All language subtitles for One.Step.Beyond.s2.26..Delia

- It begins here,

on this small and
obscure tropical island.

It's a strange story
and unforgettable.

It's a love story
like none other

that has ever happened.

We know only where it began.

No one can know how or when

or where it will end.

(suspenseful music)

Two months ago,

finding myself with an
unexpected 10 days off

and sort of feeling
a need for a rest

and a complete change of scene,

I took a plane down
to San Salvador.

From there I short-hopped
to the island village

of San Tarantado,

where a friend of
mine had assured me

I would find a small,
comfortable hotel

on a picturesque bay.

Everything he said was true.

It was absolutely beautiful,

isolated and quiet.

And the food and air
were clean and refreshing

as nature had intended them.

- Don Newland?

- I beg your pardon?

- Don Newland?

- No, John Newland.

- Oh, I'm sorry.

My name's Bentley.

I live here,

the other side of the island.

- Well, sit down Mr. Bentley.

- Thank you.

One of the guests at the hotel

said that he recognized you.

Said that you,

you've a television program

of your own back in the States

dealing with
unexplainable things.

- Unexplainable?

Well, many of them
are unexplained,

but no one can be sure
whether any one of them

is unexplainable.

I mean, they don't
fit our rules of logic

or fall within the scope

of our scientific
knowledge, yet.

But they have happened.

Apparently.

- That's it.

This isn't logical.

It doesn't make
any sense at all.

This thing,

whatever it is,

has been on my mind,

well, I guess on my conscience

to be more to the point.

It began when a man
by the name of Wilson,

Philip Wilson came down here

from San Francisco
for a vacation.

(guitar music)

- [John] Wilson
had all the things

that are supposed
to make a man happy.

Money, success,
health, good looks,

but I'd never seen a guy

who was more disenchanted
with the world.

(door clicks)

- And now madam,
if you'll give me

your undivided attention.

(box bangs)

- Mr. Bentley,
you disappoint me.

Did you escape
economic pressures

of the complex
society only to become

a peddler of native artifacts

to unwary travelers?

- Peddler?

An artist reluctantly
sells the fruits

of his inspiration.

And you call him a peddler.

- Did you really make all these?

- Yeah, why?

Are they any good?

- I'm not much of a judge,

but I like this one.

How much?

- How much do you like it?

- Bentley, you'll never
be a star salesman.

- I don't want to.

I've arranged things
very carefully here.

I live a full life by
not wanting anything

I can't easily have,

and I don't intend to let
anything rock the boat.

If it weren't for
an occasional cigar,

and a few beers, and a
new pair of tennis shoes

when these wear out,

I probably wouldn't even
bother to make these.

- It's an interesting if
decadent point of view.

I like this little statue.

About $20 worth?

- 20?

Do you want to ruin me?

Five bucks, not a penny more.

- All right.

If you let me send you
a good box of cigars

when I get back to New York.

- Only if you take
another one of these

as advanced payment.

And remember, just one box.

Don't louse up my life.

- Charming, don't you think?

- No.

- Ah, he's not very charming.

- But he is good looking.

Bar tender?

Will you get Mr.
Wilson another one

of whatever he was
drinking, please?

(crickets chirp)

(footsteps approach)

- I didn't order that.

- The lady wanted
to buy you a drink.

- I'm buying my own whiskey.

(glass thuds)

- Well, that was pretty nasty.

She was only trying
to be friendly.

- I didn't ask for
her friendliness

or yours as I tried
to make clear to you

a few days ago.

- I know what you're afraid of,

but Mrs. Garren isn't looking

for another husband.

She's not even taking
alimony from her last.

- Money is the
least of the things

a woman takes from a man.

- What makes you
so bitter, friend?

- Two ex wives.

What makes you so nosy, friend?

- Just a lively curiosity.

I enjoy watching the human race,

especially when I see someone

with a lemming complex.

You know those little animals

that run like crazy

until they destroy
themselves in the sea.

They're so busy concentrating

on whatever's driving them,

that they can't see or
think about anything else.

- Bentley?

- Yeah?

- Tell the lady I'm

sorry.

- Tell her yourself.

(slow orchestral music)

(gate thuds)

(twig snaps)

(bracelet rattles)

- Are you real?

- Yes.

- I don't believe it.

- Why?

- It must be the moonlight,

isn't it?

- Is it?

- Of course.

If I reach my hand
out to touch you,

I'll touch nothing.

You are real.

- You are, too.

- I feel so

peculiar.

- I know,

like a dream.

- No, no, not like a dream.

Like,

like something I thought
would never happen

has happened.

- I've known you
before, haven't I?

- No.

- I've dreamed it 100 times.

You,

this place,

this moment.

It was here.

It was now.

(bracelet rattles)

And then,

afterwards,

something happened.

Something terrible happened.

- What are you afraid of?

- I don't know exactly.

Of what's going to happen.

- What happens is up to us.

This is no dream.

Believe me.

- This is impossible.

You just touched me.

Look at me.

- Yes?

- But it's too quick.

Seconds.

- What is time to
do with us now?

What do you feel?

- You know what I feel.

But it can't happen
this quickly.

- It has.

- I'm frightened.

- Don't be.

- I'm frightened.

- Don't be.

(bracelet rattles)

(guitar music)

You know what's so
impossible is that we

both should have come
here to this little hotel

in this out of the way place

at exactly the same time.

- San Tarantado.

When I first saw it on a map,

it was like something
I remembered.

- Or dreamed?

- I'd hate to tell you how long

I saved for this dream.

- Deliah,

I'd like so much to
know all about you,

when you were vaccinated,

what's your mother's name,

how old you are,

do you like to go swimming?

What do you do when
you're not dreaming?

- I work,

and darn hard.

- Doing what?

(bracelet rattles)

- This.

- Well, that's very pretty.

- I designed it.

- May I see it?

(bracelet rattles)

- What's this?

- Prayer bell.

They have them in Tibet.

When you hear the little noise,

one remembers to offer

prayers and thanks to heaven.

- That's lovely.

(footsteps approach)

Where do you live?

- St. Louis.

- What's your father's name?

- Henry.

(slow orchestral music)

- Henry, I love your
daughter very much,

and I'm asking you for her hand.

Now there's one thing I think

you oughta know about me, Henry.

Statistically, I'm a bum risk.

I've been married before, twice,

but neither one of them worked.

But neither one of
them was Deliah.

What is it Deliah,
what did I say?

- Only that you said it

was the way you said it before

and before and before.

(door bangs)

- Deliah?

(hand knocks)

Deliah?

(doorknob rattles)

- Well,

it's a little early in
the morning for apologies.

Come in.

(light switch snaps)

Would you like a drink?

(door bangs)

- I didn't know she
shared this place

with anybody.

- What?

- Well, she didn't say anything,

but I just assumed that...

- Who is she?

(door bangs)

- Deliah, now where is she?

- What in the world
are you talking about?

(door bangs)

- She couldn't
have gone anywhere.

There wasn't time.

- I'm sorry to say this,

but I think you're
in the wrong cottage.

- No, I just brought her here

just a few seconds ago.

Now where is she?

- My friend, if you
want to get drunk,

that's your business.

But leave me out of it.

Good bye, Mr. Wilson.

(slow orchestral music)

(bracelet rattles)

(crickets chirp)

- There are just three cottages.

- A, B, and C.

Only three.

- I'll have a look at B next.

- But why should I
wish to lie to you?

We have so few
guests in the hotel

this time of year.

You searched every
room in the hotel

with your own eyes.
- Open the door.

(door rattles)

- Are you satisfied, senor?

(door bangs)

- No, I'm not satisfied.

- You're not gong to
disturb Mrs. Garren again?

- I'm gonna keep on disturbing

everybody in this
place until I find her.

- But Senor Wilson,
perhaps tomorrow morning.

(doorbell buzzes)

- This is where I brought here.

(hand knocks)

(crickets chirp)

- A thousand pardons, senora.

I tried to stop him.

- Are you gonna tell me
what happened to her?

- Is sort of nonsense part

of the regular
service of the hotel?

- Are you gonna tell
me where she is?

- Please, Senor
Wilson, believe me.

There is no such young
lady in the hotel.

- Look, I've had this
cottage for a week.

No one else has
been here tonight

or any other time.

I never saw your Deliah
or whatever her name is.

I never saw her.

- Well, I know someone who did.

(speaks foreign language)

(door bangs)

(dramatic music)

(footsteps approach)

- The bar is closed.

- Tell him.

- Senor?

- Tell him who was
here with me tonight.

You just try to tell him
she wasn't here tonight.

- I do not understand.

You had dinner on
the veranda, yes.

And the food and the
wine but just so, yes.

But you were alone, senor.

- What?

- You said it was for two,

and I served dinner for two.

But I only charged for one.

You were alone, senor.

I only charged for
one Senor Meduro.

I only charged for one.

(paper rustles)

You signed the check.

You did not see?

- I suppose you don't
remember this either,

do you?

(bracelet rattles)

- Oh, but of course.

It was left on the table.

- And who was wearing it?

- I could not say.

It was left of the
table, it is all I know.

- Tell the truth.
- Senor, senor.

- Why don't you tell the truth?

What have you done with her?

- But Senor Wilson, please.

- If you've done anything
to her, I'll kill you.

(dramatic organ music)

I swear it, I'll kill you.

- He went to see the
United States Consul.

He made such a fuss
that they investigated.

They checked all the
steamship companies,

with the freight lines.

They checked every
ship of every kind

that was in these
waters at that moment,

with the scheduled,
non-scheduled airlines,

the passport department
in the States,

but they found nothing.

After all, they only
knew her first name.

Deliah.

And that she was supposed
to live in St. Louis.

- Is that the end of the story?

- I only wish that it were.

(glass dings)

Well, after a few days
Wilson went to St. Louis

and began searching for
some trace of the girl.

He checked all the
jewelry manufacturers,

all the designers,

everything he and the
detective agency he'd hired

could think of.

But no one had ever
heard of such a girl.

He tried to find out who
made or sold bracelets

like the one he had.

But he didn't get anywhere.

After months of searching,

he came back here.

- What for?

- To wait for her, he said.

He was sure she'd come back.

That was eight years ago.

(slow orchestra music)

He gave up everything
back in the States

and just stayed on
here week after week,

month after month, waiting.

And he began to drink.

He hardly ever spoke to anyone.

And every night he went
back to the place where

he had insisted a thousand
times he'd found her.

I guess he described
her to me 100 times,

what she looked
like, what she wore,

what they said to each other,

the whole thing.

He didn't seem to ever
think about anything else.

And he kept drinking to try

to blot out his thoughts.

One evening, just
about a week ago,

after this had been going on

for almost eight years,

I couldn't stand to see
it happening any longer

and in my

infinite wisdom,

I decided to do
something about it.

I only meant to try to jolt him

back to reality.

Ever consider what you're
doing to your liver

with that stuff?

You know what you're
trying to do, don't you?

You're trying to kill yourself

in a nasty, messy,
unattractive way by degrees.

Well, of course,

you want to be the
local screwball.

Do you know the natives
even have a name for you?

Senor Whiskey.

Well, they don't
mean it unpleasantly.

They pity you, too.

Senor Whiskey, the man
that drinks all day

and walks the woods all night

looking for nothing.

But if you want
to kill yourself,

at least do it in
a nice clean way,

and quickly.

Oh I know it takes
a little courage,

but I'm sure if
you dig deep enough

you can find some.

(guitar music)

(door bangs)

(crickets chirp)

(glass bangs)

(footsteps depart)

The next morning, the

police found his body

about two miles down the coast.

The sailboat he'd been using had

capsized

two miles out
beyond the breakers.

When they found him,

this was clutched in his hand.

(bracelet rattles)

The police listed it
as accidental death,

but what was he doing

3:00 in the morning
in a sailboat?

I sent him out there.

(bracelet rattles)

And then the next evening,

as I was walking Wilson's route

as a sort of penance,

thinking about what
a fine specimen

of humanity I am that
I can tell other people

what to do with their lives.

(bracelet rattles)

- Hello.

- Deliah?

- Yes.

- It is Deliah.

- Deliah Houston.

- From St. Louis?

- What did the hotel do,

give out a biography
on each of its guests?

(bracelet rattles)

Do you like it?

I designed it.

That's what I do,
I design jewelry.

- Well,

that's fascinating.

That's quite a
story Mr. Bentley.

(bracelet rattles)

And now you'd like me to

explain it.

- Can you?

- Well, I can make a guess.

You felt terribly guilty

about causing Wilson's death.

- Yeah.

- But on the first place,
the police called it

accidental death.

And whether or not
you contributed

to that accident

is a responsibility that
you'll certainly have to

settle with yourself, but

as applies to the other thing,

apparently your guilt

combined with the
fact that you were so

constantly exposed
to Wilson's reliving

his hallucination

caused you to
visualize the same girl

at the same time
in the same place

under the same conditions.

- Is that your explanation?

- Well, it's an explanation.

There could be dozens of others.

(bracelet rattles)

But to call it psychic
phenomenon would...

(door creaks)

- Deliah?

(footsteps approach)

I'd like you to meet someone.

This is Deliah Houston,
Mr. John Newland.

- How do you do?

(bracelet rattles)

Have you just arrived?

- Yes, yes, just this morning.

- Well, perhaps I'll
see you at dinner.

- I look forward to that.

- You'll be a welcome addition.

- Thank you.

(gate bangs)

- When she was younger,
about eight years ago,

she told me she
kept having a dream

over and over again

and that she was here.

You can check
everything I told you.

- Yes, I'm sure.

(eerie music)

A recurring dream

about being here.

Well, now recurring
dreams about romance are

rather common to young girls,

wouldn't you say?

But if Deliah did
appear to Philip Wilson,

and this would certainly seem

to indicate that she did,

students of psychic phenomena

would call it teleportation.

That's how they
would explain it.

The transportation of the being

from one place to another

in time and in space.

In this case, into
the future as well.

But why did it happen?

Well maybe Philip
Wilson and Deliah

are meant to meet that way.

Someday.

And perhaps they will sometime.

Somewhere.

You know, there are
millions of people

who do believe that
we live other lives

before and after this one.

In a moment, a word
about next week.

(orchestra music)