Always: You'll Never Walk Alone (14 page)

“We can’t go now it’s too light, we’ll be seen.”

“We have to go, all this banging must have been heard, if we stay here we’ll be caught.” I kissed her. “I love you Sarah.”

“I love you Stephen.”

I took her hand and we ran into the light.

I could see the ocean in the distance as we ran down the hill away from the castle. We were free. I had found Sarah. I had twenty pounds in my pocket, and Sarah loved me. Everything I’d been through since leaving London was forgotten. Now we could start our life together.

We’d gone about fifty feet away from the castle when I heard the shout.

“STOP RIGHT THERE”!

I looked back and saw the guards at one of the towers, crossbows aimed at our backs. We ran faster. A bolt shot over our heads. We kept running. The sun rose higher…

The sky was the blue of an English spring, the grass still moist from the early morning dew. As we headed towards the shore, she turned to me and smiled, a moan escaping her throat as she sank to her knees…

And her life slipped away.

Chapter Twenty

England 1785

I’m sitting at my kitchen table the fire has burnt down in the hearth leaving just a few glowing embers, which will soon go cold. I can’t stop the trembling
in my body and it won’t be long now before the last embers of my life go cold and I can finally rest.

It’s been almost fifty-five years since that fateful spring, but not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of Sarah. The bolt had hit her in the back and pierced her heart. As she sank to the ground, I caught her in my arms, her head fell back and a trickle of blood ran from her mouth. I fell to the ground with her holding her to my chest. I remember screaming at the castle, at the guards, at Lord Beecham and at God. But, no one listened and I felt the warmth slowly drain from her body.

I don’t know how long I sat with her, my tears had run dry, my mind blanked out. Bill finally found us and took us away from the castle.

We buried Sarah high on a hill overlooking the sea.

We returned to the tavern where a few days later Jim died and was buried at a small church that also looked out over the sea. In death, maybe he got to travel to those other lands he had dreamt of when he was young.

Mr. Mortimer was tried and found guilty of numerous charges of fraud and robbery. At the trial there were so many witnesses, they were brought in in shifts and the trial lasted for over a month before he was sentenced to sixty-four terms of ten years each, to be served consecutively.

I stayed with Bill for a few more weeks. I still had the twenty pounds and Jim had left the coach and horses to me when he died. I returned to The Fox, where the news of the trial and Sarah’s death had preceded me. John, Sylvie and Victoria took me in and I stayed there for a few months, often retracing the steps I had taken with Sarah. But, finally it all became too much and I took the coach and horses and started work as a driver.

I spent the rest of my life driving across England, but never returning to Cornwall. With the twenty pounds and the money I earned as a driver, I bought myself a small cottage in the country where I would return every chance I got. I hired a young girl from a nearby village to come in and clean and cook for me on the rare occasions I was home for any length of time.

Sometimes on my travels, I heard stories of the Gypsies and sometimes on a long trip I would find myself half-asleep and I was sure I could hear Ceec and Annie talking and laughing in the coach.

I never heard of Lord Beecham again and I can only assume he continued with his abductions and perversions, protected from punishment by his position.

For the last few years, I have driven less and less. The cold and damp has crept into my bones and many mornings it takes me an hour or more just to get from my bed to the kitchen. But since I live alone there’s no rush and after breakfast if the weather is good I take a chair and sit outside and listen to the birds and look at the beautiful English countryside, far away from the dirt of the city and the corruption of the upper classes.

This morning had started the same way. I was sitting outside with a mug of tea and some biscuits the girl had cooked for me. The sun was warm and I just started to doze off when I heard a voice that even after fifty-five years I recognized instantly.

“DON’T THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE AN OLD MAN YOU CAN FOOL ME. I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE AFTER, AND YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GET IT FROM ME.”

“Winifred?”

I thought I was dreaming, but there she was standing in front of me, a big smile on her face, and looking exactly the same as she had all those years ago. I eased myself out of the chair and she threw her arms around me. We stood like that for many minutes, emotions swirling throughout my body as I thought of the last time I’d seen her. Finally we broke apart and I offered her my seat while I went to get her a mug of tea. Returning a few minutes later I sat next to her.

“This is a very nice place you have here Stephen.” And somehow, I knew that her sightless eyes were still seeing everything.

We drank the tea and she asked about my life, nodding as I told her of my travels. When I finally paused, she took my hand in hers.

“Stephen, I know about your travels and I know what happened to you after you left my house. I’ve come to you today because I couldn’t tell you everything when I last saw you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hmm, still as impatient as you ever were. Now don’t interrupt. You may remember when you stayed with me I said that you and Sarah would be together.”

“Of course and…”

“Stephen you must have driven your parents mad. Now stop interrupting.”

“I’m sorry.” I smiled

“And take that silly grin off your face! I told you that you and Sarah would be together. That was true you will be together…”

“But…”

“STEPHEN.”

“Sorry.”

“You may think your life is almost over and you failed in your quest, but you have a long future ahead of you. You and Sarah will be together. I can’t tell you when as I couldn’t tell you before but you must believe me. Everything happens for a purpose, we live, we die but life goes on. When the time is right your love will be rewarded and you’ll be reunited with the one you love.”

“I don’t understand. Sarah died…”

“Trust me Stephen. Now would you be so kind as to get me another cup of this lovely tea?”

I took her mug and went back into the house. I was in a daze, my emotions jumping. I put the kettle on to boil some more water and made another pot of tea. I filled her mug and returned to the garden. Her seat was empty. I called her name. There was no reply. She had gone just as she had arrived. I sat down in the chair she had vacated, as the tears ran down my face.

As the sun went down a chill crept into the air. I went back inside and threw some logs on the fire. As the last ember flickered out I felt Sarah’s hand on my cheek my breathing slowed then stopped.

And I smiled…

Always

(A Quadrology)

Book Two

We’ll Meet Again

Chapter One

Somewhere in the Caribbean 1825

I woke up to the sounds of the sea, as I had done every day for most of the last 10 years. But something was different today and it took me a moment before I could figure out what it was. Then as the sleep cleared from my brain it all came back to me. I was in a life raft with 2 other men. The HMS Bristol was destroyed; my first command had met with disaster.

My name is Stephen Wilder. When I’m not at sea, I live with my mother, father and younger sister in Hythe on the southeast coast of England. My father, John Wilder, was a Rear Admiral in the Royal Navy.

My earliest memories are of seeing the ships in the English Channel coming and going from Europe, Asia, and America. My father was often away for months at a time and I would sit on the beach with the telescope he’d given me and watch day after day for his ship to return. Sometimes my mother would come and join me and tell me stories of his adventures when he was young and how she met him at the Admirals’ ball when he was a young man of sixteen. She was only 13 at the time and he had completely ignored her although she had fallen in love with him as soon as she met him. He was 6 feet tall, dressed in his naval uniform, with his thick dark hair every young girl at the ball wanted to dance with him. She told herself that one-day she would marry him and set about finding out everything she could about him. Her parents and his parents were good friends which was the reason for them being at the ball in the first place. Her father, a banker, had financed the construction of a number of merchant ships and with the war with the French at its height the demand for ships was increasing.

She didn’t see him again for another three years. He returned to England after being injured when a splinter from a falling mast embedded itself in his leg. Although no infection had set in, his thigh muscle was badly damaged and he was ordered to rest until it healed thoroughly. My mother, hearing of his return, just happened to be riding past his parents’ house as they were returning from church. Upon seeing her they stopped to ask after her parents and then invited her in for tea. My father was now nineteen years old and had no memory of having met my mother three years earlier. She had grown into a young woman, and within a year of their reintroduction they were married and moved into the house that we still lived in twenty years later.

Whenever she would tell me stories of my father, her eyes would seem to focus on some world that I couldn’t see, and I knew she was concerned for his safety, and worried if he would come back home one more time, or be killed by French cannon fire.

Since I was seven years old I knew I would follow in his footsteps and every part of my education had been undertaken with this ultimate goal in mind. By the time I was ten I could tie every knot known and much to my younger sisters displeasure had used most of them on her. I had read every book I could find in my fathers’ library on famous sea battles. Admiral Nelson was my hero and I had studied his life and career since the time I first learned to read.

In another two days I would be leaving for the naval academy. My mind was a mixture of fear and exhilaration. For the first time in my life I’d be leaving home and living with other boys my own age. I was going to miss my family and friends and especially my dog ‘Chancer’. But the thought of finally starting my naval career pushed all other thoughts from my head. I had studied and learnt so much already from my fathers’ books and the tours through the ships he had taken me on. I’d met Commodores, Captains, Commanders and Admirals. I’d listened to the tales of the regular sailors and sat entranced as they described battles and vicious storms in the South Seas they had fought with equal determination.

I packed and repacked a thousand times and still wasn’t happy. Should I take all my books? How would I fit them all in and still have room for my clothes? Well let’s start again. I definitely need my telescope…. Two hours later I unpacked everything again and started over.

The coach arrived at 7.00 a.m. I had time for a quick goodbye to my mother, sister and Chancer and was on my way. The coach rattled and shook along the road to Portsmouth as I stared out the window at the passing countryside and contemplated my future that was about to begin. My father had told me about the naval academy so I knew what to expect. The officer-training course was hard and fifty percent of the students never got past the first year. But if you could survive the first few months you could usually make it through the year. If you made it through the three years of the course then you began your career as a naval officer and could go as far as your talents would take you…

Every degree the sun rose higher the temperature increased. With no shelter our skin was burnt and cracked. We drank the last of the water more than 12 hours ago and we’d had no luck catching fish. During the night another 2 crewman had succumbed to their wounds. We’ve been drifting for 5 days and I no longer have any idea where we are. I’ll be surprised if we survive this day!

I closed my eyes and lay down – prepared to meet my Maker.

Note from the Author

This is a story from one of my past lives. I wrote it after my first past life regression. I hope you enjoyed it. I am currently working on the second volume. If you would like to be notified as soon as it is available, or if you would like to contact me with any thoughts, comments or questions. I would love to hear from you.

Please email me at
[email protected]

Keith L Whiting