Nothing and no one must harm her.
Chapter 49
Autumn
I hear Joe move away as I’m sitting outside my cupboard and taking all my clothes and shoes out. Once everything is out, I climb into it, and close the doors. It is reassuringly dark inside. When I was very young, I used to sit in the cupboard all the time. I enjoyed being in the dark, enclosed space. It made me feel safe. My child’s mind had convinced myself no monsters could get inside.
But it is a very strange thing to be doing when one is an adult. I hug my knees to my chest and gently sway backwards and forwards. Then a strange sound begins to come from my mouth. I have no control of the sound. I have never learned it, or practiced it, but it sounds a bit like one of those songs sung by the Celtics to call their sheep to them. I once heard it on a video on Facebook.
I realize my body is calling. Not to sheep, but to Sam. I am calling her back to me. I call and call, my voice becomes hoarse, but she does not come. I climb out of the cupboard, my body cramped and my heart lost.
Restlessly, I open the food cupboard. I have no appetite but I should eat something. The first thing I see is the organic cereal she bought for me. I reach out and touch the box. She touched this… while she was still alive. It seems impossible that she is gone never to return. I will never see her again. My hand recoils from the box as if bitten by a snake. A strangled cry of horror blows out of my mouth, then my knees give way, and I collapse to the ground in a heap.
The pain of losing her is indescribable, terrible, unspeakable, unbelievable. I have never felt such pain. Nobody who has not lost someone they truly loved would understand. I didn’t. I knew it must feel horrible, but I could never understand the absolute horror. Sam was my best friend, my sister, my only source of love. The only family I had. We spoke every day. No matter what we found a moment to talk.
Now she is gone. I will never speak to her again.
I think of her laughing, I think of her staring enraptured at that Professor, I think of her saying, “I love you,” when we were hanging on the edge of the mountain. So many images flash into my head. Then suddenly, an image floats into my head. Zelena saying I will suffer a terrible loss. I stand and rush out of my caravan. I can see her light is on. I dash to her caravan and bang on her door urgently.
She opens it, stands back, and silently allows me to enter.
“The terrible loss has happened,” I hiss.
She closes the door and nods sadly. “Yes, I can see.”
“Did you know? Did you know my best friend was going to die?”
“No, I only knew it would be a great loss.”
“She didn’t even get to finish her sentence,” I gasp brokenly.
She opens her arms out to me. Something snaps inside me and I rush into them. My broken heart understands that here is sanctuary, a soft place where I can grieve. Hot tears pour down my cheeks, and I sob until my body heaves, and I feel as if I will break.
“That’s it child, you’ll make yourself ill. Let’s us have a cup of tea,” she says gently.
Weak with sorrow and sobbing, I let her lead me to the table. She pulls out a chair and I slump on it with my face buried in my hands. The hurt is terrible. I close my eyes and rock my body. I am aware of her boiling water, opening containers, spooning tea, pouring the boiled water into cups, and moving towards me. She puts a cup in front of me and the other on the opposite end. Then I hear her sit down opposite me.
I raise my head and look at her. “I’ll never know what she wanted to say to me.”
“What she wanted to say to you is unimportant, the only important thing is, her soul wanted you to be the last voice she heard before she went.”
“What do you mean?”
“We make contracts before we come to earth. We agree to certain things, certain indignities and certain sufferings, because we know it will advance our evolution. One of the things she agreed to was a short life, but she wanted that brief life to end with one last time hearing your voice.”
I stare at her through tears. Hope trembles in my voice as I ask, “Can you do a séance? Can I speak to her?”
She shakes her head regretfully. “I’m sorry, I don’t do séances, but I can tell you this. She lived an honest, blameless life, so she has nothing to regret, and the place she goes to will reflect the clean life she lived.”