C J L MARR

Waiting

a short story written in 1996

 

Jasmine watched the young man struggling to keep his head above the raging torrent.  She knew she couldn’t help him even if she’d wanted to.  She had learned long ago that she could not influence events in his world, and no longer tried.

 

The young man’s name was Greg.  He had had many other names over the years - Gary, Gerhard, Garrett and Giancarlo - but Jasmine knew him only as George, the man she loved.

 

She had known that George was everything she'd ever wanted in a man.  She’d known this the moment she set eyes on him when she was twenty.  If George had simply smiled at her and walked away, even if she'd never seen him again, she knew that she'd never love another man like she loved him and would never want another man.  It was as if there was a gap somewhere within her and seeing him had filled it so that she felt complete for the first time in her life.

 

But he hadn’t walked away.  Instead George had courted her gently and romantically, and had asked for her hand in marriage just ten months after they’d met.  The ceremony had been held at Uncle James’ mansion in Hampshire, on the 22nd of May, 1811.  Jasmine remembered the simple ceremony as if it had been just yesterday.  It was hard to imagine anybody ever being so in love and so happy as she was that day.  She allowed the immense pleasure of the memory to flow through her consciousness.

 

Jasmine had eventually fallen pregnant, and Henrietta had been born in April 1813.  Jasmine smiled inwardly as she remembered the delighted look on George’s face when she’d told him she was pregnant.  The following months had been their most happy as they both eagerly anticipated the arrival of their first child.  It had been a straight forward pregnancy but Henrietta’s birth had been difficult and left Jasmine weak in bed for almost a month afterwards.

 

Dr.Hentridge had met with them as soon as Jasmine was up and about again, and had advised them to think very carefully before having any more children.  “It could be dangerous for poor Jasmine,” he’d said.  Henrietta was a lovely baby, but Jasmine knew that George desperately wanted a son, and she was just as determined to give him one.

 

She had fallen pregnant again when Henrietta was just eight months old.  This time Jasmine's pregnancy seemed doomed.  Six months into it, she slipped on some ice and broke her ankle.  Even before that she seemed to be losing weight and looking pale, but she insisted that she was alright and carried on with her life as if nothing was amiss.  Inwardly, she’d known that this would be her last baby and that her body was struggling to maintain the tiny life growing inside her, but outwardly she was as strong and confident as she could be.  She went into labour three-and-a-half weeks early.

 

As with Henrietta, John’s birth was difficult and Jasmine lost consciousness many times during the ordeal.  At those times she felt like she was dreaming.  Was it a jetty she was standing on?  The mist surrounding her was so thick.  It felt like she was being drawn out to sea from the jetty, but there was a strong bollard and she held strongly to its weathered surface and refused to let go.  She was aware of a great pain somewhere and of an overriding need to ignore it and deliver the life her weakened body had nurtured for so long.  Each time she woke from the dream she found herself crushing George’s hand in hers.

 

George would talk to her during those moments when she seemed coherent, and the words were very comforting and seemed to give her extra strength, but she heard very few of them.  Her mind refused to be diverted from the immense task her body was undertaking.

 

Then suddenly it was over and the great pain was gone, replaced by a numbness and a peace which washed over her.  Jasmine was aware of a baby crying somewhere distant and fought hard to awaken in order to hold it and feed it and love her son, but she knew she couldn’t return.  The only way back was to release her hold on the bollard, and she knew that once she let it go she would be drawn out to sea.  She simply wasn’t strong enough to fight that pull.

 

For two days she clung desperately to the post but her grasp was weakening and she was slipping away.  At last she knew she could hold on no longer.  As she slipped slowly, but inexorably, into the mist, she opened her eyes for a moment and saw George looking down at her, holding baby John.

 

"I will always love you, George.  I'll never leave you."  

 

As far as Jasmine knew she’d said the words that were in her heart, but whether George had heard them, she didn’t know.  There had been no time to repeat them.  She had slipped away.

 

Below her now, Greg was also slipping away.  He was not a strong swimmer and he was running out of strength.  Jasmine could almost feel his life ebbing away.  She heard a cry from the river bank as Greg’s wife screamed out his name in the darkness, but her voice was lost in roar of the swollen river, and Greg didn’t hear it.  Jasmine yearned to help him, to save him or to calm him as he slid toward death.  She thought back to her own death.

 

At first she’d known nothing, but then she had slowly begun to realise that she still had an awareness.  There had been a hint of panic in her thoughts, but at the same time she’d felt a calmness.  Paradoxically, the panic was born of the fear of what she’d left behind, and the calmness from what lay ahead.  She knew she was dead and yet she was still capable of rational thought and even seemed to know what was going on around her.  Using the senses she had trusted for twenty-four years, she could feel nothing, see nothing, taste nothing and hear nothing, yet she knew everything that was happening to her and around her by using some other sense or senses that just seemed to be there.

 

Her surroundings had been unfamiliar and there was no sign of her wonderful husband George, or her children Henrietta and John.  She had wanted so much to find them and hold them and be with them, but she knew she never could be again.  She had left their world behind.

 

It had been frightening, but despite her fears, Jasmine had laid quietly for some time.  There hadn’t seemed to be any need to rush and it was still difficult to come to terms with the consciousness that she’d achieved.  Finally, she had felt the need to move, and had drifted upward.  She’d looked down at her own body as the undertakers worked on it.  Her first thoughts had been for the family she'd left behind and she immediately searched the vicinity for them.  They were nowhere to be found so she had willed herself to rise above the building to see where she was.  It hadn't been easy and she’d known she would take a while to get used to her new environment and abilities.

 

She hadn't recognised where she was but felt that she knew which way to go, and headed off.  As she travelled she had felt a pull like a swimmer might feel in the proximity of a whirlpool.  The pull seemed to be gently tugging at her yet it didn't always seem to be tugging in the same direction.  It was quite different to the pull which had dragged her from the jetty to her death.  That had been much stronger and quite irresistible.  Jasmine hadn't known what this new pull was, but she knew that she had to fight it and stay focussed on finding George and the children.  The pull might never go away but she’d instinctively known she had to remain strong and resist it.

 

Jasmine had searched far and wide but never felt the need to rest, sleep or eat.  Even so, she did feel a weariness that was impossible to explain.  Eventually she gave in to the tiredness and rested by keeping still and ignoring everything around her.  Time no longer meant anything to her and she had no idea how long she’d rested, but at last she felt strong and continued her search.

 

Then, after another age of searching, suddenly she’d recognised her surroundings and drifted into her house.  She found John sleeping in a bed and Henrietta in the next bedroom.  Both were much older than she had expected and Jasmine drifted over a newspaper in the library to find a date - it had been 9th July, 1815!  Had she really rested for that long or was time different in her new existence?  She’d felt instinctively that she could find answers to all her myriad of questions if she just let the pull take her, but she was determined never to leave George and resisted the temptation with renewed strength as she saw him asleep in his chair with her picture on the table beside him.

 

She’d felt John stir in the room above her and drifted up to see him.  John was awake and his eyes seemed to focus on her as she drifted beside his crib.  He had a nanny who was asleep in the small room beside his, and she had heard him stir as well.  Jasmine watched the woman enter the room and gently rock John back to sleep without once noticing her.

 

Jasmine had drifted away and rested again, happy that she was with her family at last.  Once again, her rest felt like a normal night's sleep but when she saw John again he was crawling and stumbling over his first sounds.  Jasmine drifted close to him and as before, his eyes seemed to focus on her and he watched her drift past, smiling and fascinated.  She visited Henrietta and got the same reaction although there was a hint of fear in the girl's eyes which hadn't been there in John's.  Jasmine drifted away with a feeling of sadness at not being able to hold her lovely daughter to her.

 

George didn't seem to be aware of her at all as she drifted past him.  She watched him for day after day and suddenly realised that while she was with him the pull seemed to be at its weakest.  He was the part of her life that had made her complete and she never wanted to leave him.  Perhaps the pull knew this and just didn't try as hard when she was with him.

 

Jasmine had stayed with George as Henrietta and John grew.  The fear she had seen in Henrietta's eyes haunted her and she never drifted close to the girl again in case she saw it return.  She loved to drift close to John though, and watch him focus on her and smile.  He never mentioned her to anybody but she knew that he saw her and this made her feel like she was still part of them.

 

Then one day, when he was about seven and playing with a ball, she found he didn't notice her.  She’d felt immense sadness flow through her, almost like pain, as she realised that he no longer saw her and, what was even worse, he never seemed to miss seeing her.

 

The years passed and Jasmine watched Henrietta grow and marry, and watched John become a man and go off to university.  George was alone now except for the servants, and Jasmine watched him slowly get drawn to a local widow named Jennifer.  They both enjoyed each other's company and eventually they got married.  Jasmine was tempted to leave George now.  Without knowing why, she had watched over him for many years, but now he had another woman to watch over him and Jasmine felt unneeded.  The pull on her had seemed to get stronger and she had been tempted to give in to it, but that was until the day of the argument.

 

Jennifer had painted some small pictures of local scenes and had moved the painting of Jasmine from beside George's chair to put one of her paintings there.  George had become very angry and told Jennifer never to touch the picture again.  Jasmine had known that George still loved her and she had renewed her vow never to leave him.  The pull on her had weakened again.

 

George had developed pneumonia in the winter of 1848 and Jasmine moved close.  She had never found a way to let him know she was there, but as he weakened she tried to give him her strength.  Nothing worked and she felt quite useless as he had deteriorated and eventually died a few days later.  Jasmine had felt her very essence crying in pain for the man she loved but there was nothing she could do.  She’d stayed close, ready to help him move into her world, mourning his death yet impatient to be with him again after so long.

 

She hadn't move from his side for four days and still there was no sign of him rising out of his body.  Could it be that the pull on him had been so strong that he had been drawn away without her seeing him?  She’d waited another two days without resting, but finally gave up.  The pull on her was strong and she allowed herself to be drawn away, poised to fight away as soon as she got too close.

 

Close to what?  Jasmine hadn't known, but she had known that she couldn't allow herself to be drawn too close to it or she’d never escape.  Her only hope was that the closer she got to whatever it was, the more she would understand it, and that if George was already there she would feel his presence.  If she didn't feel him close, she would not leave.  Without George she couldn't go.

 

He hadn't been there.  She just knew it.  In front of her she’d sensed a tunnel and the pull led to its entrance.  Through the tunnel was eternity, or perhaps a number of eternities.  She couldn't feel anything more specific, but she’d known that George hadn't passed through.  The pull there was strong, but Jasmine fought hard.  She hadn't rested for some time but her determination more than made up for her weariness and she’d drifted back to George's body.

 

The body had been where she had left it, but instinctively she’d known that George was no longer attached to it.  If he wasn't there and he hadn't gone on through the tunnel, then where was he?  Jasmine had felt a loneliness and a sorrow that she had not felt since she had died.  The pull on her had grown and without George to give her a reason to fight it, she remembered feeling that she would succumb sooner or later.

 

Jasmine had rested briefly and then moved off to find George.  Could there be another tunnel?  No, she trusted her feelings and felt that there was just one tunnel entrance even if there was more than one exit.  So George must still be there, trapped somewhere and unable to contact her or go to the tunnel.  All she could do was drift until she felt him nearby, and she’d known she would feel him if he was there.

 

Jasmine had drifted for years, her faith sometimes wavering so much that the pull seemed close to overpowering her.  Somehow she’d fought on, knowing that one day she would find her George.  

Then it had happened.

 

Suddenly, like a flash of distant lightning, Jasmine felt George arrive.  It took her another couple of years to find him but finally she knew she had done so.  She’d drifted past a schoolyard and had just known that George was there among the boys.  She’d moved close to a group and saw a boy that she had never seen before.  Another boy had called him Grant.  He was a real boy, flesh and blood, and yet she knew that inside this physical shell was George.  He must have been reborn, but why?

Even as she’d asked the question of herself, Jasmine knew the answer.  Whatever she was, whether a spirit or a soul, she’d known that she had been in bodies before in previous existences just like George was now.  Yet she hadn't returned to another body after her death.  Why not?  Once more she seemed to know the answer.  She had reached the end of her physical grounding and should have moved on to another form of existence by drifting through the tunnel, but she had stayed.  George was not ready to move on yet and had returned to another physical body.  He was now a boy again and would grow up, perhaps marry and have more children before dying again.  Would this be his last life before moving on?  That she couldn't know.  It was possible he had only just started out on his earthly lives and would live many more times before she could be with him again.

 

Jasmine had felt herself drift away as her hopes were dashed and the pull increased.  Could she spend an eternity just waiting for her beloved?  If that was how it would be, then so be it.  Jasmine had vowed to wait for her George and wait she would, even if it was for eternity.

 

She had been there when Grant had died, and then when Giancarlo had succumbed to a heart attack in Venice, and when Garrett had been killed in a hunting accident in Minnesota.  She’d watched Gerhard take his last breath at the age of 96 in Vienna, and Gary die a hero’s death in action in some meaningless war.  In each case, he had been reborn and Jasmine had been forced to renew her vow, find him again, and stay close by his side.

 

Now she watched over Greg as he coughed and gasped for air, unable to accept his own death.  His instincts simply wouldn’t allow him to slide calmly below the surface and accept the inevitable.  He continued to struggle and cling desperately to the last glimmers of his life.

 

"Greg!  Catch the rope darling!"  Sara hurled the rope out into the boiling river, unable to see her husband in the dark.

Greg felt the rope brush his hand but couldn't grab it.  He felt the water pull him down and suddenly he knew he was going to die.  His mouth filled water and he couldn't speak, and Sara wouldn't have been able to hear him anyway over the roar of the river, but he mouthed the words and thought them with all his strength.

 

"I will always love you, Sara.  I'll never leave you," his mind screamed.

 

The life slowly flowed out of him and he ceased struggling, allowing the torrent to drag him away.  He lost consciousness and it was all over.

 

The body was washed up on the shore over four miles down stream and wasn't found for many days.  Greg drifted out of his body after a few days and looked down at it sadly.  He could sense what was around him, and he immediately knew he had to find his beloved Sara.  He reached out with his mind, trying to sense where she was and felt a start, almost a fright, as he sensed somebody else near him.  He wasn't sure about his new senses yet and was confused, but the other presence reassured him and made him rest.  He felt a great love and warmth from it and succumbed to its suggestion.

 

When he had rested, the presence took him to a funeral and they watched as Greg's body was buried.  He read the grave stone and felt a great pain in his being.

 

"Here lies Gregory Duncan, beloved husband of Sara Duncan, cruelly torn away by fate.  1993 - 2035," the stone stated.

 

Greg watched Sara slowly, sadly leave the graveside.

 

"Thank you friend," Greg thought to the presence who had helped him.  "I feel as though we should allow ourselves to be drawn away, but I must stay with Sara."

 

Greg felt a huge sorrow swamp him from the friend, but he knew he must stay with Sara.  Moments later he felt the presence leave and the sadness subsided.

 

Jasmine had never felt such pain and knew she would never feel anything like it again.  The tunnel loomed up before her and she paused for a moment before allowing herself to be drawn in to her own private eternity of sorrow without her George.  The waiting was finally over.