The groceries dropped to the floor, Jane ran forward and knew before she reached Tim that he was dead, she could hear someone screaming and wished they would stop; they needed to be in control. On reaching his body she dropped to her knees, her face wet with tears.
She and Tim met one summer, it was so long ago that the many years just roll into one, they were lovers, best friends and occasional enemies, their life was good. Each day since retirement was spent reflecting on their past successes and failures. Failures in Jane's life were few, she failed to stop the paperboy delivering once, she failed to see the step at church one Sunday and spent the next few months on crutches , a broken ankle proof that the fall was a hard one, and she failed to produce a child, oh how they had tried, every moment of every day until nature decided time was no longer a friend of Mrs Devon's womb, Jane was barren, she hated that word, the way it looked on paper and the way it sounded to her ears, useless v barren, no contest they were equal as far as she was concerned.
Tim never turned from her, he said he saw only her, he was happy with his life and if they were not meant to be parents they would be good to those who had been blessed, so the Devon's spent time at single mother groups, helping young girls cope with their lives as being a single mum. Jane admitted she was envious but her nature was such that she saw this as her gift from God, the chance to ensure children got a break. Tim made toys from wood and she sewed for the babies, made maternity dresses for the girls, they had family in the community, they were loved.
Jane went through the motions, police, ambulance, family, friends and funeral services were all contacted. They took Tim away. He was gone. No more gentle whistles as she smoothed down a new dress, no more admiring glances, just nothing, no more, a void.
The funeral was a good one, oh yes Jane considered funerals had their good and bad points, Tim's was as perfect as one could make it. The flowers, food and funeral necessities were perfect.
Standing by a tree she noticed a young man, tall, slim and the same hair colouring as Tim, she excused herself from the mourners and walked towards him, "Hello Tim, how are you?" she asked. He nodded and smiled, his sad eyes looking downward, "she's here you know, can you see her?" Jane continued, "She looks well, don't you think?", again the young man nodded.
"I told her she could come and stay for a while but she feels a little awkward, I really don't see why, I have only just met her and have had no reason to make her feel that way, perhaps I will convince her later" Jane continued, she spoke softly and clearly, the words clung to her tongue like a heavy brick. She watched the wordless young man walk away.
Jane had always known she could see the dead, she had done so since she was a child, but nothing had prepared her for seeing Tim at his own funeral, she hoped she had done him proud and he approved of his send off.
Jane saw off the last of the mourners and well wishers, all that remained were the remnants of an afternoon tea, she kicked off her shoes and moved plates and cups into the kitchen with the intention of clearing up in the morning, she told everyone to leave, she wanted to be alone, she really couldn't cope with their good intentions and clichés.
"Can I help you with that?" the voice made Jane turn, she didn't jump and she wasn't scared, she knew the voice "thank you, yes that would be a great help"
"It was a pleasant day, Tim liked pleasant days" the voice continued, Jane agreed but was a little annoyed now by the last statement, should she react or should she stay quiet.
"Tim always said he liked pleasant days and had many in his life", this time Jane was not prepared to let the statement go, she slammed down the plate in her hand, the bell like sound rang tinny around the kitchen.
"Young lady, I know my husband enjoyed pleasant days, we had those pleasant days together for many years, unfortunately he had a pleasant day that did not involve me and the result is standing in front of me, please do not say anymore, I suggest you leave and never return, you did what you had to do, you have said goodbye to your father, now please leave". The girl turned around and left.
Tim visited that evening, he moved around the home, he was looking for something, Jane watched, tormented by her love for him and by the knowledge that he had cheated on her eighteen years before. She knew what he was looking for, the letter, the letter that had poured pain into her heart with every word, the letter declaring that he was a name on a birth certificate and the owner wanted to get in touch, the letter that caused Tim to stumble on the stairs, he was searching for the letter that killed him. Jane had destroyed the letter after calling the telephone number of the writer, gave the news of Tim's death and the date of the funeral. The writer came and went. Tim's child came and went. Jane was alone with a broken heart and a barren womb.
