Dear Meredith

by Belle Kismet

  You had glared at me, that day when we first met. I had knocked into you on a wet, rainy day, when everyone was hiding under their umbrellas and rushing around trying to get somewhere nice and warm.

  The stack of books you were holding had clattered onto the pavement and you looked up at me furiously. I swear, darling, my heart stopped beating for a moment. You know I'm not a religious man, but at that moment, it felt like some big cosmic shift had happened and something suddenly clicked into place.

  Of course, good sense quickly took over and I scrambled to pick up your books before you decided then and forevermore that not only was I a clumsy clod, but an ungentlemanly one as well.

  You had such an odd assortment of books - vampires, history, philosophy and crime all mishmashed together. I had not exchanged a single word with you, but I thought of you already as the most fascinating woman I'd ever met.

  I must have done something right that day, because you agreed to have coffee with me, the barest twinkle of amusement in your eyes as you watched me trying to juggle your books while ensuring my umbrella didn't poke your eye out.

  By the end of those two hours, I was sure I would marry you. And to my everlasting amazement, so did you.

  And, well, we've been having coffee ever since.

  Meredith, thank you, for making me a better man since you came into my life. I'm sorry that I couldn't keep our vows until we are old and gray. It kills me to see the haunted look that has crept into your eyes when you think I'm not looking.

  I know that my death has hit you hard, and the thought of hurting you makes me feel sick to my stomach. But this is something beyond us both. This disease is something I can't make to go away and protect you from.

  But what I can do, my darling wife, is to set you free. I want nothing more than for you to be happy again, to see those green eyes sparkle once more.

  It's now time for you to start creating new memories and remember me with joy, not sadness. It's time for you to live for yourself.

  I know you can't imagine life without me, the same way I could not without you. But you're so much stronger than you think. I don't promise it will be easy, but this will pass and you'll be able to think of me with a smile.

  You'll do just fine, and I'll always be watching over you. So on you must soldier, along this new path.

  I love you, so very much.

  Your clumsy clod,

  Michael

  p.s. This is the first of three letters from me. Each one contains a surprise. For the first one, visit Old Ned tomorrow night.

  I can barely see through the film of tears that cover my eyes. Sharp twin spikes of pain and happiness lance through me, my heart throbbing anew with the knowledge of my loss while it also sang with euphoria that Mike was still, in some way, with me.

  That the essence of him was still here and that not everything had been swallowed into the grave.

  I know you can't imagine life without me, the same way I could not without you. But you're so much stronger than you think. So on you must soldier, along this new path.

  His words echo in my head, so clearly that I hear his calm, tenor voice saying them.

  It reminds me of the dreams I've been having, of running along a path with him, hand-in-hand. And then jumping off the cliff, hovering in free fall; feeling for one brief moment, neither the sky nor the earth but something in between.

  Along this new path? Yes, I suppose the past few weeks have been a journey, even though it was less of a walk and more of a despairing crawl.

  My heart hurts terribly, a non-physical pain that spreads into every part of me. Stronger? I don't think so.

  My tears spill a trail of salt down my cheeks, track down the sides of my mouth as I rest my forehead against the palm of my hand. I have heard that grief is a transient thing. That impossible as it may sound, this feeling of immense loss will one day ease.

  I don't know. The lump in my throat feels like it has found a permanent home and my eyes are burning with dryness whenever they are not leaking.

  Mike had been so there, so much larger than life. There had been no unknowns in life with him. He had decided he would love me until the end, and that was that.

  Now, my life is one big giant question mark.

  I look down at the letter again.

  For the first surprise, visit Old Ned tomorrow night.

  I stare at myself for a long time after rubbing a circular patch of steam away from the bathroom mirror.

  My eyes look strained, a lost expression haunts them, while my cheekbones jut out prominently.

  I have lost weight, a shocking amount for someone who has always been slim.

  With this sudden visit to Old Ned on the cards, I am forced to take my first real shower in a while.

  To my surprise, all the scrubbing and cleaning and shampooing has done wonders for my mood. And I actually feel halfway to human now.

  After slipping into worn jeans and a white tee, I towel my hair dry, my thoughts slipping back to the letter for the umpteenth time.

  Why Old Ned? He runs the hardware store closest to our house and Mike was a frequent customer, since he loved building things. But I didn't know Mike to be particularly chummy with him.

  I feel my mouth quirk into a smile. I am actually burning with curiousity, I realise.

  What is this surprise Mike had planned?

  It was just like him to come up with such ideas.

  I remember with a pang the convoluted treasure hunt he had sent me on for my last birthday. After a good two hours of running around like a headless chicken, I had finally solved it and was rewarded with the most beautiful phoenix pendant necklace I had ever seen.

  He had placed it around my neck and I had worn it ever since, its ruby eyes glinting mysteriously every time the light hit it just right.

  "Why do you love phoenixes?" he had asked me on our third date, his blue eyes resting seriously on mine, as we lay facing each other on the picnic mat.

  It had been the sort of day wherein fat, fluffy clouds contorted themselves into all sorts of shapes to tease the imagination and when lemonade and cold sandwiches seemed like the best meal on earth.

  "Because it represents rebirth, renewal, new beginnings," I had replied briefly, unwilling to divulge much about my past to him then.

  He had digested my answer carefully, then took my hand in his. "I hope this beginning has no ending."

  I had burst into laughter at the cheesy line, his own hearty laugh echoing mine seconds later.

  However, he soon grew serious again and took me into his arms, his hand pressed firmly against the small of my back.

  I had stared up at him, bare inches above me as I breathed in his smell, his shoulder against my cheek feeling impossibly solid and reassuring.

  It was the first time we had been in such close proximity and I was shocked at how familiar it felt and yet how hard my heart was pounding.

  He had given me a wicked, sensual smile, his eyes focused on my lips, which parted under his scrutiny.

  When he kissed me for the first time, under the huge oak tree, it felt like I was falling from a great height, an odd weightlessness filling my entire being.

  It was wonderful and scary because it felt like we were two jigsaw pieces that had finally found their match.

  I'd gotten butterflies in my stomach when I'd kissed other guys before, but this felt like a whole herd of elephants was trampling their way through my insides.

  When he finally lifted his head, his eyes had turned a brooding blue with desire, his voice merely a husky whisper as he repeated, "I hope this beginning has no ending."

  I come back to myself with a jolt, realising I have lost myself in memories yet again. My fingers brush against my mouth, and I try to swallow against that damned lump in my throat.

  The sense of devastating loss hits me again, feeling just as fresh and awful as the first time I'd felt it.

  "Hey, Meredith! Been expecting you."

  Old Ned bestows his crinkl
ed grin on me and briefly envelops me in a massive and awkward hug.

  I struggle to contain my surprise. He isn't normally a very demonstrative person, but I guess he makes exceptions for newly-minted widows.

  "Hiya, Old Ned. How've you been?"

  "Same old, same old. Doing as well as can be expected in these times, I suppose. I'm sorry about Mike; he was a fine man, hard to find someone like that in these times."

  I stare at him as he faces me in his customary position behind the counter, dressed in his faded jeans and red checkered shirt. I didn't know him well - I'd dropped in with Mike perhaps three or four times to get stuff, but I had liked him on sight.

  Old Ned has always reminded me of Bobby Singer in Supernatural, complete with facial hair and a worn cap parked for life on his head.

  "How about you? Have you been... coping well?"

  I can't resist a sudden wave of affection for the gruff man. Old Ned was clearly in pain as he tried his best to express his concern without seeming intrusive.

  "Doing as well as I can, Old Ned. Taking every day as it comes."

  He nods approvingly, clears his throat. "That's the spirit. You'll do fine, my girl. Well, guess you're wanting to know Mike's surprise for you."

  I nod, feeling the folded letter in the back pocket of my jeans. "I'm dying to know, as a matter of fact."

  He holds up a finger, then bends down and starts rummaging below the counter before surfacing with a small cardboard box, looking suddenly somewhat like Santa Claus off duty. "Surprise!"

  I stare disbelievingly at the box's contents, feeling my jaw hang open like a fool, my heart skipping several beats.

  "A puppy?"

  I am looking at the sweetest little yellow Lab I have ever seen in my life. Fuzzy and pleasingly plump, it was curled up and sound asleep against one corner of the box.

  I look up mutely at Old Ned, who was looking at me with a mixture of pleasure and concern.

  "Do you like her? She's a real beauty, the best of Daisy's litter. She's about two months now, the right age to take home. Mike insisted I keep one for you and so I did. Either the best or nothing at all, that's my motto."

  I can't take my eyes off the puppy, who is completely oblivious to what I am feeling. "It - She's really for me?"

  He nods affirmatively. "Yep, and you do good by her okay? Labs are right loyal creatures, once they love you, it's for life."

  My heart swells, thinking of Mike's love for me and how I'd told him I'd always desperately wanted a dog. A little door opens inside me, a small opening for a new love to begin flowing through. For I realise I already love this tiny ball of fluff, unknown to me a mere minute ago.

  I think my gratitude shows on my face, because Old Ned's eyes warm abruptly, kindly, as he suddenly loses his awkwardness. "You'll do just fine with her, I reckon. You're one of them dog people, I can always tell."

  "You bet I am," I say, smiling at him. "Thanks, Old Ned. I can't tell you how much this means to me. I'll take this little one home now."

  This time, I give him a tight hug, which he returns after a second's pause. I pick up the box, feeling like I am holding something as fragile as glass, feeling as brittle as glass myself.

  As I am about to head out, a thought strikes me.

  "Old Ned?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Did you drop me Mike's letter yesterday?"

  His eyes widen in genuine surprise. "No, Mike just told me to expect you sometime this week."

  I manage a smile, shake my head dismissively. "It doesn't matter. I suppose I'll find out soon enough. Take care, you."

  "You too, Mer, you too."

  A short fifteen-minute drive later, I am back on the couch with the box placed in front of me.

  The puppy has woken up, her big brown eyes blinking sleepily before she focuses on me.

  "Hi, little one," I whisper, still quite unable to believe I had a life to look after now.

  Her ears twitch and she gets unsteadily to her feet before wobbling her way over to me. I lift her out, marvelling at her weight and fluffiness, place her in front of me.

  She promptly dives into my lap and wriggles her way to maximum comfort as though she has been doing it all her life.

  I feel the tears rise again, this time bittersweet, as I run a gentle finger down her soft fur. Her sudden appearance in my life seems a miracle, a little ray of sunshine to see me through the dark days ahead.

  Chapter 4

  I am dragged out of a nightmare by a wet, cold tongue across my cheek. My eyes shoot open, my heart still pounding as it slides greasily out of my memory like oil dripping out of the pan.

  Bandit stares at me alertly, her head slightly cocked. I smile at her, run a hand down her back as she visibly relaxes, sliding her front paws down as she snuggles next to me.

  "How did you know?" I whisper to her, running her fine fur through my fingers slowly.

  This isn't the first time I've had bad dreams and she's always awakened me halfway through. I guess she can sense my distress.

  The room is thrown into deep shadows by the moonlight and the fan whirs lazily above our heads, making the white curtains flutter occasionally. I look out the window and catch my breath in wonder. It is a full moon tonight, white and pure and mysterious.

  I find it hard to comprehend that this is the same moon our first ancestors looked at. How ancient it is, and how knowing. It must have seen everything there is to see about us from up there.

  Bandit breathes quietly by my side, and I'm suddenly flooded with an overwhelming thankfulness that I'm not alone in this big bed anymore. Sleep hasn't gotten easier and it soothes me to watch her peaceful slumber when a million anxious thoughts attack my brain.

  Caring for a puppy is a demanding, time-consuming job. Much like a new parent, almost all my attention is taken up by her. What with all the feeding, bonding and training we've been doing, there's barely enough time for me to sink back into my former state of grief-stricken inactivity. On some moments when the unreality of Mike's death hits again and I just have to sit down and catch my breath, Bandit sits quietly beside me, her head on my lap as she waits patiently.

  There's a life depending on me now, and I guess Mike had known how much I would need her to keep me going. Oh, Mike. Looking out for me even now.

  I feel a secret thrill go through me, thinking again about the startling appearance of his letter in my life. There's two more left to go, my heart sings joyfully. Two more times for me to feel my husband's solid presence in my life again before no more new words come, and all I have left will be our memories.

  I wonder again who could possibly be the mysterious letter-bearer. Maybe Janet will know, I think, resolving to pay her a visit tomorrow. I can show her Bandit and tell her about the amazing way she appeared in my life, through her son.

  When I finally fall asleep at last, that familiar dream comes again. Except this time, there's a twist.

  In my dreams, we're walking hand in hand along a forest path. There's no one else in the world, just me and him, leaving crushed leaves in our wake. We don't say much, our fingers wound tightly together doing all the talking. He turns to me occasionally, his smile dappled by the sun filtering through the jungle canopy. "Are you ready?" he asks. A simple question to which I give a simple nod in reply. His fingers tighten around me as he starts to run, pulling me in his wake. My legs flying alongside his, my hair streaming like banners in the wind. I have never felt so alive. Suddenly, inexplicably, I see a cliff edge in the distance, where the path runs out of the forest.

  Mike looks at me again, our breaths chuffing in unison, determination on our faces. "Are you ready?" he asks again, yells it out loud this time. Our feet never stop pounding down that path and I feel we're picking up enough speed to fly. "Yes!" I shout back as he gives me a proud smile. Just as I almost reach the cliff's edge, I suddenly realise his hand is no longer in mine and I turn my head in confusion. He is standing there, just outside the border of the forest, looking as though he wants to
follow but cannot. As I stare at him, he raises his right arm in the air, a silent goodbye.

  My feet carry me on, away from him and I can do nothing to stop them. I reach the cliff's edge and leap, soaring up into the air for a moment before I start plunging into free fall.

  "Oh, my dear, it's so good to see you!" Janet beams at me, her silvery hair gleaming softly in the morning sunshine as she gathers me into a tight hug.

  I return it, feeling a huge, warm wave of affection for her swell up. It is a surprise visit and I have brought the lemon cakes she loves dearly, as well as Bandit, who is stunnningly well-behaved today.

  She looks at me searchingly, with the clear gaze that Mike inherited. "You look well," she pronounces at last, relief written all over her face.

  "Hi, mom," I say. To my surprise, my voice comes out a little croaky. It is good to see her, as I haven't since the funeral two months ago. I just couldn't see anyone and she had respected that wish after I promised I wouldn't do anything stupid to myself.

  "And who have we here?" she asks, looking down at Bandit, who is sitting down beside me, her tail thumping enthusiastically as she gazes up at Janet with her huge puppy eyes.

  "This is Bandit, mom. She's around four months old now and she loves meeting new people," I inform her. It is true. While I do as much as I can to avoid striking up conversations with strangers, Bandit is a true people person who loves nothing more than earning a scratch on her ruff and a word of adoration from anyone and everyone.

  Janet bends down at the waist, holding out a closed palm for Bandit to sniff. "Hello, Bandit," she says gravely, and I can see that while Janet is no keen dog lover, she has already fallen helpless victim to Bandit's charm.

  She ushers us into her kitchen, where she pours me a glass of orange juice and sets the lemon cakes out on plates. I miss this place, where Mike and I have hung out so many times. I know some people have trouble with their mothers-in-law, but Janet has always been like a mother to me when I had none before.

  "So tell me," she says, picking up a lemon cake with anticipation, while Bandit sits at her feet, looking hopefully at the treasure in her hand. "How are you?"