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Chapter 14

“Aloysius.”

The whisper stirred the hair just above his ear, tickling. He moaned a soft protest and refused to open his eyes, his arms still wrapped around her. Soft lips touched his ear, his temple, his eyelid. He breathed in her special scent, held her in his lungs as long as he could before slowly exhaling.

“Darling, I have to—”

“No.” He rolled with her suddenly, finishing the quick movement atop her on the other side of the bed. His eyes blazed into hers. “You will not.”

She reached up and caressed the back of his neck. She had never feared his intensity, as people often did. “My love...if only I could stay...but you know I cannot.”

Moisture slowly extinguished the fire in his silver eyes. He touched her cheek. “Why...oh, God, why...can’t I have just this one...”

“I will always be with you, Aloysius. You will feel me with you. Even after you find another special woman, you will feel me always.”

“There will be no other.”

She smiled. “Yes, there will.”

He felt her fingers at his temples and a touch of the now-familiar vertigo, then a vision coalesced in his mind’s eye. He saw himself sleeping in his bed at the Dakota, a little older, his hair long enough to fan out on the pillow, his chest and abdomen, usually covered by a black silk pajama top, bare and unmarred. A sheet-covered shape in the bed beside him hinted at voluptuousness. A soft hand crept out and rested on his chest. As he watched, he smiled in his sleep and moved his own hand to cover it gently. He blinked as a pang of something like recognition touched him. Above the bed in the vision, another presence appeared, taking the shape of a woman’s head and shoulders. It was Helen, and she was smiling down at him. At them.

“You will know her when you meet her, Aloysius. Don’t turn her away. Now I must go.”

“Helen...” But he had said it all, and now could only voice what he knew he must. “All right, dearest.” His voice broke and he swallowed. “All right.”

“It will be, darling.” She kissed his lips, her fingers still caressing his temples. “Sleep now...sleep...”

***


He awoke to the feel of a cool breeze from the open windows and the instantaneous knowledge of who and where he was, the day, date, and time. As he stared at the unpainted plank ceiling, details of the long, strange day took shape in his mind. He didn’t have to look around to know she was gone, but he turned his head anyway and saw Gem, in the faded green dress, sleeping beside him.

“Helen...”

He whispered it into the still air of the silent room, and heard a faint answer from somewhere far, far away. “...love you...Aloysius...” Then a male voice. “Love you, Aly...”

Gem’s eyes opened, as though she’d heard the voices much more loudly than he had. She turned toward him and smiled. He was surprised to find that she was returning his own smile. She spoke softly in his mind. Helen helped me continue working with you while you slept. How do you feel, Aloysius?

“Free.” The word slipped out, surprising him again, but it was true. He felt as though the weight of a thousand sad, wounded worlds had left him. “I feel...free.”

Then we have finished.

She sat up, leaned over, and kissed him softly on the lips. Go now. Go now and be happy.

He took her in his arms and held her, murmuring his gratitude again and again into the dark thickness of her hair.

***

Pendergast eased the bedroom door open slowly, unable to really believe that his ordeal was over, that an experience so horrible, so lovely, and so life-changing could have occurred in the space of only a few hours. He saw the elderly woman standing by the table.

She evaluated him seriously. “How are you feeling, dear?”

He crossed to her in three long strides and caught her thin, strong hands in his. “Wonderful.” It was not enough. He threw his arms around her in a bear hug. “I feel wonderful.”

She rested her hands on his arms. “I’m so glad.”

He pulled back and looked at her, eyes sparkling. “I want to help you...you and Gem. To give you everything you need.”

“But dear,” the old woman said quietly. “We have all we need.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Yes. We all do, really, don’t we?”

She smiled and nodded.

***


Once again, Pendergast stepped onto the wooden bridge over the tributary, looking up at the blue, blue sky, where cottony white clouds, perhaps the same ones, still hung suspended, reflected in the serene river water. This time he carried his shoes, each one stuffed with a black sock. He had not wanted to get dressed again and had removed his shoes and socks to feel the cool, green grass and the warm earth beneath his feet. The planks were warmer, though the sun lurked dimly behind the billowy clouds.

The air smelled so fresh, so clean. A faint breeze meandered across the water and touched his face gently, mussing his hair. He stopped on the bridge and loosened his tie, then lifted it off over his head and shoved it into his pocket. It wasn’t enough. He began unbuttoning his white shirt, tugging it free of his pants. When it hung completely open, he turned, surveying the peaceful scene. Colors seemed brighter. He felt the presences of the trees, the birds, the crickets in the tall grasses, as old friends. How very natural and beautiful. Spanish moss floated toward him from the branches of a nearby tree and he laughed softly. “I called your hair Spanish moss when you got up that first morning. How you fussed at me.”

A very faint tinkle of laughter. He felt her watching and suddenly whipped off the shirt and let it fall onto the bridge with his shoes as he stepped off into the cool water. Spinning as gracefully as a dolphin as the water reached his shoulders, he took a deep breath and floated on his back, bare toes pointed at the sky, gazing up into the clouds, smiling when he perceived a trace of Helen’s delight and Diogenes’ glee. The future loomed before him, as bright and open and full of possibility as the heavens above. He swept his strong arms through the water and the movement took him out the mouth of the tributary, into the river. As though inspired by his motion, the fat fluffy clouds finally shifted a bit, and the sun broke through, like a harbinger of new life.

So warm. So warm. It would be enough now, for a while.

The end.

***



Author’s Note:
You Trekkies might remember a Star Trek episode called “The Empath.” Gem is based on the empathic character in that story. Some of Gem’s energy techniques are taught in Barbara Ann Brennan’s Hands of Light: A Guide to Healing Through the Human Energy Field, Bantam, 1988, as well as many other publications and workshops (these techniques are ancient), but some have been modified and/or invented especially for Aly.

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