A Scent of a Woman
by Shaolin Kitten
Part 19-Conclusion
(Note: Wo e le is Chinese for I'm hungry. Fortune cookies now have little phrases in Chinese that may come in handy. I figured when Peter was learning to talk, Kwai Chang began talking to him in Chinese and English so he could learn both languages.)
"Mama wake! I hungwee. Wo e le. I hungwee! MAMA WAKE! MMAMMMAAAA!" Peter could not understand why his mother would not wake up. He cried for her but no gentle answering voice came. Peter curled into a ball and buried his face in the sheets of the bed beside his mother. Then he was being picked up by strong, familiar arms. His father dropped down on the floor, still holding him. He reached for the pulse point at his wife's neck and grief nearly caused him to collapse. Laura would wake no more. It had only been a few hours ago that she had said she was going to take a nap. He had gone outside to clear away some of the leaves from the rain gutters. Peter had been in his room playing with his toys. Now there was only the two of them.
Kwai Chang pulled his son close and shed silent tears. Peter tried to pull away from his father and reach out for his mother, but there was still no response. Then some deep understanding came to the child and he became afraid. His mother was gone and she was not coming back. Peter clung to his father and cried, his small hands tugging at his father's shirt, not understanding why this was so.
"Popa, where . . . (hic) . . . mama . . . (hic) . . . go?" Peter tried to ask, having developed the hiccups from crying.
"Your mother . . ."a deep sigh escaped him as he fought to control his emotions. " . . . has gone back to the source of all things. Her life was not ours to own."
Kwai Chang wished that he could follow his wife's essence, to see if she would live again, but Peter needed him. He was still too small to understand. If only he had been here to feel her passing, to know that she would be all right. Guilt rose in him at not having been with Laura in her final moments. It was all he could do to face what would come next. Kwai Chang tried to rise but his legs would not support him. He barely kept from dropping Peter before he found himself falling and succuming to his grief and to the darkness of despair.
"Kwai Chang Caine?"
Someone was calling his name and he could hear crying in the background. Then a cup was brought to his lips, the scent of jasmine hanging in the air. He could taste the herbal tea as it was poured into his mouth. He found himself lying on the couch. Ping Hai sat beside him, deep concern was mirrored in his eyes.
"Laura," Kwai Chang tried to rise but was pushed back. "Peter, where is my son?"
"Your son is safe. Do not try to rise."
"I must go to him."
"No, my friend. Michael has him. You need to rest."
"I must be with him. He is frightened."
Ping Hai waved Michael forward and Peter reached down to the arms of his father. Kwai Chang could feel Peter's fear wash away as he held his son close. 'Oh, my son,' he thought. 'I am so sorry. Because I fainted, you thought you lost me too. You will never loose me, my son. At least, not for a very long time.' Kwai Chang continued to hold his son and stroke his back, giving him what comfort he needed. In doing so, Kwai Chang also found comfort.
Three days later found Kwai Chang Caine, Peter, many of the priests from the temple, and many friends of Laura Caine's gathered at the lake. A special marker had been donated, her name, birth date, and the day of her death clearly marked. The day was windy and cold and Kwai Chang held his son close, not only for warmth but for moral support. The words spoken by Master Kwahn and the Reverend Roberts were lost to him. All he could do was stand there and let the emotions of so many people wash through him like a tidal wave. Suddenly, he felt a supporting hand take him by his arm and he and Peter were led from the scene. He did not even remember that it happened. When he finally came out of his dazed shock, he again found himself back home, in the little house he and Laura had once shared. People came and went, expressing their condolences, some leaving plates of food. The impromptu gathering continued well into the night. Kwai Chang wished they would all leave him and his son alone with their pain. He did not understand the concept of a wake.
For three months, Kwai Chang Caine tried to raise his son alone. For a short time, friends of Laura's offered to stay with Peter and tried to encourage Kwai Chang to return to work. He refused, trying to do what he thought his wife would have wanted him to do. Anger and rage at the loss of his wife and the frustration of trying to raise a toddler finally drove him to seek advice. On that day, his old friend, the Dalai Lama, was visiting the temple. Ping Hai had told him of the death of Laura Caine. The older man again spoke to Kwai Chang about being a teacher and coming to live at the temple. He even spoke about the temple being a good place to raise his son. In that hope, the Dalai Lama gave Caine a jade medallion. In the end, Kwai Chang found himself packing his and Peter's meager belongings, closing up the house, and walking up the road to the temple. He would return later to gather more of their things when the time was right. For now, they would go together, never to look back. It was the end of one life and the beginning of another.
Kwai Chang Caine touched the blossoms of the African Jasmine and breathed a sigh. The pain from the loss of his wife had diminished with time but the memories were still fresh. Perhaps it would be good to tell Peter. In this way, he would know his Mother and the memories could be passed on. Yes, it was time. Time to finally put the past behind him and to share the love that she had for both of them. After all, it was she who had given him that most precious of gifts, his son. It was time that he gave to his son, the most precious gift that he had to offer, the memory of Laura Caine.
End
Note from the author: Since writing this story, it was fitting that I bring it to its full conclusion. I hoped that you have enjoyed this version of the life of Laura Caine.