Promised Soul

by Sandra J. Jackson

  “I wouldn't want to meet another vehicle in the dark on this road; it doesn't seem wide enough for two to pass,” I said, trying to estimate the width of the road.

  “It's not, but there's plenty of room for both cars to move over allowing each other to pass,” Peter explained. The charming road continued to intrigue me as we made our way past old houses and farms.

  “Is this the usual way to Bourton or a shortcut?”

  “I'm not sure if it's much of a shortcut, but definitely more scenic and interesting, don't you think?” Peter turned and looked at me smiling. His smile was warm and infectious and again I was quite surprised when I felt the tips of my ears burning. I quickly turned away and looked out my window, hoping he hadn't noticed.

  “Scenic and interesting – definitely; but as to more, I guess I will have to take your word for it.”

  We traveled along the road, hardly meeting anyone, but when we did both drivers cordially moved towards his or her respective sides of the road and easily passed.

  In the distance, I could see what looked to be rooftops slowly emerging from behind the trees that lined the road. As we approached, a sign announced we were indeed in Bourton-on-the-Water; the small village erupted from out of nowhere.

  “This place is beautiful! I feel as though I've stepped into a puzzle or a postcard.”

  “Yes, it is quite a quaint little village, I'm sure you'll enjoy staying here.” Peter smiled at me, but I was too busy taking in the surroundings for it to cause any effect.

  “Shall we get a bite to eat – I'm famished.” Peter said laughing at me as my stomach growled right on cue.

  “Yes, please.”

  He parked the car in a spot that had just opened up along some storefronts. I looked at the shops noting that they were definitely worth visiting.

  “There's a footbridge over there we can cross.” Peter pointed toward the river that ran through the village. Crossing the river was a stone footbridge, and on the other side of the river, a path led to a number of stone buildings, one of which was the hotel restaurant where we intended to dine. “We can sit outside if you like and enjoy the scenery,” Peter said as we headed across the bridge.

  “Yes, that sounds perfect.” I could no longer stifle my excitement and grabbed Peter's arm. “I can't believe I'm here!” I squealed. My eyes were wide and there was an equally wide grin plastered to my face; it was all I could do to contain myself. I looked down at my hand clutching Peter's arm. “Oh! Sorry.” I felt warmth growing in my cheeks and quickly withdrew my hand.

  “Happens all the time,” Peter said, smiling down at me.

  “Really?”

  “No. I mean people are generally excited, but I do sense a bit more enthusiasm with you.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don't be, it's rather refreshing. Here we are… so outside then?”

  “Yes.”

  We sat ourselves at a table with an unobstructed view of the river. From there, I watched intently as people strolled along the path and ducks made their way up and down the waterway.

  “I can't remember the last time I felt so happy.” My eyes suddenly filled up with tears surprising both of us.

  Peter grabbed a napkin from the table and handed it to me.

  I hastily took it and dabbed at them. “I don't know why I'm crying,” I managed to say, overcome with emotion. “I'm so embarrassed.”

  Peter reached over and patted my hand. It was nice if not a bit awkward. “I'm sure it's just all the excitement and exhaustion getting to you,” he tried to reassure me. “When we're done with lunch, I'll take you straight away to your flat to rest.”

  “Yes, I think you're right.” I sniffed and felt myself beginning to settle down.

  “All right now?”

  I nodded, afraid that if I opened my mouth to speak the tears would start flowing again.

  Lunch went on without further incident and by the end, I was quite sated with food and conversation. Peter had finally spoken in longer sentences.

  I was excited to get out and tour my new surroundings but first, I wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest; there would be plenty of time to get to know the village. When we were ready to leave, we headed back to the car in silence.

  “Are we far from the apartment?” I asked, trying to stifle a yawn but to no avail. I gave in and covered my mouth; my eyes watered.

  “No, it's just a few streets away.” Peter started the engine and backed the car out of its spot.

  Within minutes, we parked out front of a small Cotswold cottage resting at the end of a cul-de-sac and surrounded by stone walls and beautiful gardens. I emerged from the car, stretching and yawning once again, and contemplated whether my body would even make it to the flat. Before I knew it, Peter had already retrieved both of my suitcases from the car and was heading up the walk with me wearily following along behind him, my smaller bag slung over my shoulder. When we reached the front door, I noticed the hanging baskets full of flowers adorning each side. Peter pulled a set of keys from his pocket; one of which he used to open the front door. We stepped into the small vestibule, Peter set down the luggage, and I closed the door behind us.

  “This door here,” Peter said pointing to a door directly in front of us, “leads into the main house where Aunt Jane lives, and your flat is upstairs.” With that, Peter picked up the two suitcases and began lugging them up the stairs with me following behind. He reached the landing and opened the door, quickly entering the apartment and making room for me to follow along behind. “Well here you are, home-away-from-home,” Peter said as he made a sweeping motion with his arm.

  I stepped up beside him and looked around the apartment. Immediately to my left stood a small bookcase jammed with books while across to my right, tucked in the corner, sat a desk complete with computer. I was very glad to see it, as the first thing I planned to do, after my rest, was to send e-mail messages to my mother and friends notifying them of my safe arrival.

  Directly ahead of me was the living room inclusive of fireplace, sectional couch, and flat screen TV. It was impressive. Peter then led me into the kitchen, which was to the left of the living room. Just like the living room, the kitchen contained all of the modern amenities. A door at the far end of the kitchen led out to a balcony and a set of stairs, which Peter informed me led out into the back garden, a place I was more than welcome to enjoy. Once inside the kitchen, Peter turned left again and opened a door revealing the bedroom with a beautifully made-up queen size bed that beckoned me to crawl in and enjoy its comfort. Across from the bed and to my left, a large closet promised to hold all of my belongings. I followed Peter across the room where just on the other side of the closet at the end of the bedroom was a door that led to the en-suite bathroom. The bathroom was large and contained a corner soaker tub, separate shower, as well as a washer and dryer tucked behind the bathroom door. We walked to a door at the other end of the bathroom, beside the shower, and as Peter opened it for me, I found myself once again in the living room area beside the desk. To my left again was the door to the apartment. We had made a complete circle around the entire apartment. It was perfect.

  “So what do you think of your lodgings?” Peter asked grinning.

  “I never could have imagined a more perfect place.”

  “Yes, well the old stone outside surely is deceiving. When Aunt Jane had this place converted a number of years ago, the builders did a tremendous job.”

  I nodded in agreement, trying hard to stifle yet another yawn. My eyes watered, as the yawn grew more intense.

  “I'm sorry; I guess I'm more tired than I thought.” I wiped the wetness from my eyes.

  “I will take that as my cue to leave, so you can get some rest. Before I do however, I will give you my number should you have any problems.” Peter crossed over and sat at the desk, he opened up a notebook he'd found sitting beside the computer, and began to scribble down some numbers as I looked over his shoulder.

  “This is my home number,”
he explained. “This one my mobile, and this is the office. Aunt Jane will likely not be around for a while, but rest assured she has left word with the neighbour, a very nice couple I'm told, and should you have any trouble, you may call on them for assistance.”

  I nodded trying to take it all in between yawns.

  “Do you have any questions before I leave?” Peter asked as he turned around in the office chair to face me.

  “No, nothing I can think of at the moment,” I replied; blurry eyed.

  Peter stood up from the chair. “I'll bring your bags into the bedroom and then I'll leave.” With that, he grabbed the two suitcases still sitting by the entrance and headed to the bedroom with me following at his heels. I stopped at the front door and waited for him to return.

  “Thanks for everything,” I said, part of me wished he would stay. I was beginning to feel quite comfortable with him and believed he felt the same way.

  “It was no trouble, I had fun.” Peter grabbed the doorknob and turned it pulling the door open. “Oh wait!” he said, turning around. “I almost forgot.” He reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out a somewhat rumpled envelope. “Sorry it got a little crushed. Aaron asked me to give this to you.”

  I reached over and took it from his outstretched hand.

  “I'm sure we'll meet again,” Peter said, and he slipped out the open door leaving me to stare at the crumpled envelope in my hands.

  Seventeen

  Mary quietly tiptoed down the rickety, wooden stairs of her family home, carefully feeling her way with one hand on the wall and the other on the railing. It was the middle of a very cold and moonless night, and she was being careful not to awaken her family. With thoughts of their impending emigration to New York in just a few short weeks, she could not sleep.

  At the bottom of the staircase, Mary turned to her right and headed into the dining room. With no moonlight shining in through the window, the room was quite dark, and it took several minutes for her eyes to adjust to the small amount of light coming from the remaining embers in the fireplace.

  When she reached the fireplace, she carefully felt along its mantle for the lantern she knew she would find. Then she searched for the tin box of matchsticks kept close by. With both of the required objects in her hands, she turned in the direction of the dining table where she carefully put the lantern down and removed its glass shade. She opened the tin and plucked from it one of the few matchsticks left inside, luckily she and her mother were heading into town the next morning for some much-needed supplies, matchsticks being one of them.

  As she struck the match head across the surface of the dining table, it instantly burst into flames. Carefully, she lit the wick inside the lantern, replaced the glass, and moved it to the centre of the table. The glow from the lantern caused shadows to rise from the floor and dance across the room giving it an eerie feeling. Mary quietly moved toward her father's desk which sat in the corner of the room. After a quick search, she found what she was looking for, returned to the table and sat on her chair. She placed a few sheets of paper in front of her and set her pen and ink to the right. She laced her fingers as if in prayer, placed her hands on the paper, and closed her eyes.

  What should she say? It had been months since she and Thomas had spoken or even seen each other, not since the day he left her crying in the meadow. She sat contemplating the words for a moment and then opened her eyes and picked up her pen; she dipped it in the ink and putting pen to paper, she began:

  My dearest Thomas,

  I trust this letter finds you in good health. I intended to write you sooner, but I have just now found where to send this. I heard you had gone to help your uncle in Croydon (father says this is near London). I hope your uncle is feeling better; I remembered meeting him in the spring and thought him to be a gentleman.

  The past few days I have found myself unable to sleep. I am sure you are well aware that I will soon be departing for New York.

  Thomas; I do not wish to leave without a proper goodbye. I do not want my last memory of us, our last farewell, to be the day in the meadow. We will be leaving for London in a fortnight and as you are aware, it will be a long journey by coach and train. When we arrive in London, we will only have a day before we are to board our ship on the 15th.

  Thomas, I will not implore you, but I will leave it in your hands to come and say farewell if you wish. The name of our ship is the 'Ocean Queen' if this helps you any.

  I hope you will come; I miss you.

  Lovingly,

  Mary

  By the time Mary finished writing her letter, her eyes burned with tears and lack of sleep. As she waited for the ink to dry, a single tear fell from her cheek and landed on the letter, narrowly missing the spot where she'd signed her name, the ink still wet. She waved a hand over the letter fanning it to speed up the drying process, wiping at her eyes with the other.

  Satisfied that the ink was dry, Mary neatly folded the letter and placed it in an envelope, sealed, and addressed it. Tomorrow she would take it with her on their weekly trip to town where she secretly intended to post it.

  Mary returned the remaining paper to her father's desk, and set the pen and ink back in their proper spots. She blew out the lantern and returned it to the mantle; the darkness enveloped her. She waited a few moments for her eyes to adjust and as quietly and carefully as she had descended the stairs, she ascended and returned to her room.

  Her sister lay in the bed they shared, snoring softly, undisturbed. Mary slowly lifted the blankets and climbed into bed shivering as her side of the bed was cold. With her head resting on her cool pillow, Mary closed her eyes and quickly felt the beginnings of sleep taking over. She sighed heavily, welcoming the drowsiness, the first she had felt in a long time.

  My eyes opened to sunlight streaming in through the window. Lying there confused, it took me a few moments before remembering where I was. As the memories of my trip slowly returned and my dream faded, I sat up in bed and stretched. The sound sleep in a strange bed surprised me greatly as it usually took me a few nights to get used to different surroundings.

  Suddenly, it dawned on me; just how long had I been asleep?

  I threw back the duvet and climbed out of bed. There didn't seem to be a clock anywhere in the room, not even a clock radio, and I made a mental note that that was going to change. My unpacked suitcases still sat in front of the closet as I headed toward the bedroom door, remembering there was a clock out into the kitchen. Sure enough, I found it on the back wall by the kitchen table.

  “6:30 – great! Is that A.M. or P.M.?” I couldn't tell if the light shining in the window was early morning or evening light. Confused, I headed to the desk, knowing that the computer would reassure me of the date and time.

  I sat at the strange desk and turned on the computer. After a few seconds, the screen came up, but much to my dismay, it prompted me for a password.

  My first thought was to look in the notebook where Peter had written down his information. To my pleasant surprise, the notebook contained instructions on the first five pages regarding everything from operating the computer, including the password, to emergency numbers. Once logged on, I quickly searched the menu bar for the correct date and time and was relieved to see that it was 6:35 P.M. on the day of my arrival; I had slept for four hours.

  Eighteen

  He pulled into the drive of his newly acquired home and shut off his car. Quietly he sat for a moment, content with his new dwelling. Granted, it wasn't a large home in any way, but it sure did beat the flat he once had right smack in the middle of London. Albeit, his once fifteen-minute commute to the office was now four times the length, but he didn't care because this was his home, and he was glad for it.

  In the stillness, his mind began to recall the day's events. He smiled; he was smitten, certain he'd just met the girl of his dreams. He hoped she had an attraction for him and yet he was determined that if she felt the same way, he was going to take it slow, very slow. His proven record
with women was less than stellar. He meant well, he just always seemed to dive headfirst before checking out the depth and ultimately ended up alone. That's what happened with his most recent relationship and the one before. He wanted nothing more than to find a partner to spend his life with and with whom to raise a family This desire that seemed so easy to others always seemed so far out of reach for him.

  A beeping sound suddenly brought him back to reality; it was his cell phone stowed away in the cup holder alerting him of an incoming message. He picked it up and read; 'Call me when you get home, ASAP.' Thinking the worst he quickly exited the car, locked it behind him, and headed up the walk.

  Once inside his home, he threw his keys into a bowl on a small table resting just inside the entrance, and he headed straight for the living room. He plunked himself down on the large, black, leather sofa, which was too large for the room but was comfortable all the same. Grabbing the phone he began to dial with a bit of apprehension; he was dreading the news he felt he was about to hear.

  “Hello!” Aaron said after only one ring.

  “Aaron, is everything alright?” Peter asked. He knew his friend would hear the worry in his voice and quickly let him know the matter; his fingers crossed.

  “Oh sure, yeah. Sorry if my text worried you.”

  “Your mum's fine then?” Peter asked, feeling a bit of relief. He felt his shoulders drop as the tension eased.

  “Yes, as fine as she can be… I suppose.”

  “So, no change then?” Peter questioned Aaron, wanting to be sure. It wouldn't be the first time Aaron would let on things were better than he would acknowledge.

  He recalled the time when Aaron had hurt his ankle during a challenging football match. He hobbled off the pitch and rested during half time. When the game resumed, Aaron returned scoring two goals in the second half, sealing the victory. It was only on the following day did he disclose the pain he was really in and ended up going to the A&E. Luckily for Aaron, the stress fracture he'd suffered wasn't severe enough for a plaster cast, but it did mean resting his foot and no football for four weeks.