Forget Me Never

by Sable Hunter

  Another equally intriguing part of the tour for her was the account of the man who had published a newspaper from behind Carville’s walls. His real name had been Sydney Maurice Levyson and when Savannah had begun to read of his life, she had asked Mrs. Hodges for a place to sit quietly and read the entire account. Such a heart-wrenching, yet triumphant tale, she had never read. Obviously it was because of her own relationship to the disease, but Sydney’s story just made her weep. He had been born in 1899 in Gonzales, Texas and raised in Borne, Texas – just outside of San Antonio. His parents had been Jewish and had owned a little drug store. Sydney’s future was bright, he graduated from the University of Texas with a pharmacology degree and had big plans – until he came down with a skin disease. His local physician was smart enough to diagnose him and astute enough to know that leprosy was not nearly as contagious and dangerous as it had always been feared. Dr. McGlasson had been able to control Sydney’s leprosy until he had died. The local rabbi had strongly suggested that Sydney seek treatment in New York City and there he found doctors with much less sympathy and understanding. They had reported Sydney and in just hours, he found himself swept away by the police and swiftly and secretly shipped off to the swamps of Louisiana – to Carville. One of the first things Sydney noticed was the high fence topped by three strands of barbwire and he knew he was in the place he had always feared the most – a concentration camp.

  Sydney found himself being examined naked by the Carville physicians and pronounced infected. He had just minutes to assume a name – no longer was he Sydney Levyson, now he was patient #746 or Stanley Stein, the name he chose for himself. Stanley could have given up, but he didn’t. He decided to make as much of his life within the walls of Carville as he could. Stanley started a newspaper – one that would eventually be sent out worldwide. And the purpose of the paper was to educate people about the truths of leprosy. He longed to remind the world that the patients were people – people with hopes and dreams and families and abilities to do great things. Stanley drew the attention of Tallulah Bankhead, the movie star. And they began an unlikely association. She became an advocate of Hansen’s disease. By this time Stanley was blind and Tallulah commissioned a bust be made of herself because Stanley hungered to know what she looked like. When Stanley died, it was the first time he had been allowed to go home and he was buried alongside his family with his real name on his tombstone. In many ways, Stanley was lucky.

  Sensing she was being watched, Savannah came to the point. “Can you tell me about my parents?”

  Walking the few steps into the room with her, Mrs. Hodges sat down and took a file out of the desk. “This is highly irregular. We do not normally go against a sealed request. But since all parties involved are dead, including the one that requested the document be sealed – the court has relented.” Mrs. Hodges didn’t even notice what her words had done to Savannah.

  Oh, she had known in her heart that her family was dead – it wasn’t a surprise, but to hear the final verdict spoken so off-handedly – Savannah nearly doubled over with pain. The folder was handed to her and she slowly opened it as Mrs. Hodges continued to talk. “It was your grandfather, Pastor Elisha Renfro who requested that no one ever know your true identity.”

  “Why?” A lifetime of anguish came out in the one word she spoke.

  “He was a televangelist – a faith-healer. If it had become known that his only daughter had come down with leprosy and that he had been unable to make her whole again – his whole kingdom would have toppled.”

  Savannah didn’t miss the censure she heard in the director’s voice. It seemed her story was not news to the woman. “So, my mother’s condition and my birth were hidden.”

  “Especially your birth.” A harsh laugh echoed in the room. “I was here when he visited, right after Georgia had gotten pregnant.”

  “Georgia?”

  “Your mother was named Georgia and your father was named Miguel Cardova, but their Carville names were Genevieve and Michael Casey.”

  So that explained her skin coloring. At last, Savannah could make sense of what she saw in the mirror. She was half Mexican. “Tell me about them.”

  “Your mother was a sweet, beautiful girl. She adapted quite easily to the lifestyle here. But she was lonely. Your father was a charmer – a poet. He met your mother in the infirmary and after that they were apart only as little as possible. We didn’t encourage that the residents get married, but no one could deny those two much of anything. They were sweet. We all cheered them on.”

  Did they die of leprosy?”

  “No, they died in a car crash trying to get to you.”

  *****

  The cemetery was deserted. She was the only living person there. But she wasn’t alone. Savannah could feel the presence of the dead. Mrs. Hodges had told her the approximate location of her parents’ graves. That they were coming after her was wondrous and amazing, but that they died doing it was equally horrible. Setting her bag down, she pulled out the Frank’s box and turned it on. A roar of white noise assaulted the night air, but a few seconds later there was a acophony of voices. Some were shouting, some were screaming and some were crying – Savannah held the instrument out as if it contained a poisonous spider. She didn’t have to be told what she was hearing – it was the voices of the dead of Carville and all of them were vying to get her attention.

  “Excuse me,” she began. “I hear you. And I wish I could help all of you. Maybe I can get some friends of mine to come back and talk to you.” Every time she turned the box back on, the same jumbled up racket of cries assailed her ears. Then above all the uproar, one voice stood out. As it grew louder, the others faded away. “Savannah! Savannah! It’s your mother, Savannah. I love you!”

  Savannah almost dropped the box. “Mama?”

  Again, “I love you, Savannah!” There was no way she could stay on her feet, Savannah sank to her knees.

  “Oh, Mama! I have longed for you all of my life.” She bowed her head and just sobbed her relief. When she raised her eyes what she saw made her gasp. There was a column of light directly in front of her. It was a warm, beautiful light. Savannah held out a hand toward it. The more she stared, the more she saw. Slowly the column began to take shape and a human form emerged – a woman. Savannah rose to her feet. The woman looked like her – except she was a thousand times more beautiful. “I can see you!”

  “I can see you, too, my lovely daughter.”

  “I’m so sorry that we have been apart. I would have come sooner if I had known you were here.”

  “Do not cry; I cannot stay. I am here only because I knew you would come.”

  “You can’t stay? But I just found you.” Savannah wanted to draw closer, but she was so afraid that this miraculous event would stop – that the hologram type vision of her mother would pop like a beautiful bubble if she didn’t stay a respectful distance away.

  “Listen to me; I have something important to tell you.”

  “I have so much to tell you, too, Mother. I lost my Patrick! And I’m going to have a baby.” Those two things defined her life and she felt compelled to share them.

  “Savannah, listen. You will be reunited with Patrick. A love like yours does not die.” Her mother’s words made Savannah cry all the more. She knew she would meet Patrick one day in heaven, she was counting on it.

  “I know, Mother. And I’ll be with you and my Father, too.”

  “Miguel loves you so much. Don’t ever doubt that.”

  “I won’tfont>

  “One more thing – my time is short.”

  Savannah grew still, knowing this was important.

  “No disease will ever have power over you. You will live a long and happy life. Do you hear me, Savannah? This was a gift to me by our Heavenly Father. You will have the blessings that I missed. It is all that I asked. I have prayed for you and your baby. All will be well.” And then she began to fade. The light dimmed. “I love you, Savannah.” The voice grew fainter.


  Savannah walked into its fading mist and felt enveloped by a complete and perfect love.

  *****

  By the time Savannah got home, she was exhausted. What had happened? She had received the answers she had sought. She now knew who her mother and father were and she intended to find out just as much about them as she could. And her mother had given her assurances that she didn’t really understand. She would be with Patrick again someday – she got that. But the promise that no disease would conquer her – that was odd. She wasn’t sick. But she was tired. Her every emotion was completely wrung out and all she wanted to do was sleep for a week, but her nerves were jangled and her thoughts racing a mile a minute.

  Glancing at her phone, she saw that Revel had called, but she wasn’t able to carry on a coherent conversation right now. She did check her email, however – if Patrick had contacted her, she wanted to know. But there was nothing there. After what her mother had said – she was even more confused. “I need to be held,” she whispered. “Patrick, I need you so.”

  But what she needed right then was sleep, she needed to rest, so she did something she hadn’t often done – she took a sleep aid.

  Sleep came and so did the dreams. But they were good dreams this time. Savannah curled into a small ball and gave herself over to the memories . . .

  Of being held. . .

  Of being loved. . .

  Of being with Patrick. . .

  The bed gave and she felt her body give to the pressure, moving toward it instinctively. Automatically her hands reached out for him. He was here. She had waited so long. “Patrick.”

  Joy. Pure joy. Her body recognized him. His hands moved over her skin like life giving water over the desert. With a sigh of unadulterated happiness she nestled close to him. His body was warm and so familiar to her.

  “Give me your kiss, Savannah.”

  She opened her arms and he was there. In the moonlight she could see him – so dear, so real, so hers.

  “Open your mouth, Baby.” The words were whispered against her lips and she opened to him – helplessly.

  Savannah ran her hands over his shoulders – he was thinner and there were ridges on his body. Scars? “Are you okay?”

  “I am, now.”

  She grasped his wrists, needing to ensure that he didn’t fade away. He was here. He was here. He was here. Pleasure overtook her. Patrick’s lips slanted over hers – took her kiss, and she was lost. She held his face and let him take what he needed. His kiss was desperate and intense – and Savannah’s world righted itself after being storm-tossed for so long. Their tongues slid together, mating and tasting. Their moans of satisfaction and relief harmonized as they kissed – their bodies straining to get just as close to one another as possible.

  “You want me, don’t you, Savannah?”

  “Always,” she answered.

  She could feel him next to her, on top of her – surrounding her. He was here with her, his cheek rubbing against her face. His breath was hot on her neck. She could smell him – Lord, the wonder of inhaling his scent. How she had missed this! He pressed her into the mattress. She could feel his weight, see the dark shadow of his big body looming over her – feel the throb of his erection between them. Her own body answered by going soft and wet – readying itself for an occupation she never thought she’d be privileged to know again. “Take me, Patrick. I’m yours.”

  “Do you know how perfect you are? Dreams of you kept me alive, Savannah.” The rasp of his beard on her face and neck enflamed her. She opened her legs, arched her back and thrust her breasts up for his kiss. Her body, as well as her soul, welcomed him.

  “You’re here. You came to me.” She held him to her as he sucked at her breast. The sting of his teeth on her nipple assured her of his presence. “I need you, so.”

  “Good, cause I can’t wait. I’ve wanted you for so long.” His kiss returned to her lips – hard and hungry. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. It had been so long! Without any preamble, he surged within her and Savannah’s body protested. She groaned. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, a hint of panic in his voice.

  “No,” she whispered. It was a precious hurt – a welcome hurt. Her body had nknown possession such as this in years and she wanted to feel it now. “It feels wonderful.” It felt wonderful because she could feel him – his hardness, his heat, the reality of him with her – over her – in her. Patrick was making love to her and it was the answer to a thousand prayers – the fulfillment of a million dreams.

  She kissed him – licked him, bit at his neck, nipped his chin. Savannah wanted to consume him. Pumping between her thighs, a blessed pounding – taking, God yes – fucking - Patrick rode her unmercifully and she welcomed every thrust. The bed jarred; her body quivered and convulsed. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, every move in made, she answered with a whimper or plea for more. “Yes, Patrick – more!” Her hips lifted, she writhed beneath him as they both flew apart with groans of ecstasy. Savannah could feel him give himself to her. She could feel the rush of warmth shoot deep within her as her body accepted his seed.

  Patrick was home and she never intended to let him go again.

  *****

  Savannah held on to the dreams and Patrick for as long as she could. It was as if he held her during the night. Strong arms cradled her. She nestled into his broad hard chest and rested her head on his shoulder. His lips kissed her temple. He whispered words of love into her ear. “I’ll be back, Savannah. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She held on to him – “No. Don’t leave.”

  But when dawn came, her dream was gone.

  Opening her eyes to the morning light, Savannah stretched and yawned. Wait! Why did she feel differently? And then the amazing dream she had came rushing back. It had seemed so real! She had dreamed of making love with Patrick before, but never had it be so detailed – or so fulfilling. She had cum so hard that her body still tingled. Savannah sat up, shaking her head in confusion.

  Laying there in her bed, Savannah looked around at the familiar room. Despite the disappointment of finding herself alone, she couldn’t help but appreciate how good she felt. For the first time in years she felt well-loved and peaceful.

  But it had been a dream, only a dream.

  Getting up, she was surprised to feel dampness between her thighs – quite a bit of dampness. And her body was a little sore like she had actually had sex. Strange. love into And even stranger was that her bedroom door was closed. How had that happened? She went to open it and found Ciara waiting on the other side. “Did you close the door?” Of course she didn’t answer, but she was in a mood. Ciara was spinning in circles, jumping up and down in ecstatic excitement. She would bound from the bed to the window to the front door – woofing and baying. Never had she acted this way.

  “You need to calm down, Girl.”

  When she went to the bathroom, the mystery deepened. If she wasn’t mistaken, there were marks on her body that hadn’t been there the night before - abrasions and even a few tiny bruises just the size of Patrick’s fingertips on her upper arms. She couldn’t believe her eyes! What was going on? Had she wanted him so much that her body had just manifested the evidence?

  Had she been visited by Patrick’s spirit? After all, she had begged him to come to her time and time again? But no – she believed in the paranormal but supernatural sex was not something she could embrace. Ha! She giggled a little. Now she was amusing herself. She was sorta pitiful.

  After showering, she was still trying to make sense of what had happened. It must have been just an extremely vivid dream brought about by the sleeping pill she had taken. Who knew she would be so sensitive? Maybe she shouldn’t take anything like that again – but then she had enjoyed the dream. Ach!!! Putting a hand to her head she sought calm.

  Returning to the bed, she noticed a damp spot where she had lay – goodness, she had really messed up the bed in her sleep. Stripping the sheets, she pulled t
hem off and something bounced to the floor. Savannah stopped - shocked. Bending over she picked up a sprig of the little blue flower, the Forget-Me-Not.

  He had been here? Patrick had really been here!?! Surely this wasn’t a visit from a spectral lover? Her mind rejected that possibility. Hope and joy burst upon her heart before she could rein it in. All of this had been real?! Elation and bubbling bliss erupted within her! Patrick was alive!

  She ran through the house looking for him. Where was he? “Patrick!” she screamed. Surely he hadn’t left? “Patrick!” The dog ran with her, barking joyously. But he was nowhere to be found.

  Collapsing at the kitchen table, she tried to think. Something was going on – she didn’t know what, exactly. But there was one thing she was fairly certain of – Patrick had been here. He was reaching out to her with the email, the phone call, the flower – not to mention the visit to her bed. Holding her arm out, she touched the marks of his fingers on her body. Yes, he had been here and everything within her told her that he’d be back. And this time, she’d be ready for him. If she had to drink a gallon of coffee, she’d stay awake. The next time Patrick O’Rourke came calling in the wee hours of the night, he wouldn’t get away. This was one mystery she intended to solve –her happiness depended on it.