*Part 17A was found tucked within these pages*
Mon. 11/29
I am empty beyond expression. Grief is like that. Once the overwhelming passion of it is gone, it settles on the soul. It becomes a hollow void with the weight of lead. I thought that Grandma Rose's death would be like that, but it wasn't. I grieved, but I felt her there beside me even as we buried her. When I went through her things, I could hear her voice in my ear saying, "Chile, that hankie was a gift from ol' Mrs. Chalmette an' that Valentine was from my first beau. That postcard was from my cousin, Calvin, when he was off in It'ly fightin' the war." But she's always close. She's there in the baby's breath of honeysuckle on a hot summer day, the smell of chitlins and fried okra, the mustiness of Spanish moss. I feel her essence in depths of my memories. But Derek?
Derek is a black well of desolation. I can't bear to think that I'll never hear his voice again - that little Dutch lilt that could be so cute - or so arrogant - or that I'll never again hear Chopin on his piano. I know that Kat has a couple of tapes of him playing, when he was trying to teach her "Moonlight Sonata" or something, but I don't know that I could bear to listen. Isn't that awful? I can't bear "to not" hear & can't bear "to" hear. I can't believe that wonderful little curl that dropped over his forehead is gone - that it doesn't exist anymore - or those intense, hazel eyes that seemed to look right through you. I can't believe that I'll never walk down those halls again, nor sit at that kitchen table, nor sleep in my bed. All gone - La Belle's locket, Grandma's sweater that smelled of her crawdad gumbo, my thesis that had Derek's red chicken-scratches all over it, the 1st edition of Emily Dickinson that he gave me for my last birthday. What was it he wrote on the flyleaf? God help me - I can't remember. All I have now is his letter and Yeats' poem. He changed the last three lines. I didn't know he had it in him. I feel him through the paper. I feel him more clearly than I could ever sense him in life.
Would I have stayed to grow into an old maid librarian withering away from unrequited love? Maybe. Or maybe someone would have come along that I could have loved in another way. Or maybe I could finally have broken into that prison in which he had locked himself. I think he feared the danger and pain that he brought to those who cared about him - and the pain that in turn rebounded on him.
I think he knew what awaited him. I sense fear of failure. I feel an anxiety for himself, but more for us - not wanting us to be hurt or to mourn. I sense an almost bittersweet joy - an exhausted runner seeing the finish line of his last race. Above all, I sense that overpowering determination and obstinance that was Derek Rayne.
Now I recall things said and not said when we did those Tarot cards that night. Nick and I laughed a lot at the ironies the cards presented. It was a magical game. But Derek - he remained so serious throughout - not mellow as he usually became with cognac. I remember now that I caught him watching us, almost studying us. I remember when the Lightning Struck Tower, "the House of God," came up for his last card. He said in sort of a funny, but not humorous funny, way, "That can't be good." He knew full well what the cards meant, maybe even better than I. Then that very last card for us all - Death - great change, ruin, death, a new beginning. Was that what he was racing toward? A new beginning? I pray those were his thoughts.
Perhaps he didn't know the how of it or the precise when of it, but he knew. My God - how long had he known? Had he "seen" his own death? He said not, but was that always the barrier between himself and others? He knew he would have to let go, and the less we all cared about him, the easier it would be. Is that why he felt the sudden urge to climb K2? A final dream fulfilled? Was he in London making final arrangements? I should tell Nick? Maybe it would diminish his anger at the Legacy to know that Derek was standing with them to the very end.
That last morning, when Rachel told him to get some sleep, he replied, "I'll sleep when I'm dead." I realize now that there in the portal chamber, when we were looking for the cross, he was trying to make sure I'd be OK. I said that I couldn't imagine being anywhere else but there, and he said, "Neither can I." That warmed me so. I blushed. I thought he meant that he couldn't imagine me being anywhere else, but there with him. Now I'm not so sure. I think maybe he meant that he couldn't imagine himself being anywhere but that house. I think he intended all along that if he had to destroy the House, he would die with it. That was his wife, his love - that, and the Legacy.
We kissed before the portal. Maybe even at the precise place where he died. I was so surprised I did that, but, oddly, he didn't seem to be. As I think back. Did he wait? Was he giving me that one thing I that I had dreamed of? Or was it just an accident? I don't know. I never could sense his emotions worth a damn. I was so angry with him that morning the library was wrecked. He was just being his usual self - stay away - let me do it alone. But his mood was so intense. I misread him yet again. I thought it was the dream and the mess in the library. Then in the garden, just before. He tried to tell me. What was it he said? He was speaking so quickly - rushing to get it out. "Maybe if I'd allowed myself to be more human, we might have had something." Oh Derek - you were human - more human than anyone I've ever known - anyone I ever hope to know. You cared so much about everyone that you had to take the burden of the world upon your shoulders. I knew that. Ingrid knew that. It's why I got so furious at you, but it's why I loved you. It's why I'd have stayed to the end no matter what, but you knew that too, didn't you?
I'll live for you, I promise. No matter what I do or where I go, you'll be in
my heart and a part of my soul. You'll be my conscience, my strength, my guide,
and my anchor until the day I die. No matter how many petty, little evils I face, or if
I ever meet that Great Serpent, all I'll have to do is think of you beside me, and I'll
win - in your name, I will stand firm and I will win.
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