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Chapter 13 A year passed. One day I was painting our house. I had my wireless telephone up on the ladder with me. It rang. I answered. Jacques Vallee spoke. My heart pounded erratically at the sound of his voice. “Oh, hello,” I said, willing myself to calm down. “T’ve just recently been attending a meeting in Paris. Dr. J. Allan Hynek was there and he thought it would be good for us, for you and me, Barbara, to reestablish our link and work together again. What do you think?” “Well,” I said, “I’m not really sure. Perhaps not enough time has passed, Jacques.” “Could we start again within the next two weeks?” “Let me think about it.” We hung up and I finished the painting. Later I came down and ran to put my equipment into the garage. Something invisible, a barrier of some kind, sent me flying to crash backward into an old, heavy-duty metal into to crash backward into an old, heavy-duty metal wheelbarrow. I was bruised terribly and I cracked two of 4 an my ribs. I understood. They had told me I should not even think of resuming work with Jacques. Once I’d made up my mind to that, the severe pain left me. I knew I couldn’t afford to speak to him, much less work with him again. Within the next week, while I was taking a bath and had submerged to wash my hair, he called again. One of my family answered and after peeking into the room to check on me, told him I was not available. I felt that I had had the impulse to submerge myself to wash my hair simply as protection. I’d never washed my hair in that manner before. Some force didn’t want us working together. T aw o aad 116 CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF A DIFFERENT KIND I never talked to him again.