Speculation

Speculation - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

John stood in the doorway gazing out upon a sun-dappled lawn. The scent of wild roses and honeysuckle still hung in the cool morning air,heightening his senses as he stepped out into the pleasant sunlight. The warmth caressed his skin, calling to his mind an enchanting vision of Margaret.

A small smile played upon John's face as he slowly walked over to a near by hedgerow that appeared to have no roses; something had caught his eye. Upon examining the hedge, he spied the glint of yellow that had captivated his attention. John's smile widened as he gently reached out, caressing the velvety yellow petals. His quiet reverie was suddenly broken when he heard the sound of laughter floating on the morning breeze carrying along with it his name: "John". Turning towards the sound, his breath caught as he spotted Margaret in her soft white muslin gown carrying a basket of fresh picked flowers. She waved at him, full of laughter and smiles. He waved back, grinning with open delight as she quickly set her basket down and ran towards him with the pure,abandoned glee of a child.

His heart soared as he took several steps to close the gap between them; He longed for the warmth and delight of her loving embrace. Faintly,off in the distance a clock chimed the hour. Her sweet laughter mingled with his as he gathered her into his welcoming warm hold, enraptured by the feel of her soft arms around his neck as she clung tightly to him; he never wanted to let her go.

The knell of the clock bell grew steadily louder and John felt an empty darkness slowly creep over him. Gradually he felt Margaret slipping from his embrace with each strike of the clock, it was as if she no longer held form or substance. The darkness now quickly enclosed him like a thick sepulchral fog; Margaret was gone. The eleventh hour rang out loudly and John awoke with a start crying out with a single anguished "No!"

His breathing was uneven and rapid as he found himself alone and in the dark. Slowly, by degrees he tried to regain his mental focus, and his rapid breathing began to slow. As he reoriented himself to the familiar surroundings of his darkened office, he realized that he had fallen asleep at his desk and that once again Margaret had come to him and then slipped away.

John sat for some time in the dark shadows of his office thinking of Margaret: the way she had looked in her soft gown waving and smiling at him, her sweet voice calling out his christian name, her laughter as she ran, full of life, into his welcoming arms. It was all so real. He didn't push these thoughts of her away as his rational mind said he ought,but welcomed them. He stored these precious dreams away for they invigorated him; they were his very life, essence and soul. With each new dream, he felt at times that he lived half of his life in pure fantasy, where he longed to be and where his heart soared; and the other half in the stark bleak reality of what his world truly was: a life devoid of joy, empty and dismal.... a world without Margaret.

Raking his hands through his thick dark hair a small sigh escaped his lips. Margaret was a vision he clung to; for those few precious moments, she was his and his alone and his world was filled with a joy that had no comparison like it in all the world. With this last lingering thought, he glanced over at the clock surprised that it was drawing close to midnight. Removing his mother's shawl from his shoulders he rose up from his desk while stretching his stiff, tired limbs. With the shawl in hand, he picked up his coat and walked out of his office, locking the door behind him and headed home.

Stepping outside into the mill yard, the chill, damp night air cut to his bone, evoking an involuntary shiver that ran through his very being. Cold rarely bothered Mr. Thornton, but he found himself quickly throwing his coat on, drawing it close about him, but the added layer did nothing to stave off this utter cold that now engulfed him. Quickening his strides he longed for the elusive warmth of the Helstone sun, and Margaret's sunny laughter with her luminous blue eyes gazing lovingly into his own, and at that moment he desperately ached for the feel of her soft touch, that to him seemed like a soft gentle kiss against his skin. He tried fervently to remember every detail of his dream as if somehow by gathering these fragments about him it would ward off this cold that was gnawing at his very soul.