Cassie’s eyes lit up as she tapped frantically on the laptop balanced on her knees. Her legs were tucked beneath her on the worn sofa, a familiar position she assumed when she was deep in thought. “Yes! Yes—here it is.”

Her finger slid gently across the mousepad, her voice barely above a whisper. Jake watched her intently, studying the way her focus seemed to narrow, her expression sharpening as she found what she was looking for. “The first session.”

“When was that? How long ago,” Jake asked.

“Session 1. September 7, 2009. It started at 10:15 a.m. and ended at 10:30 a.m. Session length, fifteen minutes.”

“Only fifteen minutes? I thought your sessions lasted longer than that,” Jake commented, surprised. “You’re usually gone for about two hours.”

Cassie nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Well, take off an hour for the commute to Golden. Plus, there’s the time it takes to get into the right hypnotic state. Plus, after each session, Dr. Newton and I discuss what happened in great detail.” She caught the laptop as it began to slip from her knee.

“So, yeah, the actual time in trance isn’t as long as you think.” She paused, her finger freezing mid-scroll. “Most sessions last around fifteen minutes, sometimes thirty. But some are done in just a minute.”

“A minute?” Jake’s forehead wrinkled. “That’s wild.”

“Yeah.” Cassie’s focus returned to the screen.

“What was the first thing Vimh said?” Jake asked, leaning closer, his curiosity piqued.

Her fingers danced across the keys. “Here we go… The first words I heard from Vimh were, ‘Oh, hello Me.’”

Jake chuckled. “Sense of humor, anyway.”

“It’s an abbreviation, Jake. ‘Me,’ stand for Mortal Entity,” she explained, as if he was supposed to somehow know that.

“But there’s more.” Cassie’s voice dropped as she scanned the words carefully. “After I responded with ‘hello,’ and we had a bit of small talk, Vimh said, ‘Time is of essence. Every minute counts.’”

Jake tilted his head. “Why does that stand out to you? Just sounds like Vimh was merely encouraging you to focus.”

Cassie glanced up at him. “Maybe. But look at this. Session 2. September 9, 2009. Started at 11:14 a.m., ended at 11:28 a.m. Session length, fourteen minutes.”

“And?”

“And Vimh started the session by saying, ‘Now, where were we?’ Before I could answer, she repeated, ‘Time is of essence. Every minute counts.’”

Jake’s brow crumpled, absorbed. “That’s interesting. Is there more?”

“That’s what I’m checking.” Cassie’s fingers moved faster on the mouse pad. “Here! Session 24. November 25, 2009. Session length, twenty minutes. Started at 2:20 p.m., ended at 2:40 p.m. Line 14: ‘Time is of essence. Every minute counts.’” She looked up, her face clouded with confusion. “What does it mean?”

Jake’s eyes widened, the gears turning in his mind. “That’s something to ask in your next session. But do you see the pattern?” His voice grew excited.

Cassie blinked, scrolling back up. “What pattern?”

Jake pointed at the screen. “Look at the session start times. If I’m not mistaken, the length of the session matches the precise minute of the hour you began. It’s like the session lengths are tied to the minute hand on the clock.”

Cassie’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Check,” Jake urged. “Go through a few more.”

Cassie started reading aloud, her voice trembling with realization. “Session 30. December 16, 2009. Session length, thirteen minutes. Started at 10:13 a.m., ended at 10:26 a.m.” She scrolled farther. “Session 45. February 8, 2010. Session length, nine minutes. Started at 11:09 a.m., ended at 11:18 a.m. That was just four days ago.”

They sat in stunned silence, the weight of the discovery hanging between them. Neither moved, neither dared to break the eerie quiet.

Finally, Cassie whispered, “Too bizarre.”

Jake nodded slowly. “As a firefighter, I’ve learned not to believe in coincidences.” His voice was steady, but his mind was racing. “There’s clearly a pattern here. What it’s supposed to mean… that’s the million-dollar question. You and Dr. Newton are going to have to dig deeper into this.”

Cassie stared back at him, feeling both a rush of excitement and an undercurrent of dread. “Yeah,” she murmured, “we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

“Just remember what you always tell me, Cassie.” She looked puzzled. “God never gives your more than you can handle. So, if you believe this, then you know you’re on the right track. Right?” Jake hoped he had been helpful.

More precisely, I am swimming with the current, she thought to herself.

Over the next few months, Jake found himself buried in a construction claim that required frequent travel, while Cassie immersed herself deeper into her sessions with Dr. Newton. She also reconnected with her community at Mile Hi and grew closer to Rexanne Dorfman.

One lazy Sunday afternoon, while Cassie and Jake relaxed in the hot tub on the deck, the topic of the Newton sessions resurfaced.

“Did you ever figure out the significance of those coincidences with the session times?” Jake asked, leaning back into the warm bubbles.

Cassie smiled, glancing over at him. “Funny you should ask. I was just thinking about the last time we really spent quality time together. And it was… in there.” She pointed toward the glass door leading into the house. “I think… three months ago?”

“Four,” Jake corrected her with a grin. “But who’s counting, right?” He shifted forward. “Speaking of counting, did you figure it out?”

“Oh yeah! We’ve made significant progress. I couldn’t wait for you to come back, so I could tell you all about it.”

“Well,” Jake said, “keep me in suspense no longer.”

“Anyway, I finally asked Vimh about that ‘Time is of essence’ mantra. About how the session lengths matched the starting minutes. And you know what? The pattern held. Every session—all 81 of them—followed the same rule right up through last week.”

Jake eyes widened, stunned. “That’s unreal. Honestly, I’m starting to believe there’s something to this. No way this is just coincidence.”

“Thanks for not thinking I’m crazy,” Cassie said with a smirk. “But guess what Vimh said when I asked her directly?”

“What?”

Cassie leaned closer, her voice low. “She asked me, ‘Do you want me to spell it out for you?’ And then—just like that—the session ended.”

“I think Vimh must be Jewish?” Cassie looked up, surprised. “You know, we Jews answer a question with a question,” he quipped. Returning to the subject, he said, “Seriously …That’s it?”

“Yup. Poof. Done.” Cassie shrugged, leaning back in the tub.

Shaking his head, Jake stood up to leave, muttering, “I have a business call to make with my client in London.” Stepping out of the tub, he reached for a towel, and began drying his hard. “Good luck with this mystery. Let me know when you crack it.”

Later that week, in a rare moment of innocent relaxation, Cassie and Jake watched a hockey game. And it was quite a game at that! For the first time in 49 years, the Chicago Blackhawks won the National Hockey League’s ultimate prize, the Stanley Cup, beating the Philadelphia Flyers 4-3, in overtime, to take the title.

To celebrate, on Saturday night Jake and Cassie treated themselves to dinner at their favorite restaurant, Victoria’s in Conifer. After the appetizers arrived, Jake asked, “Any updates on the ‘Minutes Mystery’?”

Cassie’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, you’re going to love this. I’ve been dying to tell you. So, remember how Vimh said, ‘Do you want me to spell it out?’”

Jake nodded, intrigued.

“Well,” Cassie continued, “I kept thinking about that word—spell. And I realized, it was a clue.” She leaned in. “I went back to the transcripts, and guess what I found?”

Jake, eager now, urged her on. “Quit burying the lead!”

“The first letter of the first word of the first sentence of each session… matches the session length,” Cassie said slowly, watching Jake’s reaction.

“What do you mean?”

Cassie pulled out a folded piece of paper from her sweatshirt pocket. “Session 1 was fifteen minutes long. It started with, ‘Oh, hello Me.’ The letter ‘O’ is the 15^th letter of the alphabet.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yup. Session 2 was fourteen minutes long and started with, ‘Now, where were we?’ ‘N’ is the 14^th letter of the alphabet.” She grinned. “Shall I go on?”

“Please do,” Jake said, completely hooked.

“Session 24, twenty minutes long, began with, ‘There is a saying…’ The letter ‘T’ is the 20^th letter. Session 30, thirteen minutes long, began with ‘Mornings are ideal for…’ ‘M’ is the 13^th letter.”

Jake shook his head, incredulous. “So, what now? What does it mean?”

Cassie’s grin widened. “That’s where it gets even crazier. Remember when Vimh said, ‘Do I have to spell it out for you?’ Well, it turns out… it spells something.”

Jake leaned forward. “No way.”

“Way!” Cassie said, folding out the paper. “Each of those starting letters, when strung together, forms words. And those words form sentences. So far, it says…” She flipped the paper and proceeded to read below the fold. “‘Once Americans understand the Harmony Points, they will appreciate the promise of the Spiritual Am…’”

She stopped, and Jake leaned in. “What else?”

“That’s all I’ve got so far. We’re still working through it.”

Jake sat back, letting the weight of the discovery sink in. “This is insane.”

Their entrees arrived, but neither touched their food right away, both too absorbed in their thoughts. After a long pause, Jake finally spoke. “What if the numbers have a separate meaning, beyond the letters and words?”

Cassie looked up, puzzled. “Like what?”

“Why are the session lengths tied to the starting minute and the message? It feels like overkill. There has to be more.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Every minute counts was a sufficient clue to draw our attention to either the starting minute, or the session length. Why both of them?”

He paused, and took a swallow of beer. “I’m wondering, what if the numbers indicate some kind of sequence? A hidden order to the topics?” Jake suggested, his voice low and speculative. “Maybe your soulmate, Vimh, is giving you a way to organize this mess of information.”

Cassie considered this, her fork hovering over her plate. “You think the sessions are grouped? Connected somehow?”

“Maybe. You’ve had, what, over 100 sessions by now?”

“Actually, I just looked it up last night. We’re at 80.”

“Okay, then,” he blurted. “Have any lasted more than 26 minutes?” He added, “I bet not.”

“Let me check,” Cassie said, her fingers running down a printout of all the sessions to date. “No, they haven’t,” Cassie said, hesitantly. “Wow! But why?” she asked, not sure where he was going.

“Only 26 letters in the alphabet. And, with over 80 sessions, numbers have to be repeating. Question: are the topics of the repeating sessions linked?” Jake added, excitement building in his voice.

Cassie’s eyes narrowed as she thought it through. “It could be. Maybe the numbers show how the topics are supposed to flow.”

Jake nodded. “Exactly. It’s possible.”

They both fell silent again, their food growing colder as they mulled over the idea. Finally, Cassie muttered, ‘What goes around, comes around.’”

Jake looked up. “What was that?”

“It’s something Vimh said last week,” Cassie replied. “‘What goes around, comes around.’ Maybe there’s more than just a sequence… maybe the sessions loop back, creating a continuous cycle of ideas.”

Jake smiled. “Well, looks like you have some more questions for Vimh.”

Cassie laughed softly. “Yeah. But thanks, Jake. For everything. You are my dearest friend on this planet.”

Squeezing her hand gently, he whispered “Ditto, kid.”

Later that night, Cassie heard a soft knock on the front door of the guesthouse.

“You decent?” Jake called out.

Cassie wrapped herself in a robe and met him out on the porch. “Everything okay?” she asked, concern on her face.

Then, he stood and headed for the door, leaving his empty coffee cup behind. As he approached the door his gait slowed. Cassie studied him with loving eyes.

“Three suggestions,” he floated. “One: Pray!” He paused to remember the other two. “Two: Get some help.”

“Help?” Cassie responded, slightly offended. “I am that bad? I’m already seeing a professional psychologist,” she murmured.

“Not that kind of help, silly. You need some assistants, some folks to work on your project under your direction. If you are doubling the sessions per week, transcription volume will double. And there’ll be less days in the week to do the transcribing.”

Cassie nodded in agreement, pursuing her lips as she did. “Plus,” she added on her own, “once the transcriptions are done, there will be a ton of content to somehow make sense of.”

“Touche!” Jake began to pass through the open doorway when Cassie yelled out, “Wait!” Jake stopped and turned. “What about the third suggestion?”

“Oh. Yeah, that. Uh, three? Get a cat.” He again began to leave the room.

“Wait. Wait. Wait, mister. You can’t be serious. For one thing, you hate cats. For another, one of your conditions when I moved in was no animals.”

“I can’t stand looking at your sad face anymore. You are clearly lonely. Besides, it would do you a world of good to have to think about someone, or something, else besides your own world of imprisoning confusion.”

“But … a cat?” Cassie still couldn’t believe it. She sat there, her head shaking in disbelief.

“This may come as a surprise, but I happen to think that pets are God’s way of giving humans a living example of unconditional love. What did you call it? Agape Love?” Jake seemed quite genuine in Cassie’s estimation.

“How about a dog? Aren’t they supposed to be man’s best friend?” she asked.

“Pets come in all species and packages. But cats … much easier to take care of. They’re clean, spare the occasional hardball. Get an auto-feeder, and auto-water bowl, and you just have the litter to contend with.”

“You know, I think I’m warming to the idea.”

“Get one that likes humans. None of that hide-under-the-bed-all-day-until-the-food-comes-our crap! Get one that will sleep in your lap. That you can stroke while you are writing.”

Cassie began to respond, but Jake had already disappeared.