A/N: Thank you to the person who's fearful of my name who pointed out my errors. Much appreciated. Thanks to all who have reviewed.
I was warm and lying on something soft. Apparently the dream wasn't over yet. I fervently prayed it wasn't a dream after all. Slowly, as my eyes opened, they revealed 4 walls…well 3 that I could see…of a sky colored blue and more ducks. And what I assumed were toys. Shelves with books. A small dresser also decorated with ducks. I stopped for a moment wondering what was with the ducks, but continued looking around…what? My room? A room decorated especially for me. By people who loved me. They didn't know what I'd become, yet they loved me. Had only known me little more than a day. My mother had known me far longer and hated me. I doubt she'd ever loved me. I doubt there was ever that loving gleam in her eye that there had been in Marie's and my new father's. She hated me for something I couldn't help.
I took another look around the room. A room I wouldn't be a prisoner in. The windows wouldn't be boarded up. Emotion welled up inside me. I felt tears streaming from my eyes. For some reason God had granted me another chance at life. I had done nothing in my previous life to deserve this. Except perhaps releasing Christine to the boy. That one good deed had apparently been my saving grace.
So there I lay weeping in my crib. Two days old…maybe three, not sure how long I slept. If you were to ask me what kind I tears I was shedding, I doubt I would be able to tell you. Possibly happiness at the new life that had been dealt to me, perhaps regretful for deeds done in my former life, hateful maybe for my former mother, fearful for the fact that I may never find Christine in this life. Or perhaps I was crying for the hell of it. One wail and I could have my new parents running to feed, change, or just soothe me. But I didn't need any of that at the moment.
Instead I thought about Christine. What had happened to her? I suppose she married that boy. Had they had children? How had she died? I hope she had many children, for she would have been a wonderful mother. She was capable of love. I wonder now if she ever felt love for me, even when I was her Angel of Music. For a moment while and for a moment after our second kiss, I thought she may love me. She'd only done it for the boy, though, I know that now.
I could be everything she needed now. Surely God wouldn't grant me a second life, and not let me have her to love. I would spend my life searching for her. Life won't be worth living without her.
I'd stopped crying I'd realized. But I was hungry. My first thought was to ignore it. Then I remembered how my skeletal frame had disgusted everyone. I had obviously died when I was just two and 40. I needed to eat, be healthy. So I opened my mouth and cried. Father was the first to my room. I had already received far many more hugs and kisses than I had in my whole life before. I got to see much more of our home as he carried me down a hall, and down some stairs.
Marie waited in what appeared to be a kitchen. With a bottle. For me. Tears welled up again. In happiness this time. That I knew for certain. When Father handed me over to Marie, she gently wiped the tears from my face and pushed the nipple of the bottle into my waiting mouth.