And thanks to everyone who participated in the “Cyber Birthday party” on Saturday, April 6th. It sure was PUMPING! *veg* I have to share, very quickly, what my older brother said in an email to me. I told him all about it, and how, I was during the chat, and he replied: "This reminds me of American Pie. You guys all seem to have this innocent little hobby, but you're really all sex obsessed!! I can see it now..."this one time; at Trixie camp;..." ROFLMAO!
Secret Spaces of the Gods
Chapter 4
“Is it really you?” Jim asked.
He drank in the sight of them—his parents, his first parents, the parents of his childhood. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel blessed by the life he’d been living since they were gone, the life he’d made for himself after running away from his stepfather. He had so much, but every now and then it would hit him unexpectedly—how far he was from what he had once been, little, unexpected moments or memories that surprised him with their power to make him sad in the midst of so much happiness.
“Hello son,” the tall, redheaded man said. He was dressed the way Jim always remembered him, wearing jeans, boots and a tee shirt under a flannel shirt that had been washed so many times the colors faded comfortably together.
“Jimmy,” his mother said warmly. Her feet were bare under the gauzy embroidered dress Jim remembered her making for herself one long-ago summer. “We’ve missed you so much.”
They almost seemed to glow.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Jim said, his gaze dropping to his feet where Patch lay. He felt if he stared at them for too long his eyes would burn. He forced himself to look back into their smiling faces. “But, I don’t understand. Why am I here? What is this place?”
Winthrop Frayne chuckled, a rich sound that made Jim feel as if he’d stepped into a warm bath. “It’s anything you want it to be.” He gave Jim a hungry look, a look that spoke volumes about missed opportunities, missed lifetimes. “How are you feeling, Jim?”
Jim felt dazed and uncertain, two emotions he was unused to feeling. “I feel…”
He stopped, reaching out for them, but the air between him and his parents was thick and impenetrable. It was an odd sensation and one that didn’t hurt, quite the opposite. Jim felt drowsy and peaceful. “I feel well.” He smiled. Trixie would be happy to know he wasn’t sick anymore. He wanted to tell her. He could already picture the way her face would light up.
“You can’t tell her. She’s not here, son.”
Jim looked at his mother and smiled dreamily, her words sliding off of him. He hadn’t said anything—he couldn’t have heard her right. “I sure wish you could meet my wife, Trixie.” The sun filtering through the trees felt so good that he tilted his head back to drink it in, closing his eyes. “I know you would love her.” He opened his eyes again. “And Katy. We named our daughter after you, Mom.”
Katje Frayne smiled tenderly. “Yes, we know. And we do love her, Jimmy. We love her very much. And Trixie, too. It makes us very happy that you have people in your life that love you as much as we do. That’s all we’ve ever wanted for you.”
“You’ve done so well for yourself, son. We’re very proud of you.” Jim’s father looked impossibly young, and Jim suddenly realized that he himself was a year older than his father had been when he died.
“I know. Strange, isn’t it?” his father said.
Jim started—had he voiced that thought aloud? He suddenly felt full of questions that he felt completely incapable of asking, the ancient why that lived in his most secret spaces coming to the forefront. He looked at his parents and knew they had the answers to every question he had ever had.
“I never wanted to leave you. You or your mother. I hope you know that.” His forever-young father looked at him and for the first time, Jim saw sorrow in this happy place. “I’m so, so sorry you had to go through all that.”
Jim felt dizzy. His father’s mouth was no longer moving but he continued to hear him anyway. “It’s…it’s okay, Dad.” It had been many years since Jim had allowed himself to remember his father’s last day on earth. He tried to reach for his father and was again repelled by the unseen force.
“Why can’t I touch you?” Jim asked, curious and a little sad. He had been able to feel Patch.
“You can. If you want to. If you decide to stay.” Like his father’s voice, Katje’s words whispered in Jim’s head. “It’s up to you, my Jimmy.”
Come,
Be
with me.
Together
we’ll discover
The secret spaces of the gods.
“Stay?” Jim echoed.
“It’s up to you, Jim. You can do whatever you want to here.” Jim’s father reached down and gave Patch a pat on the head when the Springer spaniel trotted up to him. “Just know that no matter what, we love you. We’ve always loved you. And we always will.”
A slow realization was finally filtering through, and Jim finally understood where he was and what was happening to him.
“Yes, Jim. Yes.” His mother’s voice again effortlessly filled him. Only it wasn’t words he was hearing. It wasn’t a feeling, either. It simply was—pure communication that transcended any language ever invented.
“But I feel better. I feel well!” he protested.
Katje’s smile was so tender that it hurt him to look at it. “I know you do.”
***
“What are you doing? What’s happening?” Trixie cried as a nurse moved to the other side of Jim’s bed and began to put a plastic mask over his nose and mouth. She straightened back in her chair, the ache in her back a steady, growing pain.
The dark-haired nurse continued with her quick movements. “Your husband’s blood-oxygen levels have dropped so we’re just helping him to breathe a bit better,” she said. She pushed a button, squinting at the monitor before turning to face Trixie. “It’s not uncommon in cases like…”
“Is he dying?” Trixie asked. Her voice rose sharply. “Is he?”
The nurse looked uncomfortable. “Let me get Dr. Brandt for you,” she finally said, giving Trixie a professional smile and leaving the room.
The sterile, pale, gray-green walls of the room seemed even closer than before, and Trixie fought down a rising swell of nausea that threatened to completely overcome her. It suddenly seemed like she and Jim had been in this room forever—one window mockingly bright with cheery sunshine, plain, unadorned walls, monitoring equipment, a door that led to a single bathroom and the single bed Jim lay in. This was not a room geared towards long-term comfort. It was a room that existed for battle. Was it also a room made for death?
She looked at Jim laying corpselike, as white as the sheets and struggled to her feet, barely making it to the small bathroom before throwing up. She rinsed her mouth and splashed her face, staggering back into the room, the pain in her back a white heat. “God damn it, wake up! Wake up!” she heard somebody scream. It took her a moment to realize that the desperate voice belonged to her.
She ignored the chair and sank down onto the corner of the bed, clutching Jim’s hand. To her horror, it barely felt substantial. His skin looked transparent, almost as if he was disappearing right before her eyes, and she felt herself beginning to make an unwilling adjustment, her body understanding even if her brain refused to comprehend the possibility of a life that would go on, would have to go on, with or without him.
If
suddenly you do not exist,
If
suddenly you are not living,
I
shall go on living.
I
do not dare,
I
do not dare to write it,
if
you die.
I
shall go on living.
“No. No, I don’t want to,” Trixie whispered to him, but he didn’t respond. “I don’t want to live without you.”
If
you are not living,
if
you, beloved, my love,
if
you
have
died,
all the leaves will fall on my breast,
it
will rain upon my soul night and day,
the
snow will melt my heart,
I
shall walk with cold and fire and death and snow…
“Jim, I want you to stay. Please don’t go,” Trixie said. The room disappeared and there was only the two of them.
my
feet will want to march toward where you sleep,
but
I
shall go on living
She had to strain her eyes to catch the slightest movement of his chest. “Jim? Jim?”
She fought hard, but the thoughts kept coming, a relentless army of evil destroying her soul.
Trixie’s own breath rasped as the reality of Jim-less years filled her being—years of waking up alone, no Jim to wrap his strong arms around her, years of the savage sorrow she would feel whenever she remembered the way he looked at her, green eyes so filled with love she almost couldn’t bear the sweet, answering jolt. That they were meant to be together, she never doubted. Fate had led her to that deserted mansion all those years ago, and she had loved him ever since.
And she would continue loving him until she no longer drew breath. Even if he was no longer here.
An empty chasm opened at Trixie’s feet and she fell into it, the sound tearing from her throat inhuman as she broke down and bitterly wept for all the lost, empty years to come.
***
Jim took another step towards his parents, the desire to put his arms around them and know the old comfort consuming him. Suddenly he stopped, frowning, the peace and stillness wavering and the air shimmering from an unknown disturbance. As he paused, the sound grew, gradually at first, then with more force behind it. The trees stopped to listen, bowing their branches in respect as the waves of sorrow brushed through their leaves.
It was the sound of ultimate suffering, and Jim could not let it continue, feeling his own soul answering it without words.
He took one last, longing look at his parents, smiling wistfully as he heard his mother’s voice gently whispering in his head, assuring him that they’d be waiting for him, that they loved him and would continue to watch over him as they had always done.
***
Trixie buried her face against Jim’s chest and continued to sob as she prayed for the strength to go on.
“No….no…” a voice whispered, cutting through her sorrow.
Trixie felt a hand on the back of her head and slowly lifted her head, hardly daring to believe it.
“Don’t cry, Love,” Jim continued, his voice so low and muffled that Trixie was afraid she was only imagining it. She tried to say something, but couldn’t, could only bury her face against him again and cry with relief as he continued to gently stoke her hair. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be all right,” he said.
“Oh Jim, I thought I’d lost you,” she finally choked out, her tears dampening the light coverlet that covered him
“Not getting rid of me that easily,” Jim murmured.
She emitted a half-laugh, half sob, straightening herself with effort and swiping at her eyes.
Jim frowned at the contrast of dark circles under her eyes against white, drawn skin. “Are you all right?”
Trixie’s first smile in days blazed forth. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” She bent down and tenderly kissed his forehead.
Dr. Brandt entered the room. “Well! Look who’s finally awake!” She smiled at the two of them, replacing the oxygen mask with lightweight tubing to make conversation easier. She placed her stethoscope against his chest and listened for a moment before straightening up and eyeing the monitors carefully for a few moments. Satisfied with his current vital signs, she nodded to herself before speaking. “Your latest tests came back and I’m very happy with them. Your white cell count has dropped considerably in the past few hours.”
Trixie let out a shuddering sigh. “Thank God,” she said, bending over and brushing another light kiss against Jim’s cheek before moving out of the way and dropping back into her chair.
“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked Jim.
“Tired,” Jim admitted.
Dr. Brandt nodded. “Completely understandable. You’ve had a very busy couple of days.”
Jim frowned. “Days?” He looked over at Trixie. “How…long have…?”
It was awful to see how tired he was. Trixie smiled tremulously. “Three days,” she replied.
Jim took in her rumpled appearance, and his gaze sharpened. “When was the last time you slept?” he managed to ask her.
Trixie dropped her gaze. “I’m not sure,” she admitted.
“You look so tired you could fall down,” he said. He reached out and took her hand.
“I’ve been catching naps. I’m just fine, Jim. Really,” she said when he looked doubtful. She squeezed his fingers reassuringly. “Stop trying to talk, baby.”
“I’ll just leave you two alone. Don’t hesitate to have me paged if you need anything,” Dr. Brandt said as she began to leave the room. She caught Trixie’s worried gaze and gave her a smile before speaking the reassuring words. “We’ve turned the corner. He’s over the worst of it now.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Trixie said, feeling as if she could fly. She gave Jim’s fingers another squeeze. “Don’t ever scare me like this again!”
“I’m sorry.” Jim’s eyes got a faraway look to them, and Trixie wondered what he was thinking about so intensely.
He stroked her knuckles with his thumb. “What happened? How did I get here?” he asked her, his voice slow.
Trixie smoothed his cool, damp forehead. “Later. Get some sleep.”
Jim got that stubborn expression she was so familiar with. “The last thing I remember is feeling like I was getting the flu.”
Trixie gave him the look she always gave him when he was being difficult, a look not without affection. She could tell that every word was a major effort, but she knew Jim well enough to know that he wouldn’t stop until he knew everything. She sighed, then she told him everything she knew.
Jim was quiet for so long that Trixie thought he was drifting off. “But how did I get here?” he finally asked.
“Ambulance. Jim, you really need to get some sleep. And I need to let everyone know you’re going to be all right.”
“Trix, I realize I was probably brought by ambulance. That isn’t what I meant.”
Trixie sighed again. “I know that isn’t what you meant.”
They stared at each other for a moment.
Jim drew in a shaky breath. “Oh, God.” He turned his head slightly into the pillow, his throat muscles working and Trixie knew that he knew. “How is she? Please tell me she’s okay.”
Trixie lightly touched his face with her fingertips. “Katy is just fine. Joeanne is spending the day with her, probably filling her with ice cream and spoiling her completely.”
Her smile was reassuring, but a single tear ran down Jim’s face anyway. “I never wanted to put her through something like that.” Jim’s voice broke. “Damn it!”
She knew there was nothing she could say that would make him feel any better about the situation, but she had to try. “Our daughter is going to be just fine. She’s been such a good, brave girl.”
Jim let out a shaky breath. “I never told you this. I never told anybody this, but…I found my father. You know, the day he died.” I’m so, so sorry you had to go through all that.
Trixie’s heart cried out for the ten-year old boy whose life was changed forever. “Oh, baby.” Trixie’s voice was sorrowful as she stroked Jim’s cheek.
“I dreamt about him,” Jim murmured. He closed his eyes and his next words were blurred by impending sleep. “My mother too. I saw them,” he mumbled.
Trixie pressed a kiss on his forehead. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” She kissed him again. “I love you.”
“Love you,” Jim mumbled before dropping into a healing sleep.
Trixie watched him sleep for several moments, her heart light when she thought that this time, she knew he’d be waking up again. Time to tell everyone the good news, she thought, struggling to her feet, her breath hissing out as pain flared in her back again. I think it’s time I see Dr. Patel again. This is getting ridiculous.
She glanced at the window as a flutter of motion caught her eye and smiled, the pain in her back forgotten as she grinned at the little red robin resting on the sill. “Watch over Jim for me, will you?” she asked playfully. She laughed as the little bird cocked his head for a moment, looking for all the world as if he understood her request and intended to comply with it.
She almost skipped down the hallway, in spite of being roughly the size of the old Bob-White station wagon, and burst into the waiting room. “He’s going to be okay!” she sang out as several sets of eyes turned to her.
Her mother-in-law let out a joyful noise and threw herself into her husband’s arms, weeping in relief.
Honey, Brian, Mart and her parents surrounded her, and Trixie found herself almost unable to breathe as she was caught in the middle of a joyous group hug.
“Mmmmph!” she got out, then laughed when she could breathe again.
Baby Matthew began to wail from his stroller as the happy bedlam continued, and Honey gave Trixie one last hug before going over to him and picking him up.
“Are they sure he’s going to be okay?” Matthew Wheeler asked. His voice had a suspicious huskiness to it, and Trixie quickly began to reassure him.
“Dr. Brandt says he’s responding well to the antibiotics. He…” she broke off as the pain in her back shot straight through to her front, the force of it causing her to cry out. She gasped as she felt a sudden gush of liquid between her legs.
“Trixie! What is it?” her mother cried.
Trixie looked at her and her eyes were as wide as saucers. “My water just broke!” she exclaimed.
Author’s notes – “Come, be with me…” is from an untitled poem by Peter McWilliams. The other poem is from “The Dead Woman” by Pablo Neruda. How I wish I had stronger Spanish skills so I could read it in the original Espanol. ¡Eso sería tan muy maravilloso! (That would be so very wonderful!)
"It was the sound of ultimate suffering.." Hee hee, well this is the "As You Wish" universe after all....
Used without permission (usado sin el permiso!)
Note: Trixie Belden® is a registered trademark of Random House Books. These pages are not affiliated with Random House Books in any way. These pages are not for profit. All stories copyright © Mary, 2007 - 2012. All rights reserved.