Anyway, Pete’s children and Zelda get along remarkably well. Zelda even knows his daughter from Vanderbilt. They have met at a few music events. Even Leanne and I have achieved a bit of an understanding, although we will never really be what you would call friends.
The only problem is, I’m not certain I can ever be anything but Mrs. Jack O. Savage. Pete and I do love each other, we always have. As much as I hated him, he never really left my thoughts. Jack encouraged me to fall in love again during his last days. He knew I was too young to be a widow. Was Jack the love of my youth and is Pete the one I’m to spend the rest of my life with? I’m just so very confused.
Yes, this is my most important confession to you, dearest Diary. Because there will be no more. You've been a faithful friend to me. And I have kept you loyally over the years of my tempestuous life. But now's the time for me to go, to stop pouring my life out to you and to start living it with Pete. He will be my confessor from now on. And I will be his.
Jack, I’ve saved this last letter from you and carried it with me since you’ve been gone. As you requested, it is only to be opened when I consider marrying again.
~ ~ ~
When she opens the letter, she sees Jack’s familiar handwriting and the tears begin to flow.
~ ~ ~
“Dearest You,
“Before I forget (again, again) - about the Tennessee state flower - the word Iris IS taken from the Greek word for rainbow. A promise is a promise and I could not leave you without keeping this one, Liz love. So now you know! The Cherokee Rose and the Iris, the two flowers of the Tennessee Valley. The flowers of my Liz, Elizabeth, my Lady from Atlanta.
“Anyway, you are reading this … oh dear. This means that I am all over at last, done, finished, full-stopped. I hope it's not been too bad for you, Liz girl, though I know it will have been. I know how hard it was for you to watch me during the course of my illness. I was watching you too, you know, just like I always did, from minute one, from the first time I set eyes on you. Do you remember that? You, standing there looking at that picture, pretending not to know I was sitting on that gigantic black leather sofa taking you in, in your cowboy boots and THAT hat! Whatever became of that hat anyway? I loved you from the start, Liz, and I loved you to the end.
“I was never much of a poet, Liz love, if I'm honest with myself. I know that much at least. I was wild, wild, wild in those early days. I did a lot of stuff that made me cringe later on. But you know all that.
“You saved me, Liz girl, you plain saved me. I was a husk when you took up with me. You put the heart and soul back in me, you did. And I did my best to love you back.
“There are a couple of things I've not told you. Now or never.
“During my time, it has been a practice of mine to leave the odd verse hidden in odd places. Yes, I know. I can see the look on your face. But that is how it was. I never told you, or anyone else, for that matter, because I think people thought me odd enough already. There are several hidden around the farm in little tin boxes. They are little time capsules, I suppose. If you look in the bottom drawer of the bureau, you will find a small toffee tin. There is a poem in the tin. Well, I would like you to take the poem in the tin back home with you to LaFayette one day and hide it in one of those caves you were always telling me about. Put it under a rock or something. Don't make it too easy to find, but don't make it impossible to find either. I think there must be about 130 Jack O. Savage poems hidden around the world. I always left one when I went to a new country.
“Liz, I forgot to do anything about the Daughters of the British Empire. Sorry about that. I know they are close to your heart. Please make a bequest from me to them. I'm cool about them using my name if they wish to. Please say it is to fund a place for a distressed artist type in one of their homes. I'll leave it up to you how to phrase the gift.
“As you know, I've left a letter for Zelda when she gets to twenty-one. She's going to need all your patience, Liz love. She's a headstrong one. Can't think where she's got that from.
“Finally, Liz love, I've gone now. But you live on. Liz, you are still drop dead (sic) gorgeous. You ARE A GOOD LOOKING WOMAN. Life with me obviously suited you! Seriously though, I forbid you to go into some black widow melancholy. You are to live, Liz love. You are to love. I want you to love again, Liz. Life is to be lived and that means love. You know the mantra: live to love and love to live. You are to love again, Liz. I will always be a part of your life. But your life must go on without me now.
“One last thing. I know about Pete Hendrix. I worked it out. It wasn't that difficult. He lost his way. That is all, as you say. He wasn't the first and he won't be the last. But he's a good man now. His letters helped me a lot, actually. He was like a poet's confessor to me. Don't look so shocked. You know I'd worked it out. Thank you for pretending during my illness. I know you didn't want to burden me.
“Ach, what is it about September? Why is it that all the big stuff seems to happen in September in our family? Hey ho.
“Dr. McSwan asked me if I’d read D. H. Lawrence’s Ship of Death. We had quite a discussion, actually. After he went, I fell into a doze and had the clearest of dreams. I was on the top of Barrow Hill, fittingly! I was lying flat out on my back on the grave of some Saxon big-hitter, Eric Bloodaxe or somesuch. My hands were resting on my chest and I was waiting. A skylark was singing. Bluebell sky, etc. And then my time came. I got up and the horse was standing there, waiting. Our eyes met. He was a big fella, a black stallion. I loaded my pens and my ink into the pouches on either side of the saddle. He seemed to know what I was doing. He pawed the ground approvingly and snorted a couple of times. And then I’m up in the saddle and we’re off. Powerful brute, he is. The ride of my life. There is a sort of lance up ahead on the slope. We are going up a grassy hill in black and white. There is a pennant hanging from the lance, my lance. I grab the lance as we storm past. The horse is strong. We emerge upwards from the heaving mosh pit at some rock gig. I think it’s the mighty Rammstein, but I’m moving too fast to know for sure. Up we go, up through the music, up and up. The flag unfurls. There’s a verse on it, a wonderful, long big verse, hundreds of lines of it. But I can’t read it because we’re going far too fast. I am so happy. Then I worry about my pens falling from the pannier, but they assure me they will not. All will be fine. And then… We burst into a rainbow of new lights, colours I’ve never seen in life. And I knew everything would be fine. I was not afraid.
“I’ll be there, Liz. Fear nothing. We will meet again.
“I love you.
“Jack X”
As she folds the letter, she holds it to her heart. The tears continue to flow as the water from the creek glides ever onward, down the mountain. Pete’s cabin in as tranquil as it was all those years ago. The sun sets and the cacophony of bugs and night sounds begin their nightly summertime serenade. Somewhere on the mountain, a log fire burns. Liz never sees the spirits of the four guardians, faintly outlined in the trees surrounding the cabin. But, in her heart, she knows that they are there and will always be there for her, and for Zelda. Whatever her choice, it will be the right one because it will be made with love.
The End
To read how it all began between Pete and Liz, Jack and Liz, and Zelda and Liz, download your copy of September Ends, the first in the September Stories by Hunter S. Jones and
An Anonymous English Poet.
Coming Soon: The Soon-To-Be-Revealed pre-quel that chronicles the love between superstar poets Indie Shadwick and Jack O. Savage as only Zelda Savage can tell it.
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September Again (September Stories) Page 10