DISCLAIMER: I stake no claim to the
characters in this
story; no matter how hard
I try, Carter will
never be mine (and believe
me, I've tried
witchcraft and everythingJ). Oh, I do jest…
NOTES:
This is my first fic, so be warned! This story is inspired by a
scene from the film "Hilary and
Jackie". It's a bit o'fluff,
really!
And now on with the
scheduled feature presentation………..
*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Memories
are, for the most part, treasures, precious stones to place in your heart.
There are of course, pieces of stone that creep in to poison the past. But
today, as I sit here quietly at one with my thoughts, I do nothing but
reminisce happily. Sure, I've had my fair share of personal tragedy, but the
tranquillity here in this graveyard makes it fade into oblivion. Lucy, Dennis,
heck, even Abby and Anna, disappear into the wind.
They always say that the
hardest thing for a parent is to bury a child. My memories of that event are
vague; I was young and naïve. The funeral procession marched forward, I copied
everyone's sombre expression and kept in time to their steps towards the
cemetery. It's strange what you remember of your youth- I don't recall feeling
particularly sad, merely confused as to why everyone else was. My mother almost
collapsed as the coffin was lowered into the ground, my father's deep eyes
glazed over, and my sister Barbara pulled me in close to her chest. It was a
gesture I'll never forget. I do remember that I had a special duty to perform
that day as I stood in the cold, adorned in a miniature copy of my father's
black suit. And so I dropped the single white rose I had clutched dearly all day
into the earth, where my brother's body rested. It bore no symbolism through my
six-year-old eyes, but now as I lay a similar rose on Bobby's grave twenty-four
years later, I wish I could recapture the innocence of that time.
* * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Lord bless you and keep you
The Lord makes
his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you.
The Lord lift up
the light of his countenance upon you and give you peace.
Amen.
The words of that familiar
prayer reverberate in my mind as I utter it to the headstone I look upon.
Instantly I feel the peace it professes, and I'm thinking, finally, some divine
intervention.
And
I let myself slip into the past, becoming kindred with the five-year-old John
Truman Carter……..
*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Two
young boys dashed across the private beach, invigorated by the fresh sea air,
their juvenile minds were bursting with plans for the summer. They stopped as
they spied a figure in the distance. The brown eyes of the younger grew wide
and he enquired:
"Who
is it, Bobby? He's looking at us!"
The
nine-year-old placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.
"You
want me to go see for ya, Johnny?"
The
younger boy squared his shoulders and replied:
"No,
it's okay, I'll go!"
He
bounded towards the stranger, who was smiling warmly at him. It was a man, clad
in a crisp shirt and tie, with trousers held in place by colourful suspenders.
His brown eyes gazed at the child standing facing him.
"Who
are you?" the boy demanded.
The
man knelt down and looked him straight in the eye, taking a deep breath.
"I
just want to tell you that everything's going to be alright, Carter."
The
boy smiled, not understanding, and ran back to his brother Bobby to play some
more. The man stood and watched them as they frolicked in the sand.
"Everything
is fine…", he whispered into the air.
*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
ROBERT JEFFERSON CARTER
Beloved
Son and Brother
1966-1976
"Suffer
Little Children To Come Unto Me"
*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As
I lie here on the grass beside Bobby's grave, I feel calm. He's always with me,
I realise that now. Staring into the sky, I know that, yes, everything is
alright…..
*
Goodnight, Bobby *
