Wednesday, June 1, 2003
Rose opened her eyes as the first faint rays of light penetrated the branches of the tree she had slept under. Stretching, she unwrapped the bedspread from around herself, sitting up and setting her feet on the dirt beyond her bed of pine needles.
The fire lay in a cleared area some fifteen feet away, a few coals still glowing faintly. She was getting better at the skills needed for survival. But eventually, she would have to return to civilization, if only because her supplies of food were running low, and her knowledge of where to get more was limited at best.
Pulling a comb from her pack, Rose walked to the edge of the ridge she had camped on, looking out over the mist-enshrouded mountains beyond. As she combed it out and tied it back, out of the way, she perched on a boulder, gazing out over the peaks and canyons, her thoughts turned inward.
As it often had since she had left Masline behind, her sleep had been disturbed by nightmares, images of Cal and of Jack—and of Jack’s death—impinging upon her mind. Fragments of events, magnified by her sleeping imagination, combined together into a horrific drama in her sleep-enshrouded mind. But last night’s dream had been different.
Always before, the dream had ended with Jack being shot, and Cal turning the gun on her. She would awaken in a cold sweat, whimpering pitifully in terror, crawling deeper into her makeshift bed in an attempt to hide from her memories, the horrifying events brought back into the forefront of her mind by the dream. Eventually, the world around her would penetrate her consciousness—the stars and branches overhead, the rustling of leaves or pine needles beneath her, the sounds of wildlife beyond her camp—and she would be brought back to the present, back to reality.
The dream had changed the night before. In the end, instead of watching in terror as Cal turned the gun on her, she had knelt down beside Jack, taking his already lifeless hands in hers, promising to never let go. Before she could say good-bye, the dream had ended, leaving her lying in her twisted comforter, tears running down her face as she abruptly awakened.
Why did it change? she wondered, setting the comb aside and staring down the cliff at the trees and brush below. Why did Cal disappear, leaving me alone with Jack? Could it be that the violence of that night is becoming secondary to my memories of Jack, of the promise I made? He wouldn’t have wanted me to dwell on what happened forever—he knew that I would survive, that I had my whole life ahead of me. But we never had a chance to say good-bye.
And in a flash, Rose knew why the dream had changed. There had never been a good-bye, a funeral, a chance to gather with others and mourn Jack’s death. There had only been the struggle to survive, to free herself from the world that had held her down. That the others had mourned for Jack, she had no doubt—his surviving friends would miss him deeply—but she had never had the chance to give him a proper good-bye. And so he filled her thoughts constantly, and she half-expected to meet him around the next bend in the trail, in the next canyon or on the next peak—any place that reminded her of him. But she never would. He was gone, and there was no bringing him back.
What she needed was the closure of a funeral. But there was no body, no burial, no friends and loved ones to mourn with. There was only her, alone on this mountain ridge.
Rose looked to the east, at the sun rising over the mountains and desert, and came to a decision. She would conduct a small, private memorial for Jack, alone here at sunrise. She would never forget him, or the way he had died, but it would be something.
Her fists clenched as she thought of his death, of the way Cal had shot him in the back in a fit of murderous rage. She would never be sure if Jack had been his intended target, or if it had been her, and Jack had simply gotten in the way. Whatever the reason, he had died that night, trapped inside the debris of collapsed walls—a slow, painful death, one that he had had time to comprehend and fear. But it had given him time to make her promise to go on without him—and to tell her that he loved her.
It had been such a waste—the sudden, violent death of a talented young artist, only twenty-one years old, a young man who, in spite of a troubled past, had worked to get beyond his questionable beginnings—and who might well have succeeded, had he not died that night.
But now was not a time to dwell on such things. Now was a time to honor his memory, and the time they had spent together—some of the happiest memories she had, as well as some of the most painful. He had been there for her in her darkest moments, and she would never forget how much that had meant to her. He had been one of her best friends, her lover, indeed, her soulmate. She would never forget him, or what they had shared.
Brushing off her clothes, Rose climbed atop the boulder, shading her eyes against the sunlight. He would have loved this place, she thought, wondering if this place, this setting, was why it not occurred to her until now to hold his memorial service. It would help her to come to grips with what had happened, help her to say the good-bye she had never had a chance to say.
Closing her eyes against the sudden rush of tears, Rose sang out a song that seemed singularly appropriate for the occasion—for both of them.
Darling, I’ll love you
Forever and more
But it’s time for your
Journey of one to begin
I promise we’ll meet on that
Far distant shore
But for now the time has come
To go on your own.
A Journey of One. This was all she knew of the song, all she could remember, but it was fitting, appropriate. Together, she and Jack had been strong. But now they were apart, and each had to go on alone, Rose in this world and Jack in the next, until the time came that they would be reunited—however long that might be. Opening her tear-filled eyes, Rose looked out at the sunrise, letting the tears spill down her cheeks.
"I love you, Jack," she whispered. "I love you, and I miss you. I’ll never forget what we shared, or how much you meant to me. I’m free now—Cal won’t dare to tell anyone that I survived. If I ever see any of the people I know again, it will be on my terms, in my own time. For now, I’m just taking life the way you did—living for the moment, making each day count. However long or short a life I live, I won’t ever forget that. That was your gift to me—the freedom to make my own choices, and the courage to follow through with those choices. I’m alive, more than I ever was before."
She sank down on the boulder, resting her feet on the ground.
"I’ve been on my own for three weeks now, here in these mountains. I’m not sure of where I am, or where I’m going to go, but I know I’ll figure those things out when the time is right. You would have loved this place—so beautiful, so peaceful. Maybe you do see it, or saw it before—I don’t know. There was never enough time to learn those little things about each other. But I do know this—you saved me, in every way a person can be saved. I’m alive, really alive. I wouldn’t be this way, if not for you. Right now, I’d be finishing my first year of college, and getting ready to marry Cal. That was a life I never wanted, but I never really saw a way out—until you came along and freed me from my cage. That was the most precious gift anyone ever gave me—more precious than Cal’s money and jewelry, more precious than anything he could have given me. You opened my heart to life."
She stood, looking out across the peaks as a beam of sunlight landed upon them, lighting them up, blue and brilliant. Wiping her eyes, she went on with her eulogy.
"I love you, Jack, and I thank you—for everything. I’ll never forget you, or what you did for me. My life is my own, thanks to you. You’ll live on in my memory, a part of me—until we meet again." She gazed out at the mountain peaks, finding herself smiling for the first time, even through her tears. She hugged herself as a warm summer breeze blew around her, feeling, somehow, that Jack had heard her, and was himself saying farewell.
"Good-bye, Jack. Until eternity."