Hearts of Avon

by Scott Toney

aunt, and knew that Suzie was dead. That pain wracked her soul, and yet relief washed through her to know that her mother could still be alive. But am I dead?

  There was no relief to the darkness, and no words to comfort her. The unknown voice she heard before had been gone for some time.

  This was nowhere.

  She feared she was becoming part of it.

  26

  Six months later, Pittsburgh, June 2012

  Ben sat on the wooden swivel-stool staring at his canvas. Golden bridges stretched across the painting he’d been working on for a couple of hours now. Towering skyscrapers stood like goliaths beyond them as a radiant sunrise danced, shining through their forms.

  She’s here, he thought, in this city, beyond the paint.

  He put down his paintbrush and took a drink of cranberry juice, then looked to a picture propped on a table close by. He had discovered Caroline’s camera in his Jeep some time back and had the film developed. This was the picture the woman had taken of them standing in front of the monument to the Wright Brothers.

  She really was beautiful. He admired it for a moment, and then caught himself. She still is.

  Artists moved and painted around him in the vast room. Ben had been forced to start painting and selling his work again as he and Mason began running low on money. These past months had been hard financially, but especially on his heart. Luckily Francis was happy to allow him to stay.

  “At least until the end of the year, if that is what you want,” Francis told him sometime in January.

  And luckily, when John was tried, he hadn’t needed to take the stand. Mason and Excelsis’ testimonies along with police evidence were enough to convict.

  But with every new day he lost more hope, his heart and faith being slowly eaten away. How much longer can I last? How much more can I take? The questions had been unanswered for a long time now, and yet every day he came here to paint, before going to visit her hospital bed.

  As he sat there, looking at the picture of the two of them standing next to the pillar, something caught his eye. He put down the juice and picked up the photograph. There was writing on the pillar’s base, writing he remembered from that day of the photo.

  Achieved by dauntless resolution and unconquerable faith, he read the words, only a portion of what was inscribed around the full monument.

  I have to push on. I have to have faith that she will wake up and be here when she does.

  A chill ran across his skin. I need to go, to be with her. He swiftly put away his paints and covered his canvas. He said nothing to the other artists as he left the studio, making his way quickly onto the sidewalk outside.

  As Ben walked toward the parking area where his Jeep was, several people bumped into him, or he moved out of their way as they passed. It was lunchtime. Congestion clogged the streets and people were in a hurry to get their lunches before their breaks ended.

  “Praise the Lord! Praise Jesus!” a homeless black man with a shaggy gray beard shouted from the street corner. Few people looked at him; most just walked past, purposely not making eye contact.

  As Ben neared, he considered crossing the street so as not to bump into the man, but then realized it wasn’t the right thing to do. Instead, he fished in his pocket for his wallet and got the last two dollars he had on him ready to give the man.

  “Praise the Lord! Ask forgiveness! Jesus saves!”

  As he reached the man, Ben took out the money to give him, and then realized there was no box or can on the ground to put it in. He looked and saw one of the disheveled man’s eyes was glazed over with white.

  The homeless man motioned for him to put his money away. A moment later he handed Ben a pamphlet with Bible verses on the front.

  “Thank you,” Ben said, stopping and giving him a smile.

  “I don’t need money. I live at the shelter down the street. I just want to spread the word of the Lord.”

  There was an odd look in the man’s eyes. Something was clearly off about his expression and his mind. Is he sane? Then he remembered the book Don Quixote de la Mancha, and how in that book the most noble and good man was Don Quixote, who was technically insane.

  The homeless man came closer to him. “Trust in God’s will. Give your problems to the Lord. Do not try and control his path. Let him guide you on your journey.”

  “Thank you,” Ben said, firmly shaking the man’s hand. “You don’t know how much your words mean.”

  “I do. They are the Lord’s words.” The homeless man smiled. His teeth were yellowed and gapped. “Have faith in the Lord’s plan.”

  As Ben walked up the street it struck him as to the importance of those words. I’ve been begging and trying to make God heal Caroline since I found her on the beach. He looked to the radiating sun overhead. Whatever happens is his will. I will love you, Lord, and have faith in you, no matter what the days ahead bring.

  It was a little after midday when he arrived at the hospital. He ate a Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich in the cafeteria and checked in before heading to Caroline’s room. Ben said nothing as he entered, but put his hand on hers after moving a chair beside her bed and sitting down.

  “I know I’m a little early today,” he said as he listened to her steady heartbeat coming from the monitor. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I needed to be here sooner.” Ben took a rose he’d purchased from a street vendor and laid it on a table close by. “I brought you a flower. I know that the other ones died.”

  It was cold, talking to someone who didn’t talk back or respond, day after day, and yet there was always warmth with Caroline that he could never find anywhere else.

  “I need to talk about something. On my way here today I came across a man who said that I needed to have faith in God’s will and not try and force my will upon him. That’s what I’ve been doing each time I pray for you to wake up. I’ve been begging him, but not giving my faith over to him.” Ben took a breath and looked to the tiled floor, where sunlight coming through the window spread out over the pattern. “It hurts, but that’s what I have to do, no matter what comes in the end.” There was silence for a moment as he thought.

  Ben held Caroline’s hand tighter as his chest ached. Goosebumps covered his arms. “I love you. I love you so much, and I don’t know how that’s possible. We only knew each other for a short time before the coma. But I do, and I just wish I knew what I could do to bring you back.”

  He stayed by her side through the day and into the night, only leaving for short breaks to stretch his legs or eat. As night came, his head became heavy and he fell asleep.

  27

  Caroline sensed someone in the darkness with her. She had been alone for so long, but slowly began to remember things about her life.

  She remembered her parents’ divorce. She remembered the way her mother used to stroke her hair when she was having a rough day. She remembered John. And after most of her memories returned to her, she remembered Ben. Why didn’t I tell you I’d be with you? She was no longer in his world. It hurt her. But where am I? Will I ever see you again?

  The darkness warmed around her and she shivered as she sensed the unknown being’s presence nearby.

  It is time, the being spoke.

  “Time?” she asked. She floated in a vast, black, undefined sea.

  It is time for you to leave this place, my child. You will not remember anything from here, but I will be with you.

  Leave to where? she wondered. All of her memories were finally hers. I want to escape the darkness, but is it worth it if I lose myself again?

  You will not be lost, and you do not have a choice. I will take you soon. It is what will be.

  Caroline felt free. Her body was lighter somehow, and in the distance of the nothing she saw stars twinkling through.

  No, she thought, but relaxed and opened herself to the feeling.

  The stars expanded, nearing her and merging, pulsing as they overtook the nothing. Soon the nothing would be gone.

 
She reached her hand out toward the light and saw a pulsing silhouette of white around its form.

  Her mind soothed as the white swept over her.

  It was pureness.

  It took her in its arms.

  Her memories of the nothing… were gone.

  28

  As Ben woke, his head slumped against his one hand while his other hand held Caroline’s, he knew something had changed. Something had startled him.

  Caroline’s heartbeat pulsed steadily on the monitor, and in the hall he could barely hear nurses talking. He forced himself to wake and focus. Suddenly Caroline’s hand twitched in his.

  Ben’s heart raced.

  Her hand twitched again, and then again.

  He watched her face and body for any other sign of movement. “Caroline?” he asked her. “Caroline, can you hear me? It’s Ben.”

  She opened her eyes.

  29

  There was a haze about Caroline, as light and dark swam in her mind. She had just been in the ocean, watching her mother swim away.

  A beeping noise pulsed in her consciousness. Pain surged through her head.

  “Caroline?” a male voice asked.

  She tried to move, to respond. Was that her name? It is, she remembered, and then tried to speak.

  The light and dark haze swam over her. She felt something warm against her fingertips. Somehow that was comforting.

  “Caroline, can you hear me? It’s Ben.”

  Who?

  She struggled to respond again. Then she remembered how to open her eyes, how to control her body.

  The world was a blur as she opened her eyes and looked out on it. What happened