Misplaced Apologies

Claire heard the knock at the door and rose from reading her book. She turned down the corner of the page, dogearing it without concern and laid it on the table. It didn't shock her that Gilean was her visitor. She had not informed anyone else of her recent home acquisition. The Stones had placed the property up for purchase, though part of the agreement was not to disturb the previous owner's grave in the back garden. Emalia could rest there as long as she needed. Claire had no qualms.

She opened the door, admitting Gilean to the cozy living room. "I wanted to talk to you... about what happened," he began. "You aren't happy with me."

'No. I am not. But that happens in life.'

Well, it means a lot to me that you aren't. I care about your opinion of me.

'I don't have much of an opinion of you, Gilean. I've simply decided I didn't know you very well and so I retract any thought I had of you previously.

It's hard to explain exactly what I felt. But the death pulled to me so heavily.

That frustrated Claire, but she retained her soft voice as she stared at the fireplace. 'If you are attempting to justify what you've done, it will not work. Many in the realms have their lives unjustly taken. Perhaps you'd like to go resurrect all of them as well?'

What if I could? Would that be wrong to do so? Gilean asked.

'I believe you went forward with something that had consequences that you did not even think about, Gilean. Now you have a woman who can't remember anything with a husband who must live with all of that - He can see her, touch her, talk to her, and she doesn't know him. Is that not worse than death? Is that not worse than letting him bury her and live with memories? There are consequences! Would she have been any more dead had you waited to think them through?'

No. I got... caught up, Gilean replied.

'That is what I would consider an understatement.'

She knew Gilean felt bad for what he had done. She could see remorse written on his face. It didn't make her feel superior or pleased - part of her wanted to go to him and offer a hug, but the other part was angry. If he wanted to give an apology, she was not the one to give it to. 'I would suggest,' she said, 'that if you wish to do something, you go ask them. There is nothing here that you can do.'

I will prove myself to you Claire. It's very important to me.

'You've nothing to prove or disprove, Gilean.'

Claire escorted Gilean to the door and closed it slowly behind him. She leaned her head against the door with a sigh. 'Things are as they are and will be as they will,' she repeated. She walked back to the couch and picked up her book once more. She reread the same section over and over again, not seeing the words for seeing the pain etched on Gilean's face at her disapproval.

Shoes

She ate the food and listened to the conversation. She watched the little boy and smiled as politely as she could. She was being compared to some woman that was her but wasn't. Someone else had inhabited this shell before her. She could speak the language, she could understand concepts, she could use a fork and a spoon but in the context of the greater picture, she didn't know this man, this baby, this kitchen, this house, this person. Sanria.

The man - Colin - looked like he was on the verge of tears every time she proclaimed she didn't know or didn't understand or didn't remember. He showed her the other rooms of the house, telling her how much Sanria liked this one or that one, or how much time she spent there. No matter what, though, when she felt like backing away or just going somewhere for a moment to breathe - she was assured that if she only gave it a chance, she'd remember.

Colin showed her to the bedroom, her bedroom supposedly and she stared at the room with a sigh. She didn't know this place, no matter how pretty it was, and didn't feel as though she was supposed to be here. She took the wedding band from her necklace and frowned. When Colin came in to check on her, he slid it back onto her finger. "That's where it belongs," he said with a very slight chuckle. But why? She didn't know this man. She didn't know anyone.

When she sent him off to sleep in the guest room, the man - Colin - looked as if he could cry. He'd been so sick with worry over her (Sanria, she reminded herself) and all he wanted was to be beside her. She hadn't expected him to take her - but he did. She stared at him in shock as he looked down at her, tears in his eyes, begging her - "Please, tell me you remember this. Please."

"I'm... sorry..."

"These were the times were were the closest. I don't want to lose you."

She laid there beside him in the dark, long after he had fallen asleep. She listened to him breathing, listened to the constant yet muffled din of the waterfall outside the balcony, listened to every sound the house made as it cooled off and settled into the darkness of the night. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't be placed in the mold of this woman who, with so many "long sto- ries" couldn't have been happy. To have killed herself... it didn't make sense. What could have possibly happened to make her loathe living so much. Though Colin had said she had been happy most of the time, the shoe just didn't fit. Neither did she.

Trust

The healer had gone. Gilean, she thought, that's his name. He had said that she should trust this big man. That he was telling her the truth. She did belong here. This was her home. The whole thing seemed absurd. This place was enormous. Who needed a house this big? "This is your home," the big man - Carl... Colin said. "It was your home before we were even married."

"We're married?" The words finally seemed to mean something and she looked at her hand. No ring.

"Yes, I'm your husband." Car... Colin held up his hand revealing a band. "You wear yours on your necklace."

"Why? I mean..." Who wore a wedding ring on their neck and not their finger.

"You recently switched. But that's a long story."

She searched her mind - twinkling lights, black wall - there was nothing. She walked into the library followed not long after by the big - Colin - carrying an small boy with blonde hair. "Sanria... this is our son, Orn."

"No... sorry, I don't have a child that I'm aware of. But he looks like a very nice boy." The small boy - Orn - reached toward her excitedly.

"See... he knows who you are."

"He's a nice boy."

"Yes... he is. You can hold him. Maybe it will help?"

"I think it will let him pull my hair." She chuckled and turned away.

"So have you read all of these?" she asked. She knew what they were, knew what they were for, but why this house had so many was beyond her.

"Oh, no. Not by a long shot. But I think you may have. You loved spending time in here."

"Can't say I remember that... everything seems like a big blank spot. Only thing I remember is waking up just a little bit ago."

"It's ok. It will probably take some time for it to come back. At the worst, you can read all of these books again for the first time."

"If I stay, I guess so."

In the kitchen, her eyes fell on a rose that seemed to shimmer with its own inner brilliance. "Now that is pretty."

"You got that on a recent, but unexpected trip. Another long story, I suppose." There seemed to be a lot of 'long stories.' "I know you're trying to help me, but I really don't remember any of this. You're telling me I'm married with a child and..."

"Yeah. Instant family that you don't remember."

"Is he our only one?"

"Yes. Well... We lost two before they were born. That would be one of the more fortunate things to not remember. The last loss was very recent... and it's been difficult."

"Was that why they found me dead?"

"I don't know for certain... We also lost a close friend. Maybe it was just all too much."

"Maybe so."

"Tell you what. Let me make us something to eat. I've never been brought back from the dead, but it sounds like you could use some sustenance."