Forget Me Never

by Sable Hunter

  She laughed and smiled. “He was convinced that I was his destiny. We actually both had a strange experience that substantiated that belief. The night before we met, a fortune teller told me that the next day I would meet the warrior who would become my husband and Patrick had taken part in a childish game when he was thirteen, helping some little girls look in a deep well of water at midnight in the hope of seeing the face of their future husband. They didn’t see anything, but when he looked – he saw me.” Despite every effort, she began to cry. “And he was my destiny. We might not have had very long together, but he was the first person that ever loved me. He was the first person who ever held me and told me that I was worthwhile and beautiful. Patrick O’Rourke loved me with all his heart and I will love him, desperately, till the day I die.”

  Revel got up to stand beside her. He was prepared to walk her back to the front so the service could proceed. But Savannah wasn’t through. “Just another second, please.” He stepped aside. “Patrick’s life wasn’t nearly long enough, but that doesn’t negate the fact that he made a difference in this world. He fought for freedom, he saved lives, he took care of his grandfather, he was a good friend to many of you and he was my all in all. I didn’t have him very long, but I will never, ever forget him. It is my plan to establish a Patrick O’Rourke Freedom Scholarship at the high school and put funds aside to build a memorial to fallen Marines who have served in Afghanistan and Iraq. Patrick O’Rourke did not die in vain. He mattered to me and I will miss him every day of my life.”

  With that, Revel helped her to the chair and he sat beside her while bagpipes played Amazing Grace and the guards ceremoniously folded the flag. They brought it to Revel, but he indicated that she sld have it. When Savannah touched the cloth, the finality of it all just slapped her in the face. A searing, tearing agony tore through her insides and she was left feeling raw and completely desolate. Trembling, she stood while the casket was rolled out and Revel, Jayco and Hawke walked with her to the family car. Ciara calmly walked beside them. It wasn’t far to the cemetery and before long they were standing next to the O’Rourke family vault. Burials in southern Louisiana were all above ground due to the high water table. The bleached white crypts and mausoleums created rows like streets so the cemeteries were often called ‘cities of the dead’. Stoically she stood while Patrick’s casket was slipped into the stone enclosure. When the door shut, she felt a knife-like pain slice through her heart. Over and over again she kept hoping that she was asleep and any moment she would wake up and find Patrick lying beside her. But it wasn’t going to happen, she knew that.

  Revel went over to talk to Jayco and Hawke and for a few seconds she was alone. Stepping over to the flower spray she had chosen, she broke off a sprig of the forget-me-nots. “Patrick, I miss you so much. I refuse to give you up. Please don’t leave me. I want to talk with you. I want to see you, again. Come to me.” The words she spoke were whispered like a prayer. When she turned around, the three men who were important to Patrick stood nearby. Hawke and Jayco had come to say goodbye. She waited for them to say something about what she had said, but they didn’t. Perhaps they hadn’t heard or maybe they were too polite to say so. “Call us if you need anything,” Jayco took her hand and squeezed it.

  Hawke was bolder. He kissed her on the cheek. “Revel here is going to take good care of you. I’ll be back in the states in a few months, but if you’ll take my calls, I’d love to see how you’re doing every once in a while.”

  “Thank you, I would love to keep up with all of you.” She tried to put a smile on her face, but it was hard.

  “Come on, it’s time to get you home. There’s nothing else we can do here.” Revel put a hand on her elbow to lead her away. Savannah let her fingers trail over the place where Patrick lay. This wasn’t goodbye. This was merely farewell, for just a little while.

  In the car, on the way home, it came to her – the perfect way she could keep her promise to Patrick. There was one thing she could do that would insure his name lived on. “Revel, Patrick made me his beneficiary, correct?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And that covers everything he owns, right?”

  “Yes, it does.” Revel didn’t know what she was getting at. “You are to receive all of his possessions – none are held back.”

  “Good,” she felt a small measure of peace. “I want access to his sperm deposit. I want to get pregnant with Patrick’s baby.” &bsp

  Chapter Eight

  The long white curtains billowed into the room as they caught the breeze from off the bayou. Savannah sighed in her sleep, rolled over and pulled the covers up tighter under her chin. A small smile played upon her lips. She was happy.

  A Fantasy

  “Savannah, I’m home!”

  Savannah threw back the covers and bounded from the bed. Patrick didn’t even make it through the door before she launched herself in his arms. “Thank God! I’ve missed you so!”

  Their kiss was inevitable; Savannah couldn’t get close enough to him to satisfy her longing. His tongue swept across her lips, teasing and probing until she sighed with longing which parted her lips and he slipped inside. It was a gentle kiss – a sweet kiss, but one that held a promise of ecstasy to come. “Come to bed with me. I need you.”

  “I knew it. You only want me for my body.”

  “You’d better believe it. I’m starved for you.” With abandon, she began tearing at his clothes. It began with Savannah taking the lead, but Patrick exerted his dominance in a heartbeat.

  “I’m all you need. No one will ever love you like I do.” She didn’t argue with him. He pulled her toward him, fitting her body flush against his. There was no missing his desire for her; it was hard and thick against her middle. “I want you in my bed, forever.” Forcing her to walk backwards with his body, Savannah landed on the bed with a little bounce.

  “Patrick!”

  The lab turned her head to look at the woman who had called out in her sleep. She watched a moment, but when her mistress giggled softly, and relaxed, Ciara went back to her constant vigil. She stood at the window and watched the road – waiting.

  He leaned over her, an unmistakable burning hunger in his eyes. “Take off that gown. Now.”

  “Yes, Sir.” God, she loved it when he took control. With one movement, she whisked it over her head, bearing her body to his gaze and hands. The anticipation of his touch made her quiver. She wanted him more than oxygen.

  Leaning over, he put his hand between her legs and slowly rubbed her tender opening. “Is this where you want me?”

  “Yes.” She reached up to pull him closer, needing more kisses, more touches – more contact. “I want you to make love to me. I want you inside me. Strip.”

  “Who’s in charge here?” he chuckled.

  “Me. Do you have a problem with that?” As he shed his shirt, Savannah almost salivated with lust.

  “Hell, no! Do I look crazy to you?”

  “No,” When he took his pants off, Savannah sighed. “You look scrumptious.”

  “Scrumptious? I think it’s you who looks good enough to eat.” He began kissing her face – her nose, her forehead, her eyelids, each cheek. Little moans of need escaped Savannah’s lips. Moving on to her neck, he nibbled and sucked and kissed, biting at the tender flesh – she realized he intended to leave his mark on her. “I’m going to love you like no other woman has been loved. I’m going to worship your body. You’ll never ever want another man but me.”

  Savannah clutched the bottom sheet, writhing in ecstasy. Turning toward his side of the bed, she clutched his pillow to her face and whispered his name. “Patrick.”

  “No, I’ll never want anyone but you.” Arching her back, she fed him her breasts. With mind-blowing technique, he loved on her breasts – kissing and licking and sucking until she was begging. “Please, I’m crazy with wanting you. Love me, Patrick.” He spread her legs and came closer, but he didn’t enter her – not yet, and she was panting with desire
.

  “I do love you. Always will. Always.” With the most erotic gesture she could imagine, he licked a path from the center of her cleavage south – south – over her midsection, down past her belly button – almost to the place where she needed him the most.

  “Oh my God!” Savannah wailed. If he didn’t touch her clit soon she would just expire from desperate lust.

  “Be patient, Love,” he smiled at her with that patented cocky Patrick grin.

  But then – everything changed – a drawing, cold, harsh tornadic wind pulled Patrick from the bed and ripped him from her arms. “Patrick!” she screamed, reaching out for him.

  “Savannah! I’m sorry. Forget me never, Savannah! Remember me!”

  Savannah sat up with a gasp. In her confusion, she looked around for Patrick. “No!” she wailed. Ciara padded over to the bed with big sad eyes. He was gone. God, he was gone. Patrick – her Patrick was dead. He had never come home. With a broken-hearted cry, Savanna curled into a small ball and wept her heart out. She was alone.

  *****

  Time passed. Savannah learned how to be alone, again.

  She moved his picture from her bedside table, but she didn’t moved it very far. It was in the nightstand drawer and she still looked at it every night before going to sleep. That move typified everything in her existence – she had moved Patrick from the fore-front of her life, but she didn’t moved him very far. He was still very much with her.

  Sleep was a precious commodity. Because when she slept, she dreamed. At first the dreams had just been reliving the precious moments they had shared. Later her subconscious began creating new memories of how things should have turned out. Once she dreamed about going with him to Galveston. They had never discussed it, but she had always fantasized about renting one of the beach cabins. It would have been an incredible place for a honeymoon.

  As her loneliness increased and reality set in - the phantasms changed. No longer were they happy or comforting, instead she began to hear and see and feel Patrick suffering. Savannah would wake up in a cold sweat, trembling, because Patrick was screaming her name. He seemed to be in pain. “Savannah! God, Baby, I’m holding on. Don’t forget me, Savannah, don’t forget me!”

  “I won’t – never, I’ll forget you never!” she would cry.

  Four or five nights a week, she would toss and turn seeing images of him tied up, hands over his head as someone whipped him or beat him. Why was she torturing herself like this? Savannah could find no explanation for the nocturnal visions she was having. But every night, it was more of the same. Sometimes she’d hear other voices yelling his name, and she’d see a dark, dank place that made her think of a dungeon. God, she didn’t know how she would endure this – if Patrick couldn’t be in this world, she wanted him to be in heaven.

  Since the nightmare of his funeral, everything had anged, and even though her world was irreparably broken, a few good things did emerge from the sorrow. The statement she had made in front of the reports about her parents and the disease they had suffered from had spawned surprising results. In the ensuing months, she had been interviewed a dozen times. In some ways she had become a spokesman for Hansen’s disease. Several documentaries had been made and because of the publicity, she had been called on to take part. The director of the museum located at Carville had finally responded to her request and invited her to come and visit, and she had every intention of going. Maybe she would find out information on her parents, plus she felt compelled to perform a paranormal investigation while she was there.

  The plans she had set into motion to fulfill her promises to Patrick were beginning to take shape. The local high school had accepted her donation to set up a scholarship in his name and each year one student would be selected who had a desire to further his education, but not the means. The city council of St Martinville had agreed to erect a memorial for Patrick and other fallen Marines, but no location had been chosen yet. And as for her other idea – well, that had taken some effort and a lot of money – and a lot of time. But after three and a half years, she finally had what she had fought for, for so long.

  A whine from Patrick’s lab caused her to jump a bit. “What do you hear, Girl? Is it the mailman?” Ciara answered her with a soft bark. “Well, let’s go see.” She bounced up at her normal speed and quickly put a hand to her head. “Oh, I can’t do that anymore. Yuck. I feel a little dizzy and nauseous. Morning sickness sucks!”

  Maybe she needed to eat more. Food had little appeal to her now, but she knew eating healthy for the baby was paramount. Her baby. Lord, she loved him so much already. A cold nose was pushed into her palm and Savannah gave the lab a reassuring pat. “I’m okay. Just give me a minute.” How strange. For three years, Patrick’s dog had all but ignored her. No matter what she had tried, the animal had given her only cursory attention. Instead, Ciara had stood vigilant at the front door and watched for a master who never came home.

  Something about Ciara had changed. In the past month, Patrick’s faithful companion had mellowed toward her – big time. Seldom now did she leave Savannah’s side except to gaze down the lonely road toward town. A thought struck Savannah that brought her up short. Could Ciara sense that she was pregnant? With Patrick’s child? Surely not.

  “Do you think our package came today?” Gracious! If anyone was eavesdropping they would think she was losing her mind. Other than work, the only conversations she had nowadays were to a dog and to whatever spirit she could coerce into listening to her. That was okay, though. Frankly, she was tired of having to try and explain her decisions to Tammany and the girls. They thought she was nuts. And Revel hadn’t been too happy with her, either. Yes, she realized she had spent every dime she had. And yes, she knew that her health was probably damaged from enduring three pregnancies and three miscarriages – but God had been merciful and the last chance effort had paid off. She was going to be a mother.

  “If the new ghost hunting equipment came today, we’ll try it out tonight. I’ll take you with me to the cemetery and maybe we’ll capture that one voice we’ve both longed to hear.” Another wave of sadness swamped her. She paused for a second, fighting for composure. When she thought she could go on without crying – she set off again. Taking one step, Savannah caught her toe on a large book, almost tripping. “Foot!” Looking down, she saw one of her reference texts had slid off the shelf underneath her desk and landed in her path. That was strange. It was the one book that she hadn’t had the courage to open in a long time.

  With careful moves due to her queasy stomach, she bent down to pick up the large volume. The Seven Ships – oh, Lord – the memories! Perhaps it was time to start including the Acadian Memorial in her volunteer schedule again. It would be hard, but she couldn’t avoid every place that held memories of Patrick. The last time she had used this book was to help him find information on his possible ancestors.

  Savannah should have used both hands, but one was holding on to her rebellious abdomen that seemed to be trying to imitate the rocking of a boat on water. So when she grasped the book and lifted it, the weighty text slipped from her fingers and landed at her feet – and a dried sprig of Forget-Me-Not flowers fell out. “Oh, Patrick!” A sob tore from her throat and she sank to the floor retrieving the pressed flowers he had given her the first time they met. For a few minutes, she just knelt there and let the memories wash over her. Would it ever get any easier?

  Savannah wrapped her arms around herself tightly and made her way to the front door. “I’m okay,” she assured the dog who walked so closely to her that it seemed to Savannah that Ciara was trying to support both of their weights. “That’s the only way I can be with him now, I have to remember.” She had become a master at reliving the moments they had shared. And since her nights were filled with confusing and horrifying images of him, she made sure she preserved his memory every way she could. During their time together, Patrick had told her what he had been thinking and how he had felt – so now her dreams were two-dimensional, she cou
ld experience their love and closeness over and over again. God, a psychiatrist would have a field day with her.

  Opening the front door, she stepped out onto her front sidewalk. The lab bounded out into the yard and scattered a small flock of black birds. It was a crisp autumn day – for Louisiana – which meant the humidity and heat were finally dissipating and the promise of cooler weather was on its way. Patrick haoved her house and as she walked to the mailbox, she could still see him throwing a Frisbee to his dog, cutting her grass and chasing her around the yard – they had played like children. God, she missed him.

  “It’s here!” She pulled the small package from the collection of mail and waved it at the dog. “I can’t wait to try this out, Ciara. We might even get Harley to let us come back to Willowbend and see what more we can learn from her spirits.” When Savannah had met Harley Montoya, she had made a friend. Making her way back into the house, she hurriedly unwrapped the contraption and sat down to inspect it. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” She read the small brochure about how the box had been used and what to expect.