The Scent of a Rose

Ashes to Ashes

A single bell tolled, its echoes reaching out across the sky drawing those who came to pay their respects to enter its doors. On quiet tyers a car pulled up in front of the brownstone church followed by half a dozen sombre coloured vehicles. As the car drew to a stop, several men moved forward each trying to open the door for the lady whose Master they came to bury today.

Finally one managed to wrench the door open and offered his hand to the woman inside. She smiled bravely up at him, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. She would not break down and dishonour her Master, not this day. Taking his hand she accepted his help, her bones aching a little from the recent cold and turned raising her face to the warm Sun shining through the trees.

Her son came and took her arm, His girl behind him, murmuring soft words to those who surrounded them as he ushered her into the cool church. The sudden dimness of the church and the smell of the incense added to the sense on unreality she felt. Her home was full of the woody smell of his favourite Cuban cigars, the sweet smelling roses that grew outside the windows and the scent of his distinctive aftershave, with its hint of sandalwood and musky undertones so unlike the acrid incense searing her nose.

She sat facing the open coffin in the front pew next to the aisle. The priest smiled at her and nodded gently in her direction and began to speak. Her son and His girl next to her, her hand still held firm is his. So similar to his fathers and yet...different. The same square tipped fingers, long and firm. Same broad palm. Strong hands. And yet..different. She remembered when his hands had been much smaller. Tiny even.

*                                    *                                          

“Why is it taking so long?” The voice sounded stressed, angry, tired, panicked. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated on breathing as the contraction finished.

“Babies come when they will come” the doctor soothed. “He just doesn’t want to come out yet”

“But she is in PAIN. Do something!” He roared. The command tone flowed over her. She moaned as the next contraction seized her and again the waves of ache and pain swelled. She panted, focusing on her body, gripping the hand that held hers tight, tighter. A cool cloth bathed her brow, a trembling hand stroked her hair... His voice whispered in her ear “Be strong my beloved, I am here”.

Time slipped into a haze of searing pain and pressure. She clung to His hand, His voice – they were her lifeline as the pain rose, ebbed and flowed. Until finally...

“We are almost there. Time to get ready” The doctor slid his arm around her shoulder and helped her ease up into a half sitting position her foot against his hip her other against the midwife’s on the other side. Her Master sat behind her, his arms around her, his breath in her ear.

“Here we go.. Home stretch” The doctor encouraged. More pain, panting, breathing, screaming as the head emerged. His voice encouraged her on “Breath with me my love” and she focused one last time for a final effort until finally her son, their son, lay wet and bloody on her belly, the cord joining them throbbing in time with her heart. The doctor reached across with the forceps and scissors and gave them to Him so he could cut the cord that bound her to her son.

The tiny form, warm and mewling softly lay in her arms and blanket tucked gently around them to keep them both warm. His hands stroked the bundle on her chest, so gentle yet so strong.

“I am so very proud of you my love.” She looked up and smiled at Him, basking in his love. His forehead rested against hers “I am... in awe of you. Even though I have pushed you at times, taken you to your limits, I could not imagine, ever, pushing you this hard ever again. I am sorry my love for putting you through this” His voice hitched.

“My lover...”He raised his head, “You think I did this alone? I felt you with me all the way, when I felt like faltering, like giving up I felt you hold me up. I could not let you down.” She lifted her tired hand and cupped His face. “I love you my Master. I could not fail you”

The baby squirmed and mewled again. She grasped his tiny hands and held them up to his father. The tiny fist lay in his huge palm, the tiny fingers curled and each tipped with a perfect fingernail.

“One day, when you grow up, you will be a Man, like your father and your hands will hold your son.”. She looked up and smiled at the Man at the centre of her world, her heart full of love for both of the men now in her life.

*                                        *                                    

Except now there was only one again...

The Priest was finishing his rituals and soon would come the time to say goodbye. Two of their friends had stood and spoken of Him, His strength, His wisdom, His love for her and their son. The words had flowed over her like water, her eyes fixed to the candles, watching the flames dance and dip in the air. The music swelled and voices lifted in song.

Finally she rose, with her son at her side and approached the coffin to say farewell to her Love. As she approached she dipped her hand in to her pocket and withdrew a small silk bag. She reached down and stroked his face with her fingers..

“I am only saying goodbye to your body my love, I know you are still with me and will be until I die” and with that she scattered half of the dried white and red rose petals from her formal collaring ceremony so many years earlier on his chest. “Wait for me my love, my Master”

And turned away...