Weeping Willows

Best Laid Plans

Chapter 39

The next morning Elizabeth woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. She was determined to make peace with the past year instead of hiding from it. When she had first penned letters to William Bennett that had been her intention, but she was also moving at a snail's pace and it was beginning to feel more like procrastinating then actually trying. If she was serious about putting everything behind her then she was going to have to step out of the comfort zone. As she got herself ready for the day, she went over how she would approach Mason when he got there. She didn't want to make it obvious that she was talking to him about getting help but thought if she went off alone with Mason the others might wonder or put two and two together. While Elizabeth was ready to get help with dealing with the mess she called emotions she didn't want everyone in the know yet. Perhaps she could give him a subtle sign or something and meet him clandestine. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her audacious ideas.

Walking out of her room she stopped looking at the door to the studio contemplating writing another letter. It was starting to become a habit every time she made a major decision these days, she almost felt compelled to write a letter about it. It was almost like the letters had become a journal of sorts. She was definitely writing to him way more then she read his. Partially because there weren't that many letters from William in her possession to begin with. She wanted to savor each one in a way.

After a short deliberation with herself Elizabeth decided to write him again. There was a lot to talk to him about and somethings that she hadn't shared yet. If getting it down on paper was helping her to at least be able to bring things up in conversation, then what could it hurt to relinquish the rest of her secrets. Besides it's not like anyone was actually reading them anyway. With her mind made up she checked the time briefly to make sure no one would see her and entered the room. Elizabeth went through her ritual of taking out some of the old stationary along with her calligraphy set. This time however she also took out the elaborate plume pen too. She had decided to be a little fancy today and perhaps she would write every letter here after with it as a part of her ritual. It was like a little secret she held, and a good secret deserved a special implement. Dipping the pen in her jar of Indian ink she smiled as it smoothly ran across the rough paper.

Dear William,

I want to start off by telling you about this beautiful pen I found tucked away in the attic. I was completely disheartened the other day as I went through the art supplies that had been found. Most of them had not been packed away properly and most everything was ruined. I know it is silly to feel that way about objects, but my artistic side is an extension of myself. Not just my physical body but like a piece of my soul itself. When I saw all those art supplies wrecked it was like that piece of myself that can only come out through that talent was cut off. I truly have no other way to describe it. It may not make much sense to you but bear with me please. Anyway, we later found a keepsake box that I think belonged to the artist in your family. Inside was an old hat box that was filled with an astonishing surprise. A set of the most gorgeous ebony paint brushes and this amazing calligraphy quill. Of course, I had to use them as my fingers just itched to try something out. I guess I could have used the brush set on the painting that I did the other night but honestly, I just naturally grabbed my regular set. I couldn't however resist using this pen. The silver grip, the richly died feather in blue green, the whole thing is a work of art itself. I realize this may seem frivolous to you, but I am fascinated by them.

This brings me to my next point; I have experienced some unsettling things as of late and it all had me quite unsettled. The first involved a Victrola that started playing from out of nowhere. The second was when I was painting a picture of a vase with flowers. I really do not know where the idea came from but when I saw the massive urns, I could envision an array of flowers in it. I have to ask, though I know I will not receive an answer, just what used to be planted in them anyway? Anyway, that's not the point, I seem to have encountered your sisters. It was only for a moment the first time, and while the second time was not for much longer than the first it still was a little bit more of a stretch of time. I know it is not possible for that to happen, but it did feel real at those moments. I called my friend Lauren and she gave me a bit of advice that I think I should take. She seems to think they, as well as other experiences, were some kind of manifestation of my grief that I have not been dealing with. I think that she may be right on this one. I have made the decision to talk to a friend here in Crystal Springs that I have made since moving here. While he is not a psychologist, he is a councilor in a way, being a preacher and all. I think it is time I get it out there and hopefully he will be able to help me. After all, putting my head in the sand and hoping it all just goes away is not exactly working out the way I had hoped. Especially since it is clearly making me experience things that just are not possible.

Lauren also thought that losing my family left me with a yearning to have one again and that that was why I started manifesting yours into my reality. I can not say she is completely wrong in this. The only family I truly have left is my friend that became my sister in law. Since David's death however she has cut off contact completely with the outside world. The last time I had a conversation with her it was to discuss what to do with David's inheritance. Since she received payment as his beneficiary to his life insurance Nicole did not feel right in taking anymore. We decided to donate his share to the firefighters who fight the wildfires in his memory. It felt like something he would have wanted us to do. That was the last time I saw her. My heart ached for her as I looked at this shell of a person that had been so beat down by her loss that she was just hollow inside. Her normally silvery eyes were a dull grey, her lush chocolate locks were limp, and her olive complexion was ashen. I was very worried for her, but she refused to see me after that. I think it is because David and I looked so much a like that it pained her to see me. I do not know what else it could have been. Our friends have taken it upon themselves to force their love and affection on her and are trying to pull her through. I do not get many updates on her as of late though which worries me. If I did not need to get better myself, I would be calling and demanding they keep me in the loop. I know however that worrying myself sick over her and the things I can not change will only do me more harm. Wish me luck dear friend as I begin this new road to healing.

Sincerely,

Elizabeth Foster

Elizabeth read over her heart felt letter making sure there was nothing else that she wanted to add in a postscript. The word swirled around her head as she reread the part about the painting and the hairs on her arms began to stand on end. There's no way! She thought as she hurriedly tucked her letter away with the rest and rushed back to her room. Elizabeth pulled out William's last letter that she had read scanning it to the bottom where his postscript was. It was there that she reread what she had thought as a nonsensical line. Yellow daffodils, purple geraniums, pink carnations as she read the words out loud the mental image of her painting of the vase came to mind. Was it possible subconsciously she remembered his words while painting her picture and inadvertently painted that exact array of flowers? Why then did it feel like it was more an answer to the question she had just written in her own letter? Placing it back into its envelope she put it back at the bottom of the stack. Knowing she usually waited longer to look at the next letter Elizabeth found she couldn't help herself as she took out the next one. Upon opening it however, her face fell as she found the letter so faded it was illegible. She checked the next few one after another all of which where in the same state. She was crestfallen feeling like she had lost a link to a dear loved one. She didn't know why the first four letters were fine, but it appeared the rest did not fair as well over the years. With a bitter broken heart, she returned each one back into the envelope it came from sighing dejectedly as she did so. She had just gotten to the last open overly faded letter when she heard something.

A sound at her door drug her from her musings as she quickly set the letter and its envelope with the rest in too much of a hurry to put the missive back inside its holder before replacing the box lid. Glancing at the clock beside her bed she became confused. The gang usually showed up around 8 a.m. but it was only 6 in the morning now. Just who was at her house this early? She got up from her spot on the floor going to see what was going on while thoughts of the letters and the painting danced in her head. Clearing her bedroom doorway Elizabeth was not prepared for what was waiting for her.