“I’ll take you two home,” Murphy said again. And that was what Murphy did: he took us home.
“Strip,” Branna said when we got into the apartment. “If you bring all of that stuff into the bedroom’ it will take forever for you to get better.”
I nodded, too tired to argue and willing to give her anything at that moment. If she had asked me to bring her the moon, I would have died trying. We showered together, too exhausted to do anything but wash. Afterward we fell into bed together. Under the blankets we curled around each other like kittens in a nest.
When I woke it was still dark, not the deep of night, but that sort of dark you get in New England in the early morning. I was dying of thirst and reached for the glass of water I always kept by my bed. I drank what I had, but it didn’t make a dent in my thirst. I knew everything that happened the day and night before probably left me dehydrated. The normal medications would leave me thirsty, let alone the home remedies and the drinking.
Then there was the magic.
I was glad to have a few days before I had to worry about being in a game. I got up and made my way to the bathroom, filled my glass and sat down on the edge of the tub. Then I felt the stab of worry.
It felt like I did when Branna was taken, except from the outside. It felt like a premonition of fear to come.
“Arttu?” Branna’s voice was sharp, like an icicle, and she used my name—something she rarely did. Her accent cleanly removed the ‘R’ sound—to her I was Ahh-two. She stepped into the bathroom, her eyebrows drawn together, her face white with worry. That remote feeling of worry stabbed me hard.
“I’m just thirsty,” I told her. She came to my side and rested her hand on my shoulder and I knew she could feel my breathing: deep, slow and even.
“You really are all right?” I didn’t know why she had to ask; she could see I was.
“I’m fine.”
“There is something weird.” I felt the outside emotions shift like mercury in my hand. Now it felt like confusion. “I don’t feel right.”
That shift had done it. I felt it a breath before Branna’s face changed. “You were almost dead. They took part of me, my breath, and they put it in you to bring you back.”
“But I’m fine,” she said, her blue eyes darkening with worry again, and again I felt the tumbling of her confusion.
“And I am too,” I told her. I focused on trying to make her feel the happiness I felt with her next to me. After a few seconds, she gave me a tentative smile. “But Rose covered me in allergens to steal my breath and give it to you. And after-- I was just better. And you were just better too.”
“But this…feeling.” She tapped her chest.
“I think it’s me,” I told her. “You feel me because you are part of me, or I’m part of you now, I’m not sure.” My sentence stumbled to a confused halt.
Then my girl laughed. The sound just a pale echo of what it felt like inside. Her love felt like a bird flying in my chest. She spun ‘round and ‘round my heart and I reached out to her both emotionally and physically. I carried her back to bed intending to explore the new landscape of our relationship.
The phone rang. I growled, but Branna laughed. “Answer the phone. I’ll be here when you are done talking to them.”
I wasn’t positive that she would be, but I picked up my cell. “Yes?”
“Hey, it’s John. You said we could go running this morning, but today is my bike day, so do you mind if we bike? I’ve got a route thought out.”
“Can I bring Anna?” I asked without thinking.
“I don’t see why not,” John said. “Meet me in the boathouse in fifteen?”
“Yes,” I agreed and hung up.
“Would you like to go on a bike ride?”
“Sounds fun,” Branna said with a sunny smile.
We broke our fast with oatmeal and fruit and yogurt then went back out to the boathouse. It was still dark and cold. I expected to have a shortness of breath when we got outside in the cold, and covered my mouth with a fleece neck warmer, but my breath came free and easy. It was weird and I wasn’t going to press my luck. I tucked the inhaler in a chest pocket of my jacket. Branna grinned at me. I pulled her close before we stepped into the boathouse.
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she told me and kissed my nose.
“Jesus Christ you guys,” John said popping out the door with his bike. “Are you going to stand out in the cold and make out all morning?”
We grabbed our bikes and the three of us walked out to the road together. “She says she will beat me on the bikes,” I said as we mounted up and started off.
“She just might,” John said with a laugh. “You looked like shit last night.”
“He had an attack,” Branna explained.
“I know,” John said turning down the road that would take us down to the causeway and eventually to the mainland, “I watched the game.”
I’d forgotten the game and having the wind knocked out of me. “She meant later. After the game and after you saw me.”
“What? At home?” We weren’t moving all that fast and because it was early and a holiday we rode three abreast in the road.
“No,” Branna replied, “he came back out to get me in Salem and my friend has, like, ten live trees, it was just too much for my boy here.”
She was good at making stuff like that up. I had never been a successful liar and so I let her do the fibbing. We biked into Lynne and then turned south on the Lynneway. We were headed towards our demolished rink, then to Vále’s and eventually to Boston proper.
It was nine miles to Vále’s, and I felt as though I could do it easily. I wanted to race and see how fast and far I could go before I started to have a problem. I wanted to really push it. But the others didn’t seem inclined to race and I knew if I did asked they would both tell me I should give myself time to recover, so I let John set the pace and choose the path.
He chose the path to the destroyed Nor’easter Center. We stopped at the locked gate that was kept the community at a safe distance. The gate was unlocked and open.
“Come on,” John said as he got back on his bike.
“We aren’t supposed to be here,” I said, reluctant to see the broken building. I didn’t know if I was worried that I would have another attack or if I was afraid of the pain of seeing the gaping hole where my workplace used to be.
“It will be fine,” John assured me.
Branna just looked at me. I could feel how protective she felt. It radiated from her. She said quietly, “We can leave if it isn’t all right.”
I nodded and the three of us biked in. I was surprised to see Vále and Kaija standing with Steve, Rose, Billy, Gabby, Murphy and Nimah. They were all standing around the guy who had been with Branna and the nuuttipukki. Branna hopped off her bike and ran to the stranger.
“Dan! You are okay!” she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I’m good,” he said with a laugh. He looked a lot better than he had the night before. There were still bruises, but he had fewer than Billy or Murphy. He didn’t look like a man who had been almost beaten to death the night before. He had on a suit that looked very expensive. He set my fiancée down on the ground and looked around at all of us, “You guys saved me last night. I was there because I have welshed on to many debts in the past—this sort of debt.”
“So?” Murphy asked. “It is Christmas Eve and we all had a long night last night.”
“I’m not going to let the good deeds you all did last night go by without making good.”
I wrapped myself around Branna and said, “It’s cold, can we get to the point?”
“Anna told me how worried you all are about the building, so I wanted to let you know that I’m going to fix your building for you. If that means I have to buy the team first, I’ll do it.”
Those of us ga
thered there all exclaimed in joy. It was the best Christmas present any of us could receive.
“I don’t want to cut this short,” Branna said, “but I have to get home and get ready for services.”
“We can take you back,” Murphy said.
“No, I think the big guy needs the exercise,” she said punching me lightly on the arm. She and I rode off leaving John behind. After we had gone a block or so she asked, “How long do you think this will last?”
“What?” I had shoved the fleece down so it didn’t cover my mouth reveling in breathing the cold air. I was enjoying feeling really well for the first time since the city filled up with decorations.
“The way I can feel that you are feeling good.” She said it simply with no emphasis.
“Do you like it?” I asked. I wanted her to say she did; I wanted to be able to feel her forever.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly, “I mean it’s great now, but what about when you feel crappy?”
“Well I guess we’ll find out during Mass,” I said.
“I guess we will.”
We were quiet the rest of the way home. We didn’t need to talk. I could feel every shift in her mood. I couldn’t read her thoughts, but when I tried, I was hampered by having to think about the bike and worry about traffic.
Masses, even a high Holiday Mass, are all pretty much the same and I had seen this exact one the afternoon before. So much had happened since then that it almost felt as though it had been a week. I sat between Branna’s father and her Maimeó, surrounded by Branna’s family. I knew I probably looked as exhausted as I felt, but the allergies left me alone. The smell was still overwhelming, but I didn’t sneeze once.
When Branna and her friends stood to sing, I felt a quick tight squeeze of panic. Singing like this had been what got her into trouble. If she kept up with being bad, would she be taken away every Christmas? Would I be able to save her and bring her home every time?
When her voice rang out across the congregation, there was no magical demand for all the community to rejoice. The only things carried on the music were her own joy and the love she carried in her heart for her family. The love she carried for me.
Her own rejoicing, her own burden.
The Meadow
Jennifer Cooper
Chapter One
My meadow was the only peaceful place I had and it was disrupted with three inches of snow, the ground beneath it brown-dead. No life under the stark white snow—not like it had been when Michael and I were there. The cold wind blew, biting through the parka I wore.
Three years since his death other people might see the longevity in those years but not me. I saw only the pain of losing him, replaying the last months we had together. A brain tumor took him away. Once we found it, it was too late. It had already spread so fast and so far that chemo would’ve had no effect.
He tried his best to remain upbeat and positive in his last days. But the pain showed in his eyes. Every day I watched the light in his eyes dim until there was nothing but an empty soul. He fought hard to stay with me but eventually he failed and the cancer took him.
Not only had I wished for death, since, but I stopped living—stopped enjoying the things that I used to. The meadow was the only thing that my heart had any feeling for. My eyes burned to see it. My heart sped with anticipation. I’d found that living without Michael was impossible. If I could’ve joined Michael on the other side when he passed I would’ve. I often contemplated suicide but never had the guts to do it. I’d planned it out but never got far after that. A coward—that’s what I was. I couldn’t live without him but I couldn’t do anything to rectify the situation. Michael had been so brave. He’d tried to make me believe he was okay with dying—that he wasn’t frightened—but all the while I could see he was terrified.
“I’m a coward.” Falling to my knees, I buried bottom half in the snow, allowing the bite of the cold snow to eat away through my jeans—at least I could feel something other than the pain in my heart. “Nadia, you need to get up out of that snow, my love.”
There was no way it could be him, but as I looked up, a hand over my eyes to shield them from the bright winter sun, there he stood. “Michael.” His name fell on an exhale of breathe. He picked me up and my eyes stayed transfixed on the magnificent chocolate brown eyes that I hadn’t seen in three years. Tears felt like icicles as they poured down my cheeks.
“Don’t cry, Nadia.” His voice was a beautiful melody like a bird’s song, sweet, inviting, and melodic. There was just no way he could be here, no rational reason. But yet here he stood, holding my hand. I could feel the warmth on mine. “Come with me; take a walk through our meadow.” His lips fell on my hand as he ushered me on the familiar path through the forest that we usually took.
Tree limbs hung low from the weight of the heavy snow and our feet sunk with each step. “Nadia, do you remember when we came up here on our fourth wedding anniversary? That night, we danced underneath the stars, basked in each other’s presence.”
I nodded my head because I knew that my voice would no longer work. He stole not only my breath, but my ability to speak and ask how all this was possible.
“It was a perfect night.” His voice seemed so low but it carried throughout the forest, enveloping me in its sweet tone.
“How?” I croaked.
He turned and faced me. Holding my face in his hands, his eyes held mine. “I’m always here, Nadia, in your dreams. I’m never far away from you.”
My tears fell once more. His arms wrapped around me like a second skin as my cheek rested on his warm chest. “There is so much I want to ask; so much that needs to be said.”
“We have the time. Not everything has to be discussed tonight.” Pulling me through the cover of the trees, we walked into the meadow once more. The sun had fallen and the moon rose high above us, illuminating the field’s expanse. Christmas lights seemed to appear from nowhere, and houses adorned the edge of the forest.
Little by little, the scene around them grew familiar. Our driveway, our neighbors, the decorations of the season that lined every house. Our first Christmas together as husband and wife. Tears instantly stung my eyes but I tried fruitlessly to blink them away so that I wouldn’t miss anything.
“Do you remember this night, Nadia?”
I covered my mouth with my hand and shut my eyes as hard as I could to clear my vision. I nodded, “I do.”
“Our parents and friends were all there to celebrate with us.” Pulling me closer, we stood looking into the window of our living room. I’d decorated the tree and sought Michael out to put the angel at the top. He’d leaned carefully over me, and placed the angel on top of the tree.
Although I couldn’t hear our voices, I remembered that night just like it was yesterday and I remembered every word spoken. “You thought it was funny how my short legs couldn’t reach half the tree.”
“Yes, I did.” I felt his attention on me as I looked on. My mother and father came in, watching us with smiles on their faces as they leaned into one another.
“That was the year that you got me this.” I lifted the heart-shaped necklace from under my shirt, giving him a good look at it. “I never take it off, Michael.”
“I know that you don’t, Nadia.” His finger ran over it lightly and then he led me farther down the road. “I know that you can’t sleep without taking medicine. I know that your mother and father are very worried about you.” He turned quickly and gathered me up in his arms. “It’s time to go, darling. I’m fading.”
“Michael, please don’t go yet. I’m not ready to let you go again.”
“You will see me again, I promise. When the world around you darkens, you know where to find me.” His hands faded first and then the rest of him, from his feet to the last strand of hair and he was gone.
Falling to the ground, I c
ried into my closed fists.
Chapter Two
Sitting up and choking on a scream, I grabbed at my necklace and found it still there on my chest. Realizing that it was only a dream, I pounded my fists into the mattress, sobbing for Michael; sobbing to go back to our meadow and see him again.
I sat there for hours, rehashing everything he’d showed me in the dream. I could still feel the warmth of his hand in mine, the way he always smelled of leather and woods. It hung in the air, taunting me, reminding me of what I didn’t have anymore.
Climbing from the bed, I stepped cautiously down the hall and into the living room, stopping in front of the tree my mom bought and insisted I put up. Michael’s favorite time of year was Christmas; it was the only time he truly showed his adolescent side.
In some ways I felt guilty for not keeping the traditions alive every year. I thought I was demeaning his memory. Although it wasn’t my intention, I couldn’t bring myself to do it until that year and even then with my mom’s help. She was my own personal cheering squad. Every small milestone I’d made since his death she’d cheered as if it was something monumental.
As I gazed up at the tree, the lights circling the massive branches, I felt an odd sense of contentment amidst the stream of grief and sadness. A warm presence just like from Michael in the meadow. His words rang through my ears like chimes. “I’m always here, Nadia, in your dreams. I’m never far away from you.”
I smiled when I realized that he was with me.
After making my favorite mocha cappuccino, I settled in front of the fireplace, letting the warmth of the fire breathe around my skin. On an impulse, I plugged in the tree’s light’s and sat back, watching as they seemed to chase each other around the tree.
What if I couldn’t settle for having him only in my dreams? I knew I’d want more—more than what he could give me from the other side. I already felt the void again in my heart where the dream had temporarily filled it.
My body hurt as I tried to keep the torrential sobs away and my eyes burned as I fought for control. But in the end I lost, as always. I had to see him again. I let the horrible sound of misery loose, my cries echoing off the walls of our house. The sound bounced and vibrated in my ears as I held my hands over them to close off the horrible sounds of my own self-pity.
Christmas Kiss is on Her List Page 10