"I'll Always Be With You"

Featured in the Drama Newsletter - February 5, 2009

Amanda stepped out onto the porch of the old frame farmhouse and glanced up at the darkening sky.  She watched the western horizon change from gold to peach, and then deepen from red to purple.  She let out a heavy sigh.  The nights are the worst.  With tears welling in her eyes, she whispered, "Oh, Eric, how I miss you."

Lifting the skirt of her long, dark blue, velour robe, she slowly descended the porch steps and followed the familiar path up the hill.  The sparse grass, heavy with dew, swished against the dark vinyl of her ballerina slippers.

As she slowly climbed toward the ancient family cemetery in the brightening moonlight, the wrought iron fence seemed like a line of dark sentinels guarding the ghostly gray headstones of past generations of Thomases.

Amanda squeezed the latch and pushed open the gate.  The loud creak of the hinges temporarily silenced the night song of the crickets.  Turning to the right, she moved toward the gleaming white granite stone that lay over the remains of her late husband's body. 

Her gaze flickered over the chiseled letters:  "John Eric Thomas, Born: October 20, 1957, Died:  November 18, 2004".

"Oh, my love," she whispered.  "Why did you leave me?  You were so young . . . too young."  Tears sprang to her eyes as she recalled the happy years they had spent together.

She remembered quiet moments when they had lain so close together before a roaring fire, and noisy parties where they had flashed the message 'I love you' over the heads of other celebrators.  Tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed to the ground.  She sank onto a nearby headstone, dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.

"Eric, oh, Eric.  I need you so.  Why did you leave me?"

How vividly she recalled the last moments of his life.  She had sat, tears streaming silently, beside his bed.  His breath rasped loudly, painfully, in and out of his unconscious body.  "Please, God," she whispered.  "Let him get well.  Don't let him die."

She laid her hand over his.  "Eric, don't leave me.  Please, don't leave me.  I don't want to go on living without you."

Suddenly, his eyes had fluttered open.  "Don't worry, Amanda," he had slowly whispered.  "I love you.  I will always be with you."  Then he was gone.

Free-flowing tears splashed down on the granite stone as she longed to be able to reach out and touch him.  How she missed the warm closeness of his body.  How she longed to share with him the trials of her days.  "Oh, God, Eric," she sobbed.  "I miss you."

At last the tears subsided.  Feeling lonely and desolate, Amanda rose slowly and turned toward the gate and the empty house at the foot of the hill.

The gate creaked open and, as the moon scuttled behind a cloud, Amanda stepped into blackness.  She glanced up toward the vanished moon and stepped forward with care.  A puzzled frown creased her brow.  Didn't the hill slope away from the gate?

Sure it does, she thought, taking another step.  "Then why am I climbing?"

She cautiously slid one foot forward and the earth seemed to sway beneath her.  What is this, she thought, panic replacing her sorrow.  What is going on?  What was she hearing?  It couldn't be music?  What was her imagination doing to her?  And there couldn't be lights.  Not here on the hillside.  She blinked and strained to see.  Yes, it was lights albeit dim, flickering ones, but lights nevertheless.  She stepped forward and the moon reappeared to reveal the gangway she was climbing.  The moon's light shimmered on softly lapping waves and revealed the dimly-lit outline of an old paddle-wheeler.

Amanda shivered, then hurried on up the gangplank. Beneath her slippers, she felt the swaying wooden deck and she turned slowly toward the sound of the music and a lighted window.  Through the wavy glass she saw a large wood-paneled room, lighted by crystal-trimmed chandeliers, each supporting a half-dozen oil-lamps.  The light flickered over linen-covered tables where women, their hair piled high in masses of curls, sat in shimmering silks and satins and smiled coyly at their dark-suited escorts.

Amanda moved on to an open door, apparently left ajar to admit the cooling summer breeze as well as to vent the thick blue cloud of smoke from smoldering cigars.  She paused, framed in the doorway, and glanced about the rooms.  On her right, several elegantly dressed couples danced to the music of a minstrel band that performed on a stage directly in front of her.  To the left was a darkly paneled barroom illuminated by gleaming brass wall sconces containing glass-globed oil lamps.

Her gaze passed over the few patrons along the bar and the gaudily-dressed barmaids, then came to rest on a group of men gathered around a large table.  Her attention was drawn to a gray-suited man who sat, facing the doorway, intently studying the cards in his hand.  She glanced over the embroidered vest and gray silk ascot, then stared at the bowed head with white, wide-brimmed hat shoved back to expose a shock of light brown, wavy hair.

So strange, she thought.  Why does that man seem so familiar?  Suddenly, the gambler raised his head and their eyes met. 

"Eric!" she breathed.

He stood up and motioned another man to take his place at the table.  As he came toward her, Amanda saw the lights begin to swirl and felt the deck sway beneath her feet.  She stumbled and fell into his arms.

"What are you doing here?" he murmured into her ear.

"I've wanted so much to see you again," she whispered, tears rising in her eyes.

"I know," he said, holding her close.  "I've wanted to see you, too."  He gently turned her around.  "Come on.  Let's go out on deck."

She was content to let him lead her along the length of the narrow deck hardly noticing the smell of burning lamp oil that wafted from the open windows.  They stopped beside the silent paddles and she watched the moonlight shimmer on the water.  From somewhere on shore a whippoorwill called, its plaintive cry drifting over the slowly rippling water.

"I've missed you so much," she said softly.

He nodded.  "Does your father know you're here?"

She glanced at him sharply, a half-remembered fear welling up inside of her.  Slowly, she shook her head.

"I wish we could be together," he said.  "But your father would never accept a riverboat gambler as his son-in-law."  He shook his head sadly.  "I'm not good enough for you."

"But I love you," she protested.  "I want to be with you."

"I love you, too, but I'm afraid . . . "

Angry voices disrupted the quiet of the night and Amanda held her breath, listening.

"Where is she?" shouted a voice that sent ripples of fear down Amanda's spine.  "I know she's here someplace.  Her and that no-good heathen sinner!"

"You've got to get out of here," Eric whispered urgently.

She nodded and together they darted from shadow to shadow along the deck-rail to the bow of the ship.  As they passed the open doorway of the bar, the haunting voice boomed out.

"I'll not have a daughter of mine in this den of iniquity!  Now, tell me, where is she?"

At the top of the gangway, Eric took her in his arms.  "You must go quickly now," he said, drawing her close and kissing her gently.

"I don't want to leave you."

"You must.  Don't you see?  It's better if you leave now."

"But what about you?"

"I'll be all right.  Don't worry."  He squeezed her tightly against him as the voice rose in volume.  "Just remember that I love you, and whatever, happens, I'll always be with you.  Go now.  Hurry."

Amanda turned and ran, half-blinded by her tears, down the gangplank.  Behind her the voices continued their crescendo until a shot rang out.  The sound reverberated in her ears and echoed from the tree-lined shore.  She stumbled and fell sprawling onto the dew-heavy grass.

Slowly, she turned over and gazed at the star-sprinkled sky.  The full moon smiled down benignly.  "Oh, Eric.  Eric."

She listened for the soft lapping of the waves, but heard only the shrill chirping of the crickets.  She turned her head and saw the brightly-lighted windows of the farmhouse and, on the hill, the stones of the cemetery glowed in the moonlight.

"I saw him," she murmured quietly.  "I know I did."  Her fingertips softly touched lips still tingling with the memory of his kiss.  "I don't know how it happened, but I was with him."

She gazed at the dark velvety sky and heard his voice say again,  'Just remember, I'll always be with you'.

"Yes," she breathed.  "Yes, Eric.  You are still out there . . . somewhere, aren't you?  And as long as we love each other . . . Yes.  Now I understand."

With a gentle smile, she rose and walked serenely back toward the house.