Secrets at Dillehay Crossing - Epilogue - A Few Years Later
It was a crisp autumn morning. Lilly stood on the edge of the woods, her son’s hand in hers, watching as a whirlwind whisked across the tree-covered rolling hills on the lower end of the Mason property. As it passed by them, the whirlwind scooped up a dormant pile of brittle leaves lying next to a nearby oak tree. The leaves, sporting their new fall colors, came alive—twisting, turning, and dancing. They rushed by him, stirring his memories of this place.
I was Quan, Comanche chief, who once dwelt on this land. I am with my tribe of wood and leaf, among the giants who's roots hug the earth. It is a place of ancient souls, of the creatures who dwell with the sweet sounds of moving water and bird song. This is my home. Why have I come back here?
He gazed up at Lilly’s sparkling blue eyes, surprised at how much he loved her. But another part of him didn’t recognize Lilly, didn’t feel anything but the usual calm that attends a soul on its journey. He was well aware that he shouldn’t be seeing himself as a soul. He was a child on this piece of Texas prairie where his soul contract had temporarily placed him.
He wriggled his tiny hand free from hers and giggled, a giggle more delicate than wind chimes on a windy day, just as chaotic and just as melodic. He raced far ahead of her jumping into the pile of leaves.
“Willie! Wait for me!” she shouted, running towards him then throwing herself next to him in the pile of leaves.
So they’re calling me Willie this time. The words formed distinctly in the boy’s head. He’d been Willie many times. In another time, he’d been Wilhelm, a wise and just Norwegian tribal king known as The Great Unifier who selflessly led his people unifying the various factions into one nation. He’d been Wili, an easy-going Norse Runic interpreter loyal to his family and clan. He’d been Guillaume, a bold, unconventional, and misunderstood Frenchman whose talents lay very much in the avant-garde of the creative world. He was arrested and imprisoned for believing in the social power of the arts and saw artists, alongside scientists and industrialists, as the true leaders of a new, more enlightened society. Most recently he’d been Willie Mettner, adopted son of Charles and Rose, whose purpose was to unify a fractured family and reunite his biological parents.
He tumbled in the leaves, vaguely remembering the day he opened his eyes for the first time. Both Lilly and Nick were hazy blurs, but he recognized their souls, having chosen them before he was born. He took in their aromas, bathed in their soft words, and felt the warm touch of gentle hands. When he was born, Willie contained more love than many worlds in our galaxy. In his chest beat a heart as noble as any fiction book hero. As a baby and child, he needed his mother to be his keeper and his father to be his steadfast guide and role model. Each time he cried, they came at once and so an idea of safety in his world developed, a foundation on which his future personality as a prominent leader and unifier would rest allowing him to endure untold hardships for his people.
Lilly searched through the leaves, grabbing Willie and hugging him. “Happy birthday, Snuggle Bunny!”
“Let me go, Mama!” he squealed, breaking free of her embrace. “Am I gonna learn to fly a kite today?”
“Yes, son, after your birthday party at Paw-Paw John’s new house. He bought you a kite for your birthday. There’s enough wind today to fly it.”
Willie jumped up and down unable to contain his happiness. “Let’s go!” He took off, dashing past the gazebo and making a beeline for the newly-constructed bungalow house sitting on the property where the old dilapidated farmhouse once stood.
Before John bulldozed the old house down, Willie loved poking around in it with his mother. Like her, he loved old structures, sensing the invisible energies that lingered there. The day the old structure was destroyed, he felt twinges of sadness, sadness he couldn’t quite grasp.
“I’m sad, Mama. Where will they live now?”
“Who, Snuggle Bunny?”
“The people.”
“What people? The people I sometimes see. The people who once lived here.”
“Not to worry, my precious one. They’re not really gone. They live in the silence and in the space between your thoughts. Only special people like you and me can see and hear the sounds of those who came before us. Do you understand?”
He slowly nodded saying, “I think so.” Her answer seemed to satisfy him.
“Grammy!” he shouted as he flung open the door.
“Happy birthday!” She picked him up and twirled him around, placing him softly on the ground. “Follow me into the kitchen. Look! I made you a birthday cake with four candles on it. You ready to blow out the candles?”
“Yes!” He squealed again. “But where’s Uncle Hal?” he asked, his eyes darting around the room. “I don’t see him. He always helps me blow out the candles.”
“Your daddy is picking him up. They’ll be here soon.”
“Where’s Nana Relda and Granddaddy Dave? Will they be here?”
“No son,” Lilly knelt down beside him and paused, hurt by the disappointment she saw in his face. Not wanting to tell him about the long-standing rift between his Granddaddy Dave and Paw-Paw John, she said, “We’ll meet them at the gazebo later for ice cream. Nana Relda said she would teach you how to draw. You want to learn to draw like Nana Relda and Paw-Paw John?”
“Yes, oh yes!”
“Daddy! Uncle Hal!” He shrieked when they entered the house.
“Happy birthday, kiddo!” Nick swept Willie off his feet, showering him with kisses.
“Look what I brought you for your birthday—a fedora hat just like mine.” Hal handed him a tiny fedora hat reminiscent of the one Cousin Willie wore at that age.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you.” They all sang in unison. “Happy birthday dear Willie. Happy birthday to you.”
“Now blow out the candles and make a wish!”
After eating his cake and ice cream, Willie climbed on Lilly’s lap, leaning his head on her shoulder drifting off to sleep.
“Too much excitement for the little grasshopper.” John gently removed him from Lilly’s arms laying him on the couch.
Lilly sat on the coach next to her sleeping son, marveling at how much had changed in a short period of time. In the place where she now sat, there once had been old floor boards that creaked when she walked across them. In this same place she’d heard Francine’s pleas to help John and set about on a quest unearthing a dark family secret—a divulging that reunited John with his family. Francine disappeared long ago, her pleas and unhappy footsteps echoing no more. Cousin Willie, satisfied with his biological parents’ reunion, likewise vanished from Hawkes Pond. Yet, sometimes Lilly sensed their energies in and around Dillehay Crossing, knowing that now they were at peace with how things turned out. She was grateful and amazed, in awe in fact, at how people and events were brought together. Something mysterious, she concluded, conspired to bring these people and events together—a mystical intervention from the Divine. It wasn’t my crazy imagination after all.
Comments