Along with the painting, Mrs. Carlyle had taken up a pottery class. After dinner, she took the time to show me several pieces of her work. Mrs. Carlyle was quite the artist. All of her work impressed me. In particular a cobalt blue vase, which she hand-painted, was stunning and sat in the corner by her desk. I watched as she spoke. Doctor Carlyle looked upon her with such love yet I could still see sadness in his eyes as well. While they seemed to find a way to weather their own storm clouds of sadness both of their eyes held onto the same grief as mine. I recognized it all too well.
Austin’s mother moved with the same grace as I recalled. I observed her as she put the pottery away before she grabbed a white square gift box from the corner of her roll-top desk, handing it to me.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Something I found when I was antiquing. I saw it and thought of you. I was going to send it to Colorado, but as luck would have it.” She smiled and patted my arm. “You are here so I have saved myself the trip to the post office.”
I opened up the gift box. Inside, I found another smaller gold box. The delicate gold box had been intricately carved with a detailed winter scene. There were rolling hills with snow covered spruces, a horse covered in large jingle bells wrapped around the harness on his neck, and he pulled a fancy high-backed sleigh. Beyond the sleigh three long-eared bunnies made footprints in the snow. The latch on the box looked like a snowflake. I opened up the latch to find the inside was completely lined with the most brilliant shade of emerald green velvet. Gold embossed letters spelling “WINTER” were imprinted within the velvet lined lid.
“This is beautiful. Thank you so much, I will treasure it, Mrs. Carlyle.”
Mrs. Carlyle’s face beamed then she patted my arm. “I am glad you like it. I hope you can find a use for it.”
“Yes, it will be the new home for my locket when I take it off at night,” I replied. I clutched at Austin’s words around my neck.
My evening came to an end. I promised to see the Carlyles again during my stay in New York, offering to take them out to dinner when their schedules would permit. Doctor Carlyle agreed with his usual quiet manner. He assured me we would get together soon but insisted it would be their treat.
As I exited the apartment, I stopped briefly on the sidewalk. While the evening was not at all easy and the beginning of my evening started out more than questionable, I was so very happy I had visited them. I turned to take one last look, only to see both of them standing on the front stoop. They were waving goodbye, smiling. More memories came crashing back but I found the strength to wave in return.
“Ms. Wells,” Richard greeted. He held the car door open for me.
“Thanks,” I replied then froze. I swear I felt Austin’s hand intertwined with mine. I glanced down to look at my hand only to see my own.
I took a deep breath before entering into the Cadillac. Once settled, I knew I had somehow found a way to take another small step forward tonight. I clenched my hand before swiping my right hand over my left. My diamonds sparkled, caught within the overhead light of the car until Richard closed his door.
On the way back to the hotel, it began to mist. Richard turned on the windshield wipers. I watched the back and forth movement. The moisture trailed in long streaks across the glass. The music playing on the radio changed. I think I actually gasp when I focused in on the melody. The song set me back deep into the leather seat. The same song which played the night Austin and I crashed clanged through my senses. I tried to find my voice in hope of asking him to please turn off the radio when I noticed where I was. Richard had turned onto another street, and I wasn’t sure why he took an alternate route.
The traffic out my window seemed to slow down into an unhurried methodical motion. For a moment I thought I was seeing things. Everything outside the window broke into a snapshot of my nightmares. I was on the same street. The exact same street, in fact. Feet from the exact same place I had been the night of December nineteenth, sixteen years ago. Here in the same place my life ended when I was twenty-two.
I began to hyperventilate. My lungs felt like they shut off. The sensation was like someone punched through my chest and squeezed the two of them between their ice frozen fingers.
“Winter, are you all right?” Richard asked. He watched me through the rear-view mirror.
I tried to find my voice but only shook my head. My hand grabbed the back of the headrest on the passenger side seat and pulled hard against the protesting pain of my lungs. There was a gasp, and it was mine as I dragged in very little air. Breathless, wave after wave of pain washed over me. It towed me under and tugged me further from safety. My gasp for air turned into a wheeze. The beat of my heart raced. My head spun. The sides of my temples ached.
Richard put on the turn signal then pulled over. We left the traffic to pass us by. My hand fumbled about before it found the door handle. I bounded out of the car, hit the sidewalk with both feet, and began to walk or maybe it was a run. Unsure of my heading, I moved forward in a haze. I needed to be somewhere else, anywhere else. As I watched my feet move beneath me I was actually surprised. Because although I moved, I seemed to stand still.
Something to my left, a bright light, caught and held my attention. There were people behind the vividly lit windows. My reflection hit the glass, melting into the scene behind the window. An apparition of me. I focused in on the face caught inside the glass which changed, morphed into another face, a younger face, a happy face, not my own. Those people remained picture perfect and laughing as they talked and ate their meals from a beautifully elaborate table covered in silver cloth. The table was adorned with blue patterned china, perfectly polished silverware, and topped off with crystal goblets filled with burgundy colored wine.
Before my eyes stood Austin, beautiful, perfect, and filled full of life. This had to be love I witnessed as he gazed at the woman in the glass. He looked at her as though she were his life. However, the face which held me was in direr contrast to mine. That face, bright with a glow. Her smile, wide. The deep emerald green eyes I had not seen in so long, being vacant and lost from me, found me again. They flashed full of love, staring at the man beside her, at Austin.
I observed Austin and the woman who had been captured in the reflection of the past exit the doors of the restaurant. The valet dressed in black pants with his white shirt crisp under his long black coat handed Austin the car keys. I wanted to scream, to yell out STOP! Please stop, but I felt nothing but pain in my chest. My mind swirled with possibilities. What-ifs played out. They echoed through my thoughts.
I remember wanting to hurry, wanting to leave to be with Austin alone but….
What if Austin and I had been delayed in leaving? I was usually late for everything. Why had I not been late that night? If the rehearsal or the rehearsal dinner had taken longer, or if I had taken longer, even five minutes longer to leave, my life could have been different.
I watched before my incredulous eyes as Austin spoke to my mother and then to his parents. I heard a vague echo of his voice play out like a scratchy record. It resonated off in the distance. No, not the distance, it had to be within my mind.
We are going to make a quick stop, so if you make it back to the apartment before we do don’t worry, Cynthia. Mom, Dad, I’ll see you later tonight. I want to spend a little time with my fiancée.
There I sat. Seated inside the car. Austin took the driver’s seat. He turned on the radio, ran the back of his hand down my cheek and smiled before he pulled out into traffic. I was there with him, yet I stood frozen in horror unable to move from my spectator’s spot upon the sidewalk, unable to breathe.
I felt my face turn ashen as the blood left me. I never realized the truck in front of us had stopped abruptly. Austin hit the brakes, threw out his arms to protect me, and our car slid out of control. The Porsche missed the back of the truck, but the snow, the ice, caused confusion with the traffic. Another vehicle, on the edges of my peripheral view, tried to stop. It was unable to.
This vehicle rammed forward. I saw it slam into Austin’s side of the car then a large utility vehicle ran into both cars before the collisions halted, finally coming to a devastating stop. I heard the sounds of twisting metal, breaking glass then felt the same cold wet upon my face.
I lifted my chin and looked up into the night sky. The mist came down. It hit my face, my cheeks, and clung to my eyelashes. How do I escape this rain, this coming storm? Every part of me was cold, wet, and lifeless. For once, my outside condition matched my inside condition. My name actually fit. I became the epitome of winter. Frozen, cold, and icy. There would be no escape, no reprieve. All I could do was walk forward into the dimming light. I drudged myself forward. I needed to leave this place. I should not be here, not again.
I walked, wandering really, not sure of my destination. After all, what did it matter? In truth, I had no place to go, to run. I knew there would be no outwitting this pain. I tried for years to hide away from the hideousness of that night. In many ways, I had entombed myself. However, the tomb in which I lie was giving me up.
The mist increased to a light drizzle. I should hurry, try to gain much needed shelter from this cold wet beginning of a snowstorm. As necessary as it might have been to gain shelter or hurry, I did not care to rush. My will was gone, only grief and unspeakable pain flooded my thoughts. All of these memories rushed back to me without my consent. I wanted to lock away this pain, these memories, in some dark corner of my mind. I needed to bury them away in order to allow my heart to continue beating. But the lock gave way and I found myself drowning in the misery of my memory.
I do not know how long I wandered. The weather worsened, and I continued to walk before finally coming to a street which I knew would get me to my hotel. Numb and lifeless, my heart screamed out Austin’s name and raged against the truth. I needed him, to find him, but I would not find him, not here. On some level I understood he could not hear me, not perceive my cries for him. A part of my mind splintered again. I experienced that overwhelming sensation of fear along with the familiar stabbing loss overtake my existence.
Strange, while I was hyper aware of my surroundings and saw every detail of the people who passed me, a part of my mind could only be described as anesthetized. Though impossible, I tried to find a diversion from the memories and the loss. I became aware of a lit shop. Then from nowhere, a man breezed past and halted my progress. I recognized the waving of his arms, him whistling for a cab. And for some odd reason I noticed his spit-shined shoes. The shine will fade in this weather.
I wanted to reach the hotel. Unsure of why. Maybe a sense of self-preservation kicked in. I was freezing so I focused on my destination, became more aware of the worsening weather then found a peculiar gathering of people. They blocked the street along with the entrance to the shelter I sought. Bizarre. The crowds buzzed with excitement. They tried to gain entrance into the doors of the hotel I desperately needed to reach. Security vehicles along with numerous men pushed the crowds back. Temporary roadblocks had been placed across the street.
With vague understanding, I watched the crowd press in, trying hard to gain the upper hand. Sirens started. They whined through the night. Whoop, whoop…. I moved my hands to my ears in an attempt to stop the noise which again was too familiar. Flashing lights, bright yellow, filled my vision. The sounds, the lights, the noise overwhelmed me. I am trembling. I had to gain entrance into the hotel if for nothing more than a physical escape.
I stepped off the sidewalk. My feet sank deep into a puddle of ice cold black water. The shock to my system jolted me. If I didn’t hurry, my teeth would chatter. I tried to lift my right foot but the heel to my shoe was stuck somehow. I pulled. The strap to my right shoe broke, but I continued to move forward. I needed to gain entrance, get off the city streets.
I walked through a narrow path. Tall buildings flanked each side of me. I found the side entrance to the hotel. As if I wasn’t quite sure of how I had actually arrived, I reached out for the doors then froze when I realized they were locked. I stood for a moment unsure of what to do. My mind, scrambled. It worked over my memories, the pain, grief, my surroundings. I felt unable to actually make any clear sense of anything. Yet on the other hand, many things were crystal clear, slowed down into a picture of clarity like the spit-shined loafers of the man who passed me earlier.
My hand moved with a will of its own to find the card key tucked inside my right coat pocket. I had forgotten it was there. I removed the card from my pocket, held the flat credit card shape inside my hand then slid the key through the security pad. When the red security light switched to green something switched inside my head. Go, I thought. I shoved the key back into the pocket of my coat.
Shouting echoed in a somewhat haunting detached wave from the front of the hotel. This had to be the most peculiar night of my life. Briefly, I wondered what all the excitement was about, wondered why people had bombarded the front entrance then quickly dismissed the thought. In truth, I didn’t really care to know. I was detached in so many different ways, as if a ghost or a body seeking re-entrance into a once copious mind. My goal: to find my room, lie down, and allow myself to crumble properly.
Warmth. I made it inside the hotel where I stood for a moment. The muscles in my back were knotted. This tense feeling extended up and bunched around my neck. My shoulders felt as if they were tied in a tangle of stress, and my existence, sodden. Taking deliberate steps forward, I again focused on my feet. When I glanced down, I saw the strap of my shoe slosh then tangle around the heel. I ignored it. I knew I had to make my way to the elevators, but in order to do that, I must move again. I wiped wet hair from my neck, from my face then proceeded ahead. If I could just get to my room, I would fully fall apart in solitude and warmth.
I entered into the main foyer to the low sound of voices. It sounded like someone was upset. One voice became more distinct over the others.
“How do they know I’m here?”
His voice while angry was beautiful. Like the voice of a familiar angel, smooth like silk, sweet like honey, and warm like velvet.
“You know how it is. It takes one person to leak. Everyone has Blackberries, cell phones, email, text messages and then there are those blogs, Twitter, so before you know it, they have found you.”
Is that Zander’s voice?
The smooth angry voice spoke again. “I have already moved, changed hotels twice.”
I looked over in the direction of the voices. There leaning up against the marble expanse of the concierge counter, I witnessed the back of a tall, lean, man, dressed in a black leather coat worn over-top a black hooded sweatshirt. I continued to walk forward in the direction of the voice, the man. This vision had to be more of the memories which were flooding me tonight. The sound of his voice, while angelic, was like the voice of a destroying angel, a voice which could not be real. This voice had to be part of my further destruction. No, no more pain, no more.
I was close to him. The silken voice although angry became still, low, and even in tone. It jolted me, shocked my system. What I thought a memory, déjà vu or some sort of auditory hallucination became…real. I knew his voice but it’s not possible. This wasn’t a vague echo or a broken memory. The impossible became possible. No, I told myself, it cannot be. The texture, the tone, rang out within the dark closed off coffers of my memories and sent icy cold chills over the entire canvas of my skin. Something I had not experienced in years happened again. I felt the pull. My world stopped, stood still in infinity.
“Not possible,” I mumbled.
He turned around to face me. He looked at me from beneath the black hood, his face a little scruffy from not shaving. But beyond the shadow of the dark hood were his eyes. My God! His blue-gray eyes sliced through me like a bullet shot from a gun. I sensed my body’s loss of control. I shook like a leaf. I felt my eyes widened in total disbelief then my vision began to blur. My head felt like a helium-filled balloon, floating up, up, up, detaching from my body. I no longer felt my legs.
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Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a large man coming toward me. He said something. I finally caught his words. He was saying, “Mrs….”
“No, Jayden,” the angel said. He held out his hand to stop him.
I heard my own voice. “Austin?”
Confused, weak, and perhaps crazy, I caved. Without any further notice, I fell limply toward the ground, no longer seeing anything. I blacked out.
Chapter Ten
ANGEL
Since Austin’s death I stood on the edge of a dark precipice. I should not be surprised to finally fall over the edge, slip into the darkness only to find myself reaching out, clawing, holding on by my fingertips. I held onto slippery, unstable ground. The earth crumbled, fell away, but I continued to grasp at it, desperately trying to hold on, finding it almost impossible. A part of my unconscious mind knew it was too late. I would lose my very unsteady hold, allowing me to free fall into madness.
My mind could not comprehend or deal with any more tonight. What I saw, what I heard had to be another memory, a hallucination maybe? Unable to find the light I dangled between wake and dark slumber. I had been in this strange in-between state before. Only last time, I was dying and brought back against my will.
I thought I could feel my body move before I heard stressed filled voices mix into the echo of dull blackness. I floated to the surface, but did not break through.
A booming voice called out, “Can you hear me?”
Another stressed, but softer voice came through the dimness. His voice sounded British. “Mr. Harrison. Is that Ms. Wells? What happened?”
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