Are you ready for Chapter Twenty-Four? This is a chapter with a definite blow to your emotional gut - here it is:
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lonnie sat with Amanda, in her room at the hospital, and she watched the quiet respirations of the sleeping girl. The day had been such an odd one. It had started with Janie’s funeral, which was strange enough. Then it had gone on with that unbelievable dinner at the Three Knights Inn. But what struck Lonnie as even more significant was the conversation she had had with Amanda after everyone else had gone back to their own places. Lonnie had volunteered to help Amanda get settled back into the hospital, and for her to get her scheduled chemotherapy.
Amanda, it seemed to Lonnie, was inordinately concerned with Charlie. Lonnie was missing Charlie so much, it was causing physical pain, but she had tried to keep it to herself. But Amanda knew, and could sense Lonnie’s pain and grief. And so, they talked about it as Amanda got her chemotherapy, infusing into her port in the right subclavian area of her chest. They talked and talked, not paying the least attention to the nurses or lab technicians. It felt to Lonnie like she was unburdening her own soul to her best friend. And her best friend at the time was a ten-year-old child. Yet this child was no ordinary girl. It seemed as if she had had some avenue to approach the very truth of the matter discussed. But what really got to Lonnie was when, after carefully listening to her, she said, “Lonnie, let me ask you, knowing what you do now, if you had it to do over again, would you take the risk with your own heart?”
Lonnie thought about this for a while, then tearfully said, “Yes, I would!”
“Then, listen to me. I’ll be seeing Charlie tonight, not as myself, but as Alexandra, and I’ll let him know how you feel. He’s got a decision to make, and I believe this bit of information will help. Cause it’s a decision of his own heart which he has to make.”
The day, this discussion, and the chemotherapy, all seemed to take it out of little Amanda, who gradually succumbed to the evening, and fell asleep. Lonnie stayed at her side for another fifteen minutes. She then opened her purse, took out a small pad of sticky notes and a pen. She wrote on the notepad:
Dearest Amanda,
Thank you so much for being
my voice of reason and truth.
Love you forever,
Lonnie
She tore off the note and placed it on Amanda’s sleeping form. Lonnie then left, to go back to her own condominium. She missed Charlie as much as ever, but felt a deep comfort, knowing that, somehow, he would get her message.
The following day Lonnie kept busy and tried not to think about Charlie or Amanda. But by afternoon she decided she had to check on Amanda. As she turned her car into the parking lot and found a space, she felt a sudden, overwhelming sensation of unease. She hurried in and took the elevator up to her floor. When she got to the room, she looked in to find the room empty, sanitized, and ready for the next occupant.
She felt a sudden sensation close to panic, and quickly sought out the nurse.
“Amanda – where is she? What happened?”
Julia, one of the nurses Lonnie knew, turned to her and said, “Oh, Lonnie, she’s been moved to the Unit. That happened last night. She became unresponsive and lost her blood pressure.”
Lonnie was speechless for a few moments, then she seemed to find her voice. “Oh, my. I didn’t know. Thanks, Julia. I’ll go there.”
“I’m sorry, Lonnie,” said Julia, as Lonnie headed back to the elevators.
Lonnie got on the elevator and punched the button for the second floor. All the time her heart was racing, and her hands were sweating. She did notice the subtle aroma of the deep forest on the elevator, but there was no one else on the elevator. As it came to the second floor, she hurried out and turned left, and then went down the hall to the ICU. She pushed the swinging door to enter. There were the usual sights and sounds of chaos and ventilators with their whooshing and with the constant alarms. She rushed to the nurses’ station, where she was greeted by someone she did not recognize.
“Amada Barnes? Lonnie asked.
“Ah… just a minute,” replied the young nurse. “Let me get her nurse.” And with that she went back to the interior of the ICU, and came back with Marcella, a nurse Lonnie knew well. The look on Marcella’s face, however, was not encouraging.
“Oh, Lonnie, I’m so sorry…We just finished coding her. I am… so sorry. She just didn’t make it.”
Lonnie was just too overwhelmed to say anything. She looked for a place to sit down, and Marcella took her back to the inside, and found her a chair to sit in. After a few minutes, and several tissues, Lonnie looked up and asked, “Where is she? If it wouldn’t be too much, could I see her, even briefly? I imagine you’ve called the sisters.”
“Oh, yes, they know. And, of course you can see her. Come on back, she is in room 12.”
Lonnie stepped into ICU 12, cautiously, silently. There on the bed was her body, alone, lifeless, but still with the endotracheal tube, cardiac monitor leads, and with the IV connected to her port. Lonnie could see that the monitoring equipment had been shut off, as well as the IV pump, which told Lonnie that they had just finished with her resuscitative efforts. She went to the bed and very gently clasped her lifeless hand. She had seen a lot of death in her years as a nurse but could recall nothing that affected her so profoundly.
“Oh, my dear Amanda, I hope you found your Alexandra.”
After a few silent moments with Amanda, Lonnie stepped back out of the ICU. She felt so acutely alone in the hospital corridor, that she looked about for somewhere to land, and eventually found herself in the visitors’ lounge. In the lounge was a payphone on the wall. She found a quarter in her purse, and dialed Carol’s number. Carol’s Scottish accent was profoundly soothing for Lonnie, as she told her friend what had happened. Carol invited Lonnie over for dinner, which she accepted eagerly.
She got back on the elevator and headed down to her car. As she got in, she again noted the forest aroma, this time not as subtle. And there, on her steering wheel was the sticky note she had left with Amanda, but now it contained a small addendum, hand-written in red crayon:
Dearest Amanda,
Thank you so much for being
my voice of reason and truth.
Love you forever,
Lonnie
I LOVE YOU TOO
AMANDA
Overwhelmed, Lonnie just sat in the car and wept.
Lonnie approached the home of Carol and the earl with an odd mixture of feelings. Partly she was grateful to Carol for being her friend through this experience, and along with this she was so thankful not to eat dinner alone tonight. Yet underlying it all there was something she could only address as anger, but toward whom? And what was the source of her anger? Was it fear, and if so, whom or what did she fear?
She came to the door and rang the bell. Carol came to the door and quickly hugged Lonnie. “Oh, Lonnie,” she said through the veil of her own tears, “come in. I feel so… so empty. Such a loss.”
“Thank you, Carol. I tell you, I hurt so badly, I’m almost numb.”
Carol turned down the hall, and announced, “Earl, Lonnie’s here. Come on out and meet her.” Then as he came out from his office, “perhaps you two could sit down, while I get things ready for dinner.”
As they sat down in the dining room, the earl turned toward Lonnie and said, “Lonnie, I am indeed sorry for your (and our) loss. Just yesterday this young lass was in our midst, seemingly healthy, and so full of wisdom. I was so enthralled with her, that I hardly know what to say.”
“She was full of wisdom to the end, Earl. And I was the recipient of it.”
“Can you tell me any more of how this happened?”
“Not really, Earl. The only thing I can figure out is that what she got for her chemotherapy must have caused her to lose her blood pressure. She was then transferred to the Intensive Care Unit, but eventually her systems failed, and they were unable to resuscitate her.” Lonnie stopped briefly, deciding what to say. Then she made a decision, reached into her purse, pulled out a small piece of paper. “While she was very much alive, but sleeping, I wrote her a little note and left it on her body. Then I left her to sleep. Evidently it was later that night that all the rest happened. When I got to the hospital, she had been moved to the Unit, and by the time I got there she had just died.” Lonnie hesitated again, but then went on with her narrative. “I’ll tell you what really got to me, though it happened afterwards. When I got to my car, unlocked it and got in, I noticed a certain aroma – I think you know what I mean – the smell of the forest in springtime. But there was no one in my car, but there was this note, which was the one I wrote on. But below the message were these words, written in crayon…”
The story had gotten Carol interested, and she came over and said, “let me see the note.” She studied the small post-it note, and then said, “Oh, mercy. Here, Earl…what do you think of this?”
The earl took the note, brought it close to his face, then he blew across the paper, aimed toward the two women. Lonnie’s eyes lit up in recognition.
“Yes, that is the smell!”
“And that,” said the earl, “is the important part of the message.”
“Important? And just what does it mean?” Lonnie looked puzzled.
“That would depend partly on what you and the young lass talked about. But suffice it to say that Amanda and probably Maggie did see fit to take your message across the chasm of time.”
“But what of the letter you got that was mysteriously deposited at your table?” Lonnie could recognize the anger starting to take form in her consciousness.
“I know where it is,” stated Carol. “I’ll go get it.”
As Carol went into his office, Lonnie looked into the eyes of the earl, searching for the source of her building anger. She could only see sincerity…
“Here is the horrible letter,” said Carol. “Now, tell me, what do you make of all this?”
In answer, the earl took the letter, and like with the note, he blew across it toward Lonnie and Carol.
“No. It’s not the same, but I do get something,” Lonnie said, but then her face contorted slightly. “There’s something there, but it’s a sort of rancid smell, something not right.”
“There is, indeed, and I believe that it is a reflection of the one who sent it.”
“May I see it? I get the distinct feeling that the sender of the note is trying to give me a message, too.”
The earl handed the note to Lonnie. She took it in her hand, opened it, and read the message. She paid particular attention to the second paragraph:
So, be ye warned – if I do find that Drachma, or anyone
else within his service or thine has been meddling in
the events of Shepperton, I shall take it upon myself
to make certain that this window through time shall
be forever closed, and all of Drachma’s doings
shall be forever made naught.
Antoine LeGace
Third Prefect, Order of Byzantium
And now she knew for certain that it was this Antoine LeGace who was identified both as the source of the foul odor, and the cause of her fear and anger.
“Well enough of this for now,” said Carol. “We can get back to discussing this horrible man after we eat.”
“Oh, that would be good, for at the very least, I could get his stench out of my nostrils.”
“And I shall put this most foul note away forever.” The earl got up, and went to his study, as Carol went to the kitchen, and came out with bowls of steaming soup.
And for a time, the memory of the day’s horrors, and the rancid odor of the man were pushed aside. They enjoyed each other’s company and the excellence of the meal, before retiring to the sitting room.
“So now, Alonza,” began the earl, sipping his tea, “it is my understanding that you came over for two reasons. One was to unload your heavy burdens, which you have partly done. And the other was – what?”
“Guidance. I’ll tell you that what I was talking to Amanda about was mostly how I was missing Charlie. I do know that I have only known him for such a brief time that it does seem slightly strange. But to Amanda it seemed to make perfect sense. And she told me that she would tell Charlie how I felt. But here’s the weird part – she told me that she would tell him that night, and that she would tell him as Alexandra.”
“As Alexandra? That is not anyone whom I knew…”
“No, but what I don’t quite understand is, did she know…that she was going to…Shepperton? Also, what about the little addendum to the note I got – it’s written in the handwriting of a child. And it brings with it the smell of the forest, and of Maggie and Falma.”
The earl pondered all this, and then asked, “Did she say anything else?”
“She indicated to me that Charlie would have to be making some kind of decision, and that this bit of information would help him in his decision.”
“Hmm…let us think all this through. When was the last time you saw Charlie?”
Lonnie swallowed the lump in her throat, and answered, “that would have been last Wednesday. That was also the last time I saw Falma, and it was when Janie died.”
“And can you tell me anything of his state of mind the last you saw of him?”
“Only that he seemed incredibly sad, and also torn up inside.”
“And do you think it possible that leaving you here, and going to where Marilyn was had anything to do with his state of mind?”
“I try not to think about that, but I’m quite certain that you’re quite right. Tell me, what did you think of Charlie’s and Marilyn’s relationship?”
“From Charlie’s perspective, his relationship with Marilyn seemed an unequal one. His regard for her seemed always seemed to me to be tempered by knowledge that she had lived the life of something that he would be forever unable to provide…”
“Let me interrupt, if I might,” said Carol. “For I knew Marilyn more closely than anyone. And, in fact, it was she who encouraged our own relationship, wasn’t that true, Earl? All that time, Charlie was in the background, preparing what he could, and doing things to make our lives happen, all the while keeping the news media at bay, and speaking to our benefactor to make certain that his relationship with ours remained under wraps. But Marilyn’s regard for Charlie grew all the time, but it never really approached what I would consider intimacy. She managed to keep that tightly closed from the rest of the world. And you know what I think? I do believe that the silver coin that she had acted upon her as long as she had it…”
“The silver coin?” Lonnie sounded surprised.
“Oh, yes, a drachma, an ancient coin of Greece. You’ll have to ask Charlie about that the next time you see him.” Carol said this with an impish half smile. “And believe me you’ll be seeing him again.”
This revelation had Lonnie’s mind swimming. She barely remembered the rest of the discussions of that evening. What is this silver coin, this drachma? What does it mean? I know it’s no coincidence.
She got back to her apartment, and picked up the mail on her way in. She unlocked her door and set the mail on her kitchen table. Along with the usual envelopes and magazines was something else. It was a small box all by itself. It was not in any sort of packaging nor did it have any kind of address upon it. She picked it up and looked at it quizzically. It appeared to be very old, made of some sort of wood, worn by its handling over the ages. Then she opened it, not prepared for what was about to reach through the ages to her. Inside, on a bed of purple velvet was a small silver coin. She inhaled suddenly at the sight of it. Knowing full well of its significance and power, she began weeping.
She very delicately picked up the ancient silver coin, with the foreign writing on it. It looked to be in pristine condition, with no sign of wear. She actually noted its beauty was rather striking. Yet she could sense this was somehow different. It felt slightly warm in her hand. She put it back in its place, and as she did so it seemed to vibrate briefly. She closed the box and took it to her bedroom. She placed it in the top drawer of her bedside table, and closed the drawer carefully, as though there were spirits which might be disturbed.
“Oh, Charlie… for all our sakes, please make the right decision!”
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