A beating heart

Chapter 18

18.

The slight breeze from the lake made some loose strands of her chestnut brown hair dance around her face. The water was calm before her and the waves flat as a mirror, reflecting the sun's golden rays. A thin layer of fabric, her favorite shawl, deep blue with delicate golden embellishments, was draped across her shoulders and secured into a knot before her chest.

It wasn't a hot day but an unfamiliar warmth filled her body, keeping the bumps from her skin as she faced the cool air. She had always loved the outdoors, the peace and quiet only interrupted by the moving water and the birds singing in the trees.

Her chest rose and fell with every breath, the rhythm slow but steady, and her mind was at ease.

„Maman" the sudden noise startled her and she was unsure if she hadn't simply imagined it in her head.

As she looked around, the gardens were still empty, not a person in sight. She was alone. Breathing out she tried to ease her worries.

„Maman" there it was again, louder and more distinct this time.

Her eyes frenetically searched the grass an she turned her head, clutching the shawl tighter around her shoulders.

She thought she had seen one of the bushes move, but it must have been just a bird or the cool wind. There was still no-one besides her on the south lawn.

Her heart beat quickened and the feeling of calmness, that had occupied her mind just minutes before, was gone as she hectically tried to think of an explanation for the strange voice.

„Maman" this time the voice was closer and she could feel something pulling at her skirts.

She flinched and it took all of her self-control not to cry out in horror. There was something, someone, right next to her, touching her. Her mind was reeling, trying to block out the panic, she could feel creeping up her spine. Goosebumps covered the exposed patches of her skin and she shivered involuntarily, the air still warm around her. She turned in both directions ruffling her skirts as she frantically sought to find the origin of the noise but there was nothing there.

She could feel the panic slowly starting to take control as her breaths grew more hitched and her heart was racing beneath her ribs, causing her pulse to radiate through her fingers. And the rhythmic sound of her pumping blood clogged her ears, drowning out any other sound.

She wanted to call out but her voice failed her, not a single sound escaping her trembling lips.

„Maman, look." she was now certain, it was a voice calling to her, not simply the wind.

Something tugged at her skirts again and this time she could see who had uttered the words.

Her hair was dark, just like her own, and her sweet face was beaming at her, as the little girl stretched out a skinny arm towards her.

„Look, maman." her little fist opened and she poured something cool and heavy into Mary's hand.

The stones were smooth, their surfaces polished by the water and they sparkled in the warm sunlight.

When a moment ago, she had still been scared, her mind had suddenly calmed down. She had never seen the girl before and she wasn't sure why, but the voice and face of the child before her seemed so intently familiar.

„Anne" she whispered, her eyes widening in utter disbelieve.

„Yes, maman?" the girl sheepishly bit her full bottom lip as her eyes stared back at her questioningly.

The rocks, she had seen them before, she was certain. She remembered and it hit her hard, she had been her before in the same position with the stones pressing softly against her palm.