Chapter 1: Just Like the Snow
"She is far, far away from me. She walks, in starlight in another world."
December 24, 1940
Oxford, UK
Warm tears, uncomfortable hairpins, and the scent of peppermint. Those were the only tangible thoughts Elle could bring to mind as she sat in the front row of an old Anglican church on the outskirts of the Oxford campus. She wasn't entirely sure how long she'd been there, but she did know that she wasn't leaving anytime soon. She closed her eyes and felt more tears slide across her cheeks. She couldn't go back to her flat, not yet. She didn't think she could bare it, having to see her little sister, whose smile could illuminate the darkest of corners, stare emotionlessly at the wall in front of her bed. Part of Elle wondered if she and her sister should've been fine, if the tears should've ceased by now? Yet, here she was, reduced to shambles for the dozenth time that day. She took in a shaky breath and felt a sharp stabbing pain in her chest. Immediately, Elle was launched into one of her infamous coughing fits. They weren't pleasant to watch, nor experience, but Elaina Ashworth wasn't a complainer, so she swiftly reached for a handkerchief in her coat and held it over her mouth. When she lifted it away from her lips, dark red speckles painted the once white fabric. She swallowed and cringed at the sharp, coppery, taste of blood. That was never good. She raised her eyes from the handkerchief to look at the cross above the alter. She didn't understand why this had to happen. Why her parents? Why her brother? Why Kate?
Why not Elle? She was the ticking time bomb. The one who was coasting through life on a mere miracle. Why did she survive when she was practically hanging on by a thread? Not that Elle saw it that way. Not at all. She had grown accustomed to the many doctor visits and the immediate surgeries. She didn't mind having to give herself a shot of epinephrine when she found herself wheezing for breath. She had lived with her condition for 26 years and by now it was simply a mere impediment. But still, she knew she didn't have much time, and that was just when you took her lungs into consideration.
Her legs were a different story entirely.
She heard the faint sound of someone clearing their throat near her, and she immediately turned her head to the left. There, in the pew, sat a middle-aged man with greying hair, slender spectacles, and a wooden pipe (which was unlit but remained in his mouth no less). His legs were crossed and his hands were placed neatly in his lap. He was staring at Elle with a twinkle in his eye and a furrow of his brow. Elle moved a shaky hand across her cheeks in an attempt to wipe away any of her fallen tears. She gave a soft smile and glanced around the empty church, partially expecting to find that someone else was the source of his attention. That wasn't the case.
"I'm sorry," Elle said, "Did you need something?"
"Ah," The man replied while uncrossing his legs and removing the pipe from his mouth, "I do believe it is you that is in need of... this... something."
The man readjusted his sitting position so that he was facing Elle. He was leaning forward slightly, with is hands clasped in a sort of prayer position. Elle couldn't tell if she was supposed to be amused or confused, because both emotions seemed quite plausible in her current predicament.
"Pardon me," Elle uttered before clearing her throat, "But what exactly are you talking about?"
The man looked towards the cathedral ceiling in mock-contemplation before saying, "You know I'm not quite sure either... handkerchief?"
Elle examined the delicate white cloth that the man had produced from his coat pocket. She grabbed the handkerchief with her slim fingers and whispered a thank you.
"I assume your's has seen better days," He stated gesturing to the now bloodied handkerchief that remained crumpled in Elle's other hand.
"Yes, I, uh, suppose it has," Elle replied while using the new handkerchief to dab at her eyes.
"Haven't we all," He mumbled while peering at the cross that hung above the alter. After a few moments of a calm silence the man added, "These are trying times Miss..."
Elle's eyebrows rose upon realizing that she hadn't introduced herself. She cleared her throat and held out her hand with a sweet smile, "Ashworth. Elaina Ashworth."
"Pleased to meet you my dear," The man replied while gently shaking her hand. "If you don't mind me asking," He continued, "What is a pretty girl like yourself doing here at this hour?"
Elle laughed under her breath at the question and shrugged her shoulders. "Well..." She started and then stopped. Elle for some reason couldn't find her words. Why was she here? Yes, she had just experienced tremendous loss, and she was grieving, but why here, why now? "I suppose that is a very good question..."
"Ah, well, grief is a strange creature Miss Ashworth," He replied.
A blanket of silence settled over the two once again. Elle examined her old handkerchief with a furrowed brow. As she looked at the blood stained fabric she felt a wave of realization wash over her.
"I'm dying," Elle whispered, but not in sadness. She said the words with a sense of cognizance. They were the embodiment of a fate she'd known for her entire life. Apparently it just took over twenty years for it to finally come to fruition. She turned her head so that she could look the man in the eyes. His eyes were brown. They were warm and kind, and for once Elle didn't feel as though someone were looking at her with sympathy, but with understanding.
"Is that so," He said. He didn't even sound surprised, and Elle found that to be... refreshing.
"Unquestionably so," Elle began, "They say I have a few months... if I'm lucky."
"And a wonderful few months they shall be," The man declared, his eyes not wavering from Elle's. She let out a burst of laughter. She wasn't used to these sorts of responses. She mostly received brief apologies and vague promises of hope. Never honesty. She liked honesty.
"I hope you're right," Elle chuckled, "Have we met before?"
"I don't believe we have, unfortunately so, I might add," The man replied.
"Actually, I think I've seen you on campus before. Are you a professor at Oxford?" Elle asked suddenly remembering a literature professor with a particular proclivity for pipes and handkerchiefs.
"Yes, I am, and you are a student I assume?" The man questioned.
"Uh, yes, I'm getting my Masters in History," She answered.
"Of course you are," The man said with a smile, "Favorite era?"
"That's like choosing a favorite child! But I've always loved the 1500's." Elle replied with a far off look in her blue eyes.
"Was it the knights in shining armor, or the kings in their castles that won your affections," The man joked.
"I always liked the dragons," Elle jested with a smirk, "Even though they aren't technically real."
"Oh, of course how could I forget the dragons? A bit scary though, with their claws and fire breathing," The man quipped.
"Yes, I suppose. But that's why their intriguing... Don't you think." Elle mused.
"I believe I do."
The two sat in silence. A comfortable silence that could usually only be formed between the closest of friends. Elle smiled softly. She'd never really had a friend before. She had her sister Elizabeth, but she'd never had a friend who wasn't a family member. Elle had always assumed that it was her condition that scared people away. After all, Elle's friendship was fleeting...
"You know you haven't asked me if I'm scared," Elle remarked in a joking manner.
"Of Dragons?" The professor inquired.
Elle giggled, which was a rarity, "No... of dying."
"Well, if you are, then you have could have fooled me," The professor said his brown eye bright.
"Well, I'm not... I'm not scared of death, and maybe that's why I'm here because... I don't know," Elle muttered.
The professor turned to Elle and took one of her small hands into his own. He smiled and then whispered, as if Elle were a small child, "My dear Elaina Ashworth, death is just another path, one we must all take."
Elle smiled, and for a brief moment she was reminded of her father, with his thin spectacles and bright brown eyes. She was reminded of his comforting words and his reassuring hugs during her long nights spent in a hospital bed. Then, the memory was gone and she was back inside the church. "But what is behind the path? And what is ahead of it?" She whispered
"What is behind is behind." He stated simply.
"Well, then what is ahead? If I should be so bold to ask," She requested.
The professor patted Elle's hand with his own, and smiled a smile that knew far more than it meant, and meant far more than it said, and finally whispered, "An adventure."
Those words ignited something in Elaina's soul. Her light blue eyes brightened, and her imagination filled with longing of what the two words could bring.
"Maybe that's why I'm scared..." Elle muttered under her breath, "What if I want to have an adventure before I die? What if I want to accomplish something of partial relevance in this world before I pass into the next."
Elle let out a shaky breath and looked down at her sneaker-clad feet. She whispered under her breath, "I've spent my entire life behind hospital walls. When I was a kid I never even went outside. All I wanted to do was play tag in the field near our house. But I couldn't. I could hardly walk, let alone run. But now I'm twenty-six years old and I look out my window and I see kids still playing tag... and I want to join them so badly. I know I'm an adult but I just... I don't want to hide anymore. I'm not scared. I know my fate."
"Sometimes our fates can be changed," The professor encouraged.
Elle nodded, "I know."
"Do you ever talk to God Miss Ashworth?" The man asked while nodding towards the alter.
"Yes," Elle replied, "Though I find our conversations to be one-sided the majority of the time. But yes, I talk to God."
"Hm, I was just curious," He began, "What do you think He's saying?"
Elle opened her mouth in search of the right sentence, but none came.
"I-I well, I... Don't know," She finally managed. She huffed and placed her head in her hands before saying, "I just wish... He'd give me a sign, or a hint. I don't know just... something."
"He will," The man assured.
"Will he?" Elle responded with a sarcastic tone in her voice.
"Yes, I'm quite sure actually." He said.
"Really? And what makes you so sure?" Elle inquired, tilting her head to the side in mock curiosity.
"I just know," He stated with out hesitation. And then his eyes were shining once again, but this time it was as if he knew something that Elle didn't, something that Elle was determined to find out.
Elle furrowed her eyebrows and started to speak, "What do y-"
Bong! Bong! Bong! The clock tower in town struck midnight.
"Is it really that late already? I'm sorry, but I really should be getting home," Elaina apologized, already beginning to gather her things. She held out the man's handkerchief with the intention of returning it to him, but he shook his head furiously, insisting that she keep it.
"Would you be opposed to my assistance?" The man asked as he maneuvered his way out of the pew.
"No, no, not at all," Elle replied, bracing her hands on both sides of the bench in an attempt to rise to her feet. The man held out his arm as a means of support, and Elle grabbed it immediately. The professor had already set up her walker from where it had been leaning outside of the pew. Elle, with the professor's help, found her self safely behind her walker, and making her way towards the church entrance. The professor held open the door for her and a rush of cold air immediately greeted her. Elle glanced up at the sky and a smile graced her lips. It was snowing. It was snowing on-
"Happy Christmas!" She exclaimed.
"Yes indeed Miss Ashworth, a Happy Christmas it is, speaking of which," The man mumbled while pulling out a scrap of paper, scribbling a message onto it, and then digging further into his pockets, "I have a present for you."
Elle had to stop herself from gawking. A present? They had just met? How did he manage to have one?
"What? We just met! You really didn't have to-"
"Oh hush, I wasn't expecting to give this to just anyone when I left my home this evening, but you are quite the exception Elaina Ashworth," The man confessed.
Elaina was absolutely gob smacked. Why did she deserve such a kind gesture? The man finally found what he had been rummaging around for in his coat pockets. It was a small white box, no bigger than the palm of his hand, with a silver bow. He removed the lid, slid the note he had just written into the box, and then sealed it once again.
"You'll have to thank my wife for the wrapping," He said as he handed the package to Elle.
"I can't accept-"
"You can and you will," He insisted, practically shoving the package into her hand, which was still resting on the walker.
"Okay, okay," She exclaimed, grasping the small box and gently sliding it into her coat pocket.
"Thank you," She finally added, "Really, this is too kind."
The man just smiled and they continued their walk towards the main street. Elle explained that she didn't live too far and the man had kindly offered to walk her home, if of course, she was able. Which she insisted she was. The walk consisted of mostly silence with the occasional compliment about the freshly fallen snow.
"Do you know what snow symbolizes in literature Miss Ashworth," The professor questioned.
"Doesn't symbolize death?" Elle teased.
"No, no that's ice. You know, how the first frost destroys what's left of the harvest? Well snow is different. It takes the landscape, which is riddled with withering trees and wilted plants, and paints them in a new image. It reconstructs the imperfections we see into something pure and perfect. It is purity, innocence, and a new beginning," He informed her with yet another all-knowing look in his eyes.
"Hmm," Elle mused, "That sounds... Beautiful."
"Doesn't it?" He remarked. The pair turned another corner and began to near Elle's flat. Elle sighed contentedly as she looked up at the falling snowflakes. It was just then that she realized that the sky was quite clear, despite the fact that snow was dancing around her as if someone had just shaken a snow globe. She could see the stars, bright and pure, smiling down on her, like thousands of little guardians protecting her every move. Elle had always loved the stars, they were a promise, a promise of life carrying on far beyond the world she called home. A promise of a new beginning.
Just like the snow.
"This is me," Elle said while notioning towards the red door near the end of the sidewalk.
She stumbled slightly as an ache jolted up the side of her leg. The professor immediately tried to help her but Elle promised that she was fine, and that she just needed to get inside and rest. She rummaged through her coat pockets and produced the key to the flat.
"I suppose I shall see you around campus then?" Elle asked as she rested her hand on the doorknob.
"I would hope so," The man answered before grabbing her fingers and placing a kiss on the top of hand.
"Until then," She said, glad to have made a new friend.
"Until then," The man repeated, before taking a step back, looking at her fondly, and laughing to himself.
"What is it?" Elle asked, slightly curious.
"I suppose, bravery does come in small packages after all," He mused with a far off look in his eyes, as if he were talking about something else entirely.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing my dear, goodnight, and Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas," She whispered as she watched his figure, hands in his pockets and collar turned up, journey back down the street from which he came. It was only when he was completely enveloped by the sheets of falling snow that Elle remembered the weight of a finely wrapped white box that rested in her coat pocket.
It was only then that Elle realized she hadn't gotten his name.