Once and Forever

by Constance O'Day-Flannery

  She wasn’t going to die.

  The knowledge lessened the tightness in her chest, and she was able to take a deeper breath, though her lungs still felt like they were collapsing.

  The screams were receding, and the music had stopped as two crouched figures, one after the other, made their way closer.

  “Damn, ‘ow do these birds get in ’ere?”

  The angry words were muttered in a very English-accented voice.

  Modern English.

  Maggie kept breathing, swallowing air, as her brain tried to make sense of it while watching the men close the distance between herself and them.

  “Let’s get a move on with ya. Ya won’t be hidin’ under this stage anymore and… ah, Jeysus… I’m ruinin’ me good shirt under here.” The second man had a distinct Irish lilt in his voice, and she winced when she heard his yelled exasperation.

  “Shaddap, Seamus… who gives a damn about your shirt when we’ve got us a stage crasher? Come along, I don’t fancy breakin’ my back down here either.”

  Maggie couldn’t concentrate as the one with the Irish accent shouted.

  “Come along, ya say? And how much faster am I to be when me back is folded in two, like a flippin’ leprechaun, I ask ya? Sweet mother of God in Heaven, when ya said we was to be backstage security, I was thinkin’ minglin’ with the bands, not fetchin’ crazed women from under the bloody stage!” He cursed, not quite under his breath. “And me, missin’ seeing the goddess herself, Joni Mitchell, singin’ the song she wrote, one of the bloody hymns of this spectacle!”

  The light shone on her face again, and Maggie held up her hands to shelter her eyes. “Thank you for finding me,” she said with as much volume as she could muster.

  Two men sat back on their heels before her. From the illumination of the flashlight, she was able to see that both the tall, thin one and the shorter, stockier one were angry.

  “How’d you get under here?” the short muscular one demanded, breathing heavily.

  “I… I don’t know,” she mumbled, shocked to be speaking with them. “Where am I?”

  “Ah, Jeysus…” the tall one muttered as the music began again. “We’re right under one of the left speakers. Let’s get her outta here.”

  The strong, shorter man grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. Stooped over, she held on to his hand as she clutched the material of her skirt and stumbled after him. The tall Irishman led the way, shining the flashlight before them.

  Several times she was so disoriented by the deafening music above her and the cables on the ground that she tripped, and by the time they reached the low doorway, both of them were nearly pulling her through it into the light and dropping her.

  Her ears and eyes closed in reaction to the barrage of sound and light, and she rolled over onto the ground, her hands on either side of her face, gulping in fresh air.

  “Well, will ya look at what we’ve caught, Raul… some woman in a costume taking an asthma attack or somethin’! What’ll we do with ’er?”

  She wanted to tell them she didn’t have asthma, yet the one who spoke was checking out his shirt and looking none too pleased. She sensed people rushing about, and the shorter one again grabbed her under her arm and forced her to stand.

  “Who are you and how did you get under the stage?”

  Dazed, she stared into his angry face while feeling the fear return. “I… I’m Maggie Whitaker,” she answered, gulping in air. Where was here? “I don’t know how I got here.”

  “A Yank!” the Irish one almost spat. “Dressed like the Queen herself, she is! Though a bit tattered, I’d say.” In the light she saw that he was older, in his forties.

  “Shaddap, Seamus!” the one called Raul ordered, as he continued to stare at Maggie, as though trying to figure her out. “Pick up our headsets from the ground, ya bloody fool, and we’ll take her to the Security Office.”

  “Ya can’t do that,” Seamus yelled to be heard over the music. “Ya have to take her to that holdin’ area they told us about. Backstage it was!”

  Gripping her arm tightly, Raul glanced to his companion. “You’re only saying that because you want to be there yourself. I didn’t hear—”

  “Oh yeah,” Seamus interrupted, putting on his headset and adjusting it over his mouth. “It was in that bloody long orientation class yesterday. Ya told me to remember anything you didn’t get, cause you dozed off on account of you and Sheila stayin’ up half the night shaggin’ and—”

  “All right!” Raul interjected, while trying to maintain control. He also looked highly annoyed at the whole situation. “Where is it?”

  Maggie watched as Seamus seemed startled for a moment, and then pointed to a white tent where crowds of people were milling about. Her gaze took in men wearing jeans and T-shirts and women with short skirts, long skirts, heels, and platform shoes. Even though she was forty feet away, there was no mistaking it now. This was not the Renaissance.

  “Where?” Raul yelled in exasperation.

  Oh, black night, silhouette me in the sky…

  She shut out their bantering and concentrated on the song. She had heard this music before… When she was fighting claustrophobia, the music had been Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Her brain now labeled it. This was… her frazzled mind tried to make the connection.

  “Come along then,” Raul stated in a gruff voice, nodding toward the crowd. “You had better find that holding station, Seamus, for if you’re leading me into trouble again, I’ll be wiping that smacked-ass grin off your face before this night is out.”

  Seamus’s voice sounded almost childish with glee. “Oh, you’ll be thankin’ me, Raul, before this night is over. Just you watch. I told ya some kinda magic is in the air tonight, didn’t I? Here we are, in this most ancient of all places, and this is it, I tell ya. Why, we have us a… a prisoner, a gate and stage crasher no less! We got this important job to secure the very rights of these fine people deliverin’ their message under the stars. Why… why we’ll be heroes, Raul. Just you watch!”

  “Bloody hell!” Raul cursed. “I’m in a freakin’ three-ring circus whenever I work with you, Seamus Farley!”

  Maggie stared at them. It was like watching a Cheech and Chong movie.

  Take me high, high… higher than I’ve ever been…

  Seamus led the way, and she held up the hem of her gown while brushing back her hair and wiping her face. She walked with them toward the tent and as people passed them and stared at her with curiosity, she would have sworn she was at a rock concert! It couldn’t be! What about Nick? Elthea? Four hundred years ago? Her life was there with her beloved, her twin flame, her—

  She passed a large poster, hanging off the side of a yellow-plastic fence. A white bird of peace was flying over a picture of—

  All thoughts ceased as she read the large print.

  Stonehenge: Rock Reunion 2000

  It couldn’t be! From some place in the back of her mind, Maggie remembered Malcolm talking about it… Malcolm… She stumbled, and the guard held her up as she clutched her chest and gasped. She was back!

  Her lips again started trembling, and she felt as though she were walking on the edge of a razor. On one side was Nick and everything she had experienced. On the other was… this. People screaming, music blaring, no job, no love, no Nick!

  It had happened! She had been there!

  Hadn’t she…?

  Chapter Nineteen

  She tried to keep herself together as they entered the crowd. Dazed, Maggie felt the tears returning, the pounding of her heart, the deep sorrow that descended over her body like a heavy blanket. The shock of grief made her start shaking again as she walked with only one shoe toward the crowd. She barely noticed the people staring at her, some slack-jawed, some chuckling in amusement as they passed.

  “Where is it?” the man holding her yelled to his coworker.

  Seamus appeared to be looking around in awe. Maggie followed his gaze and saw Sting and a young girl with long wild hai
r shaking hands.

  “Seamus!”

  The tall man jumped at the yell along with Maggie. She watched as the Irishman came closer, and shouted, “Ya see that? Sting and Alanis Morissette!” He punched Raul’s arm with relish and grinned like a leprechaun. “I told ya this night was magic!”

  Maggie watched as Raul looked at the singers and nodded. Suddenly, he seemed to pull himself back to his job. “Yeah, so what? Where’s this holding area?”

  Maggie couldn’t believe any of this was happening!

  Seamus again appeared startled and looked back to the crowd. “It’s over there,” he shouted and pointed. “On the other side of the buffet tent. Come along, I’ll lead.”

  “Use your headset to call and confirm it.”

  The taller man looked down to the other, and replied, “Where’s yours?”

  “Ya didn’t pick it up?” Raul let go of her arm and checked his chest, his neck, his head. “Damn! I must have lost it under the stage.”

  Seamus shook his head sadly, “Ah, too bad. And here they said we could keep them.” He adjusted the mike by his lips, as though getting ready to speak into it.

  Raul glared at her, assigning the blame for losing his bonus headset. “Damn the bad luck!”

  Maggie was so startled by the entire scene that she was unable to respond while Seamus tapped at the battery pack attached to his belt while shouting, “Code 110… code 110.” He then removed it and began slapping the small black box. “It ain’t workin’, Raul. Static. Maybe we’re too close to the big microphones.”

  Raul dropped his shoulders in frustration. “Gimme that thing!”

  Seamus pulled the headset and battery pack off and surrendered it. Raul was trying to make it work, and Maggie lost interest in their situation as she noticed a tall handsome man walking toward her. The closer he came the more familiar he looked, and she searched her brain to connect a name with the face. He looked at her and the two arguing security guards and smiled. Gazing right into her eyes, he nodded in acknowledgment as he passed.

  She was stunned.

  “Jackson Browne,” she said to the man’s back as the name came into her head.

  Seamus spun around. “Ah, Jeysus! I missed Jackson Browne?” Looking highly disappointed, he slapped at Raul’s arm. “Go back and get yers under the stage.”

  The shorter man scowled. “Let’s just hand her over to security and be done with it.”

  Seamus’s jaw dropped. “And have some bloke who’s only work this night has been having to watch over the likes of Jewel and the Indigo Girls take all the credit for this? I think not. Get your headset or just follow me.”

  Raul seemed indecisive. Looking around, he bit his bottom lip, then threw the headset back at Seamus’s chest. The Irishman easily captured it in one hand and shrugged his shoulders.

  “If this is another of your live-in-the-moment, freaky schemes, I’ll not be havin’ it, Seamus.”

  “Your choice, Raul. Go get your headset and then reap the reward.” The man hesitated and looked at the piece of technology. “I can get this fixed. Reap your reward, or you can hand it all over to another and let them have this moment. Myself, I’ll be stayin’ here, thank you, and walkin’ through these fine folk to the holding area.” Seamus stuck out his thin chest.

  “Look, I need to sit down,” Maggie said to break the tension, yet it was also the truth. Her legs were giving out on her, and her head was pounding with pain, sorrow, and confusion. “I’m going to be sick,” she added to the standoff of choices, pushing her hair back off her damp face. The tears were too close to the surface again, and she swallowed hard to stop them. Somehow, she had to hold it together.

  “Fine,” Raul decided, pushing Maggie toward Seamus. “You take her to that chair, right there…” Raul pointed to a corridor beyond the tent that seemed to lead to the other side of the stage. “Take her there and wait for me. Have her sit down and don’t leave her side for a second.”

  Seamus grinned and did an impromptu salute. “Aye, sir.”

  “This is serious business, you daft bloke! Just do it, all right?” Raul looked like he, too, just might be ill.

  Seamus became very serious as he grabbed Maggie under the arm and said in a loud, official voice, “This way, Yank… This ain’t no picnic you’ve wandered into, I’ll tell ya. You’ll have to answer for yer actions, ya know.”

  He pulled her away, and they began walking toward the crowd. She wasn’t sure if she wasn’t dreaming. How could any of this be real?

  How could any of what she’d experienced four hundred years ago not be real?

  “Hey, look!” Seamus called out next to her in an excited voice. “Bono from U2 is over there talking to Stephen Stills and George Harrison. And there’s Seal comin’ to join ‘em.” Awe was in his voice when he added, “Did ya ever think you’d see that in person? That you’d be witness to the greatest reunion since Woodstock or the Isle of Man?”

  “I have to be dreaming,” she muttered, identifying members of groups from the last forty years. She watched in disbelief as Bob Dylan, Tracey Chapman, Joan Osborne, Graham Nash, Art Garfunkel mingled around her. Some even smiled or chuckled at her costume.

  She felt suspended in time.

  “Yeah,” Seamus breathed deeply. “If you’re dreamin’, lady, then so are over half a million other dreamers havin’ the same dream. And about four billion over the planet on the telly. This is one fantastic dream we’re sharin’, huh?”

  Maggie couldn’t answer as she continued to stare.

  “Come along,” Seamus said, nudging her with pressure on her arm. “I don’t want Raul to get back and bust a bloody vessel when he sees we ain’t where he told us.”

  She allowed him to lead her and she saw performers that she recognized, but couldn’t name. Younger ones from MTV and VH1. Seamus stopped, and Maggie leaned into his side briefly to regain her balance.

  “There she is…” he said with awe again in his voice. “What I wouldn’t give to meet her.”

  Maggie saw him looking at the back of a blond-haired woman.

  “Joni Mitchell.” He said the name with great respect.

  Maggie found herself saying, “Go meet her.”

  He turned to look at her. “You think?”

  “You may never have another chance.” Thoughts of Nick passed through her mind, and she immediately stopped them. She could not think about him now. She had to find a place where she could stop to figure everything out, and it wasn’t here. Her throat closed with emotion and she added, “Don’t ever put off following your heart.” She knew the truth of those words now.

  He took a deep breath. “So you think I should just do it, huh?”

  Mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted, Maggie nodded.

  Seamus looked around to make sure Raul wasn’t anywhere in sight, before saying, “The woman has the voice of an angel, and wrote some of the best stuff to come out of the sixties and seventies. I was in the States then.”

  Again, she merely nodded.

  He pulled a screw from his pocket and held out his palm for her to see. “You and me, we’re both alike in some ways, don’t ya see? The headset wasn’t broken at all. I only took this job to get back here for this,” and he nodded to the crowd. “Course, for some of us, our choice of attire leaves a wee bit of room for ponderin’, don’t ya think?” He looked pointedly at her gown and grinned.

  She had no words and tried to smile back. It took too much effort.

  “Okay, here’s the deal… ya got yerself in this mess, and I can’t change what ya put into motion, but I can trust ya to just pretend you never seen me show you that battery screw and to just go along with whatever happens. Ya really don’t have much choice here, darlin’, but I figure anybody that goes to the outrageous extremes you did deserves some credit somewhere.”

  Pulling what strength she could, Maggie said, “Seamus, if you let me in sit in the chair Raul pointed out, I promise I won’t move until you come back. I’ve got nowhere to
go. I just need to sit down before I faint. Being under that stage almost killed me.”

  Seamus looked sympathetic, and asked, “How did you get under there?”

  “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  The man shrugged. “Fair enough, and I don’t want to waste any more time before Raul gets back. Come along then. I’m a man about to take yer advice and follow me heart. I trust ya, Maggie Whitaker. There’s somethin’ about ya.”

  She smiled weakly into the merry Irish eyes. “Thanks, Seamus. I won’t betray your trust.” Hell, she hoped the authorities could help her. Somehow, she needed to find Aunt Edithe in all these people. Over half a million people! It would be like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack.

  “Then let’s do it,” Seamus announced and much more gently led her past people tasting hors d’oeuvres and drinking bottled water and juices. Some were smoking and others were chewing gum. Many were waving large paper fans to keep cool in the close area, yet everyone seemed happy. Faces were beaming, and the mood was one of celebration.

  They left the crowded tent area, moving slowly since Maggie found walking with only one shoe difficult. She almost tripped again over all the cables closer to this side of the stage. Finding the folding chair against a canvas wall, Seamus stopped and Maggie collapsed into it.

  He gave her a moment and then said, “You’ll be all right?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I have to rest. Go follow your heart, Seamus.”

  “I trust you,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. “You won’t let down this silly fool? Just a shake of her hand or a smile from her lips is all I ask.”

  “I won’t let you down. Go meet your goddess.” It felt so wonderful to be sitting and breathing without difficulty that she didn’t know when she’d be able to move. He could come back hours from now and still find her here. If he would just go, so she could calm down!

  His smile was wide. “Be back in a jiff.”

  He turned and was gone for no more than thirty seconds before he came back. Holding out a container of bottled water, he said, “Ya looked like you can use it.”