Lillian

Chapter 3

A loud persistent knock outside her apartment door wrenched her from sleep and she just laid there on the living room sofa dazed, disoriented and unsure of where she was. Slowly it all came back to her: The house at Bluefields and her meeting with Richard. So it had just been a dream after all! A sharp emptiness filled her entire being and she sighed painfully, feeling on the verge of tears as if she had lost something dear to her. Why the hell did Vincent have to come banging down her door so early? Reluctantly she crawled out of the huge sectioned sofa feeling hollow and cheated. Even if it had been a dream and even if her lover had been a figment of her imagination she was entitled to romance in her life every now and again.

"Give me fifteen minutes Vin." She shouted testily, heading for the bathroom. Today was the day they would visit the old historic church. The drive would be a long one and despite the fact that she hated long drives she knew that she would enjoy this one for she would have all the time she needed to think about that strange dream and of the dashing young gentleman who had held her and kissed her so passionately.

When the car pulled up in front of the Bluefields Anglican Church the rain was drizzling lightly and a sweet wind rustled the tops of huge palm trees that lined the gently sloping driveway. The building was an impressive brick structure that stood on a hill overlooking the sea just as it had overlooked the sea for three hundred and twenty four years. It had seen the coming of pirate ships laden with bloody loot headed for the ill- fated town of Port Royal and it had borne witness to the arrival of slave ships burdened with human cargo. With its imposing structure it had welcomed the injured Captain Hawthorne to Jamaican shores and had bid him farewell on his tragic journey. It was for the most part a timeless piece of Jamaican history and as the two entered the building the muted voices of centuries called out to them.

Elaborately carved skulls with outstretched wings stood affixed to the walls amid fat cherubs and huge marble tablets honoring long dead patrons. They walked on ancient polished gravestones that adorned the aisle and listened to the hollow echo of their footsteps as they slowly approached the majestic, raised pulpit that boasted ancient, luxuriously carved mahogany work. As with all churches a thick silence reigned that made it undesirable to speak in a normal tone and they whispered what they needed to say to each other as they looked around them.

"If memory serves me well it's over this way Lillian" Vincent whispered gesturing toward a section of the church but Lillian knew somehow that it wasn't so.

"No Vincent it's over here."

She made her way through the pews to a large open window that had next to it a hovering cherubim coming from the wall with its mouth wide open in song. The plaque was large, of the finest marble and the carved words were etched deeply and painted in bronze:

Dedicated to Richard Theophalus Hawthorne, beloved son of this church, born on the seventeenth day of August 1830 and who died in Her Majesty's service on the eleventh day of June 1859.

"I thought you never came here before." Vincent mused and she shook her head slowly.

"Vincent you know I've never been so far out of Kingston before." She countered and as she read the words slowly to herself she instinctively placed her hand on the marble which was just as cold as the terse inscription and felt a strange, gnawing sadness in the pit of her stomach.

Just then Vincent's cell phone rang loudly and she turned to see him quickly exit the church, mumbling something unintelligible into the instrument. Strangely enough she felt relieved to see him go and found herself absent mindedly trailing the letters of the dead Captain's name over and over again with trembling fingers.

The strange dream from the night before filled her head with a vibrant clarity causing her fingers to rise to her lips where he had kissed her with passion she never knew existed.

"Now that I've found you, I will never leave your side Lillian." He had said and even though it was just a dream his arms had enclosed around her so protectively that she knew for the first time in her life now how it would feel to be loved; as if last night she had really been the recipient of affection she had never known in her life.

She closed her eyes and conjured his image effortlessly. Even now she could feel his presence near her and she sighed, sitting down for a moment. "What the hell is happening to you Lillian Parker?" she cursed herself softly and the voice that answered telling her to believe seemed to echo throughout the church and not in her head this time. Surprised but not really frightened she looked up sharply expecting to see him and saw nothing except the figures on the wall of the empty church. All was as quiet as before and chiding herself for her stupidity she took several photos of the plaque with her digital camera and exited the lonely building.

"How about some lunch Madam Curator?" Vincent asked as soon as they drove away from the old church. She had been strangely quiet on the way down that morning, pensive, staring blankly out the window as if something heavy was weighing on her mind. Also she had come out to him looking groggy as if she hadn't slept well. He glanced at her now, knowing that she had not heard a word. He had been friends with her long enough to know that all she wanted now was some space to think. In a day or two she would be herself again and they would laugh over whatever the problem had been. He sighed and stole an admiring look at her. She was indeed the most beautiful woman he had ever met but the most enchanting thing about that beauty was that she hardly seemed aware of it. Someday soon he would pluck up the courage to tell her how he really felt about her and stop hiding behind their platonic relationship. For now, though, their friendship would have to be enough. They drove on in silence for another ten minutes before he spoke again. He nudged her this time.

"How about some lunch? He repeated, speaking loudly and slowly as if speaking to someone deaf. She gave him a look of mock reproach and they both burst into laughter.

"O.k. I'm buying." She chuckled and reached for her handbag. It was one of those huge, ridiculous affairs that could be the perfect shopping container to bring to a hardware store. Right now it contained everything the typical urban female needed for survival and yet was more than three quarters empty. Lillian had always felt wary of overly feminine accessories and the gigantic handbag was no different. She fished around impatiently for her pocket book.

"I'll have to get myself a more practical..." she froze in mid-sentence, a feeling close to panic gripping her throat. For a while she couldn't speak and her hand trembled violently as she held the object in her hand. It had been real! It had to have all been real: his appearance, their conversation, everything. She exhaled loudly, a torrid rush of feelings flooding her head, making it hard for her to think as she nervously rubbed her fingers across the ancient looking bronze key, crudely marked with the initials R.T.H.

A/N

Another week, another chapter. Thank you guys so much for your support and encouragement. I'm really enjoying the journey thus far and I'm glad to be sharing it with you guys. See you again next week. Don't forget to vote, comment and share... It might motivate me to update more frequently.