Hallelujah

Hey Jude

Hi. Thanks for stopping by. This fic relies heavily on a soundtrack. I've decided to include relevant songs at the beginning of each chapter, so you can follow the bouncing ball (so to speak) if you like. For this little baby intro, you only need one: Hey Jude by Wilson Pickett. I hope you enjoy my first long multi-chapter piece!

Hey Jude

What day was it? Felt rather like a Sunday. Not that it seemed to matter anymore. Days bled into nights. Nights were quiet. Days were sunny. Birds chirped. Butterflies were in the flowers. Her little cabin was home and perfect. She'd been here now in the woods for...days. Weeks? Maybe months. It could have been years. It didn't matter because it was happiness.

Peace.

She had...memories. Memories of some far-removed former life. A little girl in a blue dress, alive and well as a woman. Kit Walker, smiling and spinning her beneath his arm. Thomas and Julia - those two little comets spiraling toward greatness. Songs and smoke. A smiling young nun. Some man or another. One she'd loved? These things she could call on whenever she wanted, and banish whenever she needed.

Somewhere along the way, she'd learned things:

She could make coffee without touching a kettle.

She could have no birds or all of them - if she wanted.

She could wear anything she liked without having to change.

She could change the curtains, windows, the walls on a whim. (Today knotty pine, but she didn't care for it.)

Blink and think.

This morning there was no cream in the refrigerator. She blinked and...there was a cold glass bottle.

From her porch perch on a stony outcropping, she could see a gulch. Through the autumn leaves, she could see a waterfall in the distance. This seemed to be the only thing she couldn't change here, not that she minded. Not at all. She couldn't think of anything more perfect.

Was she lonely? She didn't know that feeling anymore. Peace overtook all else. And peace made the best damn cup of coffee this side of heaven. Because it certainly felt like heaven to Jude, if not quite what the convent had sold her.

Such a pleasant chill just beginning to bite... She'd left the front door open so she could hear the kitchen radio while she lounged on the porch swing. Wilson Pickett was singing to her.

Hey Jude - don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better

Why did it feel like something was going to happen? She hadn't known anticipation in so long. Nervousness? No...it was just sort of a waiting.

Hey Jude don't be afraid

You were made to go out and get her

The minute you let her under your skin

Then you begin to make it better

Whatever the damned feeling was it was making her relaxing day difficult. She sighed, blinked, and puffed up the pillows on the porch swing. That was a little better. A cardinal flitted onto the porch rail, flirting.

And anytime you feel the pain

Hey Jude refrain

Don't carry the world upon your shoulders