by Amelia Grace
“You’re welcome Michael. I knew that everyone would be concerned about Ben’s absence. It was the best that I could do at the time, under the circumstances.”
I tried to hide my uncontrollable wince as I thought back to when Ben went to Une Autre Terre for two years. I had used up the last of my energy resources to put on a good cover up for his family, while I was in fact falling apart at the seams. How on earth did I cope?
We left Michael’s house and headed for the shopping oasis, my mood again somber. I tried to lock my sadness away, hiding it from him. I didn’t want to go back into my past abyss.
But Ben could feel my change in mood, I knew it. He kept looking over at me, making small talk.
I was glad when we finally arrived at the shopping oasis of the island, something different to focus on. We desperately needed clothes, furniture and food – in that order.
And in that order we had success. After a long and exhausting shopping day, we finally arrived home at the beach house, where I lay down and dozed off to sleep.
As I awoke, it was as if I was in an entirely different house altogether. Ben proudly led me around each of the rooms that he had furnished, leaving our bedroom till last.
He covered my eyes with his hands as we entered the bedroom. As he removed his hands, I was greeted with the sight of a bed with four large timber posts that rose closely to the ceiling, where they were connected by a canopy of matching timber. Falling romantically from the timber canopy were white voile sheer drapes.
Then my eyes were drawn to the bedside tables. Two magnificent bouquets of soft pink roses in clear bulbous glass vases stood, the fragrant perfume of the roses filled the room. I didn’t know whether to be happy or cry. The emotional association with the roses was a two-edged sword. The connection of memories to Grandy, whom I loved so dearly and missed terribly each day, and the beautiful memories of when Ben and I first met on the 76th floor at the Masquerade Ball, and the extra large bouquet of soft pink roses that he had delivered to me the very next morning.
I walked slowly over to the roses and bent down to smell the fragrance, then I turned, and walked to Ben, tears falling from my eyes.
I stopped in front of him, wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly, melting into his body.
“Thank-you Ben,” I whispered, “they are just like the roses that you sent to me after we first met at the Masquerade Ball…. beautiful!” I kissed him tenderly, and pulled away, although I did not want to. But I knew that it was the right thing to do.
His eyes were intense, full of emotion. It was hard not to kiss him again.
For the first night of many, we slept together in our new romantic bed, our promise of purity unbroken, sacred.
* * *
I could never have predicted that my happiness would be taken away in an instant. It happened when we were driving to a surf beach to watch a board riding competition. I received a deadly jolt from something that I saw.
Driving past an inland yale coloured lake with snowcapped mountains in the distance, I saw, the exact same historic stone church that had appeared in my dreams a bounty of times until Ben had returned. When I first saw it, I turned my face away from it, shocked, unable to cope with its reality. This was the church of my marriage to Ben, only, when I got to the end of the aisle, he was not there. I felt unnerved. I wished I had never set eyes upon it.
I focused on the road ahead, my heart beating erratically, my head confused. Ben glanced at me and placed his hand gently on my thigh, letting me know that he knew that something had upset me. It did not comfort me though.
We arrived at the surfing competition, and headed to the viewing area. The surfing competition was inspiring and fierce, but not enough of a distraction for me. Flashes of the church kept entering my mind, tormenting me.
We walked to the car after the finale of the competition. Ben stopped me at the door before opening it for me. I was worried that he was going to confront me about my change of mood when I saw the old church. I was ready and waiting for his probing questions. But, unexpectedly, he moved his hand to touch my head. I knew what he was doing. He was going to read my mind. And it terrified me. I didn’t want him to see the church of my nightmares.
“No Ben. I don’t want you in my head,” I said tearily. He looked deeply into my eyes and then looked away into the distance without saying a word. He opened the door for me, a look of frustration on his face, and then walked around to the driver’s side and got in.
He turned to me. “Cate, you are hurting and I want to fix it.” He was serious. But I didn’t want him to see my nightmare. “Please let me wrap my shield of protection around you.”
I looked into his eyes for a moment, and then dropped my eyes from his.
“No Ben. You cannot fix everything.” I knew that I should not have said those words as soon as they left my mouth. I had hurt his heart.
Ben looked at me, disappointment oozing from his eyes. What had I done now?
Halfway into the journey back to the beach house, Ben came to a fork in the road. One way pointed to the coastal scenic drive, the other, to the inland drive by the lake.
Please, please, please don’t go by the lake I prayed in my head. My body tensed as Ben took the inland route. He had done it on purpose. I know it. I decided to act as if it didn’t bother me. But within half an hour, we approached the site of the historic stone church by the lake. Ben did not say anything to me, but he kept glancing at me watching for my reaction.
“Ben, it’s such a beautiful church. Pull over so we can look at it,” I suggested with pretense.
Before Ben had turned off the engine of the car, I had closed the door and was approaching the church, aggressively.
Ben caught up with me, but I did not him with me. I turned to him and gave him a warning look. He read the look well and continued a little way past the church and sat on the stony beach next to the yale blue water.
But I abruptly stopped at the church, scrutinizing it carefully on the outside. I was angry with it. As I examined the front of the church, I realized that the large double wooden doors were unlocked, and went in.
It was exactly as it was in my dream slash nightmare. The same detailed wooden pews, the same stained glass windows, the same floor to ceiling clear glass at the front of the church. How could I have dreamed of this church when I had never been here before?
Then I quickly exited the church, freaked out and full of anger.
I was running towards the car, when Ben called out to me. I turned and walked to him, tears streaming down my face, and confusion and anger radiating from me.
I did not sit next to Ben on the stones, but stood facing the yale blue water, picking up the stones and throwing them into the lake with all of my might.
I did not speak to Ben. I was too angry, and confused.
And I was relieved when Ben did not start a conversation with me either. Conversation was out of the question right now.
But after a while, I turned to him and covered my face crying. He stood and came to me, putting his arms around me, holding me close. I wanted to feel protected and safe right now. Still Ben did not speak to me, but he did place his hand on my head. After a short while he pulled his hand away, the look of surprise on his face.
I looked up at him, my eyes questioning.
“I felt your intense anger Cate. I can make you feel better. Let me take it away from you,” he said. I shook my head. I had to deal with this myself, or I would feel cheated. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around me, and then led me to the car. The only thing that he could do was to take me away from the church. I saw him look at the historic stone church, perplexed.
We drove back to the beach house in silence. All I wanted was for Ben’s to hold me in his arms. He held me as the sun set, and as the night fell. I did not speak, and he did not ask any questions. He had the patience of a Saint.
I felt him put his right hand onto my head, and place his fingers strategically onto certain poi
nts on my head. I knew he would channel his life force energy through to my emotional centre, concentrating his thoughts to help me heal from the pain of the church episode. I felt his fingers warm on my head, and he kissed my head lightly as he did so. I finally fell into a deep sleep, after my body had stopped its silent sobbing.
There, I remained in Ben’s arms for the entire night.
Chapter 7
Detachment
Cate woke in the morning, and looked out toward the ocean from the bedroom window, despondent.
I could feel the negative energy emanating from her. The historic stone church had pushed her off the balance beam, and she had landed heavily.
I lightly touched the exposed skin on her back, and gently kissed her shoulder. My heart was breaking for her. I left her on the bed while I had a shower – a long shower. There, I could cry under the covering sound of the running shower. For every step forward that I felt Cate was making, there would be three steps backwards. I was fighting for her, but, I was growing weary. I felt like giving up.
I searched my mind for how to help her now, but my ideas had been exhausted. I felt defeated, and at the very bottom of my pool of resources.
I opened the door of the bathroom, expecting to see Cate lying in the exact place when I had left her. But, she was gone.
Walking throughout the beach house, she was nowhere to be seen. The obvious clue to her whereabouts, lay in the open french doors at the back terrace that led to the beach.
Apprehensively, I headed down to the beach. Under the shade of a kentia palm tree, I saw her sitting motionless, staring out into the ocean. Her short hair gently blew in the light breeze. She wore the same clothes that she wore yesterday.
I quietly sat down beside her, without a word, and also looked out over the ocean.
So there we both sat, not talking, not touching, not happy. But at least we were together.
“Ben, I cannot marry you,” Cate finally said, her voice breaking with emotion. Then she stood up and walked away, heading off along the shore, slowly, head dropped, arms folded, dragging her feet.
I sat stunned, shocked, shattered and shaken to the core of my being. The words cut through my heart like a sword, then twisted and wrenched out again. It was hard to breathe, and my heart ached.
Then anger flared violently in me and I beat down on the sand with my hand until I could stand the pain no more. I looked up in the direction that Cate had been walking, but she was gone.
I stood up, angry. Cate couldn’t say something like that without an explanation. I had come back from Une Autre Terre for her. She couldn’t just reject me like that. I loved her with all of my heart, soul and mind. She was mine. She couldn’t just walk away from our love, my deep love.
Then I ran. Not to Cate, but back to the beach house, out the kitchen door and to the garage to the motorcycle.
I got on and accelerated at great speed, unconcerned for my safety, and headed back to the historic stone church. There, I was hoping to get some sort of insight into what had caused Cate’s plunge back into the darkness, and make her sever our bond, the bond that I thought could never be broken.
I spent a ridiculous amount of time examining every aspect of the church, inside and out, but to no avail. I sat on the stony beach and thought back to everything that had happened from when I returned to her a couple of weeks ago, searching and analyzing every conversation, every facial expression, every kiss and intimate moment that we had shared. Then my heart ached again as the realization set in that I had lost her. She was my reason for returning to the Earth. And now she was gone. She had chosen not to marry me.
I closed my eyes, lifted my head and put my hand over my heart, feeling the pain that seared through it. I would not go down without an explanation. I would not let her go easily. She was mine – as long as she still wanted me. And, I did not truly believe that she didn’t want me anymore. She had not looked at me. She had not looked into my eyes when she told me she didn’t want to marry me. She did not touch me.
I got up frantically from the stony beach and launched myself back on the motorcycle, and headed to the beach house once again. Many hours had passed, but I had to talk to her. I wanted to understand why she was feeling that way. What had changed? Why?
Entering the beach house in desperation to talk to her, I found that she was not there. The house was exactly as it had been when I had left in a rage this morning. Had Cate not returned from her walk along the beach? Now I feared that something had happened to her. And again, it would be my fault. Perhaps we should not be together, especially if our relationship was toxic. But I loved her so deeply, and I knew that she loved me deeply. It couldn’t end this way.
I ran down to the beach, looking for Cate. There was no sign of her.
I followed in the direction that she had walked this morning. The secluded beach ended in a collection of large grey rocks and black boulders at a headland.
I stopped when I reached the rocks. The sea was rougher here, belting against the rocks with force. The rise and fall of the water here could also be unpredictable. Had Cate been here? Was she still here?
I placed my hands on top of my head, thinking. The boulders were larger than me, and so made visibility difficult. Thinking and looking, I had an idea. If I could get up higher, and then look down at the rocks and boulders, I may be able save myself some time in searching this area for her.
I headed for the headland. It wasn’t huge, but it was higher ground.
And it was there that I saw her, on a ledge, with water lapping over her.
She was laying face down, not moving.
I rushed over to her, over and around the boulders as fast as I could, my heart beating out of control in panic.
She was twisted in the way that she was positioned, her hair wet and covered in seaweed. The summer dress that she wore was torn in parts, and exposed one leg all the way up to her hip. Her eyes were closed, and there were cuts on her arms.
“Cate! CATE! “ I yelled, panic and adrenalin kicking in.
I jumped up onto the low ledge where she was. Looking her over from head to toe, not knowing where to start to help her.
She lay unconscious, motionless, lifeless.
“Cate,“ I said again nervously, wanting to touch her but not knowing where to, in case she was badly hurt.
I knelt down and put my ear to her face and held my breath as I listened for hers.
I couldn’t hear it.
Tears started to build in my eyes. I placed my hand over her mouth to see if I could feel her breathe on my hand.
I did. It was very weak and shallow, but at least she was breathing.
I stroked the side of her face, talking to her. She did not respond. She lay there motionless, and unconscious.
I kissed her forehead and said her name. I placed my right hand on her head to read her mind.
It was then that she suddenly moved, and pushed my hand away, weakly crying “No…..” and then flopped her hand down again. She didn’t want me touching her.
Cate cried lethargically, but did not open her eyes.
“Cate…..Cate..……..are you in pain? Can I move you? What do you want me to do?” I asked, desperately wanting to help her.
“Move….” she said weakly, tears falling from her face, onto the rocky ledge, mixing with the salt water that surrounded her. I looked at her body again, laying in a twisted way on the ledge and became very anxious about her.
“You’re going to be okay Cate. Everything’s going to be okay.”
I looked around to see exactly where we were on the ledge, and how to get her down from there, before I positioned my arms under her to lift her.
Gently, I eased her along the rocky bed toward the end of the ledge, and then I placed her down again.
I jumped down from the ledge into the water, and picked her up again. Cate was floppy in my arms, she groaned in pain, but still, she did not open her eyes.
I moved swiftly along the beach to the beach
house, and took her directly to the bed, placing her down gently. I went to place my right hand on her forehead again, but once more, she pushed my hand away for the second time.
I reached for the phone and contacted the doctor, asking him to come at once – it was the only thing I could do. Cate was in a very bad way and needed medical assistance, urgently.
As the doctor consulted with Cate, I paced outside the closed bedroom doors. Cate had insisted that I not be present in the room with them.
She had shut me out of her life. I was feeling down, helpless, rejected.
An hour later, the doctor emerged from the room. I stopped pacing and went to him.
“I have tended to Cate’s needs Ben. She is bruised, cut, yes, but fortunately there are no broken bones. I was worried that she may have fluid in her lungs from the sea. She will need to be watched for the next few days. Right now, she needs rest, she is exhausted from almost drowning and from being tossed against the rocks. I would serve her up some hot tea and chicken soup. And, make sure that you ring me if she worsens, or doesn’t appear better after two days. In fact, I will come and check her again in two days. I will see you then.”
I walked with the doctor to the front door, reading his eyes to see if he was covering anything up. He was.
As I closed the front door, I turned around to head back to the bedroom, but hesitated. I questioned whether Cate would want to see me. I was unsure of what to do.
I slowly walked to the door of the bedroom, looking at the floor. Then I raised my head to look at Cate. She was sitting up in bed, with a complete change of clothing. Her hair was washed, and she looked peaceful, rested.
Her eyes were closed.
I walked over to her and sat on the bed bedside her, not knowing whether to touch her or not. I wanted to touch her, but I was afraid that she would push my hand away again.
