Never Really Alone

Chapter Fourteen

My encounter with Miranda Jean the night of the boating accident left me feeling as if I were sitting in a chair with uneven legs, just slightly off.  On the one hand, it was absolutely the best possible thing that could have happened.  Because of her ghostly appearance, Julia's life had been spared.  On the other hand, after my recent trip down memory lane, it eased open that little box in my mind that held my mother's whispering, debilitating voice.  The one that said things like, "You're not well, Sarah Jane.  You're ill.  You need to be hospitalized.  No one can see the dead, Sarah Jane.  You're sick."

After all these years, I thought I'd put all that behind me.  That day, so long ago, when Miranda Jean and I had said good-bye for the last time was the beginning of a healing process for me.  I was finally able to mourn her death, because for me, that was the day she really died.  At the time, I shared those feelings with Stephen and Aggie, but other people who knew me just assumed that my more quiet demeanor was a result of the demands of motherhood.

Over the years since, I had talked to Miranda Jean in those few quiet, reflective moments of my life.  I'm not sure why I did that, maybe because of the special relationship that identical twins share.  Of course it was always a one-sided conversation, as I expected.

But now things had changed.  She had come back.  I had proof.  Otherwise, how would I have known Julia was in trouble?  How would I have known where to find her?  It could only have been Miranda Jean.  Unless, it was some psychic connection between mothers and daughters.  I'd read about that and there had been some studies done.  But it was Miranda Jean, I saw her, I talked to her.  God, I was so confused. 

So, like most of my adult life, what I usually did when I needed help, was pour two nice, hot cups of coffee and go find Stephen.  He was easy enough to locate this early on a Saturday morning, before the girls were awake, reading the paper on the back porch.  "Hi, can I offer you some coffee that's actually hot?"

"You know me too well, dear.  This cup's been cold for at least half an hour and I've just been too engrossed to get up and pour a fresh one."  He took the cup, closed the paper and patting the seat next to him, said "What's bothering you?"

"What makes you think something's bothering me?"

"Well, let's see.  You've been up since about five, I heard you puttering around.  Since I got up you've re-arranged your spice cabinet, by the sounds of it at least twice, and if I'm not mistaken you hosed off the front porch.  Those are not your usual Saturday morning habits Sarah.  And whenever you're worried about something, your spice cabinet gets the brunt of it."

"Am I really that obvious?"

Stephen ran his hand through his graying, red hair, something he always did when he felt strongly or impassioned or simply nervous about something.  "No, it doesn't have a thing to do with being obvious.  I see that something is bothering you because I love you, and I can sense that you're in some kind of turmoil, or having some sort of crisis.  What can I do to help?"

A thousand thoughts went through my mind.  In the end, the only answer was to ask for the help that was offered.  "Stephen, I'm scared.  To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure what it means for me that I saw and heard Miranda Jean again.  She's been gone all these years.  Now suddenly she's back?  Why?  Was she really here, or did I imagine it?  Maybe there is something wrong with me.  Maybe she wasn't here at all.  I'm not sure anymore."

Stephen sat for a moment and didn't answer.  Then he reached out and took my hands in his.  And just like the lawyer he is, said "I think the first thing you have to be clear about is this, you are not sick.  Nothing about you has changed between the day before Julia's accident and today.  Your behavior  isn't different in any way, and I think I would have noticed.  I think what you may be experiencing now, is because of everything that happened.  We've just survived a crisis.  So, it would be understandable if you were feeling a lot of stress right now.  Possibly you're just second-guessing yourself."

"I suppose so."

"As for whether or not Miranda Jean was a part of it, you said that she was and so I believe you.  But if you're doubting yourself, that's alright too.  The important thing is that whatever woke you and sent us to the lake, saved our daughter.  Whether it was Miranda Jean or a mother's instinct or her guardian angel, I don't care and you shouldn't either.  Because right above us sleeping soundly, underneath an awful, orange and green comforter is Julia, safe and sound. 

But, if you feel you have to figure it all out, you could consider talking to a therapist.  I think my partner's wife, Elaine is still working in that counselor's office downtown.  I can get the number if you want.  I will fully support you if that's what you decide, but really I think you're fine."

"Now I remember why I said 'yes' when you asked me to marry you.  I hope the girls are as lucky as I am with the men in their lives."  I hesitated for just a second, then said "Ask Elaine for the number, and let me think on it for awhile.  I'm not sure yet just what I want to do.  But I do feel better now, thanks, hon."

He leaned forward and kissed me just as Catherine stepped onto the back porch with her usual, "Geez, do you have to start so early in the morning?  Can't you be like my friend's parents?  They never do that kind of stuff!"

******
The first day of school brought good news and bad for both girls.  For Catherine, it turned out that Kevin 'from the lake' had moved into our neighborhood and was going to the same high school and would be in a lot of the same classes that she was taking.  So most of her time was spent on the phone with one girl or another discussing plots and strategies involving Kevin and other cool guys.  The bad news was that we still weren't allowing her to date, regardless of the 'fact that all' of her friends had permission.

Julia, completely recovered from her boating accident, had developed a keen and sudden interest in philosophy, and spent a good portion of her time in heated debate with her teachers, her father and anyone else who would listen.  The good news and the bad news seemed to be one and the same.  It was going to be an interesting year.

Stephen, as promised, had gotten the number for Jonathan Loring, PhD and I had called for an appointment, the earliest being seven weeks away.  I decided that it couldn't hurt to at least talk to someone.  After all, this was a psychologist, not a psychiatrist.  This person couldn't even prescribe medication, and that made me feel better, safer. 

Aggie, getting older and a little slower had decided to sell the business.  After much discussion, instead of buying it outright, Stephen and I had convinced her to let us buy in as half-partners as long as she would stay on as a very vocal partner, as opposed to a silent one.  The last thing we wanted from Aggie was her silence.  So I was going back to work full-time; and not just going back to work, but running a business.

It's interesting to note how life changes yet always, essentially stays the same.  Same habits, same likes and dislikes, same beliefs.  Our days take the same patterns; we run the same errands, eat the same foods and see the same people, for that is the nature of man.

Aggie didn't drive much anymore.  She blamed it on her eyesight, but I think she just didn't trust her reflexes.  So I was happy to take her wherever she needed to be, and she'd set up a doctor's appointment ages ago.  It was a regular check-up, but we both knew this doctor had a bad habit of making his patients wait.  So instead of sitting around with her, Aggie insisted I go ahead and run errands or have a cup of coffee and come back to pick her up.  I knew better than to argue with her, so off I went.

It was one of those bright, sunny days, where the blue, Arizona sky just goes on and on forever, and you can actually smell the sunshine in the air.  I had planned on running errands, but it seemed like it would be wasteful to ignore the beauty of the day by not sitting down and enjoying it like you would a rich dessert.

So I stopped at Jillian's Cafe, at one of their outside tables and ordered an iced coffee and a piece of lemon cake.  I was already five miles past dreaming and two days from Neverland by the time the waitress brought my order and snapped me back to reality.  I'd been thinking about Miranda Jean, and what our lives were like when we were smaller, before she died and about all the fun we used to have, running and playing and pretending.  And I think for the first time I appreciated it for what it was, instead of what I lost.  We did have a life together, it was short, but it was a life.  And it was a good life.

Then I thought about Catherine and Julia and all the wonderful things they shared with each other and would still share, and what a joy that would be for them.  I hoped they appreciated what they had.  I finished my cake and coffee, put some money on the table for my check and left.  I turned right as I passed the cafe and walked down the street, past the hardware store and the pharmacy.  When I got to the new dress shop, I stopped and looked in the window.

There was a lovely green dress I thought I might go and look at, when I noticed my reflection.  Standing next to me was a little girl with blonde braids, dressed in a green and yellow sun-suit, smiling up at me and waving.  I looked at the sidewalk next to me and there was no one there.  But when I looked back in the window, there she was, smiling and waving. 

It was Miranda Jean.  As clear as my own reflection.  Was that what she was?  A reflection of my wandering mind?  Did it really even matter?  I smiled and waved back and inside of me I felt my heart open and fill.  And in that moment I knew that in whatever form fate took us, whether it was dreams, apparitions or simply remembrances, we would always be together, as we were meant to be.

I entered the store and asked the clerk to see the green dress in a size eight.  After I had tried it on, paid for it and was walking out with the bright pink package under my arm, I realized I had come to a decision.  As soon as I got home, I would call Jonathan Loring, PhD and cancel that appointment.  I felt just fine about what was going on in my head and in my heart.


                                                                                          -the end-