Short Stories Project

2006-03-26T15:33:00.000+08:00

Welcome to the Short Stories Project

If you can't tell by the giveaway title, this is not really a blog (don't let Google find out...). Rather, it's my secret hidey hole for fiction and creative writing pieces I've done over the years. They might not be prize-winning or publishing material, but I am a firm believer in posthumous fame!

Because my writing tends to run on, I've split each story into several smaller sections, with links embedded to make sure that you'll never get lost. If you do get lost however, clicking on the "Return to Index" link found below every entry will bring you back to this starting page. Below is a list of what's currently available now, along with a short synopsis.

C O N T E N T S

1) You

A mother who can see the future... A daughter with an unescapable fate. You chronicles the painful choices a mother has to make, and the rewards that make it all worthwhile.

Available in eight parts: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII

2) Once and Again
A quirk of fate traps Quinn McKenna in a cabin with the man she once thought she'd spend a lifetime with. A flash of chance brings the woman Cole Hollister has always loved back to him. But will life push them apart, once and again?

Available in five chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

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2005-12-22T13:28:00.000+08:00

Once and Again (Chapter 5)

2005-04-21T00:33:00.000+08:00

< Chapter 4 :: Return to Index >

:: FIVE ::

Triple K Ranch looked as if it never saw snow before. It sat in a verdant valley that was thick with lush vegetation all around. Only a single road granted access into the huge clearing that the ranch was built on. The entire perimeter of the ranch was fenced up and the sign that hung high above the entrance boldly proclaimed it the most beautiful ranch this side of the country.

Looking at it through the windscreen of his car, Cole couldn’t find fault with the statement. The ranch was built in a diamond shape. Three blocks of building lay on the side further away from the entrance, and flanked the rear in an open “n”. The buildings were colonial in design, the middle block being the main building and most stately of the three. It was three storeys high and looked as if it had no problem housing the next few generations of McKennas. The stables lay to the right, a smaller but nonetheless majestic affair with dramatic flairs to its architecture. On the left was the staff block. To the front of the ranch lay a humongous rink which Cole guessed was for the exercising of the horses. It shared the space with a garden with exotic plants blooming and a clear lake that sparkled under the sun.

The whole ranch was, as its sign proclaimed, beautiful except for one tiny thing. It was empty.
At least, it looked empty. There were no horses galloping in the huge rink, no people hustling about in everyday life, no children playing in laughter. It was as if Cole had driven into a modern remake of a castle, and found all its occupants asleep, sans Sleeping Beauty.

Warily, he inched his vehicle forward towards the main block, trying to catch signs of movement. His car moved silently, as if noise would indeed wake up the entire ranch. Cole got off when he reached the front door, and wanted to wince at the slam of his car door.

A sombre young servant dressed in black opened the door and regarded him quizzically. “May I help you, sir?”

“I certainly hope so,” Cole chuckled. How very different this was from his imagination. Sentimental fool that he was, he’d dreamt that Quinn would rush into his open arms the moment he drove into the ranch, and he would sweep her feet off to the church, where everybody would weep with joy. God, only five days and he missed her so much. “I’m looking for Ms. McKenna. Quinn McKenna, actually.”

Cole couldn’t help but notice the servant’s face turn pale at his words. He watched as the young woman stammered and tried hard not to cry.

“What’s wrong?” Cole wanted to know.

The servant shook her head and tried to explain but was at a loss of words.

With a sense of foreboding, Cole swept her aside and walked into the building. “Hello? Quinn? It’s me! Cole!”

Nobody answered.

“Sir, please... you must listen to me,” the servant tugged at his shirtsleeves.

“Where is she?” Cole focused his bewilderment and growing fury at his hapless victim. “Where is everybody?”

“Sir, please... Ms. McKenna, she...”

“She what? Answer me!” He shook the maid when she hesitated.

“Ms. McKenna had a relapse. Everyone is at the hospital.”

Cole felt the blood drain out of his head.

Relapse.

He remembered the tears he noticed the day they’d parted. Tears he’d not commented on as he’d assumed they were sentimental in nature.

Cancer.

The desperation in her eyes as he’d left. Desperation which he’d taken for impatience.

Hospital.

He recalled the way he’d left her in her time of need. He realised that, once and again, he was on the verge of loss.

“Which hospital?” He roared, his fear galvanising him into action.

Cole never hated hospitals as intensely as he hated them now. They were a place for the dying. At fifteen, he’d watched his mother waste away to nothing in a C class ward. Age had taught him the knowledge to understand that the hospital had nothing to do with neither his mother’s death nor his dad leaving them, but still he could not help associating the hospital with everything bad in his life.

Now, his beloved Quinn was lying in one of those wards, waiting.

Waiting for him.

“Which room is Quinn McKenna in.” Cole asked brusquely at the check in counter of Missoula Memorial.

The nurse’s eyes lit up with interest at the sight of him and shifted to curiosity as they regarded the second man behind Cole. “I’m sorry...”

“Quinn McKenna. What room is she in.” Cole savagely spoke each word, carefully enunciating them as he would to a retarded five year old.

The nurse glared at him, offended, and checked her charts. “Intensive care, fourth floor.”

Cole bit out his thanks and pushed through the throng of people to get to the elevators, dragging his hapless hostage with him.

“My son, you are scaring people off with your temper. Might I suggest that you cool down.” The priest that Cole had grabbed from the church spoke softly once they were in the elevator. Cole snapped his head around and looked set to bite his head off for that comment. But one look at the priest’s kindly eyes nearly did him in.

“I’m scared, father. I’m scared to death of losing her.” Cole whispered softly, so that the other people in the elevator couldn’t hear him.

“I know. Don’t worry.” The priest rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It cannot be up to you now.”

When the elevator doors drew open, Cole was dry eyed but his heart was thumping so loudly that he thought everybody must be hearing its rhythm. He walked down the corridor in ground eating strides and tried to push past the crowd of people pacing in front of the intensive care unit. All of them turned to look at him simultaneously, as if by clockwork. He noticed the similarity of their face structures and immediately understood that he was looking at Quinn’s family, with the exception of the children.

Choosing to ignore them for the moment, he pressed on to the glass panel separating the ICU from the main corridor and inspected the occupant. Quinn was lying still on the bed, her skin deadly pale. Tubes ran through her hand and into her nose. Her head was bandaged up in white swaths of dressing and she looked horribly frail. Computer consoles lined the tiny room, and made the vase of carnations sitting by the bedside look incongruent.

Cole must have made a sound of pain unknowingly, for the priest laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn’t feel the tears that rolled down his cheeks, nor notice the presence of the rest of the people, for he was overcome with grief that pulled him under a tidal wave of depression. The rest of the McKennas stood around him like a phalanx, puzzling over the man who was crying silently.

One aged but nonetheless stocky, barrel chest man finally spoke up. “And who will you be?” His hoarse voice was the only clue that he felt anything for the woman lying inside the room. His countenance, however, was forbidding as he confronted the stranger who intruded on the family’s private moment.

Cole jolted at his voice and hastily brushed his tears away. Turning over, he looked the man straight in the eye. “I’m Cole Hollister. We’ve met before. How are you, Will?”

Quinn’s father narrowed his eyes and studied the man. “Cole Hollister? Cole? Cole from Larkspur?”

“Yes.”

Introductions were quickly made among the McKennas, though there was no joy in the reunion. All of them had known Cole from twelve years before, and understood the rest as Cole briefly brought them up to date about Quinn and himself.

“Quinn was barely home for half a day when she told us of her condition. She collapsed shortly after.” Michelle, Quinn’s red headed sister with a dusting of freckles across her attractive face said. “She didn’t have much time to chat. Or she’d have told us about the two of you, I’m sure.”

Cole zoomed in on her words like a homing missile. “Condition? What condition?”

Sky, her tall brother who looked successful and wealthy in a Saville Row suit, answered. “Didn’t she tell you? She’s had several minor relapses in the past few days already. What was left of her original tumour, turned from benign to malignant, and started to grow again.”

Several relapses in the past few days...

Suddenly, Cole remembered the day when she got “lost” in the snow. And the next day when she got “tired” after a snowball fight...

God, how could he have been so dense!

“What do you mean, what’s left of her original tumour?” Cole managed to rasp out.

Quinn’s mother, Janet McKenna, a homely woman in her fifties, answered this time. “The first operation that she had didn’t completely remove the tumour because of the risk involved.” She dabbed at her eyes. “The doctors agreed that the tumour was already benign and would not cause any further damage.”

“There was a chance of this happening, of course, but it was one Quinn had been willing to take.” Catherine, Quinn’s other sister, whispered softly. A model by profession, Cat was dressed in subdued black today. “Here. I found something in her purse. I think it was meant for you.”

Cole roughly took the letter that she offered and all but ripped the envelope on which his name was written apart.

Cole,

By the time you read this, I will most probably be dead. The other happier scenario is that I survived the operation in which case, you wouldn’t be reading this.

I lied to you, Cole. I withheld the whole truth from you all the while. I did have an operation twelve years ago and I do love you, then and now. What I didn’t tell you, couldn’t bear to say, was that my condition has suddenly taken a turn for the worse recently. My neurologist says that I only have a short time. I have to choose to leave silently, or to undergo another surgery, the risks of which are much higher than the last one.

I will not choose to die, Cole.

My operation is three days after Christmas and I will be long gone by the time you reach the ranch. Whether I live or die, this Christmas will always be in my heart. I came to Larkspur with the intention of visiting my family, possibly for the last time, and fate intervened in the form of a broken down car and a snowstorm. I am forever thankful, for I found you again and experienced love and joy unexpectedly. You showed me hope, made me understand that life is a gift by itself. I hope that I have shown you the same.

I love you, Cole. I always have and I always will. I know you must hate me now for not telling you all this earlier. I was about to, but changed my mind. After all, the heart has reasons that the mind knows not of. I hope that, in the years to come, you will be able to find forgiveness in your heart, and remember the times we’ve shared fondly.

Always,
Quinn

They looked on sadly as Cole sank onto the metallic benches that lined the hallway. He lowered his face into his palms and exhaled out tiredly.

This was so unfair. After all they’d gone through, now this. Why hadn’t Quinn told him of her condition earlier? Why had she remained silent even as he packed his bags to leave her? Wasn’t she hurting? How could she do this to him?

“What are her chances?” He asked without looking up, afraid that he’d lose his composure once more.

“The surgeons gave her a fifty-fifty chance of surviving this.” Kyle offered helpfully as he and his dad sat down by Cole’s side. “But once she regains consciousness, it’ll be all over. The neurosurgeon has removed the entire tumour this time round. But she’s already been unconscious for three days.”

“Let me go in.” Cole requested after a while.

“I’m sorry?” Will said.

“I want to go in and see her. I need to... I need to...”

“What? Why do you want to go in? It can’t possibly make a difference. Besides, only family members are allowed to go in one at a time.” Michelle told him.

“I need your permission to marry her, Will.” Cole lifted his head and look at Will’s eyes with his blood rimed ones. “I need all of you to allow me to take Quinn as my wife.” Cole addressed the McKennas. “I love her. And I know she loves me.”

There was a bustle as the McKennas discussed this new development.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Janet asked dubiously. “You both only met up a few days ago.”

“I cannot be more certain than I am now. I need to do this.”

“You don’t need to, Cole.” Will regarded him with eyes that were suddenly sharp and shrewd. “Nobody is forcing you to do it. You can wait till she wakes up, and if, heaven forbids, she doesn’t, then there’s really no point, is there?”

“I am not doing this to prove a point, Will.” Cole snapped. “I’m doing this because I love Quinn. I’ve lost her once and I don’t intend to lose her again.”

The McKenna men bristled at his impatient tone but the women heard and recognised the man’s love, frustration and grief. Janet laid a restraining hand on Will, so her husband wouldn’t punch his future son-in-law, determined as Cole was, and get himself black-eyed in the meantime.

Will looked at each of his family members in turn, and they each gave a nearly imperceptible nod. “You’d better do good by my darling Quinn,” Will warned. “Very well then, you have my blessings. I’ll go inform the nurse to let you in.”

Cole told the priest to wait outside the room, allowing him some private time with Quinn.

Up close, she looked even more fragile than she’d seemed from outside, engulfed as she was in life-support machines and tubes. Kneeling by the bed, Cole gently lifted her hand and rested it against his cheeks. The hot tears that rolled down to stain her hand wet was seemingly beyond of his control.

Wake up, Quinn. Don’t let me lose you again. Wake up.

“I guess this is it, huh?” Cole began unsteadily and kissed her hand tenderly, knowing the entire family was watching him but not giving a damn. “After making me wait for twelve long years, this is how we are to be married. Well, better this than nothing.

“You broke into my life so many years ago and brought sunshine to me. You gave me a joy I never knew. A joy that overshadowed the pain left by my parents. Even after we parted ways, I never stopped loving you, never stopped missing you. Every time I walked into a stadium for a game, I wished you were there in the crowd, cheering for me. Every time I did an interview, I would search for your face in the audience, hoping you were there to support me. And when I had to end my baseball career, how I prayed that you were there to comfort me, to tell me that everything would be all right.

“And you know what?” Cole chuckled sadly and dried his tears, as he whispered softly into her ear, words from within the deepest of his heart. “I wished too, that I was right there by your side, living life with you, cheering you on, supporting you, comforting you, telling you that everything would be all fine. And everything will be all right, won’t it? You’ll wake up and we’ll continue this in a huge church with lots of guests, and I’d be bursting with love and pride as you walk down the aisle. Then, one day far away in the future, we’d look back at this and laugh about it with our grandchildren.”

Unable to help himself, Cole stroked her cheeks tenderly, looking for twitching eyelids, moving lips. Anything to indicate that she was regaining consciousness. “You can hear me can you? I know you can. I love you so much, do you know that? Right now, I am pretty pissed at you for not telling me the truth about your condition straight out, but I figure it’s all right if you wake up now and let me take it out on you for the next fifty years or so. Quite a deal huh?”

Resting his forehead lightly against hers, Cole continued speaking to her. “And if you wake up now, I promise not to cook for the rest of my life. No, make that the next three lifetimes. That’s how long I intend to live life with you. How’s that sound?” Memories of their dinner together resurfaced and Cole wanted to break down again.

“Look at this ring I got for you back at New York.” Sliding a diamond ring out of his shirt pocket, Cole was oblivious to the fact that there was not a pair of eyes that was dry outside the room. “Isn’t it beautiful? I meant to surprise you with it when I came back from exposing my partner as a criminal who sabotages my planes, and instead, you pull this trick on me. I’m giving it to you now. See, I’m sliding it onto your finger. Perfect fit. Just wake up and see for yourself.”

Wake up, Quinn.

Stay with me.

Stay.

Unable to help himself any more, Cole buried his face in the bed beside her and his body shuddered with sobs of heartbreak.

Wake up, dammit! Wake up!

He wanted to pound on something. Anything. Break it apart with his bare hands. Destroy it like how his heart was being destroyed. Shred in into millions of tiny pieces.

Taking big calming breaths, Cole let the bedding soak up his tears, and stood up resolutely and opened the door to let the priest in, standing at the edge of the room. The females in the McKenna clan were blowing their noses noisily while the men were stoically silent but suspiciously red eyed.

“Father, I’m ready.”

He moved to Quinn’s side and held on to her hand, as the priest began reading from the bible. His mind was a blank as the priest droned on about holy matrimony. All he could think of was the past few days he’d spent with Quinn. Baking cookies, throwing snowballs, sharing joy. It was as if he’d lived through several lifetimes of happiness in those two days, and Cole supposed it was a gift that he was blessed with.

So how come he didn’t feel blessed?

His mind jolted back to the present. “Do you, Cole Anthony Hollister, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in riches and in poor, in health and in sickness, for better and for worse, till death do you part?”

“I do.” Cole said softly, gazing at Quinn’s still face.

“And do you, Catherine Quinn McKenna, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband...” Cole focused on Quinn’s eyelids.

“...in riches and in poor...”

For a moment, he thought... there it was again!

“...in health and in sickness...”

But it couldn’t possibly be... Yes there it was again!

“...for better or for worse...”

Quinn had moved her eyelids! Three times!

“...till death do you part?”

The priest’s words were lost in excited exclamations as Quinn slowly drew her eyes open slightly and closed them again. For Cole who was hugging her tightly, and for the men and women who kept a vigil out in the hallway, it was more than enough. It was a sign of hope, of life that began anew.

Nobody was listening to the priest anymore, but he persevered through the tears of gratitude and joy, and the whoops of victory, as some of the McKennas ran to inform the doctor, and others sat down and cried in relief.

Cole simply held Quinn’s hand and gazed at her face, memorizing every detail, every line, every angle of this woman whom he loved more than life.

“There will be no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other.
No rain, for each of you will shelter one another...

...There will be no hunger, for your lives will be rich with love.
No loneliness, for both of you will have two bodies but one soul.
With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife...”

“What’s that mean, Daddy?” The son mumbled sleepily when his dad stood up and prepared to leave. “Did the princess get cured of her sickness?”

“Yes she did.” His dad replied, tucking the covers around him, smiling as he saw his son battle to keep his eyelids up.

“What happened in the end, Daddy?” His son repeated, having lost the battle.

“The story ended the only way it could have.” The man pressed a light kiss on the boy’s forehead.

“G’night, dad.” With the enviable ease of young children, his son fell asleep.

“Goodnight.” The man whispered, shut the door and left, leaving a nightlight in case his son woke up.

Moving into the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around a slim, attractive woman who was finishing up the dishes.

She looked at him and grinned. “Kyle’s asleep already?”

“Yeah, but not before he conned a story out of me.” The man grinned back.

“You always had a thing for big round eyes. Can’t resist him, huh?”

“Umm,” he agreed and nibbled on her neck. His hands wandered down beyond her waist. “Just like I can’t resist his gorgeous mom.”

Quinn put away the dishes and turned her face up to share a warm, tender kiss with her husband.

“So how did the story go?” Quinn asked, as her husband pulled her eagerly into their room.

“It went well,” Cole replied, smiling deep into her eyes, loving her so much. “Everyone lived happily ever after.”

:: End ::

< Chapter 4 :: Return to Index >

Once and Again (Chapter 4)

2005-04-21T00:28:00.000+08:00

< Chapter 3 :: Return to Index :: Chapter 5 >

:: FOUR ::

It was two in the morning, but neither Quinn nor Cole felt like sleeping. A fire was blazing in the hearth. Quinn was nursing a hot cup of cider while Cole was surveying the darkness outside the window.

“I waited that day,” he said, turning around to face her. “I stood right under that tree and waited for you that day. One hour turned to two, and two hours became four, and four hours dragged on to an entire day.”

Tiredly, Cole sat down on the couch beside Quinn. “I wanted so much to start our lives together. I remembered you being brave and asking me to take on the job the previous night, and me loving you so much, knowing that I could never have left you for anything in the world.”

Quinn chuckled self-depreciatively. “I was hardly brave. It nearly broke my heart to tell you to take up the offer. All the while, I was praying you’d stay.”

“And I promised I would. But the next day, when you didn’t show up, I packed up, told my agent I’d changed my mind, and left for New York.”

“How could you leave just like that?” Quinn asked, her expression hurt. “You left simply because I didn’t show up?”

“Pretty stupid of me, I guess.” Cole said ruefully. “But it wasn’t just a simple date. You knew we were going to get married that day. When you didn’t turn up, didn’t even send word, I assumed you’d changed your mind about marrying a man with nothing to his name.”

“After all that we’ve shared, you could think that of me?” Quinn was incredulous.

“I was young and lacked confidence then.” Cole’s eye gleamed. “Rest assured that it will not happen again.”

“I had a severe attack the afternoon we were supposed to meet. My family thought it was because of the excitement of getting married but sent me to a hospital anyway. Kyle was supposed to get word to you, but once it became apparent that I was haemorrhaging due to a brain tumour, all of us rushed immediately to Missoula Memorial.”

“A brain tumour?” Cole repeated, pulling Quinn by his side. “Wasn’t that pretty sudden?”

Quinn snuggled closer to Cole and nodded. “The neurosurgeon said it was very rare for a brain tumour to grow to that size undetected. Chances are, the person would have had several seizures already. But because it was undetected, the moment it attacked, I was in a critical stage. There was no chance of using conservative methods like chemotherapy. In order to save me, they had to operate immediately, removing the malignant tumour and arresting the haemorrhage.”

“Did it hurt?” Cole asked in a pained voice, hugging her tightly.

“It was all in the past...”

“Tell me.” He insisted, his voice unsteady.

Realising that he had to know, had to offer comfort, Quinn nodded. “At first, I was unaware of anything. One moment I was conscious and the next I blacked out. When I regained my senses, I was already lying in the operating room. They injected anaesthetic into me and I lost consciousness again.”

Quinn smiled crookedly at the memory and continued. “When I next awoke, my head was throbbing like jelly in an earthquake. Everything passed by so quickly that I barely had time to realise that I’d nearly lost my life.”

When Cole didn’t make any comments, Quinn tilted her head to look at him. He was parting her hair to see the scars the operation had left on her scalp. The look in his eyes nearly broke her heart. He smiled unsteadily, but his eyes remained sad. “Ironic, isn’t it? That I walked away physically unscathed and lost twelve years of my life instead.”

“Don’t say that, Cole.”

“Why? It’s true. Living life without you wasn’t really living at all, just a routine to get through. When I think of all those years that I spent without you, I...”

“Don’t.”

Cole buried his face in her hair, kissed the scars that were fully healed. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. If only I’d known. If only I’d...”

“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have stayed, should have known that something was wrong. Instead, I left you when you needed me most. You must have hated me.” Cole tore his gaze away from Quinn and stared at the fire, a gamut of emotions flashing in his hazel eyes. “All those years, I thought... I thought...”

“... That I didn’t love you, that I’d changed my mind about loving you?” Quinn answered for him.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“That was exactly what I thought,” she whispered, as tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

“Quinn. I never stopped loving you. Never. Not even when I boarded the plane to New York.” Cole turned Quinn so that she sat facing him, and her tears broke his heart. “I thought maybe you were afraid to take a chance with me, afraid of marrying me.”

“I was never afraid, Cole.”

“Not even now?”

“Never, especially now.”

He lifted her off the couch, and with the other hand, dragged a comforter and spread it on the floor in front of the fireplace, and lay her down gently. Silently, he lay down beside her and tenderly kissed away her salty tears. When there were no tears left, his lips made a slow descent down her throat to her collarbone, and nudged away the shirt that covered her skin.

Quinn unbuttoned his shirt hurriedly, needing to feel his warmth. She felt the heat of the fire as he did the same to her, and moaned softly as the heat turned into a different kind, white hot lava that spiralled from within her innermost parts as he sought out places that had ached for his touch so very long. Her own hands were roaming at will. They speared through his hair, stroked his chest impatiently and caressed him gently.

Where her body was soft and inviting, Cole’s was hard and unyielding. Wordlessly, they moved together, caught up in a rhythm of an ancient dance. Cole never felt so powerful before in his life, as he filled her completely as she needed him to, sword to its hilt. Just when the pleasure became unbearable, their sinuous bodies buckled together and the power of their love dragged them into the heart of the night.

For the first time in a few days, Cole slept like a baby. Waking up to find Quinn curled up next to him had brought a warmth to his soul, proving that yesterday night had not been a dream. He kissed her shoulder gently to wake her into the new day as the sun sent its first few rays of light through the trees, and she rolled into his arms, as they loved each other into the new day.

“Cole?” Quin whispered into his chest a long while later, where her head had fallen.

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry.”

Cole took a look at her and gave a lewd grin. “So fast? Good thing I have amazing recuperative powers.”

Quinn giggled and tried to stir, as if to be the first one to make the first move, but found that she couldn’t. Her bones had apparently turned to mush, making it impossible to rise. Finally forcing her body into action, she sat up and rummaged through the rumpled blankets for her clothes. Not finding them, she threw on Cole’s sweater instead, then realised he was watching her.

“What?”

“I can’t believe that you’re with me. After all these years of missing you, you’re finally here.”

“Twelve years too late...” she reminded him.

“Better late than never,” he told her. “It’s a second chance.”

“Remember when I said how fortunate you were to be able to start over?”

“Yeah,” Cole nodded and took Quinn by the shoulders. “I remember. It’s a miracle. A Christmas miracle.”

“Do you think it’ll be the same?” Quinn asked quietly in his embrace, her fingers playing with the hair on his chest.

“No.” Cole replied certainly. “It’ll be much better.”

“So what do we do now?” she asked.

“What we should have done long ago”- he lowered his head to kissed her -“get married in a large church, where there are doves flying, people crying, and a stern priest standing at the altar.”

Quinn let that sink in before asking. “You still want to marry me?”

“I never stopped wanting to marry you. I loved nobody but you, Quinn. I don’t want to lose you again. Ever.”

Quinn felt her eyes fill with tears. She started speaking when his cell phone started ringing.

“Cole, there’s something...”

“What?” Cole pushed her away gently, not seeing the tears in her eyes. “I guess the reception’s clear now. Hold on a sec.” Cole rolled off the mattress and reached out a long arm to grab his phone on the nearby table.

“Cole here.”

Quinn watched him talk into the phone and studied his profile while he spoke business.

This man wants me to be his wife...

For a moment then, her tears nearly ran free. She knew that nothing would be the same again. She would explain everything to him.

But when Cole’s tone got more and more curt over the phone, she frowned a little and tried to hear what he was saying. She only managed to get snitches of the conversation, and when Cole hung up, his expression was grave.

Worried, Quinn asked what was wrong.

“One of my planes met with an accident. An engine caught fire and burned up while taking off.” Cole answered her solemnly.

“Oh no,” Quinn was horrified. “Was anybody hurt?”

“No. Luckily, it was only a cargo plane.” Quickly, he walked to his room and threw a tote bag together. “Listen, Quinn. I’m sorry but I have to leave for a while.”

“Of course. I hope everything’s fine.”

“The police are looking for me. Apparently, they believe it’s a case of sabotage.”

“How horrible!” Quinn exclaimed. “Who could possibly have done this?”

“I’ll tell you when I find out. I have a pretty good idea though.” Cole replied grimly, as he threw on a black bomber jacket. “Remember what we were saying earlier on?”

“Yes. Cole, I...”

“What?” Cole gave her a quizzical look.

She couldn’t go on. Just couldn’t.

“Nothing. Travel safe.”

Cole kissed her hotly on the lips. “When I confirm who did this, I’m going to kill him for separating us, however brief it may be.”

You have no idea, Cole.

“Dig out his eyes for me, Cole.”

He laughed and looked at her tenderly. “I love you, Quinn.”

“I love you too. You’d better get going.”

Cole nodded and gathered up his bags in a flurry of motion. “Now that the snow’s stopped, you should get over to your parents. They must be worried to death.”

Parents. Sky. Cat. Kyle. Michelle.

“I’ll meet you there in two day’s time, is that okay?”

“Sure.”

His lips descended on her the final time and he was gone.

Alone, Quinn gazed at the Christmas tree that looked very bereft without Cole beside it, and cried silently for both of them. Forgive me...

< Chapter 3 :: Return to Index :: Chapter 5 >

Once and Again (Chapter 3)

2005-04-21T00:12:00.000+08:00

< Chapter 2 :: Return to Index :: Chapter 4 >

:: THREE ::

Quinn sensed that a new day was miraculously dawning even through the intensity of the storm’s fury. She stretched her arms and looked around. It hadn’t been a dream after all. After all those years, she was really here in Cole Hollister’s cabin. Sliding off the blankets, she got out of the couch and walked to the windows. As she’d expected, the snow was still falling outside, though not as heavily as yesterday.

Grabbing her clothes and her toiletries kit out of her knapsack, she tiptoed down the hallway to the bathroom, washed up, changed into a pair of woollen pants and heavy dark grey cotton sweater. Standing in the hallway, she listened for signs that Cole had already woken up and hearing none, walked softly into the kitchen.

She got a fresh pot of coffee brewing on the stove and decided to make some pancakes for breakfast. Adding several logs to the stove, Quinn battered a couple of eggs and was layering the mix on the saucepan when Cole, following his nose, emerged at the doorway of the kitchen.

“You’re making pancakes?” He sniffed appreciatively from over her shoulder. “Name your price, lady.”

Quinn, concentrating on the pancakes, jumped at his sudden intrusion. Turning around to levy warnings about sneaking up behind her, her throat constricted at the sight of Cole. He had yet to shave and the slight stubble on his face added to his already dangerous appeal.

She would chastise him all right. When her heart stopped its marathon.

“Good morning, Quinn.”

“Good morning.” She replied, willing the heat in her face to subside as she turned back to the stove, flipping the pancake over. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought you might be hungry when you woke up, so I took the liberty of making some pancakes.”

“Mind? You must be kidding.” Cole held up the bottle of cranberry sauce and tried to read its label, distracted by the proximity of Quinn. “What can I do to help?”

“Set the table.” Quinn said. And stop crowding me, she thought but didn’t add.

Cole made a noise of assent and retrieved some plates from the cabinet, laying them neatly on the table, alongside some utensils. He couldn’t even concentrate on this simple task, to his mild surprise. His mind kept wondering to the sexy lady layering pancakes, and insisting that this was how it should have been for the two of them. Side by side doing mundane, everyday tasks in companionable silence, knowing that their devotion was constant even without words.

Instead, they were separated by two feet, as well as a gulf of twelve years that was impossible to surmount.

Suddenly feeling aggressive and furious, Cole spun Quinn around roughly and all but dragged her to the sitting room, ignoring the startled stutters that were trying to form sentences.

When Quinn was finally coherent, he was already throwing a parka and a scarf on her.

“What do you think you are doing?” Quinn asked indignantly, her eyes hot behind her mussed up hair that pulled free of its ponytail.

“Turning you into a Christmas turkey. What does it look like I’m doing?” Cole snapped as he shrugged his big body into his parka.

“Why are we wearing all of these clothing?” Quinn made a downward sweep with her hand, thankful that her voice remained sharp even when she felt tongue tied standing so close to Cole.

“We’re... we are...” Cole’s temper drained out of him in an instant, what was there to be angry about, after all these years? And why did he make her put on her stupid parka anyway? “We’re going to build a snowman!” He declared triumphantly as inspiration struck.

“Build a snowman?”

Cole wondered why she made it sound as if he’d suggested going whale hunting.

“Yes. Build a snowman.”

Quinn hoped she didn’t look as befuddled as she felt.

“What about the snow?”

“What of it? You need snow to build snowmen.”

Quinn gave him a look that suggested he had lost his mind.

“It’s still falling heavily. It’s going to be freezing.”

Cole shrugged noncommittally. “So we won’t go far.”

They glared at each other.

“What about breakfast?” Quinn spoke first.

“It’s not going to run away.”

“It’ll get cold instead.”

“So heat it up.”

“Why should I.”

“Then don’t.”

“And waste the pancakes?”

“I bought the ingredients. It’s my money.”

“I’m cooking them.”

“So eat them.”

“You are so stubborn.”

“Indefatigable.”

“Asshole.”

“Bite me.” Cole suggested.

Undaunted, Quinn continued glowering at him, thinking of more reasons why they should stay in.

She was about to throw out more excuses when Cole grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out off the cabin so swiftly that she had no chance to dig in her heels.

The cold air outside hit her all at once, and her face felt as if countless needles were pricking it. Deciding to deal with the tyrant later, she pulled on her woollen caps and gloves, then added mufflers to be on the safe side.

Cole was already kneeling in the snow, forming balls of snow with his gloved hands. “We‘ll have a competition.” He said without facing her, his voice eager, without a hint of its former belligerence. “We’ll see who builds a better snowman, okay?”

Quinn was about to turn away when he stopped her, tugging her gently by the hand. “Stay.” Cole said softly, his eyes imploring.

Quinn remembered that fateful night twelve years ago. Stay, she’d pleaded silently.

He did not.

And yet, she couldn’t help but think of yesterday night, how he’d stroked her cheek as if they were still lovers. How she’d silently cried for both of them.

She nodded her assent, moving forward so that her snow creation would stand beside Cole’s.

She caught the look of joy on Cole’s face, and felt a crack in her heart.

If only you’d stayed then...

Two hours later, their creations were complete.

Despite how roughly Cole manhandled her earlier on, Quinn’s mood had improved steadily the moment she had started on her snowman. Must be something about the snow. Throughout the two hours, they’d talked. It was just like old times, Quinn had thought, as they caught up through the years, and told each other about their families. They’d rediscovered each other, found out how each other had changed in the twelve years, in big ways and small. Cole found out that she no longer liked wearing high heels, while she found out that his passion of flying was just as strong, if not stronger than, baseball.

“You’re lucky.” Quinn had said then. “Not everybody gets to have a second chance to start over.”

Cole nodded, his hands busily patting down the ice into shape. “I know. For a while back after I quit playing the Majors, I thought it was the end of the road for me. It was by pure luck that I stumbled across friends who introduced me to flying aircrafts. And pure luck too, that I had enough savings to start my own charter.”

“If it fun? Flying in the skies?”

“Absolutely.” Cole nodded his head vigorously. “Exhilarating, in fact. I once thought only hearing the crowds cheer could induce that sort of feeling in me. Thus far, only two other things have the same power over me. Flying is one of them.”

“What is the other?”

Waking up in the morning and seeing your face beside mine. Knowing that you belong to me, as you slowly open your eyes. Feeling my heart skip several beats as you give me a smile. These answers, together with several others, ran through his mind.

Quinn turned to look at him as the stillness drew on. When Cole met her gaze, it was if she immediately understood, for she turned back and concentrated on fixing on twigs as arms for her snowman.

Silence had ensued.

Now, they both stepped back and admired their work.

Cole’s snowman had a misshapen head reminiscent of Godzilla, and its body was sharp with angles and edges. Cole had dug out some dates to substitute as red eyes, and stones acted as teeth while the monster stomped tiny snowmen less than a foot tall to death. Quinn’s snowman resembled a house maker, and she had given it her woollen cap, and tied a rag around its curves to act as an apron. Quinn also stuck a wooden ladle so that they balanced on the twigs.

“Well,” Quinn said in a self-congratulatory air. “I think it’s apparent who has the winning piece.”

“Oh, I suppose you think your’s better.” Cole replied scornfully.

“I just happen to know so.”

“I’ll have you know that Godzilla here can level you and your cute little doll to the ground.” Cole said with a grin.

“You can try, if you dare.” Quinn challenged and started to walk back to the house, swinging her hips as sassily as she could in the bulky winter wear.

She was just about to reach the stairs to the porch when a snowball hit her squarely on the back. She gasped from the cold and the shock.

Slowly, she turned back and faced Cole, who was wearing a devastating, boyish grin that reeked of smugness.

“Cole Hollister, I‘ll get you.” Quinn swore and knelt down to grab her arsenal.

In what seemed like mere seconds, two more snowballs hit her shoulder and her head, even as she gathered the ice. Gritting her teeth against the cold, she flung her two snowballs, both of which he dodged easily. The one he threw in retaliation missed her face by inches and nipped at her ears. Knowing she was no match in a distance match, Quinn gathered two more snowballs and advanced towards Cole, dodging three more snowballs but getting hit in her leg by a fourth.

Face to face with Cole, she grinned impishly and prepared to slam her weapons into Cole’s face. She never knew what hit her, one moment she was raising her arms, and she was flat on her butt the next, the snowballs smashed against her chest. Cole was prone on top of her, and normally, the proximity would have rendered her useless but this time round, Quinn was too busy fending off his attacks to bother with the fact that he was sprawled flat on top of her. Cole had propped himself up with one arm and the other was busily rubbing ice onto her face.

Spluttering, Quinn laughed helplessly and gave up, flailing her arms in surrender. “I give up!” She sputtered through the snow.

“So, I win?” Cole asked.

“Yes, you win, you win. Now get off me, you brute.” Quinn tried to alternate between laughing, wiping ice off her face and pushing him off.

"Good that you are yielding to my obvious superiority.” Cole said smugly and flopped over, so that he laid beside her on the ice, his chest rising with each deep breath he took.

Quinn rubbed the ice off her face and caught her breath, enjoying this moment while the rhythm of their inhalations were in complete unison. Their hands had somehow found each other while they were panting away, and Cole was holding on tight. Quinn didn’t feel like freeing hers, and welcomed the warmth that he offered.

How long has it been since the two of them were so carefree and happy?

Quinn was just starting to feel glad that she agreed to the snowman building contest when the pain rocked through her. It was not unlike the previous she’d encountered in the snowstorm, as it speared from her head to her body.

“Ow.” Quinn couldn’t help crying out in pain. Her hand pulled free of Cole’s and even through the white hot pain, she was instantaneously regretful that she had to end the contact.

Cole was beside her in an instant. “What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly.

As abruptly as the pain had come, it subsided. Even so, its aftermath left Quinn feeling weak and feeble.

“I’m alright,” She mumbled weakly. “Just a headache from the cold.”

Immediately, Cole gathered her up in his arms, ignoring her protests, moving back to the cabin. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have dragged you out into the cold for a stupid game. I should have made you rest in bed.”

The door slammed open with the kick that Cole gave, and the cabin seemed to rattle on its foundations. Cole was moving so swiftly that Quinn could feel the rush of air on her face.

“I’m fine. Really. I will be.” Quinn protested even as he stripped her down to her sweater, and lowered her onto his bed.

“I want you to rest.”

“But...”

“No buts.”

“I...”

“Not a single word.”

Against her will, Quinn grinned wearily as the old Cole, bossy and caring at the same time, resurfaced through the years. “Yes boss.”

Cole leaned down to press a warm kiss on her head tenderly but Quinn was already falling asleep to issue any objections. “And when you wake up, I have a surprise for you.”

Her lips curved as she heard his words even through the haze. She was sure of one fact even before her slumber.

When love was true enough, deep enough, it never dies.

Cole...

A fire was blazing in the hearth when Quinn walked into the sitting room, throwing mysterious shadows over the furniture.

When she caught sight of the pine tree standing tall beside the fireplace, she gasped in pleasure.

Crouched beside the tree hanging decorations, Cole turned at the sound and gave her a tender smile.

“A Christmas tree!” Quinn marvelled at the majestic six feet tall tree.

“Yeah, like it?” Cole stood beside her and surveyed the tree with a critical eye.

“I love it!” Quinn enthused. “How did you get it?”

“With a lot of difficulty.” Cole replied sombrely, slinging his arm affectionately around her shoulder. “I told you I wanted to surprise you.”

Quinn was circling the tree, dragging Cole along with her.

“I tried calling your ranch on my cell phone but couldn’t get a clear signal through the snow. Seeing that you’d most likely be spending Christmas here tomorrow, I decided to make up for you being stuck here.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Quinn said, warmed nonetheless that he went to the trouble. “But I’m glad you did.”

“Speaking of which, how did you get yourself sprawled in the snow yesterday?” Cole wanted to know.

“Hmm?” Quinn replied absent-mindedly as she examined the decorations. “Oh, that. My car broke down and I had to hike. Pure and simple. I got caught in the snowstorm.”

“I’ll say. It‘s lucky you reached my cabin in time. Think your family will worry?”

“Maybe. But there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Cole joined her as they hung home-made decorations onto the tree.

“Know what this tree needs?” Quinn asked suddenly.

“No, what?” Cole smiled at her.

“Cookies.”

“Huh? Cookies?”

Nodding her head, Quinn was already going through the ingredients she needed. “That’s what my parents used to do when I was young. Hang Christmas cookies on the Christmas trees.”

When she saw the doubtful look on Cole’s face, she made up her mind.

“Come on and give me a hand,” Quinn said, trying to drag him up from his crouching position. “I promise it’ll be fun.”

A short while later, they were both up to their elbows in flour.

“Knead harder, so that the lumps are broken down.” Quinn instructed.

Cole gave her a fulminating look. “I don‘t need you to teach me that.”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

Without thinking, Cole lifted a hand full of flour and drew two white stripes down her cheeks, beside her nose.

Quinn’s hands stilled in the bowl, and she turned to look at him slowly, her eyes shooting cold fire.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

Cole immediately tried to look contrite.

“That was so juvenile.”

“I’m sorry.” Cole intoned, trying hard not to laugh.

“So am I. I’m sorry you did that.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Her cool tone finally got through to Cole, and he turned to look for a clean towel. “Look, honey, I’m really sorry for that. I wasn’t...”

“I’m sorry you did that because you are forcing me to retaliate.”

Cole whipped back to defend himself but it was too late.

Quinn dumped half a sack full of flour on his head. The powder drifted down Cole’s nose, ears, hair, and got into every niche of his face. Quinn stepped back from the aftermath and dusted her hands satisfactorily.

“Now, you’re a regular Santa.”

“Ho, ho, ho.” Cole laughed without the least bit of humour and walked slowly towards Quinn, who tried to fend him off valiantly.

Cole snagged an egg without Quinn noticing and kept the hand behind his back. When he was close enough, he cornered Quinn in a corner, and grinned while she ironically tried to defend herself with an egg battler.

He lifted the egg above her head and with his fingers, cracked the fragile shell. The slimy egg white plopped down on her hair first, then slid down her forehead, with the yolk close on its heels.

Quinn yelped, her flailing hands came by a cup of sudsy water and she flung its contents into Cole’s chest with one swift, sure stroke.

Cole studied his ruined sweater through narrowed eyes while Quinn belatedly tried to survey the damage to her hair done using her hands, making more of a mess in the meantime.

“That does it.” Both of them said at the same time, not without malicious glee.

The small kitchen became a battlefield for the next half an hour, with eggs flying, lumpy flour streaking and water splashing all over.

The final casualty rate stood at thirteen eggs, three bags of flour, one bag of sugar as well as one ill-fated mixing bowl.

Both of them stepped back from the tree after hanging the cookies and surveyed their handiwork. Glitzy decorations hung on the tree cheerfully and a cherubic angel playing a harp sat on top of it. The two cookies hung side by side somewhere in the middle of the tree, in the shape of Quinn’s left hand and Cole’s right.

“It‘s all your fault.” Quinn accused after a comfortable silence. “We could have had much more cookies.”

“I didn’t see you restraining yourself in the kitchen.” Cole teased.

Both of them turned to face each other at the exact moment, and words simultaneously froze in their throats. Cole looked down into her eye, and felt as he was drowning in its brown depths that were flecked with gold. Everything in the room grew still as Cole’s senses focused entirely on Quinn. Slowly he moved closer to Quinn, and his hands slid around her waist to link at the small of her back. They were a perfect fit, even after all those years. His head lowered steadily until his lips were tantalizingly close to her slightly parted ones. So close that the essence of her filled his senses like they did in the past.

Quinn gazed at him, enraptured.

So long ago...

Every detail of his attractive face seemed so endearing as she stroked his cheeks lightly with her hand.

It was so long ago...

The arms around her were achingly familiar, his powerfully built body made her feel secure, his warmth offered her comfort. Quinn closed her eyes.

Stay...

Her heart thundered. Her mind raced and she suddenly became flustered and confused as the past reared its ugly head.

Please stay, Cole. Stay with me...

She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t get her feelings on the line once more. She’d gotten her heart broken the last time she did. Abruptly she pulled away and the moment ended. Cole’s arms dropped listlessly to his sides and his eyes looked hurt and confused, though he showed no expression on his face.

Both of them stood facing each other.

“I think you’d better go clean up in the bathroom. I’ll uh, go tidy up the kitchen.” Cole said uncertainly after a while.

Nodding, Quinn turned and walked down the hallway swiftly so that Cole could not see the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.

Another sleepless night, Cole said to himself as he tossed around.

After what happened just now, why should he have expected his night to go smoothly? After the awkward scene where he acted like a randy teenage boy, the rest of the day had gone steadily downhill. Whatever conversation they shared was dominated by the weather, recent news, a book, then back to the weather. Quinn refused to meet his eyes, making him feel both guilty and frustrated.

Accept it, Hollister! He told himself sharply. Face the truth. She doesn’t want you now anymore than she wanted you twelve years ago. Remember your wedding day!

Feeling miserable, he got out of bed. Time to walk those twenty-nine steps again.

But when he reached the couch, Quinn wasn’t there. He experienced a brief flare of unpleasant panic before he realised that she couldn’t have chosen to escape while it was dark and still snowing.

Finding the front door unlocked and her heavy parka gone, Cole threw on his own set of clothes and went out. The snow had nearly stopped falling. The snowstorm was near an end.

Following his instincts, Cole plodded west, where the forest lay.

As he’d expected, he found Quinn standing by the rock under the tree and silently joined her.

If she was surprised at his appearance, she didn’t show it.

“Do you remember this rock?” Quinn said quietly after a while.

Cole laughed softly, white vapour billowing out of his mouth at the expulsion of air. “Of course I do.”

They both fell into silence once again.

“Do you know, I loved only you back then.” Quinn continued after the lengthy pause. Cole found no response. Had he not loved only her?

“I knew that. What I didn’t know, couldn‘t have known then, was that I would still love you after all these years, after all that you did.” Quinn’s voice cracked and she turned to look at Cole, who was shocked to find her crying. Not sobbing, not wailing. No hysterics, no anger.

Quinn was simply crying silently, her tears charting a silvery course down her cheeks in the moonlight.

“Why did you leave, Cole?”

Emotions warred within Cole, rendering him speechless.

...I would still love you after all these years...

“Why, Cole? Why did you leave? How could you have left just like that after your promise? Did what we had meant so little to you?”

Confusion set in.

“Wait a minute...”

“Why did you break your word?”

In desperation, Cole grabbed her by the shoulder. “What do you mean I broke my promise? I was here that day, waiting for you! Waiting for us to get married!”

“You promised me you’d stay, damn you!” Quinn was livid with pent up anger now, and Cole had to shake her physically to get her to listen to him.

“I did stay! You were the one who didn’t show up!” He roared, letting his own frustration take over. “I waited for you by the rock like I promised. With a ring. Right under this tree until the sun set. But you didn’t appear! You were the one who broke our promise!”

“Don’t you think it would have been hard for me to show up,” Quinn said acidly, “considering I was in a hospital having my brain tumour removed?”

Cole felt as if lightning had struck him where he stood.

“Maybe I should have said ‘Excuse me, doctor, could you just postpone the operation so I can meet my future husband.’ while he was slicing my scalp open! That would have been appropriate don’t you think?”

Brain tumour...

Operation...

“Or better yet, I could have kicked him so he’d let me go.”

“Stop it.”

“No, I might have injured myself that way. I know! I could have called the police so that they can stop him from performing surgery to save my freaking life!”

“Don’t make me beg. Stop.”

“Oh, I remember now,” Quinn said acidly. “I was unconscious. I couldn‘t have done either of those. How stupid of me. It was all my fault.”

“Please stop. Please.” Cole rasped and pulled Quinn tight against him, hugging her so tightly that for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Where their cheeks rubbed, Quinn felt a warm dampness and realised with shock that Cole was crying. His body shuddered violently as he fought to control his emotions, as if he was devastated by the news he’d just received.

Inexplicably, her arms hugged him back, offering comfort even though there was no reason to. Why did he act as if he’d just discovered...

Oh God. He didn’t know. In all those years, he never knew.

< Chapter 2 :: Return to Index :: Chapter 4 >

Once and Again (Chapter 2)

2005-04-21T00:00:00.000+08:00

< Chapter 1 :: Return to Index :: Chapter 3 >

:: TWO ::

When Quinn finally came to, her head felt like there were armies of soldiers waging wars within it. Her vision was blurry, but the shimmering waves that distorted the room soon settled.

There was a man, standing by the window, his fingers pinching his lips that she recognised as a sign of uncertainty. The man was tall, at least six feet one, broad shouldered and well-muscled. He had short hair the colour of polished mahogany, hair that Quinn knew he once pulled into a stubby ponytail. His eyes would be hazelnut brown and full of secrets, making his rugged, handsome face look mysterious.

“Hello, Cole.” Her voice came out a rasp.

He whipped his head around at her voice and rushed to her side.

“How are you feeling?” Cole asked brusquely as he knelt down beside her. “Still feeling cold?”

As if he were clairvoyant, tremors suddenly rocked her body, even as Cole drew extra blankets over her.

“You’re shivering, shivering is good. I think.”

Shivering so hard that her teeth started to clatter, Quinn drew her body into a tight ball, humiliated that she was found in a state of weakness by this man. She tried to turn away but couldn’t summon the strength to do so. Even this slightest exertion exhausted her. It slowly sapped her strength until maintaining a coherent thought took much too of an effort.

Quinn felt the floor tip as she was lifted off the ground in strong arms. Against her will, she felt a flood of warmth rush through her body as Cole clutched her close to his chest.

She should protest.

She should fight him.

But instead, as she slipped into darkness once more, all she felt like doing was to snuggle deeper into the arms of this man who broke her heart twelve years ago.

And when Cole reached the bed in his bedroom a short while later, that was how he found Quinn. Even in sleep, her arms were trustingly curled against his chest. Unable to help himself, he pressed a light, wistful kiss on her forehead.

This was the way it should have been, Cole thought sadly.

“Up already?”

Quinn halted halfway through her next step. So much for sneaking out of the house.

Cole turned around in the small kitchen, two hot mugs of hot chocolate in his hands. Sipping one of them, he offered the other mug to Quinn.

“No, thanks. I should get to the ranch. My parents will worry.”

“Take a look outside the window.” Cole gestured with his head.

Warily, Quinn moved to the windows and took a peek outside. Her spirits plummeted. It was snowing even more heavily than before, if that were possible. She could barely see ten feet out.

“You’d get buried in snow if you tried to get out now.” Cole informed her helpfully. “Here, take one.”

Quinn had to agree with him, albeit reluctantly and accepted the mug.

Sipping the hot drink, Quinn observed Cole as he tended to the dying fire, building it up to send warmth across the room. The dark woollen sweatshirt stretched across his broad back and shoulders as he lifted log after log and stacked them evenly in the hearth. He looked wonderful, after all those years.

Dammit! The least he could do was to turn bald and paunchy after breaking her heart!

Without warning, Cole turned and smiled at her, totally disarming her with that warm smile like the day they’d first met. Touched in so many ways that terrified her to recall, Quinn tried to draw on the scenarios she’d created throughout the years when she’d dreamt of seeing him again. She could be vengeful, grabbing him by the collar, demanding an explanation for his actions. She could be cool and sophisticated, pretending that she hadn’t been hurt to the core. Or she could be calm and mature, sitting both of them down for a long talk on what had happened, why he’d betrayed her trust.

Instead, now that she was in the presence of the man she once thought she’d share a lifetime with, she could not recall a single word of the clever monologue she’d rehearsed over the years.

“Hungry?”

Quinn nearly jumped as her reverie was interrupted.

“Umm. A little actually.”

“I could start dinner. What would you like to eat? Tonight’s fine menu consists of either hard spaghetti with soggy eggs, or steaks that may be medium rare, fine or overcooked, depending on your luck.”

Involuntarily, Quinn choked on the hot chocolate and ended up half sputtering and laughing.

“Looks like your culinary skills have not improved since the past.” She teased.

“Sure they have.” Cole laughed along. “You will notice that burnt soufflés are not my specialty anymore.”

They grinned at each other as memories of past dinners resurfaced. Candles, moonlight, and cheap wine.

Stolen kisses, intimacy and long sultry nights.

The tension between the two of them suddenly flared as old feelings threatened to emerge. Their soft laughter turned to awkward, self-conscious chuckles.

“Uh, I guess I’d better go and get dinner ready.” Cole said, making to move into the kitchen.

“Let me.”

Cole turned and regarded her quizzically. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean let me prepare the food.”

One dark brow climbed up his handsome face. “Be my guest.”

Cole wanted to groan in ecstasy.

“Since when did you learn to cook like that?” He moaned as he surveyed the empty dishes. Dinner had been a scrumptious affair with juicy slabs of perfectly done steaks, complemented by side dishes of baked potatoes topped with fried bacon as well as creamy clam chowder.

“What? You mean this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I had too much free time during one of the semester breaks and simply decided to brush up on my skills.”

“Cordon Bleu?”

“If only,” Quinn laughed. “More like hours of sweat and frustration in the kitchen with dozens of cookbooks.” And something to kill time with while battling for her life, Quinn added silently.

Cole chuckled softly along with her.

“Would you like some music?” Cole asked when their chuckles subsided and pushed back his chair.

“Why not?” She nodded.

“What’d you like to hear?”

“What are my choices?”

“Anything we can get from this old receiver.” Cole tuned the radio meticulously, trying hard not to distracted by her nearness. “Nothing much tonight, I’m afraid, mostly Christmas carols.”

“That’s fine, right there.” Quinn said when “I saw Mummy kissing Santa Claus” starting playing.

Cole slowly tuned the radio to eliminate the static, taking his time while he decided how to handle the evening ahead.

In his dreams, he had known exactly what to do with her. The moment the music started to play, he would sweep her up into his arms in a slow waltz. Quinn would take one look into his eyes, apologize for letting him down, and they would hug each other tightly. He would tell her that he still loved her, and she would do likewise, and the two of them would live happily ever after.

Instead, now that they were really in his cabin alone, he was trying his best not to morph into a bumbling adolescent with the graces of a chimpanzee.

“So how’s teaching?” He asked, choosing a safe topic as he sat back down.

“Fine.” Quinn replied. “Teaching’s still fine. A bit frustrating at times but mostly rewarding.”

“Frustrating because of the papers you have to grade?”

“Not at all. The frustration comes from the knowledge that all my students will probably move on to doing more meaningful and successful things in life, while I’ll still be doing the same thing ten years down the road.”

“What are you talking about?” Cole protested. “What you are doing now is meaningful. You’re helping hundreds of people to achieve their dreams, for crying out loud. What can be more meaningful than that?”

“There comes the rewarding part.” Quinn laughed. “That’s when I start playing the martyr, telling myself that the kids couldn’t have done it without me. Talk about ego.” Cole laughed too, knowing that no matter what she may say, Quinn loved teaching, loved to impart knowledge. This was the Quinn he had known twelve years ago. Generous, giving Quinn. It was as if time had stopped running for her in all those years, and here she was once more, the same Quinn that Cole had wanted to spend his life with.

“What about you?” Quinn asked when both of them grew silent. “What has Cole Hollister been doing all these years?”

“Nothing much, really. After quitting the Majors, I started up my own flight charter business. I’m taking a break now.”

“What? You’ve stopped playing baseball?” Of course! Quinn remembered now. Six years ago, it had made the headline news in sports. She could have kicked herself for her insensitivity. It’d apparently involved a three way collision on the field, resulting in multiple fractures of the hip, lengthy court battles, followed by the Cole Hollister retiring from the baseball scene.

“How’re your injuries now?”

“The fractures? They healed ages ago. No more contact sport for me though.”

“I see. How does it feel? Not playing baseball anymore?” Quinn was curious.

“For a while, I had it real bad.” Cole said, but didn’t elaborate. His eyes darkened and the crevices near the corners of his mouth deepened.

“It must have been difficult for you to start over.”

“People ask me why I quit the scene so irrevocably, when I could have been a broadcaster, a coach or a commentator. I could have gotten a job with a network, or a broadcast station. It wasn’t the end of the line, they’d say.”

“It’s not simply a job.” Quinn said softly.

“No, it’s not.” Cole agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Playing baseball was too much a part of me then, so much that I didn’t know who I was without it. For a long time, I was afraid that if I looked, I’d find that I was really nobody.”

His solemn candour stunned her. Looking at him, Quinn could see the disappointment that still lingered in his eyes after all this time. She wanted to breech the distance between them and hug him, soothe away his hurt. It seemed as if from somewhere across the years, the Cole she’d knew and loved had come back. She recalled every fibre of him now, remembered all the hurt and disappointment he’d shared with her, the pain of his mother dying, the shame of his father leaving them.

She remembered too, the plans they’d made for their future, the hopes they’d held on to.

The agony and sheer heartbreak when he’d broken their promise to each other.

She gave herself a mental shake. She must not, will not, allow history to repeat itself, especially at this fragile stage of her life. Besides, no love could possibly last twelve years, could it?

“Well,” she chirped with brightness that she did not feel. “I’m beat. Let’s catch up again tomorrow, shall we? Need any help with the cleaning up?”

Cole straightened up in his chair and blinked, as if he hadn’t expected that from her.

“Uh… no, I’ll handle the dishes.” He hastily followed suit as Quinn stood up. “Tired already?”

“Well, it’s not everyday I get stranded in a snowstorm. I guess I’m not used to it.” Quinn said and smiled wanly.

“Yeah, I guess so. Now’s a good time to turn in.” Cole picked up the dishes and turned away before Quinn could answer.

It was a relief for Quinn to escape from his gaze, intense in its subtle sorrow and pain. More of a relief was the fact that in a few minutes, she would be alone, a safe distance away from his soulful eyes and her ridiculous urge to put her arms around him.

“You can have my room, I’ll sleep out on the couch.” Cole called out in the kitchen.

“What? I mean, no. No thanks, I’ll sleep out on the couch, if it’s alright with you.” There was no way Quinn could sleep in a bed that Cole had lain in. Goldilocks could have Papa Bear’s bed to herself, she was staying on the couch, thank you very much.

“Why? I really don’t mind…”

“And I’d really rather.”

Cole finished soaking the dishes in the sink and turned to face her, wiping his wet hands on a dishcloth. “I’ll get some blankets then.”

He returned a short while later with a pile of blankets and a pillow, which he dropped on the couch. He also held a navy blue thermal shirt and a matching pair of sweatpants. “I thought you’d like to change into something more comfortable.”

“These are great. Anywhere I can change?”

“The bathroom is just down the hallway, second door on the left.”

She hesitated before asking. “May I use the shower?”

“Of course, there are fresh towels in the bathroom.”

Quinn nodded her thanks and walked down the short hallway. She could feel his gaze on her the entire time.

“Quinn.”

“What?”

Cole was hesitating. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Alright?”

“Um, from the snowstorm, I mean.”

“Oh that. I’m feeling fine.”

“Sure?”

“Sure I’m alright. Don’t worry.” Nothing you can help with anyway. She smiled to reassure him before moving into the bathroom.

Cole tried to concentrate on preparing a bed for Quinn on the sofa, spreading out the blankets and fluffing the pillow. Instead, he was distracted by the imaginary image of water slicing down Quinn’s slim body, of his two hands exploring it, like what they’d done twelve years ago. A sharp blade of sadness sliced through him as the past surfaced unbidden into his mind.

The promise she’d never kept.

Tortured by the memories, he could feel his insides shrivel up. She’d not talked about the incident since then, and he wished he had the nerve to confront her about that. Then again, maybe it was better to pretend that the episode never happened at all, rather than to tear open old wounds. Wounds that had never healed. But that was his problem, something she need not find out.

He’d just added another log to the flames, and was poking at the embers energetically, when he heard her walk into the room. He stood up to face her, but the words stuck in his throat. Quinn was, if possible, even more beautiful now than when she was young. She still had a slim frame, but was filling up and lengthening in appropriate places, until she became nearer to perfection than any other woman had a right to be. His thermal shirt looked a thousand dollars on her.

As if Quinn could feel his approval, she practically leapt onto the sofa and dragged the blankets up to her chin.

“Any other things I can get you?” Cole managed to choke out.

“No, nothing, I’m perfectly fine.”

Cole stood there, staring at her face, comparing it to the one he’d known so well twelve years ago. He jolted when Quinn cleared her throat. “Uh, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. Sleep tight.”

“Good night, Cole.” Quinn said, watching him back away as if the sofa was on fire.

Later, she wished she could mentally back away from Cole as easily as he’d retreated from the sofa, for sleep was elusive as her thoughts remained on the beautiful man with hazel eyes just sleeping down the hallway.

Cole tossed in his bed for just about the five-hundredth time. His mind was having an OBE - out of body experience - lingering on the woman who was twenty-nine paces down the hallway. He’d counted the steps the first time he tiptoed down to check on her.

Had things been different, Cole thought, she’d be right here beside him, instead of being twenty-nine paces away.

Why, he wanted to ask her. Why, his heart wanted to know. Why had she thrown away all that they had without even as much as a warning? He remembered the carving they’d made on the rock, the promises they’d made then under the rock. Was it something he did? He turned restlessly again, but all he saw were their bodies, entwined in the night.

What he remembered, however, was the cold and empty feeling in his gut as he waited for her to show up by the rock, waited until the sun descended in a orange blanket of light, until what left of his hope extinguished like a weak flame in the wind.

Sighing, Cole pushed his blanket aside and stood up. Looks like this was not going to be an easy night.

Softly, he walked out into the sitting room where Quinn’s still figure lay. He added three more logs to the pile of smouldering wood, and then stoked them till they caught fire. That done, he brushed his hands against his sweatpants then softly crossed to the couch where Quinn lay sleeping, and straightened her blankets. Pausing slightly as if unsure of his next move, Cole’s right hand froze in mid air, right beside Quinn’s face. His hand slowly gravitated to her cheek as if against his will, then stroked it lightly with a finger. He trailed the finger down to her lips and touched them softly in a gesture of longing. Abruptly, Cole drew his hand back and padded back to his bedroom.

When he left, Quinn raised two hands, one to trail the path his finger had taken, the other to wipe away the single tear that slid down her cheek.

< Chapter 1 :: Return to Index :: Chapter 3 >

Once and Again (Chapter 1)

2005-04-20T23:52:00.000+08:00

< Return to Index :: Chapter 2 >

:: ONE ::

The man dragged his son down to bed and wrestled hard to keep him there.

“Daddyyyy...” The precocious four year old wailed exasperatedly. “But I don’t wanna sleep yet.”

The man sat down on the bed beside his son and ruffled his hair. “Tough luck, buddy. It’s way past your bedtime.” He pulled up the covers over his son and tucked him in while he sulked. The evening walk in the snow had made the boy tired and ill-tempered.

“I wanna hear a story.” He pouted.

“A story?”

“Yeah! A bedtime story!”

“How about the one of the princess lost in the snow?” The man suggested smilingly, loving the grin his son immediately flashed, a grin achingly like his.

“Alright! You’re the best, Dad!” His son whooped.

He ducked his head to press a kiss on the boy’s hair, loving him so much that for a moment, he was swamped by his emotions, unable to speak.

“Let’s begin then, shall we? Where was I last week?”

“You were just about to reach the part where...”

“I remember now.”

Heads tucked together, father and son began on a journey, as the snow fell in sheets outside.

The engine of the red Honda gave a final sputter and died. Quinn McKenna cursed imaginatively, threw her head against the headrest and rubbed her temples wearily. She’d left Missoula literally at dawn, having barely slept at all the previous night, and made the long drive to Triple K Ranch. To reach her family ranch, she had to drive up a mountain, and come down again to Clover Valley, where Triple K Ranch rested. She’d barely left Clearview Town and reached the peak of Larkspur Hills when her heap of historical junk took an early retirement to metal scrap heaven.

Sighing, she jabbed at the radio, which was churning out carol after irritating carol. The songs finally drew to an abrupt halt as she jabbed the power button. Resolutely, she got out of her car, and retrieved her knapsack from the boot. Leaving the car at the side of the narrow mountain road, she sent a prayer heavenward hoping that the weather would hold. Already, the air was cool and crisp, tingling with the impending snow.

I wish you a Merry Christmas, farlalalala lalalalah.

Quinn started the four miles hike down the long lonely road.

Cole Hollister cut a stark, forbidding figure as he stood at the edge of the small forest, a pile of firewood lying neglected by his feet. He seemed riveted by a huge rock below a tree with its branches bare, as he knelt down and fingered it gently. On the rock, there was a carving that was prominent even after twelve years of weathering the elements. It was a simple etching, consisting of two initials surrounded by a heart.

CAH and CQM.

In love.

Forever.

Maybe they were once in love, Cole thought bitterly. But forever hadn’t stood a chance.

He gathered up the firewood, stood up and trudged back to his cabin, unable to purge past memories as the snow started to fall languidly.

When the first few flakes of snow fell, Quinn’s spirit fell drastically. She’d barely completed a quarter of the journey and now this! Talk about bad luck.

She widened her steps and quickened her pace, her mind full of impending disaster should she not reach the ranch in time. Reminding herself to stay positive, Quinn switched her thoughts to the upcoming Thanksgiving dinner, her siblings, and her dear parents. Every Christmas, the McKenna kids would gather back at Triple K Ranch come hell or high water. Her lips curved wryly as she imagined what her acerbic brothers would say when they discovered of her exploits this year round. God, she’d missed them. Her job as associate lecturer at the University Of Montana in Missoula seldom gave her time to catch up with her siblings, and she always looked forward to Christmas for this reason.

This year, however, everything was different.

There was Kyle and Cat, the eldest among them, Sky, her elder brother, and Michelle, the youngest of all. There was also Ken and Julia, Cat’s children, Phil and MaryAnn, Sky’s children. When the whole brood got together, the ranch became a regular circus.

While she mused, the snow around her had fallen steadily and it started to get freezing. Quinn wrapped her parka even more tightly around her and rubbed her gloved palms together in the hope of generating heat.

It was to no avail however, and Quinn felt colder than ever in a matter of minutes. The snow was falling in sheets now. Her vision had been cut greatly and her speed was seriously hindered.
Her back was aching, and numbness was snaking its way up her spine.

It’s only the cold, Quinn told herself, only the cold.

She could hazily see a cabin through the snowstorm and her last conscious thought as a sudden pain that originated from her throbbing head and rocked through her body was…

…dammit, not here, not now.

Cole was sipping a cup of hot cider and throwing logs to feed the flame. The fire threw shadows around the cosy sitting room. A blizzard was suddenly falling outside and it nearly obliterated the sunlight even though it was just a little over afternoon.

Cole was glad of the sweater that clung snugly to his huge frame, for it kept him warm. Without it, he would no doubt be shivering even with the blazing fire in the room. He walked to the large glass panes that served as windows and surveyed the view outside.

The snow was falling down with a vengeance, colouring the landscape a blinding and dazzling white. The conical pine trees that grew in abundance around the cabin were already sheathed in robes of ice, and his Chevy was up to its tires in snow.

Further off, snow was slowly gathering on top of a small rock, which stood out in a field of white. It was slightly…

Something was wrong with the rock, Cole thought and squinted to get a better view. The rock seemed to be… it was moving!

Struck with the realization that the rock was actually a person, Cole moved with a speed and agility that belied his size. He gathered up his parka, threw open the door, and rushed out into the freezing air.

In no time, he’d reached the person, who was lying face down in the rapidly thickening snow. Cole hurriedly threw his parka over the still figure and gathered the person up in his arms. The stranger did not weigh more than one hundred and twenty pounds, and Cole surmised that she must be female.

He wasted no time in getting back to the cabin.

Where should I put her? Cole thought a bit frantically.

On the couch? No, too far away from the fire.

By the fire then? Yes.

Should I undress her? Her clothes are soaking wet.

And expose her to the surrounding air? You must be nuts from the cold! Cole chastised himself.

But you can’t leave her in lying in her wet clothes!

So change them into something of yours, moron!

With hands that were no longer rock steady, Cole lowered the stranger beside the fireplace. He hurriedly slipped the stranger’s soaking wet parka off her, and removed the woollen cap that covered half her face.

Seeing the face of the unconscious stranger was like receiving a well-placed punch in his gut while his defences were down. All the air in him whooshed out of his lungs and he felt like doubling over in pain.

It was Catherine Quinn McKenna, lying in front of the fireplace in his cabin, twelve years too late.

< Return to Index :: Chapter 2 >

You (Part VIII - Finale)

2005-03-26T15:08:00.000+08:00

< Part VII :: Return to Index >

8) Full Circle
Time: Now

Outside, the sun is setting reticently into a fiery blanket of purple and orange light. The surrounding is peaceful, interrupted by the occasional bark of a dog and the laughter of a family eating dinner.

Your father and I are standing outside on the veranda. He is gazing into my eyes tenderly, intently. He wraps his arms around me and brings me into a slow waltz, following the resonant beat of our hearts.

He looks occupied, as if he has something on his mind.

Patiently I wait, since I know it is not his nature to keep things to himself. Particularly things that concern our future.

Sure enough, after our hearts have rhymed out several choruses, his feet still slightly. He looks at me again, his face a study in solemnity, his eyes flashing a mesh of emotions ranging from anxiousness to hope.

"Do you..." He begins to ask the question I know he will ask. "Do you think we should have a child?".

I look at him and silently wonder if he will still choose to ask me that, should I share my knowledge of what was to come with him.

Our dance slows, then stops. I look down, as the knowledge runs through my mind. The silence between us drags on.

“Yes.” I reply and both of us link arms and walk back to our home.

Home, to create.

Create you, my daughter.

~
End

< Part VII :: Return to Index >

You (Part VII)

2005-03-26T15:07:00.000+08:00

< Part VI :: Return to Index :: Part VIII >

7) Nadir
Time: 0 years

Your father and I will be silent in the car, as it moves smoothly down the highway. It will be our first meeting in fifteen year, the first after the divorce.

Unlike the day you were born, however, there were no recriminations hanging in the air. What would you say, if you had known that your father didn’t care enough to accuse me of not taking a tighter attitude with you, I wondered sadly.

In the last few years we spent together, our relationship had improved by leaps and bounds as I left you to make your own path in life. We no longer talked about my consciousness, nor the apparent fear I had regarding your climbing. You continued on with the rock climbing team in all those years, passionate about the sport as you were. It was a common understanding between us, however, that you would take all precautions when climbing.

What would I have done, now that I am finally at this point in time, if time was reversed and I could choose all over again? Would I still have picked the same path? Or would I have chosen to act differently? I had no answer for that. Besides, even with my holistic consciousness, I was powerless to turn back time.

I remembered the call that finally came today, confirming the worst of my fears. The man said in portentous tones, that there had been a rock climbing accident in school caused by faulty gears, and that my daughter was involved. Could I please make a trip down to the hospital.

Woodenly, knowing the worst was finally here, I called your dad, and succinctly gave him the pertinent details, asking him if he wanted to come along, not caring if he did or did not.

When we finally reached the hospital, we were not directed to the operating room, but to the morgue. A technician checked our IDs and opened a square metallic fridge door, sliding a platform out. He then unzipped the black body bag.

Many times since the beginning, I have seen this scene, known it was to come. Yet nothing could have prepared me for the real thing, as I gazed at your grey unmoving face. Crying tears, I pressed a brief kiss on your ice cold forehead, memorizing every single detail of your beloved face as your father nodded an affirmation to the technician.

Images flashed in my mind, much like a movie. Images of when I first held you, when you first took your first step, when you sported your first tooth. Pictures of you receiving a prize in primary school, of you blowing out the candles on your birthday cake, of you proudly showing off your pet mice. Photos of you arguing with me, talking and laughing with me, climbing the rock wall in your junior college.

Pictures of a life too soon flown past, of an existence that had yet to be fully lived.

These mental Polaroids were stored permanently in my mind and heart, as I bid you a final farewell.

My pride, my joy, my love.

My daughter.

Finally, at the lowest point of my life, I made my choice.

< Part VI :: Return to Index :: Part VIII >

You (Part VI)

2005-03-26T15:06:00.000+08:00

< Part V :: Return to Index :: Part VII >

6) Intransigence
Time: 3 years

Like many other teenagers, you will reach your rebellious stage at the tender age of fifteen. This is when you no longer listen to my advice, no longer regard me as a holy sage whose wisdom was etched in gold.

Every step you took, you tried to fight me, tried to buckle at the reins that I had on you. Many times, you succeeded. When you ran away from home, when you quarrelled with me loudly in the aisles of Fairprice, when you told me straight in my face, what you thought of me and my advice.

I would most vividly remember a certain afternoon, when you stormed downstairs, simply raring for a fight. Halfway down the stairs, you slid down the banister, like you always do.

I could not help it, even after all these years. An immediate admonishment was on my tongue when I spied you doing that. How could I not have criticized you, when my heart skipped several beats every time you did that?

But before the words were even out of my mouth, you already bore down on me like an avenging angel. You told me that all my advice were bullshit, that you were a good climber and that was that. You loved rock climbing, and would not allow me to take away your hobby, like I chased away your father. It would be the first time I hear you say that.

Know that it is your father who had no wish to see you. That somehow, as I made up excuses for him, it seemed as if I was keeping you from him. You chose to believe him rather than me, even though it was I who brought you up.

I was in a state of shock and said nothing in my defence. Simple words from a teenager like you had the power to break my heart. From the tears in your eyes, I knew that you were hurting too. But you put on a brave front and continued your verbal assault. You said if I knew everything then I should have been able to guess this. Know what? You informed me helpfully. You were seeing a guy. Like clockwork, a rev of motorcycle engines could be heard outside. He drives a Harley and sports a tattoo on his chest. If I were clairvoyant, you challenged, I would have guessed that! So saying, you stormed out of the house before I could tell you that no, I was not clairvoyant, but I do know of your boyfriend, just like I know you were seeing him to anger me.

That day, I realised that I could not change your fate just as I could not stop seasons from changing. I realised that in order to improve our relationship together in these final years, I had to set you free, allow you to do whatever you wanted, as long as they were reasonably normal.

I knew that if I continued to be as stubborn as you were, what was left of our time together would be filled with bitterness, something I did not want.

Besides, it would have changed nothing.

< Part V :: Return to Index :: Part VII >

You (Part V)

2005-03-26T15:04:00.000+08:00

< Part IV :: Return to Index :: Part VI >

5) Bereavement
Time: 7 years

Your first close encounter with death will arrive when you are eleven, the age where I finally decide to tell you your story, without the ending, of course.

At the funeral of your grandmother, I was trying my best not to cry, for I knew it would upset you. Brave as I tried to be, my sorrow must have been plain on my face, for you asked me a question.

Will I, you asked timidly, grieve too if you died like grandmamma?

It was like a punch to my solar plexus when I heard you ask that question. The shock of your child asking you a question like that far outweighs queries on the birds and the bees.

Upset, I had left the funeral early, clutching your tiny hand tightly as I drive back home, my body ridden with intermittent tremors that shook my very core. On the way home, I wanted to know why you asked a question like that. You shrugged and said nothing. It was as if, you too, shared my holistic consciousness, though I knew that to be impossible.

Therefore, I answered as truly as I could, that yes, I would grieve.

At night, when I went into your room to tuck you in, I found your eyes still haunted by the death of your much beloved grandmother. Young children should not be haunted by death, so I told you your story.

I started from the beginning, when your dad asked me the question, told you of the things I knew. It was here when your eyes grew bright and you asked me those questions about fire-spewing mutants. But I lied to you, for I told you that the ending of the story was not fixed, that I did not know the conclusion, when I already did. How could I have told you the conclusion?

Many times, I will wonder, if I had effectively sealed your fate by omitting the ending of the story I told you. Would you have acted any differently had you known what would happen? Was I effectively killing you by withholding the full truth from you?

It was a moral dilemma that had no answers, no right or wrong. Telling you the truth, I knew, would not spurn you from climbing, merely drive you to do it even more in the future, in order to prove me wrong.

But you had a right to know in any case, my heart argued softly, it was your life after all. Not so, I knew, for knowledge of one’s future is not a right, should not even have been even a possibility in the first place.

You had to make your own choices in life, choices based on your personal discretions, on what you feel or think. I can and will try to gently (maybe a tad forcibly at times) influence your decisions, but they are the influence any mother would want to exert on her daughter, and not the strong-arming of your daughter to do something she otherwise would not have done.

< Part IV :: Return to Index :: Part VI >

You (Part IV)

2005-03-26T15:03:00.000+08:00

< Part III :: Return to Index :: Part V >

4) Paradigm
Time: 11 years

You will fall from the banister of the stairs when you are seven years old. There will be a cut underneath your chin, a wound that will require three stitches. You will be proud of that scar, showing it off as a war trophy in your kindergarten.

I was however, horrified by your fall. It was a prelude to what I knew would happen in the future, a perfect example of your fate on a smaller scale. Even at that age, you loved to climb. Stairs, trees, everything. I have tried to stop you, attempts as useless as budging a building with two bare hands.

Nonetheless, I tried. At every chance I could, I admonished you, warned you of the dangers of climbing, explained to you how ungainly it was for a girl to climb like a boy. Many times, you would be caught in the act, shimmying up the banister, then sliding down it. I would give you magnificent blistering on your ears when that happened, tugging on them so hard that they were both blood red. You would cry, breaking my heart but only strengthening my resolve.

I was simply petrified, trying to rid you of your hobby, your habit. It was the first time that something like this has happened. The first time where I will find myself trying my utmost to change the foreseeable future. It never struck me how useless it will be at that time, for despite the actions that I could have carried out to intervene with fate, never once have I glimpsed a different finale in the wings of this particular Butterfly effect.

It never struck me, until everything was over, that all rivers flow to the sea, no matter how they may meander. That every stream is, in a way, a perfect example of another, much like your banister incident and your fate at Time’s final stand.

< Part III :: Return to Index :: Part V >

You (Part III)

2005-03-26T15:02:00.000+08:00

< Part II :: Return to Index :: Part IV >

3) Severance
Time: 15 years

Your father and I will have a major fight when you are three.

He didn’t return home the previous night, did not even think to inform me (something he began to do regularly after your birth), and I finally lost it. You had fallen sick in the middle of the night and I had nobody to turn to in my time of fear. I took him to task the next morning when he stumbled back into our house, whistling a cheerful tune. I told him that you had fallen ill.

So what? He’d countered. Weren't you playing with your toys merrily?

I slapped him. I would have gone for his throat for his carelessly and callously spoken words, fighter that I am, except that he had my arms in an iron grip. His voice was low when he next spoke.

Low, dangerous and filled with a violent savagery so that I could not identify the words with the man that I had married years ago. Tears slid down my cheeks unwillingly as I listened to his threats and warnings, knowing that he meant every word he enunciated with painful clarity.

What had happened, I wondered, to the person I had fallen in love with?

Could this bitter man in front of me really be him?

My heart was hesitant but my mind was resolute in its certainty. Things between us had steadily gone downhill since that day in the hospital. Today, I decided, would be the day where everything that bound us as man and wife came to an end.

I knew, you see, that there was another woman in all of this. Had known it the day I married him that it would come down to this. Even so, I was more than hurt that the man I had chosen to live with could betray my trust and faith so predictably. And yet, laced with that hurt and sorrow was steel, an obstinate will to preserve the fruit that our failed marriage had nonetheless borne.

When I questioned him about the woman, he looked stunned. Angry for a moment that I knew his secret, then defensive about it. He wanted to push all the fault of our failed marriage to me. I shook my head sadly and told him that the fault was on both of us, and he began to rant about how selfish I was, how little attention I paid him, how much time I lavished on you. For once in his life, he had someone who was utterly devoted to him and he would not, could not allow me to break them up.

It was as if he was jealous of you, a sentiment I find juvenile and immature, for I’d have given him my entire world once.

Before long, we sat down and had a good talk where both of us came to a mutual understanding and agreement. Our first one in years.

Our marriage was over and he wanted no part of you.

He offered me alimony and child support, both of which I declined. I still had my work at the local school, and would not need his money, not even to spite him, to make him pay for his infidelity.

When I needed him most, he wasn’t there.

That was enough for your mother.

< Part II :: Return to Index :: Part IV >

You (Part II)

2005-03-26T15:00:00.000+08:00

< Part I :: Return to Index :: Part III >

2) Conception
Time: 18 years

You will arrive into the world around National Day, that’s what the gynaecologist will tell me. I, of course, know better.

You came a lot sooner than August Ninth. I was prepared for it, waiting it out in the hospital. Sure enough, three weeks before National Day, without hardly any surprise for me (your dad nearly fainted), sharp stabs of pain shot in my lower back then in my belly while I was napping. The contractions arrived faster, in more intensive waves that had me rocking on the hospital bed. In no time, although it seemed like weeks at that time, my water broke. I was rushed into delivery room, with your dad clutching my hand. I think he was even more blustery than me.

I can tell you that your birth was no less easier even with my knowledge of how it would be.

Apparently, there were some problems. Your position in my womb was all wrong, and prevented you from sliding out smoothly. Nonetheless, the gynaecologist wanted me to try it on my own first. I knew, already, even then, that you will not come into the world that way. I tried to tell them that, but it must have came out a string of incoherent curses, for your dad coloured and he has the skin of a rhino.

Nonetheless, I heaved and pushed with the ancient rhythm that would come to any woman. After what seemed like eternity, the gynecologist announced that too much time had passed, and that if they didn’t do something fast, the baby girl would suffer.

With the well-oiled efficiency of a good medical team, I was injected with anesthesia and fell into a drug induced stupor and then was subsequently operated on. I can hazily remember hearing your loud squalls as you were brought into my arms, wrapped up in a little pink blanket. I think of your delivery, then felt pride and joy. It is a feeling every mother should experience. Mingled with my happiness, was a sense of loss and regret, knowing you never will.

Silently, I wished you god speed and luck, as I pressed a light kiss on your forehead. A few minutes later, your cries grew softer and your heart stopped beating.

The gynecologists moved into yet another well practiced ballet, a flurry of motion, order within chaos, as they tried to resuscitate you. In no mortal danger, I was removed from the delivery room. Besides, I was too distraught and kept disrupting their work (knowing consequences didn’t prevent me from feeling emotions or yelling at people). Your dad was torn, as if his loyalty was divided. In the end, he came with me.

In my recovery ward, I grew calm again. I realised that there was nothing I could do even if I wanted to. Besides, I already knew what will happen in the end, so why grief now? Your father, however, got more and more agitated. One look at my accepting face and he lost his temper, accusing me of everything under the sun. I did it deliberately, made them gave me a Caesarean, somehow, someway, stopped your beating heart the moment I kissed you.

How could I let him know that I already knew it would happen the way it did? He would think of me as a freak. Soon, his accusations ran deeper, more bitter. He said I was not a dutiful wife, that I didn’t love him any more, that I was having an affair. A bit preposterous, the idea of a hundred sixty pound woman having an affair. More absurd was the fact that he was accusing me of misdeeds he himself was guilty of in the end.

You came back to the world only a few minutes after your heart stopped, and the doctor said it was a minor complication of pre-labour that had been easily remedied. But it was already a few minutes too late. The future I have already seen began to set forth with an inexorable momentum.

The first seeds of discord between your father and I had been sowed with your birth. You were not the cause of our dissonance, merely a catalyst that accelerated a truth that would have played itself out come what may.

< Part I :: Return to Index :: Part III >

You (Part I)

2005-03-26T14:47:00.000+08:00

< Return to Index :: Part 2 >

Life can only be understood backward;
but it must be lived forward.
- Kierkegaard, Sören

1) Consciousness
Time: Now

He looks occupied, as if he has something on his mind.

Patiently I wait, since I know it's not his nature to keep things to himself. Particularly things that concern our future.

How do you know he's thinking about something that affects your future together, you’ll ask me when you are old enough to understand.

That is simply because I know.

"Do you..." He begins to ask the question I know he will ask. "Do you think we should have a child?".

I look at him and silently wonder if he will still choose to ask me that, should I share my knowledge of what was to come with him.

Our dance slows, then stops. I look down, as the knowledge runs through my mind. The silence between us drags on.

You will pester me yet again, when I tell you this story. How did I know? You will be the one and only person who knows of my secret.

Let me ask you this. What do you think of before you make some choices? That’s right, you think of the consequences, consider the effects of that singular cause. What you cannot do however, is state with absolute accuracy what those consequences will be. That is of course a given as many will say with derisiveness, including you. What is more obvious than the fact that we are only aware of things only as and when they happen? Granted some sensitive and observant individuals can declare the consequences of their actions with a higher degree of accuracy, but those are still merely projections, based on the mathematics of probability and chance. You see, normal humans are equipped with what scientists and psychologists term sequential or chronological consciousness. That is, people become aware of things only when they happen.

I, however, am radically different.

Unlike all others, I am not equipped with sequential consciousness. I have, as I like to call it, a holistic consciousness. I am able to know with absolute and conclusive certainty what happens when I make a choice. Every choice is a Butterfly effect and can alter our world, either profoundly or in ways too small to be significant. And unlike you, your dad and just about everyone else, I can see that Butterfly effect, can chart every single change on the universe with each choice I make. It allows me to see life in the big picture rather then live through it as one would read a book. For me, I simply know the book, like I simply know the direct consequences of every choice I make.

That does not make me a mutant, as you will ask me with big, amazed eyes. I am also flesh and blood, just like anybody you meet on the street. I tire if I don’t rest, suffocate if I don’t inhale oxygen, die if I don’t eat or drink. And I do not, as you hopefully suggest at the age of eleven when I tell you the story, shoot laser beams out of my eyes like Cyclops or move things with my mind like that witch on TV. In every aspect, I am just like you, with the single exception of my dissimilar consciousness. That does not make me a better or different person. It simply is something I have to accept, much like the my height, the colour of my hair or the raven hue of my irises.

Many times, my consciousness is a blessing, as well as a curse.

A boon because some everyday choices are made easier. Will your dad like fish for dinner? Will my colleagues laugh at my awful dress if I wear it to work?

It is however more of a curse, for most of the time, I am caught in a dilemma that makes it painful for me to continue with my choice, dilemmas that nobody should ever have to live through.

When your dad asks me the question, I have already known...

I know who you will be, how you will be. I know the things you will do, the things you will love, the things you will dislike, and even the people you will come to hate. The disappointments, pain, happiness, joy and regrets you will experience walking on this rocky road of life.

I know of changes that will occur because of you, some big, some small.

I know of the love I will feel for you, the heartbreak and sorrow that you will eventually bring.

This is why I hesitate.