"Father?" he asked softly, afraid that his mind had finally snapped under
the pressure of so much change. This could only be a hallucination.
"Yes, Ian, I am here, is this not what you wished?"
"Yes.No.I no longer know."
"You are confused. Your new found love for Sara makes this a difficult transition for you."
Not as difficult as without her, he thought. "Yes, Sir" he said, lowering his head from force of habit. He huddled in his robe wishing he could hide his rising shame. How could he have been so foolish, to come here like this? For a moment he buried his head in his chest, trying to sort out the whirlwind of rising feelings. He was no longer the man he had when his father died and he no longer knew how to act. But he had changed; he no longer lived at his father's whim. He drew himself up in his chair and raised his head to face his own personal demon. "I was unprepared father. You did not make this simple. You asked for something which you had no right to." His voice strengthened as he allowed some of the pain, the hurt to show through.
"I asked for your loyalty. She killed me, is it not your duty to seek revenge?"
"No, there can be no vengeance for suicide. You gave me two duties, to follow your orders and to protect her. You are dead, so I chose to protect her."
"From loyalty to me, or love for her?" the shadowy figure asked.
"Both, and love for the man you were. I have changed, father. I no longer live in your shadow. I walk in the light beside her, she accepts me and makes me stronger. You were wrong, emotional attachments strengthen you because they give you something worth living for. You never understood that."
"You are wrong, my son. I did understand.once. But I had forgotten." Kenneth Irons' ghost looked at his son and for the first time in years Ian saw him truly smile. "I am proud of you Ian. You have done well, better perhaps than I had any right to hope for. Return to your lady, she needs you, and now you have the strength you need." Ian looked at his father, the father he had loved sitting there and a tear slid down his cheek.
"Will you return?" he asked, unsure as to whether he really wanted an answer.
"Perhaps, now go, this place is too much in the past, Sara is your future." Ian rose to leave pausing at the door to look back. His father's shadow was still sitting there by the fire as he had been in life. As he closed the door behind him he thought he heard the words that he had waited so many years to hear. "I love you, Ian." He stood in the hallway a moment, his back against the door, letting the tears flow. When they stopped, he returned to his room quietly, not wanting to wake Sara. He realized he had not locked the door and thought about turning back. No, he told himself, it is time. Ian removed his robe and slipped back into bed. She reached out instinctively and folded him into her arms and her sleep. As he drifted off he smiled, he knew now that no matter what happened he could handle it.
Sara was dreaming, she knew that. It was strange the way she seemed to be following Ian as he had followed her. She watched from a distance as he built the fire in Irons' room, that could only be the place they were. He could not see her she was like a ghost, insubstantial. She looked around the room, it was old fashioned and kind of stuffy, the kind of thing you expect from someone's grandmother. She turned around, even wandered into the bedroom; after all it was only a dream. Sara saw a picture sitting on the nightstand, a picture of Irons and a very small child that could only be Ian. It struck her as odd; she never would have thought him capable of caring enough to keep a picture. She heard the sound of voices and moved back to the other room. Ian was sitting in one of the chairs head down, listening to someone that she could not see. She rushed over hearing Kenneth Irons' voice soft, persuasive even, talking to his son about revenge. She watched in horror as Ian huddled there like a child. She wanted to scream, to make him hear her, to understand that she was there, that Irons couldn't hurt him anymore. But Ian would not remain cowed, as she watched he stood up to his father, stood up for himself and for her, and Irons relented. The dream was getting more confusing by the minute. Irons was reassuring his son; this could not be the same man that had haunted her dreams, that had tried to kill her. She stood in shock, listening to the words but not comprehending. Finally she watched Ian rise and leave the room, hearing at last of his father's love. Sara wondered if the dream would end now and she would wake up next to him even more confused than before.
"Sara, would you join me?" Irons said from his place by the fire. She jumped at the sound of his voice addressing her as thought he had known all along she was there. Sara moved forward, startled.
"This is a dream, you can't be here, this can't be happening." She sat down in the chair Ian had vacated.
"But it is, someday you will learn that things are not necessarily as they appear. You are in a dream, but you are also here." "Then why couldn't Ian see me?"
"Because he was not meant to. He needed to be sure he was strong enough to do what you asked. In order to do that he had to face his fears, to face me, stand up to me, and justify his actions to himself. There is still much pain and guilt in him."
"Yeah, whose fault is that? What are you trying to do to him now? Haven't you done enough?"
"Enough, and more than enough. Sara, I know that all of this is hard for you to understand." He looked at the woman, so much like Elizabeth and yet not. She was hot blooded, hardheaded and temperamental. They were a good match, he admitted to himself. He could never have controlled her, never loved her like Elizabeth. "I do not expect you to understand my actions, nor do I feel the need to justify them to you. I wanted to protect him. I lost so much in my life. I never wanted him to experience that. I did not want to loose him, as I had lost everyone else I cared for. In the end, I lost everything, including my sanity."
"And I should believe you now?" she asked sarcastically.
"Does it matter? When you wake you will likely think that this was just a dream, you do not yet understand the difference between the temporal and the metaphysical. But yes, I want you to believe, for myself, for Ian. You love him, even though you are not ready to admit it. That is as it should be. But do not make the same mistakes that I have. I became so intent on my own desires, my own goals, that I forgot everything else. I was not a kind man, and you owe me nothing," There was a note of something in his voice that she could not quite place.
"You're damn right about that," she told him angrily.
"But I will ask a favor of you."
"Why should I do anything for you?" she asked him hotly, staring to rise from the chair.
"Because I can do no more to you? Because we both love him?"
"Your brand of love I think he can do without. What do you want?"
"Take care of him. You are all he has left." There was infinite sadness in the voice of this strange, cold man she had been so prepared to hate.
"I would do that anyway, you know that," she told him finally, wondering why she was sitting in here in a dream saying things to Irons that a week ago she would have cut out her own tongue for even thinking about.
"Then all that I have left is one thing. You will find some of what you need hidden in my private office. Ask Ian. He will show you. Regardless of what you may think of me, I do love him." Those last words ringing in her ears, she felt the room fade and she drifted deeper into sleep, folding herself tightly around Ian.
Kenneth Irons continued to sit alone in his former room, watching the fire. He had done what he came to do and knew he should go but it was hard to move from this spot, this place and time. After a while he heard a voice call his name.
"Kenneth, why are you still here?" she asked as she came over and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Just thinking and remembering," he told her, his voice soft and a little sad.
"The time for that is past, you know that. Come back with me. You have done what was necessary."
"She could never be you." He looked up into the face of the woman at his side.
"We are the same."
"Yes, and no. the world changed. She is as you would have been, had you been born in this place and time. I never truly understood that. I expected it to be so simple, to recapture you. But the world had changed, she had changed and inside I had not."
"It no longer matters, if you had succeeded, we would not now be together. You have been here long enough. Leave them to make their own way." Elizabeth Bronte held out a hand to him and he took it, kissing it softly before rising from his chair and putting an arm around her.
"Yes, my love, I have stayed long enough."
"Yes, Ian, I am here, is this not what you wished?"
"Yes.No.I no longer know."
"You are confused. Your new found love for Sara makes this a difficult transition for you."
Not as difficult as without her, he thought. "Yes, Sir" he said, lowering his head from force of habit. He huddled in his robe wishing he could hide his rising shame. How could he have been so foolish, to come here like this? For a moment he buried his head in his chest, trying to sort out the whirlwind of rising feelings. He was no longer the man he had when his father died and he no longer knew how to act. But he had changed; he no longer lived at his father's whim. He drew himself up in his chair and raised his head to face his own personal demon. "I was unprepared father. You did not make this simple. You asked for something which you had no right to." His voice strengthened as he allowed some of the pain, the hurt to show through.
"I asked for your loyalty. She killed me, is it not your duty to seek revenge?"
"No, there can be no vengeance for suicide. You gave me two duties, to follow your orders and to protect her. You are dead, so I chose to protect her."
"From loyalty to me, or love for her?" the shadowy figure asked.
"Both, and love for the man you were. I have changed, father. I no longer live in your shadow. I walk in the light beside her, she accepts me and makes me stronger. You were wrong, emotional attachments strengthen you because they give you something worth living for. You never understood that."
"You are wrong, my son. I did understand.once. But I had forgotten." Kenneth Irons' ghost looked at his son and for the first time in years Ian saw him truly smile. "I am proud of you Ian. You have done well, better perhaps than I had any right to hope for. Return to your lady, she needs you, and now you have the strength you need." Ian looked at his father, the father he had loved sitting there and a tear slid down his cheek.
"Will you return?" he asked, unsure as to whether he really wanted an answer.
"Perhaps, now go, this place is too much in the past, Sara is your future." Ian rose to leave pausing at the door to look back. His father's shadow was still sitting there by the fire as he had been in life. As he closed the door behind him he thought he heard the words that he had waited so many years to hear. "I love you, Ian." He stood in the hallway a moment, his back against the door, letting the tears flow. When they stopped, he returned to his room quietly, not wanting to wake Sara. He realized he had not locked the door and thought about turning back. No, he told himself, it is time. Ian removed his robe and slipped back into bed. She reached out instinctively and folded him into her arms and her sleep. As he drifted off he smiled, he knew now that no matter what happened he could handle it.
Sara was dreaming, she knew that. It was strange the way she seemed to be following Ian as he had followed her. She watched from a distance as he built the fire in Irons' room, that could only be the place they were. He could not see her she was like a ghost, insubstantial. She looked around the room, it was old fashioned and kind of stuffy, the kind of thing you expect from someone's grandmother. She turned around, even wandered into the bedroom; after all it was only a dream. Sara saw a picture sitting on the nightstand, a picture of Irons and a very small child that could only be Ian. It struck her as odd; she never would have thought him capable of caring enough to keep a picture. She heard the sound of voices and moved back to the other room. Ian was sitting in one of the chairs head down, listening to someone that she could not see. She rushed over hearing Kenneth Irons' voice soft, persuasive even, talking to his son about revenge. She watched in horror as Ian huddled there like a child. She wanted to scream, to make him hear her, to understand that she was there, that Irons couldn't hurt him anymore. But Ian would not remain cowed, as she watched he stood up to his father, stood up for himself and for her, and Irons relented. The dream was getting more confusing by the minute. Irons was reassuring his son; this could not be the same man that had haunted her dreams, that had tried to kill her. She stood in shock, listening to the words but not comprehending. Finally she watched Ian rise and leave the room, hearing at last of his father's love. Sara wondered if the dream would end now and she would wake up next to him even more confused than before.
"Sara, would you join me?" Irons said from his place by the fire. She jumped at the sound of his voice addressing her as thought he had known all along she was there. Sara moved forward, startled.
"This is a dream, you can't be here, this can't be happening." She sat down in the chair Ian had vacated.
"But it is, someday you will learn that things are not necessarily as they appear. You are in a dream, but you are also here." "Then why couldn't Ian see me?"
"Because he was not meant to. He needed to be sure he was strong enough to do what you asked. In order to do that he had to face his fears, to face me, stand up to me, and justify his actions to himself. There is still much pain and guilt in him."
"Yeah, whose fault is that? What are you trying to do to him now? Haven't you done enough?"
"Enough, and more than enough. Sara, I know that all of this is hard for you to understand." He looked at the woman, so much like Elizabeth and yet not. She was hot blooded, hardheaded and temperamental. They were a good match, he admitted to himself. He could never have controlled her, never loved her like Elizabeth. "I do not expect you to understand my actions, nor do I feel the need to justify them to you. I wanted to protect him. I lost so much in my life. I never wanted him to experience that. I did not want to loose him, as I had lost everyone else I cared for. In the end, I lost everything, including my sanity."
"And I should believe you now?" she asked sarcastically.
"Does it matter? When you wake you will likely think that this was just a dream, you do not yet understand the difference between the temporal and the metaphysical. But yes, I want you to believe, for myself, for Ian. You love him, even though you are not ready to admit it. That is as it should be. But do not make the same mistakes that I have. I became so intent on my own desires, my own goals, that I forgot everything else. I was not a kind man, and you owe me nothing," There was a note of something in his voice that she could not quite place.
"You're damn right about that," she told him angrily.
"But I will ask a favor of you."
"Why should I do anything for you?" she asked him hotly, staring to rise from the chair.
"Because I can do no more to you? Because we both love him?"
"Your brand of love I think he can do without. What do you want?"
"Take care of him. You are all he has left." There was infinite sadness in the voice of this strange, cold man she had been so prepared to hate.
"I would do that anyway, you know that," she told him finally, wondering why she was sitting in here in a dream saying things to Irons that a week ago she would have cut out her own tongue for even thinking about.
"Then all that I have left is one thing. You will find some of what you need hidden in my private office. Ask Ian. He will show you. Regardless of what you may think of me, I do love him." Those last words ringing in her ears, she felt the room fade and she drifted deeper into sleep, folding herself tightly around Ian.
Kenneth Irons continued to sit alone in his former room, watching the fire. He had done what he came to do and knew he should go but it was hard to move from this spot, this place and time. After a while he heard a voice call his name.
"Kenneth, why are you still here?" she asked as she came over and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Just thinking and remembering," he told her, his voice soft and a little sad.
"The time for that is past, you know that. Come back with me. You have done what was necessary."
"She could never be you." He looked up into the face of the woman at his side.
"We are the same."
"Yes, and no. the world changed. She is as you would have been, had you been born in this place and time. I never truly understood that. I expected it to be so simple, to recapture you. But the world had changed, she had changed and inside I had not."
"It no longer matters, if you had succeeded, we would not now be together. You have been here long enough. Leave them to make their own way." Elizabeth Bronte held out a hand to him and he took it, kissing it softly before rising from his chair and putting an arm around her.
"Yes, my love, I have stayed long enough."