At that moment she looks across the table and into the piercing gaze of the woman named Brianna, and without seeing her lips move, hears her voice saying, “No Natalie, that's not who you are.”
Despite this, Natalie Burke feels the pull of that worldly identity with its meretricious lure of title and status. She wants that life back, and she wants it badly. She feels an immediate urge to get out of this strange, disturbing place.
“I need to go,” she says.
“Where will you go?” Brianna asks.
“I need to find a hotel for the night and head back to Kingman in the morning.”
“You don't have any money or credit cards and even if you did, those things have no value here, but you don't have to worry. You are in the home of Maria Victoria Sanchez. With traditional Mexican hospitality she'll see to all of your needs, and besides if Maria knew you wanted to spend the night in a hotel, her feelings would be hurt. Mexicans are always ready to welcome a guest into their homes. Maria and Antonio will treat you like a family member while you're here which might be for a very long time.”
“I, I can't stay here.”
Ignoring her words Brianna continues. “Oh you'll be here for some time Senator Burke, but you'll have very good company. In Maria you'll find a well of kindness as reliable as sunrise. Her quiet dignity will rouse humility in you and from that you'll grow to become an awakened being.
In Antonio you'll find a brother and a son. What he did for you earlier tonight, he would do a thousand times over on your behalf. The life he gave your son, that life he lost that terrible morning on his motorcycle, he would gladly offer many times over in your defense. You're in very good hands Senator Burke. Don't worry.”
“What are you saying?”
“I'm just trying to help you through this.”
“I don't intend on staying here. I'm grateful for what these people did for me, but I have to get back on the road. I have to get back to Kingman.”
“There is no road back to Kingman.”
“No, I, I have people who depend on me.”
“They'll learn to depend on other things.”
The sobering words leave Natalie Burke dumbstruck. ‘This can't be possible,’ she says to herself as she hears Brianna's voice again.
“I forgot to tell you Natalie how nice you look in Maria's dress. I love the colors. Don't you?”
“Well I ... Yes I, I do.”
“I wish I could stay longer, but my apprentice and I have an appointment to keep.”
As she hears the strange woman named Brianna say goodbye to Antonio and sees her being walked to the door by Maria, her mind is reeling in perplexed confusion. Seeing Brianna leave, Natalie Burke sits for a moment in silence, then feels the impulse to follow her. After standing and walking to the door, she looks over at Maria, then opens the door and goes outside. She sees the woman named Brianna walking in the distance with a man beside her. Then they disappear. Though the storm is over, the road in both directions is completely dark with no sign of any hotel or gas station. The breezy late evening air is chilly as Natalie Burke stands there looking into the night. A moment later Antonio comes out with a sweater and tells Natalie that her room is ready when she wants to rest. Resigning herself to the moment and her condition, she follows Antonio back inside.
As Brianna and Calvin leave, they reflect on the episode.
“Any thoughts about what you saw Calvin?”
“I don't think Senator Burke was ready to leave the world she knew.”
“Very few are ever completely ready.”
“What will happen to her?”
“She'll stay with Maria and Antonio until she's ready to leave.”
“When will that be?”
“When she becomes Natalie again instead of Senator Burke. Those who bear titles live in danger of being seduced by them.”
“I wish her well.”
“So do I Calvin. So do I.”
Chapter Six: The Child
On a rainy Sunday morning in Portland Oregon at Wellcrest Regional Care Center, a residential facility for terminally ill children, another day has started. Nearly all the children who live here are afflicted with a condition for which there is no known cure. Those with chronically debilitating diseases like Multiple Sclerosis, Muscular Dystrophy, and Motor Neuron Disease are housed here and cared for by a medical staff that does its best for the thirty-one resident patients who are mostly under sixteen years of age. Despite their hopeless prognosis, the caregivers who work here try to maintain a positive attitude both for themselves and those unfortunate souls in their charge. Visitors are always welcome and encouraged to return but the sad truth is many of the children are seen by their relatives either infrequently, or not at all.
One such case that's particularly sad, is nine-year- old Caitlin Pierce. Caitlin came here two years ago suffering from Tay Sach's Disease, a hereditary condition that slowly kills its victims through a gradual, wasting paralysis. She was brought to Wellcrest by child protective services and has no relatives or family that show any interest in her. Caitlin Pierce is a child seemingly forsaken by all but those few who administer her care and monitor her condition. She has been here for twenty-five months and in that time has never received a visitor. State officials tried to track down her parents, grandparents, or any other relatives, but were unsuccessful, and have given up the effort. It was eventually learned that Caitlin's father is dead and her mother has left the state with no interest in being contacted with information about her daughter. Caitlin Pierce's parents were meth-amphetamine addicts and could barely cope with the confusion in their own lives. The added burden of caring for a severely handicapped child proved to be far too daunting for them, so they simply walked away. Most who are familiar with Caitlin’s case agree that it's better for her to remain in the sheltered care that only a medical facility can provide. The progressively degenerative effects of her condition has robbed her of the ability to swallow and as a result Caitlin Pierce receives nourishment through a feeding tube. All know it's only a matter of time before she's gone.
Tay Sach's Disease is always fatal and puts its sufferers through a slow agonizing death spiral before finally extinguishing its host. All involved with Caitlin's care agree that to put her through the wasting agony of letting Tay Sach's Disease run its full course is unthinkable. Tomorrow morning a judge will be asked to rule on whether the state has jurisdiction in this case. The matter is complicated further because no parent or relative shows any inclination to get involved, and so the fate of Caitlin Pierce will be determined in a courtroom miles away by people who have never seen her. The fear shared by many of those who are trying to find a humane solution to this tragic dilemma is that this case will become a rallying call for others who would use it to advance a political agenda. Though state law in Oregon is more thoughtfully formulated than most other states, the question of how the court will resolve this difficult issue is likely to be fraught with controversy. Advocates on both sides of this question preparing their arguments for the scheduled court hearing don't know it yet, but their work on this case will soon be rendered moot and irrelevant. The center of this heated controversy, a frail, helpless nine-year-old girl tenuously clinging to life in a hospital bed a few miles away will save them all the trouble. When one of the staff nurses comes to check on Caitlin later tonight, she'll find the short painful life of Caitlin Pierce has come to an end.
In that realm where journeying souls pass through en-route to their destinations, where past, present and future flow in and out of each other, two spirits stand together on the crest of a high hill overlooking an enormous ocean. It's Brianna, and her apprentice Calvin Milner. They stand together looking out on the beautiful scene of an ocean front paradise. To their front lies the clear pristine waters of an emerald blue sea, behind them a long grassy hill with a steeply pitched upward path leading to where they're standing. A
cloudless canopy of deep blue sky towers above them and the warming rays of gentle sunlight illuminate everything around them. Calvin takes in the scenic vista in silence before curiosity prompts him.
“Why are we here Brianna?”
“We're here to meet our new arrival Calvin, a creature pure and innocent.”
“Is our new arrival a child?”
“Yes she is. She's been suffering from a terrible disease. Now she's free.”
“Is she on her way here now?” Calvin asks.
“Yes.”
“What are we going to do with her when she gets here?”
“Have fun, that's what a child does best. ... Look, who's coming up the path, Calvin.”
Pointing to a child in the distance running up the path, Brianna says, “Here comes our new arrival Calvin.”
Straining to see the distant figure, Calvin asks, “Where?”
“There, can you see her?”
“Yes, now I see her. She's so far away. Can she make it up here?”
“Just watch her and see, Calvin.”
Calvin sees a child running up the steep grade with what seems to be boundless, inexhaustible energy.
“Look how fast she's running. Who is she?”
“Her name is Caitlin Pierce, and she's just broken free of her bondage.”
“I've never seen a child with so much energy,” Calvin says.
As Caitlin gets closer Brianna calls to her.
“Come on Caitlin. You're so fast and strong.”
Calvin sees Caitlin running swiftly to the crest of the hill where they're standing and looks behind at the water below. He thinks for a moment that if she doesn't slow down she might overshoot the edge of the precipice and tumble below. Seeing her swift approach Brianna cheers her on.
“Come on Caitlin. Let's fly. Let's fly Caitlin.”
Now close enough to see the eager smile on Caitlin's face, Calvin stands aside and watches as Brianna waits to take the child's hand and greet her momentum as they run together to the edge of the cliff and leap over its threshold. Calvin watches as they soar without effort through the open air and across the water. An ecstatically jubilant expression of sheer delight comes over the child as she triumphantly exults in her new found freedom. Calvin observes with a smile as Brianna and Caitlin soar over the magnificent expanse of water and shoreline. Turning and soaring through the air at will, their exhilarating flight is tantalizingly inviting. Minutes pass as they continue their airborne frolic. Then, they make one final pass over-head and gently land back on the crest of the hill where they began. Calvin looks at Caitlin and sees a healthy nine-year-old girl brimming with life and energy as Brianna kneels to embrace her new young friend.
“Oh Caitlin, that was incredible. You can run. You can fly. You can swim. You can do anything you want, just like anyone else.”
“I can run like other kids now.”
“Yes you can, Caitlin. Yes you can.”
“That was fun!”
“It was fun Caitlin. It will always be fun. I'm so happy you're here.”
“Me too.”
Brianna looks into Caitlin's face, and sees the ingenuous, frail innocence of a young child, and in her, every child. She knows she must send her back, back to a normal life, back to a home with loving parents, back to where life can start again on its natural course, back to something that was meant to be.
“Caitlin, I have a surprise for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes, would you like to see your mom?”
“I would like to see her, but she went away somewhere.”
“Well, she came back and she misses you very much. Sometimes she cries because she wants to see you. She has a special name for you. She calls you her Kimberly angel because that was her mom's name. Do you like that name?”
“Yes, I like it.”
“Can I call you that name too?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you Kimberly.”
“You're welcome.”
“Would you like to see your mom?”
“Yes.”
“Come. Let's walk down this path and I'll take you to her.”
Hand in hand Brianna and her young friend set off down the path, with Calvin observing in silence as he follows.
On a warm Saturday morning in South Australia, Paul and Kathleen O’Neil are making their weekly trip to Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne to visit their daughter. The four hour drive has become a familiar routine for them. An auto accident seventeen months ago has left their child in a prolonged coma, and though the resulting head trauma from the accident was not extreme, the injury has left their daughter unconscious ever since. Paul and Kathleen O’Neil have been making the four hour drive from their home near Swan Hill to the Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne for almost a year and a half and it's always a somber trip. The couple's anguish is made more poignant because Kathleen O’Neil believes she is responsible for her daughter's condition. On the day of the accident she forgot to make sure she was wearing a seat belt. The force of the collision was not great, but because the child was not strapped in, she was knocked unconscious by the impact of her head striking the door window. Since the day it happened, Paul and Kathleen O’Neil have lived under a pall of sadness. Making the trip to Melbourne each week is difficult, especially for Paul who sees his wife increasingly preoccupied with self-recrimination. He notices a heaviness about her lately that seems to be getting worse in the last few weeks, and he's genuinely concerned about his wife's emotional well-being. As they turn on to Flemington Road, a few miles from the hospital he broaches the subject to his wife.
“Kathy, I'm worried about you, and I think you know why.”
“I can't get it out of my head. How could I be so stupid?”
“Come on Kathy. How could you possibly know there would be an accident? You're killing yourself with this.”
“It might've been better if I had.”
“Please don't say that. We have to go on with our lives.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Minutes later they drive into the hospital parking lot and are soon entering the main lobby. Royal Children's Hospital is a new, state-of-the-art facility, impressive in all respects. From its distinctive modern architecture to its innovative and enlightened approach in offering the most effective care to children receiving treatment, Royal Children's Hospital is second to none. A dedicated staff is particularly sensitive to the concerns of family members and make every effort to keep them informed and involved in their child's care. Paul and Kathleen O’Neil know their daughter is in very good hands. Because of their regular visits to the hospital, they are on familiar terms with many of the staff and today is no exception. As they pass by the exotic aquarium in the main lobby they are recognized and greeted by Dr Mark Emerson.
“Mr and Mrs O’Neil, nice to see you again.”
“Hi, Doctor Emerson, any news?”
“No, no changes, but her vital signs are strong, and stable. That hasn't changed. Her heartbeat and breathing are normal.”
“Then why doesn't she wake up?” Mrs O’Neil asks.
“Well, we don't know she won't. Trauma induced coma is unpredictable in its duration but in your daughter's case we think there's every reason to be optimistic. Aside from her coma she's in relatively good health. I'm sure part of the reason for that is because you come to visit her every week. I have no doubt that she's aware of it.”
“I think so too,” she says.
“So, we have to be patient for now. Okay?”
“Thank you Doctor Emerson,” Paul says.
“Can we see her now?” asks Kathleen.
“Of course.”
“Thank you doctor.”
Minutes later Paul and Kathleen O’Neil enter their daughter’s room and see their child as they saw her las
t week and the week before. Despite Doctor Emerson's hopeful words, the sobering image of a young girl in a perpetually unresponsive sleep, a somnolent, wakeless captivity that is at once both dead and alive and yet neither, is instantly disheartening. An emotional numbness he finds hard to resist comes over Paul when he sees his daughter in this helpless condition. After both give their daughter a kiss, it's Kathleen that stays with her constantly through the five hour visit as Paul sits passively most of the time.
Meanwhile, an ocean away at Wellcrest Regional Care Center in Portland Oregon, the death certificate and formal report on the passing of nine-year-old Caitlin Pierce is being prepared. Caitlin's death comes with a mixture of sadness and relief for those who cared for her. Most are relieved to know her suffering is finally over. On hearing of her death several of her care givers remarked, “She's in a better place.” That prescient hope is far more intuitive than they can guess.
The tender spirit of the departed subject they speak of is free and thriving already. The spirit of the child once called Caitlin Pierce is emancipated, as if waking from a captive dream of endless pain into a liberating reality of physical joy, a transformation that is literally and factually a second birth. Her buoyantly eager spirit is impelled to find and express itself in and through a physical human body. Brianna knows this as she leads her down the pathway and with her apprentice Calvin silently observing behind them, she says to the child, “I can hear your mother.”
“What is she saying?”
“She misses her angel, her Kimberly angel. Would you like to see her?”
“Yes.”
“Come this way then.”
Brianna leads the child to where the path divides in separate directions and then kneels to embrace her young friend. Pointing to the separate path she tells her, “Your mother and father are waiting for you down this path. They've been calling for you.”
Looking at her intently she tells the child, “It’s time for you to take a new name. You were Caitlin. Now you are Kimberly. You will breathe again measuring the pulse and cycles of life.”
A Journey of Souls Page 8
