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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/588065-April-Letter
Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #588065
fictional story about lost moments
APRIL LETTER


Jessie picked up the letter from the table beside her and held it against her breast. Despite her fears she allowed her mind to travel backwards in time. Scenes flashed before her like a moving film and at first she only selected those that were not associated with pain.

Smiling tenderly, she honed in on a small flaxen-haired child whose pink arms were reaching up to her. The youthful body of her mind bent down and lifted the child, offering it to the blue skies above. A high pitched shriek burst from the child’s lips as she swung heavenwards then turned to laughter, causing a sweet dribble to spray down onto her face below. Drawing the child close she kissed the soft pink face and listened to the beat of the small heart that she and God had created.

Even now, all these years later, she could feel the warmth of the sun beating down and smell the freshness of the child’s skin and hair. A tear escaped from one eye and rolled down her pale cheek but she refused to return. She had to stay inside her mind with these previous memories, even the painful ones that she knew she would have to face.

That first sound, a weak cry that only a mother recognises as belonging to her alone. The hours of pain finished, the new life nestling in her arms, it’s tiny mouth searching instinctively for the breast. That first moment when contact is made and the sweetness flows from mother to child, drawing pure emotion from deep within. The contractions from the womb as if acknowledging that its job is done and the forming of that undeniable bond that never subsides.

Jessie’s fingers tightened around the letter as she braced herself for what was to come. The scene she dreaded was hovering closer, seeping into every vein of her frail body. Pain welled up and tore into her mind as the memory of screams filled her ears even now. A knot of emotion began to swell in the back of her throat and her tears now flowed freely. Now was the moment to confront what she had buried long ago. Time to resurrect it all.

A clinical room, cold and unfriendly, a stern faced woman offering her a pen to sign away the only thing she loved. The instinctive hesitancy as her hand shook, the pen dropping as she took it, spotting black ink across the white paper.
"You’ve made your decision. Sign." Cold words flung at her from across the room. She had no choice, she was young, poor and alone, unable to be the sort of mother the child needed. She signed and as she signed she felt her womb contract in pain and a warm trickle of blood seeped from between her thighs. her life blood, crying out for what she had done to herself and her child.
"Now you may say goodbye to Frannie>" The cold voice again, taking charge, telling her what to do. She recoiled from the callous woman and left the room to spend her last moments with her daughter.

Jessie’s eyelids flickered as she fought against the urge to save herself the final scene, but she knew she had to face it - especially now. It was seeping up through the passages of her mind, forcing her to bring into manifestation once more that awful moment so long ago buried.

Frannie sitting alone on a bench clutching a rag doll and looking frightened.

Seeing her mother she got down and ran towards her, dropping her doll in her haste to be comforted. Scooping her up in her arms Jessie bent to retrieve the doll and hid her tear stained face in the child’s sweet neck. They went out into the small enclosed garden to be together for the last time, Frannie unaware of what was to come, gave her a searching look which tugged at her heartstrings. Smiling through her tears she drew her daughters attention to the flowers.
"Look Frannie, aren’t they beautiful?" The little girls attention was caught by the bright colours dancing on the breeze. She ran to them and touched the petals of a tulip. Squatting down beside her she watched as Frannie inspected the flower closely. Something about the inside of the tulip disturbed her - her face crumpled and shrieking, she buried her head in her arms. "Nasty, nasty" she howled.
"Shush Frannie, it’s not nasty darling, it’s the spring flowers heart." Frannie lifted her tear stained face and looked deep inside the flower, pushing a pink finger down into it’s centre. "Heart" she said and smiled up into her face, "Spring flowers heart."
"That’s right darling, Spring flowers heart" Frannie stood up and breaking the tulip off, held it against her cheek "Where’s your heart mummy?"
She clasped the child to her breast, fighting to control the tears that wanted to flow freely. "You’re my heart, darling" Frannie smiled and kissed her cheek. "Heart" she whispered.

"Time to go." The woman with the cold voice had appeared behind them, her presence causing Frannie to frown. Looking from her mother to the stranger, the frown changed to fear and she suddenly knew. Knew something was wrong, She screamed as the woman reached for her and tried to take the tulip from her grasp. "No!" Frannie screamed. "No!" Spring flowers heart."
"Let her keep it, please." Jessie begged.
"Very well, but you must leave now."
Jessie held the small beautiful child and kissed her for the last time. "Be a good little girl Frannie, for mummy."

With Frannie’s screams filling her ears and heart, she ran blindly from the garden into the empty life ahead.

That dreadful moment had been 48 years ago and yet the torment and anguish she felt now was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Frannie had remained in her heart all that time although she had had no idea where she was. And now, at the nursing home, she had received the letter. A letter that, when it had been read to her, had opened up old wounds and brought the memories flooding back. A letter that had filled the empty pages she had in her heart, with the story of Frannie and what had become of her.

Feeling for the clock at the side of her bed, she knew that the moment had almost arrived. She pressed a button and a nurse came into the room. "How do I look nurse?"

"You look wonderful Miss Simms." She smoothed the bedclothes. "I expect you are excited about her visit." Jessie smiled. "I am. It’s almost 48 years to the day that I last saw her mother you know."

The nurse came closer and took her frail hand. "Yes, I know my dear. It was April then wasn’t it?"
Jessie nodded. "Yes, it was April then too."

There was a knock on the door and a young woman entered carrying a tiny baby and a bunch of spring flowers. She smiled at the nurse and came towards the bed. "Here I am Grandma"

For a second Jessie had difficulty finding her voice. "Come closer dear so that I can touch you."

"I’ve baby Frannie with me Grandma."
Jessie’s hands reached out and travelled lovingly over her granddaughter's face and then over her great-granddaughter's face. Holding out both arms she took the baby and kissed the small downey head.

"These are for you." There was a rustle of paper as her granddaughter placed the flowers on the bed. Jessie reached out and touched the petals. "You brought me tulips?"
"Yes. Before Mummy died she said if I ever found you I was to bring you tulips. Spring flowers hearts, she always called them."

Jessie’s blind eyes filled with tears. "Yes, Spring flowers hearts, that’s right dear.


© Copyright 2002 Autumnterm (autumnterm at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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