A/N: This is my first Tuck Everlasting fic. I hope you enjoy it...I felt inspired tonight to write, so I did this after re-reading the book. Remember to review!
Disclaimer: I don't own Tuck Everlasting, by Natalie Babbit. I do, however, own Ashley and the plot. So don't touch them, or I will sic the Tucks on you.
Jesse stared at the gravestone one last time, heaving himself up onto his feet from his position crouching. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, tiny pinpricks of pain in the back of his head threatening to send tears overflowing onto his face. He looked at the place she had chosen to be buried in. It was overflowing with the sickly-sweet smell of honeysuckle and roses, which he saw were twisted around the trunks of two elegant weeping willow trees that shaded her grave. The stone itself was marble, with the words carved elegantly into it in cursive letters.
In Loving Memory
Winifred Foster Jackson
Dear Wife
Dear Mother
1899 – 1999
He looked up suddenly, looking behind the trees. There was the rocky Eiffel Tower, rising up against the horizon. He gave a small smile. There was the waterfall, too. She had chosen a place that reminded her of the two of them.
He turned around to face a young woman who was staring at him, hands on her hips. He gaped at her. It looked exactly like Winnie…except maybe a year or two older, with higher cheekbones, and a bit taller.
"W-winnie?"
"Excuse me?" She asked. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my yard?"
"I'm sorry. My name's Jesse."
Her jaw dropped, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Tuck?"
He stared at her. "Winnie?"
She shook her head. "She was…she was my grandmother, she passed on a few years ago. You're…you're him."
He looked at her, puzzled. "I'm…who?"
She shook her head, her eyes widening. "I'm Ashley, Ashley Foster. Please, come in. I…I need to talk to you."
He glanced at her with an odd look, but did as she asked, recognizing Winnie's well kept lawn, the iron gate, the tall, magnificent house. All that was needed to complete this picture was the sound of piano music drifting out from the parlor, where Mrs. Foster would be playing, and Winnie, sitting outside.
Ashley opened the door, ushering him in. "Please, have a seat in the living room, make yourself at home. Would you like something to drink?" Tea, coffee, juice?"
"Water would be good." He sat down on a cozy looking armchair, glancing around. He seemed to be the only one here except for her.
She came back moments later with a tall glass of cold water for him. "Here you are." She set it down next to him, and he took a long sip, still looking at the room.
"So…how do you know who I am?"
She stayed silent for a moment, then drew up the courage to speak. "My parents died in a car crash a little while after I was born. Grandma raised me here, in her house, from about the time I was a year old. She told me these wonderful stories about traveling the world, going to Paris, Rome, England, India…she and my grandfather traveled the world." She set down her cup of water. "You look a lot like him, actually. Here, let me show you…"
She rummaged in a desk drawer for a moment, coming back with a picture of a young man in his early twenties. He did look a bit like Jesse, with the same brown hair and thin, tall build. His smile seemed easy and carefree. The only difference was that he was dressed in a richly embroidered silk jacket and pants, which Jesse would never have worn, or been able to wear, in fact.
"My grandfather died young, too: when he was twenty-six. Grandmother said that when he died, there were only three things left for her. When I asked her, she said the woods and me were the first two, but she wouldn't tell me the third thing.
"Then, about a year before she died, she sat me down here and told be the story of the Tuck family she had met when she was sixteen. She told me she had fallen in love with their youngest boy, Jesse. She told me about the spring, and she even took me too it. That last year, I went there every day, wondering why she didn't drink it.
"Then she died, leaving everything to me. I turned eighteen about three months before she passed on. She left me her diary from when she was that age, too, but she told me…" Ashley hesitated, as if unsure to go on. She seemed to summon up her courage again, however, and continued. "She told me that if you ever came back, I should give it to you. She also left you a letter, and she said it's inside the diary, so you could get them both at once.
"She said to tell you that she felt the same way. I'm not really sure what she meant, but she told me it was something to do with the last time she saw you. So…I guess you should come with me." He nodded.
Winnie had left him a diary and a letter. Somehow, this surprised him; he had thought to himself that if she had not taken a drink from the spring, she would have tried to forget him altogether.
She led him up a small spiral staircase, winding further up into the house and towards what he assumed was the attic. Ashley paused, waiting for him, then opened the door.
The attic was small and cramped with boxes: there were old yellowed photos, showing ladies that looked like he imagined Winnie looked at about twenty years of age, their hair piled neatly on to of theirs heads; there were small books, and fashion magazines from centuries passed. Old mementos cluttered up the boxes. One box, however, stood almost empty, containing only a small leather bound book, a piece of paper sticking out of the edges. Ashley carefully picked up the journal and brushed the dust off, pulling the slip of paper out, and handing the two wordlessly to Jessie. He gave her a reassuring smile.
"I…I guess I'll leave you here. You can come down when you're done reading. Is that okay?" Jesse nodded, sitting down in an old rocking chair. She gave a small smile and closed the door behind her, going to read a book in the living room and make more tea.
Jesse opened the dusty letter, wiping his hands on his clothes and squinting to read Winnie's wavering cursive handwriting.
Dear Jesse,
If you're reading this, I can only assume that I am gone, and you've come back for me only to find that I'm not here. I'm sorry, first of all. I'm sorry that I didn't drink from the spring. I just…couldn't do it. I couldn't make myself become immortal. I don't want to live forever, to see all the pain and suffering of others for all my life. I want to know the world as a happy place, to have had a good life. Every life must someday end; it's Mother Nature's natural order of life. But you, the Tucks, will live forever. It's both a blessing and a curse, and the curse is what prevented me from taking the blessing. Since, if you are reading this, I didn't get a chance to say goodbye, that's what I'd like to say next. I love you, and I've loved you since the day you told me not to drink that water. You said you'd love me until the day you died. I feel the same way, which Ashley, my granddaughter, has probably told you already. Ashley is the only other person who knows your secret and all I ask is that you take her to meet your family for a brief time. I want her to hear the story from all points of view, not just mine. She deserves that. Who knows? Maybe you will find happiness with someone else someday, someone who is not afraid of eternity. I hope, for your sake, that you do.
I will love you until the day you die,
Winnie Foster
Jessie nodded to the letter. Now he had closure; she had loved him, too. She had been afraid of eternity. Winnie Foster, not afraid of the woods or the Tucks or Jesse himself, was afraid of the one thing she didn't have.
Jesse rose slowly. He needed to tell Ashley to get ready to go; the least he could do for Winnie was fulfill her last wishes. He glanced at the page one last time, now noticing something scribbled at the bottom of the page.
Tuck said it to me that summer: Do not fear death, but rather the unlived life. You don't have to live forever. You just have to live.
Jesse smiled slowly. That did sound like his father. He folded the letter, sliding it into his pocket and walking out of the attic. He had better get back to his family. After all, what's eternity if you don't have anyone to spend it with?
I hope you liked it! Now, press the review button and tell me if you did or not! Please, I need the feedback! Constructive crit is good, but flmaes with rot...thank you for reading, come again!