Will You Teach Me…?

THIS IS THE EPILOGUE. If you haven't read Chapter 34 before, you've clicked the wrong button! For others who are still alive after reading Chapter 34, I hope this last part brings some comfort to your bruised little hearts…. And I can't wait to read your comments on this ending which, I think, was a surprise for a lot of you! And see you soon for more stories!

Thank y'all for following me throughout these almost 2 years of updates of Will You Teach Me...? It was another great writing experience for me and hopefully for you too. Enjoy reading this epilogue!

35. Epilogue

August 1983.

Claire had made no protest when Brianna had expressed the wish to go back to the twentieth century. She understood better than anyone else how it felt to live in an era in which Love no longer existed. Jamie, however, had argued for a few days before resigning himself. Brianna was nothing but a shadow of her former self, and when her nausea became impossible to hide, the family concluded that it was indeed best to reach the stone circle in Virginia and allow her to leave before being once again stuck with a baby unable to time travel.

Roger had come with her and Jeremiah. He had wanted to pick up the pieces of their relationship, to convince her that their marriage was not impossible to save, but telling him that she was expecting Stephen Bonnet's second child was all it took to put him off. After traveling through the stones, they had travelled back together to Boston. Brianna had visited Gayle's parents' (her former college roommate who had moved to Oregon two years earlier) to retrieve the spare keys to the Randall's house, and lent Roger some money to take the first plane back to Scotland. She had only seen him again on rare occasions, when he came to conferences or gatherings of Scottish clans – introducing him to the kids as "Uncle Roger".

No big loss…, she grumbled inwardly, squinting to read the Interstate-95 road signs despite the sun shining through the windshield. Raleigh. She hadn't driven halfway through North Carolina yet, but she had never been so close to River Run in eight years. And the closer she got, the more her mind drifted away from the driving. For the first time since she had ended her psychotherapy two years earlier, she was thinking about what she had left behind, but especially everything she had been though on her own. A path of healing, that had been difficult but necessary, but also a search – for her own, individual identity, then for a fulfilling job in mechanical engineering. For the very first time in her life, she had to build her own existence, without submitting to any parental or marital authority, and that had been no easy feat. To be completely honest, she wouldn't have made it without Dr. Pittman.

She would always remember the first time she had walked into his practice, very pregnant and an emotional wreck. She had asked him if he would agree to help her overcome a trauma that would certainly raise a lot of questions; questions that would not be answered if they involved names, places or dates. She only needed to understand what had happened to her, to learn how to live with her feelings and to grieve. Pittman had been intrigued, but he had accepted and she had therefore described everything from her rape, to her forced marriage with Stephen, the manipulations and psychological violence, and against all odds the attraction and the love that had bloomed between them, until his tragic death. And now, her terror of giving birth to a child who would never know her father, as well as raising another child who had lost his dad forever and would surely blame her for it one day.

The psychologist had listened attentively, aware that despite the elements she was hiding from him, all of this could not have been made up. They had therefore worked for many years together, taking each event in chronological order, starting with the rape and her first pregnancy. Brianna had so many things to settle with herself (and Stephen) that this event alone had needed almost six months of weekly sessions before they could move forward. Step by step. Until that blessed day of 1981 when they had shaken hands for the last time, promising to contact each other again if she needed it.

But she was at peace. She had accepted her feelings – no matter how twisted and problematic they were. She had healed, and traded her anger and frustration for gratitude. Brianna had two beautiful children, a stable job she had gotten after months of searching (employers being somewhat put off by the six-year gap in her resume) and also… she was supporting herself. She didn't need anyone and that was perhaps her greatest pride. She had had more than her share of men to tell her what to do. That time was definitely over.

Yet, the more she drove, the more she felt the irrepressible urge to go have a look. To see what was left of the plantation, what had become of the places she had known two hundred years earlier. Just as the stones buzzed in her ears and dragged her to them like a magnet, North Carolina was calling her. But she would resist. It was easy after all; all she had to do was to stay on that damn highway and drive to their destination.

"New Bern…?"

Jeremiah – 13 years old and sitting in the front passenger seat – startled her and she swerved a bit, glancing at the central rear-view mirror in panic. The slight jolt had not woken Amanda up, and the seven and a half! year old – as she always proudly pointed out – was still sleeping soundly, with her mouth ajar and her head tilted in a weird angle. Too engrossed in her thoughts, Brianna had almost forgotten that she was not alone in the car and that the three of them were in the middle of their road trip from Boston to Orlando, Florida – stronghold of Mickey Mouse's kingdom, where they had planned to spend a few days of family fun.

"Sorry, I was focused on the road. What did you say?", Brianna asked, glancing at her son who was studying the huge road map of North Carolina. Jeremiah loved maps and road trips. And he had insisted on buying a complete and detailed map for each and every state they would drive through on their journey. He also religiously kept a travel diary where he noted each stopover town, as well as each historical building they visited and photographed using small disposable cameras.

Jeremiah gave her the weary signature look that every teenagers had at some point, and tapped on his map. "New Bern. I was wondering why we stopped going there..."

A cold shiver ran down Brianna's spine. Eight years earlier, she had decided not to speak about Stephen to Jem anymore. At five years old, he was still young enough to forget, and the change in environment and time had accelerated the process. The nightmares and nighttime crying caused by Stephen's arrest had stopped within a few months. Then, attending primary school had gotten his brain busy enough to distract him from his childhood memories. Brianna was certain that any trace of their past had been washed away, but she had been obviously wrong. And she was sure she hadn't said the words New Bern, Wilmington, Fraser's Ridge, or River Run once in his presence.

"We used to live around here, right?", Jeremiah went on, looking down at the map. "With daddy."

Brianna clenched her fingers on the steering wheel, summoning all her inner strength not to panic and look completely normal.

"Before we moved to Boston and changed our name to Randall. Something about a river…", he muttered, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"River Run", Brianna whispered before she could help herself. There was an eerie silence in the car. Jeremiah had put his hands on the map – crumpling the forests and the Raleigh Ring Road a bit – and was looking at her. Calmly, as if he expected – wanted – her to say more.

Bree pursed her lips, keeping her eyes on the road. "You never told me you remembered…", she eluded, chuckling nervously.

Jeremiah pouted. "When I was little, I didn't want to forget. Every night, I told myself that daddy would come back. I used to think about him, about River Run, I was trying to memorize images and sounds but… I forgot stuff anyway. Like his face…", he finished darkly as if he had just announced an F in Math despite working hard for it.

Brianna's heart was pounding in her chest. She felt like she'd lived a lie for years, deluded herself into naively thinking that Jeremiah had no memory of their old life. A wave of guilt washed over her as she realized that she had totally neglected that aspect of her son's psyche. But then, if he had tried to hold on to his memories without ever telling her, how was she supposed to know? She took a deep breath.

"Do you remember anything else?"

Jeremiah's face lit up and he nodded. "I had a puppy! But I forgot his name."

"His name was Blue", Brianna said with a tight smile. The dog had stayed with the Frasers, which had caused more screaming and crying when Jemmy had to leave him behind. But luckily, that wasn't the memory he had chosen to hold on to.

"And I remember River Run was some sort of castle. Much bigger and nicer than our current house…"

"Hey! Your grandfather Frank loved that house and took great care of it. Have some respect!", Bree joked as Jeremiah rolled his eyes.

"I also remember falling in the water one day, and dad saved me. That's why I hate swimming lessons at school and why stupid Billy Malone always makes fun of me..."

They drove past a large green sign on the right, that indicated the exit to Selma/Pine Level/Goldsboro. If I get out here and take the 70, we can be in New Bern in an hour and a half. It's just a small detour… Carolina was calling her, ever louder, ever more insistent, and she gripped the steering wheel again. The deceleration lane was getting inexorably closer. At first a distant point on the horizon, its curve was now becoming clearer and before she could stop herself, Brianna opened her mouth.

"Do you want to stop in New Bern? And then drive along the coast to Wilmington?"

Jeremiah took two or three seconds to answer. Something seemed to be breaking. As if an invisible wall made of ice between them had just started to crack.

"Yeah."

The car had just reached the exit when Brianna urgently left the highway, raising dust in her wake. Jeremiah made a funny face and immediately turned around to see if his little sister had been awakened by the sudden change in direction. But the little girl… was still soundly sleeping.

A few minutes later, they were on the U.S. Highway 70, which would take them straight to town, and silence fell again between Brianna and her son. But there was some sort of excitement mixed with apprehension floating in the air. Jeremiah had opened a door that would be hard to close again. But maybe it was for the best. He was old enough to understand and she was feeling ready to talk. He wouldn't know everything, of course, but just enough to fill in the blanks of his childhood.

After another hour of driving, they had just passed Kinston when Jeremiah spoke again.

"Why don't you ever draw dad?"

Brianna's eyes involuntarily drifted to her purse. According to Stephen's last wishes, she had collected his belongings from the jail. She had even worn his jacket the entire trip from New Bern to the stones circle, until her own scent eventually replaced Stephen's and she had left it in the past. She had not been able to do that with the wallet and its contents, however. But Jeremiah did not know that.

"I think… it hurt too much."

"Because he's dead?"

Brianna jumped. She had been pretty vague the few times Jeremiah had asked why he didn't have a dad, lying to him about a breakup gone wrong. Jeremiah must have expected this reaction because he sighed again and sulked, staring at the road.

"Uncle Roger told me."

"What? When?", Bree growled, both surprised and angry. How had Roger been able – during the few days he had been around her kids over the last eight years – to tell Jem about this?

"I don't know… I think that was before the reading contest at the end of primary school. He had spent a few days here, you guys had argued again and when he left he told me that it was time for you to stop living with the memory of a dead person or something like that… That's how I knew."

Brianna was speechless, as the memory of the said argument and contest came back to her. "Wait a minute, that's why you stopped talking for days and completely failed your contest? You told me you were just nervous!"

"I lied", Jeremiah said with a pointed look, meaning she was not exactly a role model in that area either.

Brianna gritted her teeth and shook her head. "Roger, you fucking dickhead."

Jeremiah's eyebrows rose and a smirk – that always reminded Bree of a certain Irishman's – crept across his lips. "That's two dollars for the swear jar."

"Believe me, I could easily add three hundred more if I didn't stop myself…"

"Please do. The garden would look so cool with a portable pool…"

Bree chuckled, gradually forgetting her anger thanks to her son's humor and maturity despite the situation. By wanting to overprotect him, she had more or less forced him to face all of this alone, but that was a mistake she would not make again. It was time to lift the veil on all her secrets. Before Roger – out of sheer malice – could do it. And she would give him what he deserved over the phone when they got back from Orlando.

"Look inside my purse." Jeremiah leaned down to grab Bree's purse at his feet and as he unzipped it, she added: "There's an old leather wallet near the house keys. Open it."

Frowning, Jeremiah complied and grabbed the item. Inside, his mother had put a few credit cards, business cards and dollar bills. But his eye was immediately caught by a yellowed piece of paper protruding from one of the compartments. Jem carefully took it out and his heart skipped a beat. There was the portrait of a little boy sitting on a man's lap. No need for explanations. Out of pure instinct, and even if he had come across the drawing by chance, he would have recognized himself as well as his father. The resemblance between them was striking, even on a black-and-white sketch, and Jeremiah gulped, trying to get rid of the painful lump in his throat.

"Yes, that's him", he said simply.

It was not a question, but a simple statement, as if the last missing pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that was his memory had just been put together. As for Brianna, it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to suppress her emotions and she discreetly rubbed her left eye to get rid of the few tears blurring her vision.

"He looks like he's wearing Grandpa's clothes…", Jeremiah scoffed.

"Yeah, it's…um…you know, Grandpa and Grandma were working in a theme park, with old costumes and… I made this drawing of you and your dad wearing these costumes, so…"

Brianna's voice died in her throat as she saw Jeremiah's weary, disapproving look. A look that screamed: bullshit. So she breathed a long sigh and went back to staring at the road.

Jeremiah glanced at his little sister, who was still sleeping, and turned back to his mother. "We're not from around here, right?"

Brianna laughed nervously. "No, Jem, we are not aliens from another planet…"

"I'm not stupid, mom. We have History lessons at school, remember?"

Silence fell in the car, and Jemmy looked down at his father's proud, smiling face on the paper. Until Brianna talked again.

"We are from around here. But also, not really."

Jeremiah nodded, as if that sentence made perfect sense to him. Oddly enough, Brianna sensed that he would not ask more questions on the matter. Maybe the thought of having mysteriously traveled back in time or being born in another era still scared him too much. Instead, he leaned back more comfortably in his seat, kicked off his sneakers, and put his feet up on the dashboard, holding Stephen's portrait at eye level to memorize every detail.

"I will ask one day, you know…", he muttered without looking at his mother, and Bree nodded, her eyes on the road.

"And on that day, I will give you answers."

~o~

Brianna parked the car in downtown New Bern and after waking Amanda up, the three of them went to find a small restaurant on the banks of the Neuse River for lunch. Then after wolfing down their burgers, they had gone for a walk around the city. Jeremiah had seemed rather wary during their visit, as he did not recognize the town he had once known. But he had not broached the subject again and focused his attention on Amanda, taking her to a playground near the river. That was when Brianna had realized he was doing with his sister the exact same thing she had done with him as a mother. Hide the truth as a way to protect. It was an unnecessary precaution, however, since Amanda had never known anything else than the twentieth century.

The star attraction in the children's playground was a small wooden pirate ship, whose name was proudly displayed across the bow on a sign painted in black letters: the Sturdy Beggar. A rope net allowed kids to climb onto the deck and various small seesaw games had been placed all around. Brianna smiled as Amanda – with Jeremiah's help – climbed up the net, and as she backed off toward the river, a metal sign dug painfully into the flesh of her back. And she turned around.

The tide was low, making the tall, modern metal pole erected in the mud even more impossible to ignore. A feeling of déjà vu made her shiver and she looked down at the sign she had just bumped into. It was one of those tourist signs, full of historical details, and she read the few lines carved into the metal.

"Here died many pirates, executed for their crimes between 1650 and 1780, including Stephen Bonnet (1737-1775), notorious smuggler and adviser to Governor William Tryon (1729-1775).

The condemned were tied by the feet and hands at low tide, waiting hours for the high tide that would end their lives.

This metal pole was erected here in their memory. May they rest in peace."

Brianna held her breath. Without even knowing it, she had decided to stop here of all places, where her heart had broken forever eight years (or rather two hundred and eight years) ago. Her gaze went back to the pole and she immediately felt the cold water on her skin, through her clothes; the waves splashing her face every now and then; her trembling lips as she kissed her husband one last time. It was too much. She turned away, ready to run, when her eyes fell on Jemmy and Amanda still playing on the Sturdy Beggar. He would have loved to know them, to watch them grow up… and this place – this stupid playground right next to where he had died – was perhaps the only time both her children would be geographically close to their father.

So she changed her mind and backed up again to stand next to the sign. Her fingers gently brushed the Irishman's name and a sad smile appeared on her lips as she turned toward Jem and "Amandine".

"They're perfect, see…?", she whispered, her voice broken. "I'm glad I have them…"

This time a tear managed to make its way out of her eyelid and roll down her cheek. She didn't wipe it. Because it would be the last. It was time.

She was about to go back to her children when a feeling of intense warmth, like a tight embrace, washed over her and for a few seconds, she could have sworn that Stephen was right here, his chest pressed against her back and his arms circling her waist. And the sea breeze coming from the shore became a hot and comforting breath in the crook of her neck.

The feeling didn't last long, though. And no sooner had she started to realize it was there and abandoned herself in Stephen's arms, than the heat and pressure around her body disappeared. There was no one here but her and her kids, and yet there had been something else. Something that had hugged her tight and whispered in her ear.

"Mommy, mommy, look!"

Brianna turned back to the playground, where Amanda had climbed on the top level of the pirate ship, waving her arms in victory.

"I'm coming, Mandy!"

Her fingers brushed the words "Stephen Bonnet" again, her gaze fell one last time on the lonely pole in the muddy water, and she smiled.

Goodbye, mo fíorghrá.

THE END