― D.D. Barant
In the morning I was more exhausted than when I went to bed. It seemed everything was taking its toll on me.
It's one thing to dream of your dead partner, but it's another thing when there are physical traces of her visit left in your bed.
I stare again at the brittle fragments of coloured leaves. How could that be? The dead don't return at least not in the world I'm in. Sarah was convinced the dead could still speak. Maybe her mythology was a truer picture of reality.
I crumple the fragment of a leaf and it turns to coloured dust in my hand.
What do I know? I know nothing...
Her hair brighter than the autumn leaves... and all I'm left is a handful of dry confetti.
There's a soft knock on the door, quiet and shy as a mouse scratching.
Sarah! My brain roars and I leap out of bed in my pyjama bottoms and tee shirt and run to answer it.
But it's not Sarah standing on my back balcony, a tray of coffee in her hands and eyes huge with surprise. It's Clare.
I groan inwardly realizing I must look half-crazed, with my hair askew and a wild look in my eyes.
"Sorry if I woke you," she apologizes. "I felt bad about copping out on you yesterday."
I try to regain my composure, or at least my sanity. "Hey, that's really thoughtful. Guess I had a wild dream. Hope I didn't scare you."
"Scare me?" she smirks, "it's you that looks like you saw a ghost."
"I kinda feel I did."
She arches an eyebrow.
C'mon in and I'll tell you about it."
She comes in, warily glancing about and puts the tray of coffee on the table, then retrieves another bag from her pocket.
"Croissants," she smiles, "cheese―the kind you like."
"You're amazing!" I laugh.
"I try," she says demurely and then suddenly kisses me.
"What's that for?" I ask.
"For just being you and putting up with me."
"You're kidding right? If anyone's perfect it's you―I must look like a sight."
"I know you've been through a lot, Cam and despite PTSD and losing Sarah you're still back in the fight. I admire your courage."
"Maybe you better reserve comment, until you hear my story."
"I doubt it would change my mind."
The girl is beautiful and caring. I really don't deserve her and maybe that's why I'm going to tell her how crazy I really am.
"Sarah visited me last night."
She doesn't bat an eyelash. "Really―how can you be so certain?"
"I relived a memory being with her gathering leaves and awoke this morning to this in my bed."
I open my hand and let several dry leaves fall onto the table.
"It's not just in my head―not when she leaves physical evidence."
Clare doesn't react. just stares at me.
"What's the problem―don't you believe that's real?"
"Oh, I believe that's real alright, but the leaves aren't from her―they're from me. I placed them in a vase near your window. A breeze must have blown them onto your bed."
"When did you do that?"
"Yesterday morning when I dropped by here and found you already left for Timmies. I brought the leaves as a souvenir of your visit to the farm. Lea was downstairs and let me in."
I sat back and simply stared at her. "I feel really stupid."
"I wouldn't. Can you imagine the chances of that being a coincidence―you and I sharing our first kiss in the midst of autumn colours and you dreaming of a time when you were with Sarah lying in the leaves?"
"Actually, it's even more symbolic―it was the first time she told me she loved me."
She came over and hugged me. Then, she looked me deep in the eyes and whispered, "Cam, I really love you."
I don't remember much after that, only clinging to her and sobbing. But when I calmed down I realized, I also felt the same way.