Rememberances
part 1
By Pat
He knew it was a futile effort. It wouldn’t go away. He had to rise and face this day. Throwing back the blankets, he sat up on the side of the bed. It was chilly in here, he thought; the fire must have gone out. Reaching for his robe, he belted it securely around his waist. Get up. Should I put more wood on the fire, no I won’t be here that long, he thought. Coffee, I should make coffee, shower, shave. That’s right focus on the mundane everyday things. Keep away thoughts of this day, this date.
Rising from the bed, he walked to the kitchen. Put the water in the pot. Measure out the coffee, 1, 2, 3 scoops…a chore he normally did without thought now required his complete concentration. Leaving the coffee to brew he made his way to the shower. He stood for a long time under the hot water as it cascaded over his head. That way if the tears did come, he could deny it to himself, it was only the water.
By the time Duncan had finished dressing, the coffee was ready. Pouring a cup, he took it in hand as he climbed the stairs onto the deck of the Nobile. He stared up at the walls of Notre Dame. In his mind he saw the building as he has first seen it, the scaffolding, the men working as slowly the magnificent structure rose into the sky. It was quiet this morning on the Seine. The tour boats had not yet started their runs up and down the river. He envisioned another tour boat and the pretty blonde tour guide…No. I can’t think of that today, not today. He forced his mind to shut out the thoughts that had invaded his head. He was very good at keeping the past where it belonged, in the past, all 400 and more years of it, but not today, not this date.
It was time. He could put it off no longer. Gathering together his car keys, his coat, and the ever present katana that was as much a part of him as his soul, he strode down the gangplank and to his car. Driving slowly through the streets of Paris that were already beginning to fill with cars and people, he finally spotted what he had been looking for, a flower vendor. Pulling over he approached the woman by the cart.
“Good morning, may I help you, sir?” She inquired.
“Yes,” he replied, “I need some flowers.” But what flowers should he get. Then he spotted them, the yellow roses. Her favorite flower. “I’ll take a dozen of the yellow roses, please.”
He waited while the woman wrapped the roses. After paying for the flowers, he placed them gently on the seat beside him. Now he could proceed to his destination.
Parking the car, he slowly opened the door and got out. His steps hesitated a moment, and then he made his way through the ancient iron gates and down a long path. He knew exactly where he was going. He walked until he had found what he was seeking. Stopping he stared down at the grave with its simple plaque:
Tessa Noel
1958 – 1993
His beautiful Tessa, his friend, his lover, the woman he shared his secret with, and the woman he had planned to marry. His mind flew back to 10 years ago this day, this date, when she had been ripped from his life. The images once again played through his mind as if in slow motion. He had heard the shots, and running as fast as he could, he had arrived too late. There were two bodies on the ground. Tessa and Richie. For Richie, it would be a day of death but also of beginning, awakening into his new life as an immortal. For Tessa it was an ending…an ending of a career as an artist, an ending of the joyful wedding plans they had been making, an ending of all that was Tessa. All that had been in that space between those two dates, a date of birth, a date of death.
He bowed his head as though to pray, but no prayer would come. Instead he whispered quietly, “Oh Tess, I miss you. I still love you, you’ll always be here in my heart, you know that don’t you?” He waited, as if he almost expected to hear her soft voice reply, as she had done so many times, “I love you, too, Duncan. I always will.” But there was only silence around him and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.
Bending down, he carefully placed his offering of the roses by the plaque. He softly ran his fingers over the carved letters of her name. The pain tore at his heart with such force it was almost physical. He watched as the breeze ruffled the roses as if unseen hands were caressing them. He stood there in silence for some time. “I have to go now, Tess.” He murmured. “Fate willing, I will be back again.” And he would, he would keep the vow he had made to her the day they laid her to rest here in this holy ground, that he would always return on this day. “Sleep peacefully, my darling. Good-bye my love.” He softly whispered.
Turning away, he strode back down the path back out the gates of the old cemetery knowing that he had left a piece of his heart behind.
Back at the barge, Duncan finished closing up his home. It was time to go now, time to get away from Paris for a while. But where should he go? Vienna? Rome? He hadn’t been to London for a while. Then he remembered an email he had received from his friend, Luka Kovac. He had met Luka in some rather unusual circumstances and the two had become good friends. Duncan was with Luka the day he died in that alley and was reborn into his life as an immortal. He had become his teacher, training Luka in all that he would need to know if he were to survive the time of the Gathering. The two men had become like brothers. Now where did Luka say he was living? Oh, that’s right, he was now in Colorado. Yes, Duncan thought, it was time to go pay a surprise visit on Luka. It would be good to see his old friend. He would go to the airport, catch a flight. He could make it now. Everything would be okay again.
Until this day next year.