Words and Pictures

 

by Paula Gail Benson

            Sara Gibbons felt as if she had been sleeping on a cumulus cloud forever. Perhaps she had. That’s how time seemed in Heaven—without boundaries or limitations; restful, peaceful, and floating leisurely through eternity while angst and conflict circulated among the residents of Earth below.

            Rolling from her side onto her back, she stretched, trying to gauge the quality of light around her from behind closed eyes. She had no true sense until she opened her eyelids, just the briefest crack, and blinked at the dazzling celestial sky shining around her. Like the sparkles from the silver and white sheath gown she wore when Chad Howard took her to the University’s spring formal in 2011.

Until then, they had been classmates and self-acknowledged journalism geeks. But when he asked her out in advance for that event, it became their first date.

            Remembering how that night ended, she sat up straight, crossed-legged beneath the pale dress she wore. Chad drove her back to her sorority house, lingering on the outside steps as she climbed to the top (only three, not a significant task at all). She looked back at him. He made no effort to follow. She never told him how many drunken frat boys had trailed her to within inches of that door. After all, she needed no rescuing and had no difficulty letting them know what they could do with their over-active libidos.

            Unfortunately, she wished Chad had shown some kind of passion toward her. Instead, he stood contemplating his shoes, one on the ground and the other on the first step.

            She took the initiative to end the evening with dignity. “I had a lovely time. Thanks for taking me.”

            He looked up, his eyes sparkling from the streetlamp’s light. “You deserve better.”

            “Better than what?”

            “Than I’ve been able to give. I’ve been so caught up in my own imagined misery that I didn’t appreciate I was out with the most beautiful girl in the room.”

            Sara stepped back toward him. “Well, all is not lost since you recognize it now.”

            “Will you forgive me?”

            She reached the second step. “That depends.”

            “On what?”

            She gave him her most sultry smile. “On how you intend to think of me going forward.”

            He bowed his head, remaining still for a moment. Then, he nodded. “Can you give me a week to sort out my stupidity?”

            Not what she had hoped to hear, but it did keep the option open. She shrugged. “Take the time you need.”

            “Great.” He whipped out his camera. “Meanwhile, let me get your photo to commemorate the evening.”

            She posed, and he kept giving her directions. Turn toward the streetlight. Put your hand on your hip. With each command, he moved closer until unexpectedly he was no more than an inch away and quickly bent toward her to plant a lingering kiss on her mouth. She drew back in complete and happy surprise. That’s when he snapped the shot.

            “Perfect!” He stepped back. “See you soon.”

            When had that been? A lifetime ago? The year before they graduated college and got married. They both had dream jobs in the city where they attended the university. She wrote words for a local magazine, and he supplied pictures from a photography and graphics business.

            They were happy. But . . .

            Sara wrapped her arms around her legs and gathered them toward her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She felt the cool fabric of her pale dress against her cheek.

            “I know you loved me, Chad,” she whispered. “Even though I wasn’t your first love.”

            “Does it really matter so very much?”

            Sara looked up, in the direction of the voice. She wasn’t sure if it was male or female or how old. Heaven had a way of obscuring personalities so you couldn’t tell gender or ethnicity or historical background. It was meant to have an equalizing effect, but sometimes it caused confusion. How could you talk reasonably with someone who had no comparable experience with your generation, with the items you used daily, or the devices upon which you depended?

            Of course, she supposed love was universal.

            “Perhaps it shouldn’t matter,” she said, looking up at the hazy figure that stood before her. “But, when you know the person you love had another love first, you always wonder how you measure up.”

            A small fuzzy shape, perhaps a hand, reached to touch what might have been a chin. “I see what you mean.”

            “It’s not like Chad and I weren’t always very honest with each other. He told me about his crush on Franny Morgan. So did his schoolteacher, Miss Runyon, who taught them both. Franny’s mother admitted it, too, although she was more reticent about most things, particularly after Franny disappeared.”

            The hidden voice seemed sharper. “Franny disappeared?”

            “Yes. It was after Chad’s and my first date. Franny made an appointment with him a week later to take her photo in a Colonial American costume. After that, no one knew what happened to her.”

            Chad kept the photo of Franny hidden away in the back of a drawer where he thought Sara would never look. But Sara found it. Chad’s photo seemed to take hold of Sara the same way a miniature portrait had once consumed Franny’s focus.

            The shrouded figure laughed. “You say ‘Colonial America.’ Do you mean the colonies that broke away when Great Britain was governed by George III?”

            “Yes.” Sara almost laughed herself at the ability to make a connection with an unknown person. “Are you familiar with that time?”

            “I lived and died in it.”

            “Oh.” The words sobered her immediately. “I’m sorry.”

            “Please don’t be.” The voice was kind, comforting. “In many respects, I lived a charmed life. I fought in a war for a cause I truly believed in, and I married a beautiful, accomplished woman who traveled a long distance to meet me after only seeing my miniature portrait.”

            Sara’s brow crinkled. “How odd. Chad told me that Franny spent years researching the subject of a miniature by the famed colonial artist Charles Fraser. Of course, she lived about two hundred and fifty years after the American Revolution.”

            “It would seem very unlikely that we could have met on Earth, but I will tell you the woman I married was named Franny Morgan.”

            Sara squinted at the cloudy figure. “Was her father a doctor?”

            “Yes. A very gifted one named Amos.”

            “And, was her mother a librarian?”

            The figure was briefly quiet. “I never knew her mother. Franny was quite ill as a baby. Amos had Dorothy take her away so Franny could receive treatment. Later Franny returned. Dorothy never did.”

            Sara held her hand to her heart.

            “I can see I have upset you,” the voice said.

            “No.” Sara shook her head, then took a breath. “Well, yes. It’s just that the Franny Morgan from my time—her mother’s name was Dorothy.”

            Again, the figure was silent for a short time. “Would it be so terrible if the Franny Morgan I married was the one that Chad loved?”

            Sara pushed away from the figure. She stumbled to the edge of the cloud floor, knelt, and looked down toward the Earth. She hadn’t seen Chad in Heaven. Could he still be on Earth with their son, Gibb? How old might they be now?

            Beneath her the cloud cover cleared, letting her focus on the town where she had lived, married, and had her son. For a few hours, she and Chad had been so happy to welcome their child and plan for their family. Then, in her sleep, a pulmonary embolism traveled to her heart. She died the day after becoming a mother.

            She never wanted Chad and Gibb to have to be alone, but it was difficult to think of them being with someone else. Her gaze narrowed, concentrating on Payne Liu’s restaurant where she and Chad had spent so many happy evenings. Now, in their traditional booth, she saw Chad, not much older, but with a slight graying at his temples. With him, an eight-year-old boy sat and beside the boy was a vivacious young woman Sara recognized as Franny Morgan. Sara wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t. She needed to be happy that Chad had been reunited with his first love. She needed to be grateful Gibb had a mother.

            Franny told Gibb about her family. “My father was a time traveler. He was born in the twentieth century but found a way to journey back to the 1700s. He became a doctor and married my mother. When I was a baby, he realized I had diphtheria. No cure existed at that time, but it did in the future, so he sent my mother and me forward in time. My mother always wanted to return to him. Eventually, she did, but you already know about that.”

            Sara watched Gibb smile. “I was there,” he said, “because I got lost.”

            Franny nodded. “We were so glad to find you again. And, I was happy to see your father. I realized my future was with you both.”

            “In the twenty-first century!” Gibb said, clapping his hands.

Franny held out a small object for him to see. “This portrait was handed down in my family. I had to follow it, to understand who was in the picture. It took me back through time. This man was Edmund Fraser, my first husband, and he died in the American Revolution.”

            “Then, Chad wasn’t your first love,” Sara whispered, even though she knew the people on Earth could not hear her.

            “No, but they have found love together now.”

            Turning, Sara looked back toward the blurred figure, whose features had cleared and revealed a man with dark hair wearing colonial clothing. Looking up at his face, Sara saw the countenance from Franny’s miniature portrait.

Gently, Edmund Fraser took Sara’s hand and kissed it. “At times, our lives must be lived in different places. By searching for me, Franny gave me a family life I would not have had. By returning to your time, she can bring family to Chad and your son. Perhaps Franny and Chad’s connection leads to the one that we can share now. I’m willing to try if you are.”

            He held an outstretched hand toward her. Sara took it. Together, they walked toward the celestial sky, leaving behind the words and pictures from Earth.

THE END