it were me, I’d be checking out my profile to see who it was that sent the message.

Five more minutes passed, with Chappy getting more and more antsy with every tick of the clock. I was losing hope, too.

Oh well, must not be her.

I prepared to do another search, not ready to give up yet.

My cell phone rang. A long distance call from Illinois. I swallowed my nervousness and tried to sound as nonchalant as I could.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Sarah? In Toronto?”

The hesitant, hopeful tone in her voice boosted my confidence.

“Yes, are you Debbie Winston, born in Chicago and attended Everett Community College in the early seventies?”

There was a sharp intake of breath, disbelief coming through the phone like a wave.

“I used to be Debbie Winston, but what you said isn’t on my profile. How do you know that?” She was on guard now, looking for the holes in my story. “Who gave you my personal information?”

I didn’t think she’d believe me if I told her.

“Well, that’s difficult to explain. Can you talk for a while?”

She avoided answering my question, continuing on with a line of query that told me she was wondering if I was scamming her.

“You’re asking about someone I may have known over forty years ago. Why bring them up now? It’s been years since I saw him last.”

Well, Chappy, this sounds promising, but are you her Marine?

Chappy was as giddy as a schoolboy on his first date. I glanced at Loo and spoke to his ears only.

I hope this is her, Loo. He so needs to heal his heart so he can move forward. Loo nodded, knowing better than me how important this was to Chappy. I moved back to the call with Debbie.

“Do you believe in the supernatural, Debbie? Spirits, mediums and life after death? Our conversation would go a lot smoother if you did.”

There was a pause where I heard her mutter ‘Reg, are you with her?’ I looked at Chappy, who stared at the computer screen in disbelief. Debbie took a deep breath and answered.

“I am not a skeptic, but I’m not a full believer, either. I knew a medium once, the real deal, and I believed in him, but have had no one else prove themselves to me in the meantime. Is that why you are asking me these questions? Because of another medium?”

Chappy couldn’t tear his eyes from the pictures on her profile, of her and her family, drinking them in like a man rescued from the desert.

I stifled a laugh. She isn’t wrong.

I chose my words with care, knowing they could make or break the feeble connection we were trying to foster.

“Well, yes and no. There is a spirit here with me who claims you had a relationship with him back in the early seventies. A Marine who lived in Everett, Washington. Good-looking young man with dark, unruly hair, dark green eyes you could lose yourself in, round black-framed glasses and a gentle touch. Sound familiar?”

A gasp and a choked back sob was her only response.

Think I struck a nerve, Chappy. This might be your girl.

That’s her all right. I would know those chocolate brown eyes anywhere.

“Yes, that sounds familiar. I used to love getting lost in his eyes. It was like walking through the hills of Ireland. They even twinkled like a leprechaun’s. Why is Reg with you?”

Reg? Reginald Chapman… is that your full name?

A nod, his eyes unwavering on her face, told me all I needed to know. He laughed and winked as he gave me some direction.

Throw a Herbert in there and see what she says.

I laughed and shrugged. Okay, whatever you say, Corporal.

“I am a rescue medium, Debbie, which means I help lost souls unable to cross over, for whatever reason. A group of deceased Vietnam War veterans asked me to help them find peace in their deaths. Tonight Lieutenant Jeremy Walters and Corporal Reginald Herbert Chapman of the US Marines joined me. Chappy, as he introduced himself to me, told me about the time you and he spent together in Everett, Washington between late-1972 and mid-1974.”

Her breathy chuckle when I said Chappy’s full name confirmed she was the Debbie we sought.

“Herbert, huh? Reg hated that name. He must have hurt himself telling you to add that in there.” Her laugh broke into quiet sobs as the realization that her lost love was with me hit her.

“Lieutenant Jeremy Walters, now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a lifetime. I remember when he came out to visit Reg two or three times when I lived in Everett. He was a good friend to Reg, helped him cope. Jeremy gave Reg someone to talk to who understood. I’m sorry to learn of his passing. He was a charming soul, lucky because Vietnam didn’t get to him the way it did Reg. Last time I saw Jeremy was at Reg’s funeral.”

Loo smiled.

I remember seeing her that day. She was an emotional wreck, which was understandable. She loved him. Debbie blamed herself for Chappy’s death.

“Loo says hello, Debbie.”

A raised eyebrow and a look reprimanded me before Loo broke into laughter.

Not quite what I said, Sarah, but I’ll take it.

I grinned back at him. It was necessary to paraphrase him, the time for full disclosure was still to come.

I could hear Debbie’s smile in her soft chuckle. As her quiet laughter washed over me, I saw her sitting at a table with a photo album and a lot of loose photos strewn in front of her. She held a photo in her hand of a pretty young woman with honey-blonde hair sitting in the lap of a familiar, handsome young man. It was obvious they were very much in love. In another photo, the same couple smiled into the camera. Their eyes were alight with love, life, and promise.

“Debbie, that picture you’re holding, where you’re sitting in Reg’s lap. The two of you seem so blissful together, happy and content in one another’s arms. What changed that?”

Her ragged breathing turned thick with emotion as she broke down, emotions and memories overwhelming her. She got herself under control enough to ask ‘how can you see that?’ under her breath.

It was time to address that with her, to talk about my mediumship a bit. I took a deep breath and dove right in.

“Debbie, it’s my connection with spirit, with Reg, that allows me to see what you are doing. Spirit is showing me you sitting at your kitchen table, a large photo album and a pile of loose photos all around you. There is a Charlie Brown mug in front of you, with a picture of Snoopy laying on top of his doghouse on it. It is half-full of cold tea. A glass full of water sits beside the mug. It’s a Muppets glass from McDonald’s, the late seventies or early eighties. We had a set. Do you still have the others, too?” I let that sink in before continuing.

“The photo I mentioned is in your hands and you are crying as you are looking at it.” A ghost of a smile flitted across my face. “Take a drink of your water and go pour yourself a glass of that Chardonnay in your fridge. You’ll need it.”

A whispered expletive passed her lips as she took a drink of water, hands shaking.

“How do you know I have Chardonnay in my fridge? Maybe I’m not a drinker. I might not have wine at all.”

I watched her stand up and get a wineglass, with tulips etched around the bowl, out of the cupboard. She opened the fridge and shook her head as she pulled the wine bottle out. A chuckle escaped her lips as she saw the fancy font letters spelling out ‘Chardonnay’ on the label. Pouring herself a generous serving of wine, she sat back down.

Debbie picked up the picture of her sitting in Reg’s lap. I told her how much I liked her wineglass.

“You’re right, you might not have any wine, but we both know you do. And you will enjoy every sip while I admire that gorgeous glass from here.”

She sipped her wine and took a long look at the glass in her hand. With a smile and a shake of her head she placed it back on the table. She muttered ‘Reg used to do that to me, too’ as she focused on the picture again.

Continue reading Chappy and Debbie’s love story with By the Grace of God: Chapter 11 here:

To start at the beginning, see By the Grace of God: Chapter 1 here: