That Which Lies Between

by Melody The Person

A continuation of The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray set in Gemma's distant future. HAPPY ENDING INCLUDED. -Recently Revised- Review it!

The following is a continuation of The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray.

I decided to write this because I felt the final novel needed more closure... and definitely happier ending. Nobody wants to remain devoted to such an amazing series and have their hearts ripped out at the end! It isn't fair, lesson or no lesson.

So this is set in Gemma's distant future. I hope you will all enjoy it!

It might start out a bit rocky, but trust me, it all ends on a good note. :)

Don't forget to review!

Reunited by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Let us begin, dear love, where we left off;
Tie up the broken threads of that old dream;
And go on happy as before; and seem
Lovers again, though all the world may scoff.

Let us forget the graves, which lie between
Our parting and our meeting, and the tears
That rusted out the goldwork of the years;
The frosts that fell upon our gardens green.

Let us forget the cold malicious Fate
Who made our loving hearts her idle toys,
And once more revel in the old sweet joys
Of happy love. Nay, it is not too late!

Forget the deep-ploughed furrows in my brow;
Forget the silver gleaming in my hair;
Look only in my eyes! Oh! darling, there
The old love shone no warmer then than now.

Down in the tender depths of thy dear eyes,
I find the lost sweet memory of my youth,
Bright with the holy radiance of thy truth,
And hallowed with the blue of summer skies.

Tie up the broken threads, and let us go,
Like reunited lovers, hand in hand,
Back, and yet onward, to the sunny land
Of our To Be, which was our Long Ago.

New York, 1935

There is a breeze gently folding over treetops in the distance. My wheelchair makes a squeaking noise as I lean closer to the glass. The world is calm. A sky of blue looms above as I sit and stare out the window. I want to be out there; facing the wind; letting it comb through my faded hair. I want to spin, and twirl, and run. I want to be young again.

Fee and Ann come to mind as I fantasize about the outdoors. I begin to dearly miss their company. It has been three years since I've heard from them. I sent letters no more than a month ago, but still no responses. Every day I hope to receive a call, a telegram, or even a letter. I just want to see or hear from them before it is too late.

I am scared. I am very scared.

I call for the nurse again, inquiring if the phone has rung. It is a silly question, since I would have heard it if it had. She gives me a dreadful shake of the head, clearly avoiding my withered eyes.

I sit a long while, staring, once again, out the window at a world I no longer belong in. I try to remember how long it has been since I've been out there. One week? One month? One year? It all seems the same to me now.

My eyes travel to the ceiling, tracing over common bumps and cracks. Memories flood over me.

I remember the time I tried to fix a leaky ceiling; climbing atop a ladder on my own, not letting anyone do things for me. I was such a headstrong young woman.

I remember the time Tom helped me put up wallpaper in my new apartment in New York. It was a small little place, but it had such potential…

I remember my first night in America, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar place.

I remember my second night in America.

I remember my tenth night.

My hundredth.

I remember my first day at Spence Academy and what a difference it had been to go from India to such a dull, colorless school.

I remember Fee, specifically the wild Fee, with a bow at hand, poised and ready to attack.

I remember Ann's timid voice and watching her slowly come out of her shell; I love her singing voice. I wish she would sing to me now.

I remember Pippa… dear Pippa. I remember envying her beauty along with everyone else in the world, but I also remember her dark side. Those eyes…

I remember the Realms, feeling the magic course through my veins.

I remember meeting my first American neighbors, the McKenzie's.

I remember meeting their son Joseph and their daughter Marie.

I remember my first date with an American man; he was a handsome fellow and took me out dancing.

I remember eating popcorn for the first time.

I remember thinking I might forget about the past.

I remember praying I would forget about the past.

I remember crying.

I remember the first time I saw a flicker show, a film about two lovers separated by class and status.

I remember the pain I felt deep inside myself as I watched that film.

I remember my youthful face… the strong arc in my nose, the fullness of my lips, and the laughter in my eyes.

I remember my hair; beautiful red curls that were full of life.

I remember that face.

And I remember his.

How could I ever forget?

"Kartik." I whisper, feeling a tear slide down my cheeks. I bring my wrinkled, shaky hands to my face, shielding myself from the harsh glare of life. "Forget. Forget. Forget!" I chant in a serpentine whisper. I try my hardest to stop the flood of memories from coming in: to squash them once and for all. It is like trying to stick a finger in a cracked dam, but I try my hardest. It's just that the more I try, the more I remember.

I remember his touch. His voice. His scent.

He is everywhere and I am nothing, just an empty soul floating in a sea of never-ending memories. I wish, and pray, and hope that I can finally be free of these recorded feelings. I never had a child. I never even had a husband. But what I have- what I was granted- is existence. Yet, it is a life that is not mine to have. It is a life that is meant to be shared… except- there is no one to share it with.

My shoulders sag, tears welling up behind my eyes. I feel vacuous and hollow, finally realizing that my friends might not show after all. I want to see them with all my heart. They are the only things left for me in this world; the only things I can appreciate from this feeble existence. I call for the nurse again, inquiring once more about the status of the telephone.

There is nothing for me.

But this time, the nurse sees my face. I must be a sight to see; wrapped in a robin's egg robe, grey hair flying in all directions, eyes sunken and sad. I wouldn't want to look at me. Yet the nurse's face softens, and she tells me she will be right back; that she forgot she has something for me.

When she returns I look at her nametag, trying hard to keep her name in my thoughts. Charlotte. Charlotte. Charlotte. Charlotte.

"What is it, Charlotte?" I ask, curious about the flat box she holds in her hands.

She smiles, sitting down in a chair across from me, "I had bought this on a whim, and I didn't know what to do with it until now." She places the box in my lap. "I think it was meant to be given to you, Miss Doyle." I look at it, much like a child looks at a giant Christmas gift in awe, "Go on. Open it."

She nudges me, and I can't help but look gratefully into her youthful face. "Thank you, Charlotte. Really."

I open it as carefully as one would an ancient tomb. She isn't bothered by my pace and sits, waiting to see my reaction. It is something quite unexpected; something I haven't seen in many, many years. I hold it in my hands, feeling the soft fabric between my pruny fingers. I look up at the nurse, trying to make out her face, but everything I see is a blur. Tears stream down my cheeks as a vision of my mother floods in. I try to say something but can't seem to find my voice. My fingers clutch at the thread as I pull it to my face, smiling for dear India.

We sit in silence as I admire the sari in my lap. It is a red, and orange, and gold Bandhej Saree. There are small-embroidered boontis all over, with intricate knots and shining sequins. The color reminds me of warm days in India; walking through streets lined with vendors. I close my eyes and imagine the warm breeze, the general hustle of people, and the scent that I came to love. How Charlotte thought of giving away this marvelous piece of craftsmanship is beyond me. Before I even begin to ask her why, she speaks, "I've heard you, Miss Doyle." I look at her, slightly lost, "When I come into your room sometimes, I can hear his name on your lips, his face practically reflected in your eyes. I know that you once lived in India, and that you lost a great deal there." I look at Charlotte like she has infiltrated my mind, "You do have a file, you know." She says, a warm smile creeping across her face as she reaches out to wipe away my tears, "I would love to hear your story some day... The story of Miss Doyle and her beloved Kartik."

It is clearly plastered on my face. Sorrow and joy blend into one strange emotion. I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. To speak or to moan. His name spoken by another is like a knife to the heart. I sniffle and use a shaky hand to wipe away the rest of my salty tears. Charlotte knows that she has caused me pain. She quickly regains my attention, not letting me dwindle too long inside of my own head, "Do you want to put it on?" She asks, pulling me back into reality. I can feel my face already lighting up at the thought of wearing it. Charlotte laughs, "Here. I will help you."

Soon, I am alone again. Sitting by the window in a sari I could have imagined only my dreams. It reflects off of the glass and bounces light across the room. I feel warm and rejuvenated. Like I am connected to my past and my future. To think it is all because of some fabric draped across my body.

I hear a knock, and look over my shoulder at two smiling faces. It takes me a moment to realize who they are. They seem so different, but after a moment I know exactly where I have seen them before. "Felicity! Ann!" They rush over to me and I can hardly breath: I have waited for them for years, and here they are, ready to embrace me. "No. Don't." I put my hands out, keeping them at a painfully far distance. They look concerned, but understand my reasoning.

"We are so sorry that we could not have come sooner, believe me Gemma, we tried." Felicity says, her eyes full of sorrow.

"It doesn't matter." I say, looking between the two of them, "You are here. That's what counts."

"Oh Gemma!" Ann bawls, she ignores reason and comes to her knees before me, placing her head in my lap, "We must never leave each other the way we did. It was horrid, I cannot bear to think of it again."

Fee looks at me with a knowing smile. It says something like, You really didn't expect us to keep our distance, did you?

So stroke Ann's head even though I shouldn't, and Felicity holds my other hand to her warm cheek. A sense of family belonging rushes over me and I hold back tears for the third time today. Fee wheels me towards the sitting corner and kisses the top of my head before she takes a seat. Ann joins her.

They remark on my sari and how beautiful it is. I tell them that Charlotte, a nurse here, bought it and decided to give it to me. They think it is strange that she chose to give it so freely; apparently it looks very expensive. I tell them how much I miss India, that if I could live the rest of my days in one place, it would be there. To inhale the different scents and spices that give the land it's beauty.

I look at them and I see how age has affected us all. Ann has very short, very dull hair. Her years show on her face, but not in a bad way. Strangely, Ann looks more like herself now than I can ever remember.

Fee is still beautiful, and the wrinkles around her eyes don't say: "I am old." They say, "I have lived a long, joyful life." The spark remains in her eyes, and while her face and body have sagged, she is still the same Fee I remember. My vibrant, feisty Fee.

It has been ages since it is just the three of us, sharing stories and laughing like old times. I have not laughed in ages. It makes me feel as though we are back at Spence Academy, gossiping in our tent of scarves. They tell me about their lives.

Ann has three children now. Walter, Harriet, and Jane. The man she married, Lou Scott, works at a law firm in Chicago. She describes him as a kind and portly fellow. They live very good lives, even if raising their children was a hassle in the city. She has sent her two daughters to London for further education, a rather appropriate substitute for Spence called Osdale Academy in Worcester. She wishes Spence was still open so that her daughters might follow in our footsteps, but it is an impossible dream. Spence has been shut down. Her and Fee tell me of Mrs. Nightwing's death, a stroke in the middle of the night. She was buried four years ago on the grounds. I wish I had known...

Felicity never married and lives with many friends in Paris. Fighting alongside women suffragists, she retains her feminine glory. Fee tells us the story of her first night in jail, and what it was like to protest with other women. She even got to meet Marguerite Durand and her pet lion! Her life seemed so exciting, and though she didn't say it, I knew she had a lover. Her eyes lit up whenever she mentioned the women she got to meet along the way. She dropped so many names, people like Madeleine Pelletier and Caroline Rémy de Guebhard, otherwise known as Séverine. She says she also ran into Fowlson years ago. Fee says he is doing well, but the look in her eyes tells me otherwise. I imagine Fowlson, old and haggard, walking the streets of London. I push him out of my mind.

They ask me how I've been and I have no idea how to answer them. So I start with what I already know.

"I have pulmonary tuberculosis." I spit out almost caustically. I regret saying it, but it is the truth. "I have stopped responding to treatment." They avert their eyes from me, knowing very well my fate.

We sit with nothing more to say. I accidentally cough a few times, and it catches their attention. I can see the pity in their eyes and can't stand it. "The world is bright and beautiful." I say, "But I have been trapped inside this cave, only able to gaze out at it. I feel as though…" I look at them for a moment and can see they are listening intently, "I feel as though I am already gone." I see out of the corner of my eye someone walking by the doorway, "This place has aged me beyond my years."

I hear Felicity begin to cry. It is uncommon to see her in such a vulnerable state. "Oh Gemma…" she reaches out to touch me, but recoils at the thought of catching my fate. It hurts me more than she knows. "Let us take you away from here; to Spence; to London. To Paris! To India! I don't care where! Just let us give you life!"

Ann widens her teary eyes, "Gemma… The realms."

Fee jumps up, "Summon the door! We can still help you! Take back the magic! It can be ours again. You can live forever!"

I fear they do not understand.

"Fee, Ann." I look at them with heavy eyes and they sit. It takes a long while for me to find the strength to say such a final word, but I do, "No."

Their faces melt, and they look as though I have taken their hearts and crushed them. Ann tries to keep her tears hidden by looking to the left. Felicity stares at me, her eyes right on mine. I have to look away. They think I am giving up. "I have lived my life. There is more I would wish to do, but I cannot steal from others to give to myself. It isn't right. I am weak and I am sore. This sickness has taken its toll on me, and I cannot summon any strength. No matter how hard I try, I am worn." I look into their eyes, "My recent days have been filled with memories. Nothing else. I miss my youth- I do. And Fee." She gazes at me, "I want to face my fate. I don't want to run from it anymore." There is disappointment in her eyes, but she understands now. "I'm not giving in. I'm accepting." I see Ann sag in her seat, "The world is not able to bear my life anymore, I am being called away and I…I want to go. I mourn the loss of my father and the loss of my brother. I mourn a lot of things. But you should know that I love you, both of you," Ann looks at me now, her eyes red and puffy. "I am ready. I am waiting."

The heaviness of my words dangles in the air. Silence is the only answer they can give me and I don't expect anything more.

We sit for a long while and all I can hear is their sniffling, but suddenly, Ann looks rigid.

She snaps, breaking the solemn silence, "Are we not enough to live for?" I look at her, surprise across my face. "You say you miss your father, your brother, and we know you miss Kartik." His name cuts across my heart like a dagger, "You say that you are ready to face death. You are sad, and you are tired, but that does not mean you have to accept anything. We are here. We have come to help you- to care for you. These nurses, what do they know? That you are sick? What do these doctors know? You are Gemma Doyle. You are stronger than this. I know you are!"

Ann's face is red and splotchy. I know what she is saying, and I know why she is saying it. "Ann… I-"

"Gemma, no! You just- you can't give up like this!" She is on her feet now.

"I said I wasn't giving up-," I whisper, but it is enough for her to hear.

"Yes you are!" she yells and Felicity has to grab her by the shoulders to calm her down. She is sobbing, holding her shaky red hands to her face. "Gemma." She repeats my name over and over again, "Gemma, Gemma, Gemma, Gemma."

I feel horrid and have to bite my lower lip.

Fee comes over to me and holds my hands; "I'm going to take Ann to get some air. We will be right back. I promise."

I nod.

Then they are gone from the room and I feel empty. I knew that they would take it like this: that me choosing to accept would make it seem like there is nothing left to live for. And as terrible as that sounds, it is what it feels like sometimes. When they aren't around my world is dark, and I sometimes pray that my disease will take me away.

I picture the realms in all their beauty. I miss it dearly. If only I could have access one last time… I begin to try and summon the door. It takes all of my strength just to attempt picturing it in my head, and even then I'm squeezing the arms of my chair, my knuckles white and veins tensing. It is no use. I cannot do it.

I let out a long, ragged breath and wheel myself over to the window. By the time I make it there I feel as though my body weighs 300 pounds. I am exhausted and coughing, coughing more than I have coughed before. I am sweating too, and I can taste iron in my mouth. I see Ann and Fee outside, arguing on the lawn in front of the building.

It's strange how the world works. When you ask for something to happen, it doesn't. Then at the precise moment you don't want something to happen, it does. My coarse coughing shakes my body. I hold on to the windowsill for dear life with my eyes on my friends- my final family. They are arguing over me, and for some reason I find comfort in that. Maybe it's because somebody finally cares.

I hear my name being called from the doorway, and soon a nurse is at my side. She is trying to wheel me away from the window but I am holding on for dear life. I do not want to lose sight of my friends. "Miss Doyle! Miss Doyle! On the bed! Please!"

I will not leave this window. I want my friends. I want them. I want them!

Unwillingly, I am yanked onto the bed by multiple arms. I have no idea who is around me, just Charlotte. She is before my face, stroking me and trying to calm me down. I yell for people that can't even help me, "Momma!" I scream, "Tom!" I shriek. I hear them order someone to go and retrieve my visitors but I know they will not make it in time. The world is turning white and I already can't see.

I am scared I am having a vision.

So I think of Ann and Fee. I think of how they will find me. I know this is it. The moment I have been waiting for. I wish they were here, but then I am glad. I know I will miss them, and they will miss me, but if they can survive all the years they have I am sure they will continue to live on in happiness. They deserve life. And I know I will love them always.

I start to repeat the same phrase over and over again, "I love you. I love you. I love you!" I kick and cry. The pain is overwhelming. It's like my lungs are caving in and I am trying my hardest to cough them out. If only I could just cough up my illness. It hurts so much…

But then: nothing.

Sound fades away.

Relief washes over me.

I am no longer tired.

No longer crying, or coughing, or screaming, or even dying.

I am done.

Finished with all of it.

I have accepted.

The bed- no… not a bed… something else- is soft now, almost damp. I feel grass between my fingers and warm dirt below my palms. Realization kicks in. I know where I must be, but I can scarcely believe it. I try to open my eyes but the world is too bright to see; it takes many tries before I can handle it. I look up at a long-forgotten sky.

I am here at last.

I see the garden before me, splayed out like a dream come true. Trying to stand up makes me feel like a wobbly baby colt. I reach up and touch my hair, hoping to find it restored to its former glory, but it is not. It still remains as thin and grey as ever. I am disappointed, but don't care much. I just want to run as fast as my legs can carry me to the only place I can think of to go. And so I run, practically sprinting the whole way.

It is there, bigger and greater than ever before. The land around it is lush, full of plants and newly arisen life. I don't see anyone I recognize. I go to the tree before me, kneeling in the soft soil before it. I touch it, but it is not the same. It isn't warm or lifelike. It doesn't make my skin tingle or sigh my name. I back away, fearing something bad has happened. Then I hear a voice behind me.

"Most High!" It echoes off of everything, bouncing around my head like a small rubber ball. I run towards the river and there she is, as big and scary as I remember her. Gorgon does not say anything else; she just looks at me with big, understanding eyes.

Then… she moves.

And I see him.

He stands in the middle of the river, looking very much the same.

I cannot hold back tears as I rush towards him, and when my feet touch the water something magical happens. I transform. My hair thickens. It is a feeling so strange I think I shall never forget it. Color comes into my cheeks and curls, and I feel my eyes brighten in their own sockets. He smiles at me, a wonderful smile that makes my insides turn to fire. I reach him at last and we kiss, making up for the time lost between this moment and our last.

I feel as though we are suspended forever, connected forever. His scent is in the air around us, sharp and poignant, and it is everywhere, on everything. And so is Kartik.

I trace over every inch of his face, just to make sure that he really is all there. I couldn't believe it, after all these years he has been here. Awaiting my return. Someday, I will ask Kartik how he came to be. Someday, I will ask him about his life.

As for now, all we can do is whisper between fervent breaths how much we have loved one another. Nobody and nothing can separate us again. So we cling together, unsure of what the river holds in store for us. But it doesn't matter what lies beyond, because our love will keep us alive in this world and the next million.

So onward we go, towards a bright and never-ending light, where together, we cross over a distant horizon into a world of wonder.

And in the world we leave behind, the only noise that can be heard is soft murmurs of "I love you."

The End.

(Please review! I appreciate all comments and suggestions!)