WFOL 2022
BBTV Round Robin
TESTAMENT
By
Linda S Barth
(Please note: In the world of Beauty and the Beast as I imagine it, Winslow recovered from his injuries in the episode “To Reign in Hell” and is alive and well in the tunnel community.)
It was the same dark dream, spiraling in an unending loop. She thought she’d purged it from her soul long ago, but she was wrong.
One last box of books stacked on the cold concrete floor with all the others. The clang of booted feet racing down a ladder’s damp-slicked metal rungs. A cry of “We’re done!” and a burst of laughter distorted to a scream. The wet hollow thud of flesh and bone. One last whispered word…her name. And blood, so much blood.
She’d been nowhere near when it happened; yet she could hear and see and smell every bit of it. Even after twenty years, the horror would lunge out of the darkness, ripping into her heart, leaving her eviscerated.
Shivering despite heaps of handcrafted quilts and coverlets, Olivia wrenched herself from the nightmare depths and reached for the solid warmth of her husband. But her outstretched arms found only cold emptiness.
She sighed heavily, and her eyes fluttered open. The dream was gone, leaving her stunned and shaken, straining to hear whispers she couldn’t quite recall. She did not want to keep on trying. Best to let it go. That was the before time. Things had changed. She’d learned she could pretend to forget, and she’d been happy, at least for a while, in her new life.
She peered into the darkness. For a moment she hoped, but she knew what she would find. Nothing had changed. Sometimes it seemed like nothing ever would. Kanin was gone, for now, maybe forever. That new life she’d cherished was over, too. Time to face facts. Move on once again.
Tears trickled down her chilled face and she swiped them away with a hand that trembled only slightly. What was the use of crying? It wouldn’t solve a thing, it never had, and it only made her weaker, something she could not afford to allow.
With a final harsh sigh, Olivia pushed herself from the bed, trying not to remember the first time she’d seen it, draped in soft lace, pale linen, and white lilacs. She slipped her feet into worn slippers and reached for a wooly bathrobe, a gift from Sarah and the other seamstresses for her last birthday. Had they known how much she needed something, anything to provide some warmth and comfort?
The light of a single night candle flickered in a nearby alcove, faintly illuminating a small bed not far from their – her – own. Her heart ached to see its emptiness, as her arms longed to reach for her son and cuddle close to his warmth and light and love. For a moment she thought of whisking him back from the younger boys’ chamber where he was spending the night, but she would not, could not, bring herself to spoil his happiness, too. She remembered how eagerly he’d begged to stay overnight with his friends – just this once – and how happy she’d been to be able to grant his wish. But now she wished she’d said no, even if it meant she’d have given in to her own selfishness.
She shook her head hard. It was bad enough that she was a failed wife; she wouldn’t be a bad mother as well.
From the corridor outside her family’s chambers, Olivia heard the night watch’s soft chimes on the pipes. Five a.m. and all’s well.
Her rasp of laughter was a bitter sound. Nothing was well. Not for her anyway. But she’d deal with it. She always had. It’s not like there was a choice.
She knew she’d never get back to sleep. It was useless to try. She lit an oil lamp on her dresser and reached for a basket of clothing to be mended, smiling slightly as she pulled out a pair of jeans that needed yet another patch after a rowdy game of kickball. How Luke had laughed as he ran through the park with his friends on that beautiful summer day. She held up the jeans, assessing them, wondering how long it would be before they, too, became outgrown. He was getting so big, already a lively member of the kindergarten group.
Her smile dimmed. Kanin should have been with them that day, should have been chasing after his son, teaching him how to kick the ball straight and fast past the pitcher, using hard-earned coins to treat all the children to ice cream from a cart after the game. Another moment that once lost could never be regained. Another memory that would never be made.
She felt a flare of anger before she could stifle its flames. Like self-pity, it would do her no good. Yet sometimes it was hard to ignore. Anger at Kanin, at Catherine, at herself. The nightmare scraped its claws on her heart. Anger at – “No!” If she were to survive, she had to let it go, all of it. What was done could not be undone. She knew that, had learned to accept its truth, yet she couldn’t help wishing it weren’t so.
The walls of the chamber seemed to be closing in around her, and she had to get out. She stuffed the tattered jeans back into the basket, then hurriedly washed and dressed. But at the doorway to the deserted corridor, she hesitated. It was far too early to go to the boys’ chamber to fetch Luke or even begin her work in the nursery. She could take a walk, to the Great Falls or the Mirror Pool, but she knew it was warmth and light and the distraction of other people she craved, not another endless hour with only her own tumultuous thoughts for company.
The idea came to her immediately, like a small ray of sunshine struggling through the darkness. William would be up, busy preparing breakfast. There would be others there, those assigned to kitchen duty this week. She found herself running along the corridors, as if following a lifeline that might disappear if she tarried.
Soon, she could see the glowing lights of the kitchen chamber ahead, could smell the aroma of bubbling oatmeal, fresh-baked sourdough bread, and cinnamon-sprinkled apples, could hear the sound of voices chatting as their early morning work progressed. Slightly breathless, she paused in the entryway, grateful to feel a smile begin to curve her lips, knowing that here her heart might find respite, at least for a while.
Jamie caught her eye. “Olivia! What are you doing here so early? I didn’t think you were on kitchen duty this week.”
“I’m not, but I was awake and I needed to find something to do.”
“If that was me, I’d have found myself going back to bed for another hour.” Winslow smiled at her as he shook his head. “Bad enough we’ve got to head out for the construction site at this godawful hour. You won’t catch me volunteering to go even earlier.”
“Not so bad, Winslow,” Mouse piped up. “Go early, come back early. Right?”
Winslow chuckled as he continued loading breakfast and lunch supplies into a large canvas bag. “Now I know I’m still half asleep. That almost made sense.”
Arms laden with an overflowing crate of apples, William cast a hopeful look toward Olivia before dropping his burden onto a wooden worktable. “Hey, Olivia, you here to help out? We can use another pair of hands, what with Father stealing most of my work crew this morning.”
Immersing herself in the welcome distraction, Olivia pulled a clean apron off the rack and tied it around her waist. She looked toward the workers busy at the multitude of tasks that made up the breakfast preparations every morning, noting there were fewer helpers present than usual. “What do you need me to do?”
William’s grateful grin lit his face. “I’m trying a new recipe this morning – a take on traditional apple fritters.” He handed her a cookbook opened to a spattered, dog-eared page. “You’re a decent cook. See what you can make of this.”
Olivia quickly read the directions. “It sounds delicious and not too complicated.” She turned to Jamie. “Is that what you’re working on?”
Jamie rolled her eyes. “Sort of. I’m in charge of the apple peeling detail. Leader and only member of the team now that Mouse has to leave with Winslow.”
Mouse’s eyes widened. “Sorry, Jamie. Feel bad you have to work so hard.”
She smiled at him. “It’s not your fault that pipe broke down near the Painted Tunnels. It’s more important to save Elizabeth’s work than it is to peel a bunch of apples. I’ll work fast and then come help you guys.”
“She’s right, so let’s get moving. Vincent and the others are probably already there.” Winslow hefted the heavy bag to his shoulder and headed for the doorway without looking back. With a quick smile in Jamie’s direction, Mouse darted after him.
Olivia watched them go, then turned toward William, setting the open cookbook on the worktable. “Is this a new book? Where did it come from?”
William pointed to a dusty, creased cardboard carton half-hidden under the table. “Well, it’s new to me. Mouse found some boxes of books way back in an old storage chamber a few days ago. Must’ve been there for years. He got the kids to help him drag most of them to Father’s library, but when they saw this one was full of cookbooks, he brought it here.” He grinned appreciatively. “The books might be old and used, but the ones I’ve looked at so far have a lot of great ideas in them.”
William’s words conjured the shards of a memory, but she convinced herself it was only a coincidence. She took a deep breath and let the image melt away in the steamy air. “That was very thoughtful of Mouse.” She flipped some of the pages in the book. “And you’re right. This looks like a good one.”
William chuckled. “Mouse would agree. He told me I should read that one first. He must have spotted a few recipes that looked good to him.”
“Good to read! Father said so!”
They whirled toward the sound of an unexpected voice.
“Mouse! What’re you doing back here? Winslow will have your hide when he sees you’re missing.”
“Got something for Olivia. Forgot before.” He rummaged through his ragged backpack. “Here somewhere.”
Item after item spilled from the pack – a rusty wrench, several batteries, a small coil of copper wire, one sock, a pear that not even Arthur would think about eating. Mouse looked up at Olivia waiting patiently nearby. “Thought it was in here.” He frowned in concentration. “Has to be here.”
He reached to the depths of the pack and then crowed with triumph. “Got it!” He waved a small, somewhat tattered book in the air. “Father said don’t open boxes. Don’t take out books. Wants his library the way he wants it. Was just trying to help.” He sighed, then a sly smile curved his lips. “Opened a few anyway.”
William chuckled. “And it’s a good thing you did, or we wouldn’t be enjoying these apple fritters for breakfast this morning.” At Mouse’s crestfallen look, he added, “I’ll have one of the kids bring some down to the work site for you.”
“Okay good, okay fine!” He set the book aside and stuffed his belongings back in the pack. Then he held the book out to Olivia. “This one was on top. First box I opened. Opened the book, too, but closed it up again fast. Hid it in my backpack. Didn’t want Father to see.”
Olivia smiled gently. “Didn’t want Father to see what, Mouse?”
He lowered his voice so only the three of them might hear. “Writing inside. Not supposed to write in books. Father’d be really mad. Get punished for stuff like that.”
Growing impatient to return to his cooking, William asked, “So why are you giving this book to Olivia? Planning to get her in trouble with Father?”
“No! Not getting in trouble – getting out of trouble!” Mouse opened the book and thrust it toward Olivia. “See – it’s your name! Lots of writing after that. Didn’t read it though. Didn’t have time.”
Puzzled, Olivia reached for the book. For long moments she didn’t breathe as the sights and sounds of the kitchen chamber receded as if on an ebbing tide. She was alone, staring at handwriting she never imagined she’d see again save for yellowing folded pages hidden where no one else would find them.
“You okay, Olivia? You look like you saw a ghost! What’s wrong?” William started to reach for the book, then hesitated as Olivia clutched it against her chest.
“It’s – I can’t –” She whirled from the looks of concern on her friends’ faces and raced toward the chamber door. “I’m sorry –” And then she was gone.
Mouse shook his head. “Must be scared Father’s gonna find out about the book.”
William patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe.” Then under his breath he murmured, “But I don’t think that’s it.”
She couldn’t think, she couldn’t see, she could only run, desperate to find a place of refuge, even though she knew it might not exist. Moments raced by in frantic heartbeats, her feet finding pathways she’d trod since childhood, her breath ragged and harsh in the stillness, until she found herself scrambling down a short metal stairway into the chamber that mindless instinct had made her seek.
She gasped for breath as she peered into the dimly lit depths. He had to be there. He had to.
Her heart skittered, then soothed as she saw him turn from his stance at the massive oak desk to peer at her. A quizzical quirk of his eyebrows above wire-rimmed glasses quickly transformed to a look of deep concern. “Olivia?” His voice was a lifeline as he moved toward her as quickly as he could. “My dear, what’s wrong?”
She looked over her shoulder as if something or someone were still pursuing her, then staggered forward into the older man’s outstretched arms. “Father.” She could say nothing more than his name, as if needing to prove to herself she was no longer alone.
He held her until the trembling slowed, then led her to a nearby chair, carefully easing her onto its worn tapestry cushions before drawing up another chair to sit opposite. He reached for one unsteady hand, enclosing it in both of his, careful not to dislodge the book she still pressed to her chest with the other, its knuckles white against the dark-stained cover.
“Breathe, Olivia, take slow even breaths.” His voice was a soothing blend of healer and father as he surreptitiously felt for her pulse. “You’re safe. Whatever it is, we’ll find a way to fix it. You’ll be fine.”
She looked up at him, shaking her head as she pulled her hand away to let it fall into her lap. “Not this time.”
He continued to murmur soothing sounds to her, words she needed to hear but couldn’t quite believe. Not now, not yet.
The minutes ticked by. She closed her eyes and wished with all her heart that each one meant she was moving farther from the storm, closer to the shore, but it wasn’t true. She carried the storm with her. It would never let her go.
“Olivia?” His voice broke through the fog that surrounded her. “You must be chilled. I can brew some tea, and then perhaps we can talk.”
Her eyes shot open. “No, don’t leave me!”
He reached out to pat her on the arm. “I won’t. We will sit together for as long as you wish. And we can talk when you’re ready.”
She remembered those words, how they’d soothed and comforted her so many times when she’d sought refuge with the only parent she’d ever known. As a young girl with teary childhood hurts of skinned knees and bruised feelings, as a teenager wracked with confused and conflicting emotions, as a new mother with so much joy and fear, as a wife…
Father had always been there for her. It hadn’t been the same for many of the others, not even for his own son, but she had been one of the lucky ones. They’d forged a bond of parent and daughter that had never been broken. She needed to believe it never would.
She took a deep breath. She held up the book, then placed it carefully, reverently in his hands. “Open it, Father.”
He hesitated, as if giving her permission to change her mind, then did as she’d asked. She watched as he read the inscription “Dearest Olivia” on the inside cover with the date, March 30, 1974, written just above in firm, clear handwriting, its ink only slightly faded after all those years. There was more, but he quickly averted his eyes for he guessed immediately what he held in his hands.
He closed the book. “But how -- where did this come from?”
“Mouse just gave it to me. He found it in one of the boxes of books he and the children brought here to the library.”
Father frowned. “I told that boy not to open the boxes. This never would have happened if he had done as he was told.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “Did you know what those boxes were?”
“No, Olivia, of course not.” Father returned the book to Olivia’s outstretched hand. “I was simply told several boxes of books had been discovered in a storage chamber. I told Mouse to leave them in the alcove and I’d get to them when I had time. It never occurred to me that they could be…” His voice diminished and he appeared lost in thought. “It was so long ago…”
“Twenty years next month.” She worked hard to stifle the quiver in her voice. “To see his handwriting again, as if he’d just written the note yesterday. How could something like this happen?”
“I don’t know, dear. But there must be a simple explanation, one we’ll determine together. And you must believe me – I had no idea. I only meant that if not for Mouse, you would not have suffered such a terrible shock.”
“Yes, but if he hadn’t found the book, think of what might have been lost forever.”
A small sad smiled curved Father’s mouth for only a moment. “Without pain, there is no joy.”
“Without hurt, there is no healing.”
The familiar phrases resonated around and within them. How often had Father said those words to her as she’d struggled to make sense of the conflict and strife her life had always held in abundance?
He gestured toward the book cradled in her lap, held protectively under her hand. “Have you read the entire note?”
She sighed softly. “No, not yet. There wasn’t time. It was such a shock. I didn’t know what to think, just that I had to come to you.”
“And I am glad you did. Olivia, you know I will help you get through this, no matter what it takes.”
“I know, Father.” She gazed down at the book before meeting his eyes again. “And I think I should read it now, before I lose what little courage I have left.”
His indignant reply warmed her heart. “My dear, you have far more courage than most of us. I just wish you could see yourself as others do.”
A tentative smile of gratitude and doubt was her only reply. He rose to his feet and reached for his cane. “Would you like me to walk with you to your chamber?”
She shook her head. “No, I’d like to stay here for a while, if that’s okay.”
“Of course. Take as much time as you need. I’ll let Mary know you will be along to the children’s chambers later, and I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.” He turned and made his way toward the chamber entrance, then paused in the doorway. “You’re certain you wish to do this, Olivia?”
“I am. I have to.”
He nodded. “I’ll check in on you in a bit.”
She watched as he slowly walked away; then with a sigh, she opened the book.
Dearest Olivia,
I bet you’re surprised to be reading this – but happy, too, right? And, yes, I know I shouldn’t be writing in a book – don’t tell Father, ok? – but I couldn’t resist. As soon as I saw the title, I knew it was for you. I’ll bring it down with the rest of the books, but this one isn’t going to Father’s library. This one is for my wife, my only love.
Did you see the title? I counted – there really are 100 love poems here – but even 1000 wouldn’t be enough to tell you how much I love you. I’ve never been great at finding the right thing to say, so I’m going to borrow the words of all these writers. Every time you read one of the poems, I want you to hear my voice saying those words to you.
And there’s something else I need to say. I’m really sorry we argued before I went Above for this job. I should have listened to you, but I just wanted to make you happy, and this job was the only way I knew how to get what I needed. But it will all work out okay, I know it. We love each other too much to stay mad for long. And besides, we have a lot of making up to look forward to!
I will always love you, Olivia, and I can’t wait to live the rest of my life with you.
Yours forever,
Jeremy
Tears blurred the words as she read them once, then once again. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel so much happiness and so much grief at the same time.
She held the book to her heart and leaned back in the chair. She didn’t want to, but she knew she had to go back. Her eyes closed and she saw and heard it all. Moment after moment spiraling and unwinding, just as they had nearly twenty years earlier.
…Her lips narrowed as she glared at her husband, trying to force herself to wait until he’d stopped speaking. But she couldn’t and her voice echoed through their snug but cramped chamber. “No, Jeremy, I don’t understand! I’ve told you a million times! I need you to be here at home tomorrow night! Can’t you find another job some other time?”
He shook his head, his expression as grim as hers was enraged. “No, Olivia, I can’t. This job is too good to pass up. It’s only two days and it’s easy work -- I just have to help clean out what’s left of that old bookshop that’s closing up. The owner said I can bring the leftover books down here for Father’s library, so that’s a bonus. And besides it’s good money.”
Her dark hair swirled around her shoulders as she shook her head hard. “But we don’t need the money! What I need is for you to be here!”
His expression darkened. “Don’t you think I’d rather be here with you than dragging cartons of books around some dusty old shop?”
Her voice grew shrill. “Then why are you going there instead of staying here?!”
“I have my reasons.”
“Reasons you obviously don’t want to share with me!”
“You’re wrong, but if that’s what you want to think…” His expression darkened. “I’m not going to keep arguing with you. I have to go.” He grabbed his jacket and stalked toward the chamber entrance. “I’ll be back Friday night.”
She flung out a hand toward him. “Fine! I don’t care anymore! It doesn’t matter to me when you come back – or even if you come back at all!”
He hesitated, then she watched through tear-blurred eyes as he disappeared…
Olivia cringed as she remembered how thoughtlessly she’d behaved, how childishly she’d berated her husband for something he didn’t understand. How could he have known she’d secretly planned to prepare a special dinner for him the following night, that she’d obtained an array of his favorite foods by spending countless extra hours on kitchen duty? How could he have guessed she would bring him to the Mirror Pool, their special place, where just the two of them might savor stolen hours together? And how could he have imagined that she would tell him she was finally ready to grant his dearest wish, to try for a child together, to make their family complete?
He could not have guessed, could not have known any of it. And yet she’d blamed him for ruining all her plans, lashed out at him for trampling all her hopes. How cruel and foolish she had been, so young and so unthinking. But youth was no excuse. She should have known better. She wished with all her heart that she had.
She would never be able to forget the last words she’d ever said to the man she’d loved with all her heart. The last words he would ever hear her say. How that horror had haunted her for so many years, yet now she knew the truth. He knew she’d never meant the horrible things she’d said. The note was proof of that.
She buried her face in her hands. The weight of everything she’d lost was crushing her. Some of the pain had begun to subside, but her heart would still be broken. Tears filled her eyes once again. How could she face this on her own?
“Olivia?” The low, gentle voice drew her from her sorrow. She hadn’t been aware of Father’s return but felt a small flicker of hope as he again sat nearby and took her hand. “Would you like to talk about it now?”
She was not alone. For that she would be forever grateful. She dried her tears with a crumpled handkerchief. “I’m not all right, Father. I don’t know if I ever will be, but, yes, I would like to talk about it.”
With a voice that faltered and caught, Olivia told the story of that night to Father, a confession so reprehensible and ugly, she had never been able to share it with anyone else. But she knew, she trusted, he would understand, he, too, would forgive her. Jeremy had – she knew that now – and maybe, just maybe she would find a way to forgive herself.
“I will never stop regretting what I said to him, the last words he ever heard me say.” Her voice quivered. “I’d give anything to take them back.”
“He loved you so, Olivia. I think he must have known you didn’t mean what you said.”
A ghost of a smile eased a bit of the pain on her face. “He did know.” She held out the book. “Read what he wrote.”
Father hesitated. “This note was meant only for you. Are you certain about this?”
She nodded. “I am.” She waited until he took the book from her hand. “I need to make sure I’m not dreaming.”
In silence Father read the heartfelt, healing message. A small, sad smile curved his lips as he handed the precious book back to her. “So, you see, you were right, my dear. He knew the truth, no matter what either of you might have said or done.”
“I know that now. I’m sure of it.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, but it was full of strength. “I’d always hoped…”
“And now you need never harbor those doubts again. Jeremy was a good man. He loved you with all his heart.”
“As I loved him, Father.” She cradled the book in her hands, gazing down at it as if she held a miracle. There was a palpable sense of peace and healing emanating from her, but when she raised her eyes toward Father, she knew he’d see in them the lingering remnants of her guilt and pain.
“But it was still my fault that he died.”
“No, Olivia! That was an accident, nothing more. You can’t believe it had anything to do with you!”
She shook her head. “It had everything to do with me.” She forced herself to look into Father’s eyes, hoping to see denial of her words, knowing it couldn’t be. “Jeremy took that job because he said we needed the money. But I knew that wasn’t true. What would we need money for? I thought about it for days…afterwards…and finally I knew. He wouldn’t tell me because he wanted to surprise me. He thought there was something I wanted, and this was the only way he could get it…He wanted to make me happy.”
She might have thought there were no tears left, but they pooled in her eyes again. “But I didn’t want anything. I only wanted him!”
Father frowned. “But even if all that is true, you must know that going Above to take that job was Jeremy’s decision. No one can control what another person says or does. Everyone is free to make up his own mind about the actions he will take.”
When Olivia did not reply, he continued, “Sometimes people make certain decisions with the best of intentions, and sometimes it’s because they see no other possibilities left for them. But no matter what their reasons might be, many of those decisions are made with love.” She saw a shimmer of pain flicker in his eyes. “And no matter what the outcome, we can’t assign blame. There are things in life that are forever beyond our control, no matter how much we might wish otherwise.”
She knew he was right, and she wanted to believe him. “But if I hadn’t said those horrible things to him –"
He held up a firm but gentle hand. “Would that have changed what happened?”
She shook her head, a reluctant but inevitable acknowledgment of the truth. She would always live with the guilt, but the pain she’d suffered for so many years might finally begin to heal.
Yet she could not entirely let herself be soothed. “But it was still my fault he went Above, and if he hadn’t, then – then –” She couldn’t say the words.
Father’s voice was full of conviction. “Jeremy went Above of his own volition. He made his own decision and acted upon it. You did nothing to make him leave. If anything, you tried to stop him.”
She felt the tiniest flicker of hope renew itself in her heart.
“What happened was a tragic accident, a moment when lives changed in the harshest, cruelest way possible.” He hesitated, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “But life goes on and someday we find things we can rejoice in. We can’t always foresee that it will happen, but in time – “
“How do you know? How can you be sure?”
“I’m an old man, Olivia. I’ve learned much over the years, many lessons that were difficult to accept. And one is that we must do the best with what we have been given. Life holds no guarantees for any of us, and we must learn to cherish each breath we take, each second we have been granted.”
Again, pain flickered in his eyes. “Our worlds, the worlds we’ve hoped for and dreamed of, can change in an instant. And when that happens, we can let sorrow destroy us, or we can learn from it and go on to make something else of our lives. Perhaps not what we’d expected but full of value and purpose nonetheless.”
Olivia took a deep breath. “As I have done with Kanin and Luke. As we will continue to do if --when -- he comes home again.”
He nodded. “Yes, but you’ve accomplished even more than that. You have cared for all the children of our community. You have worked in partnership with Mary to create lives of safety and comfort and love for so many little ones who would have otherwise known pain and grief. You have been a valued member of our family – a friend, a sister –” He smiled at her, his heart in his words. “A daughter.”
“Thank you, Father.” Such simple words, she thought, to offer in return for leading her back to her life, but she knew he’d understand. She rose to her feet, still clutching the book in one hand. “I will always love Jeremy, and I’ll always mourn his loss, but you’ve reminded me of what a gift life is.” The terrible pain in her heart receded a bit further. “And I won’t waste it.”
She saw tears sparkle in his eyes. “We will never forget those we love, even when they’ve been taken from us. We will hold their memories in our hearts and honor their lives by the way we live ours.”
“Yes, Father, we will.” She turned and walked away, moving forward with firm and steady footsteps. She had promises to keep.
BBTV Classic Round Robin Story Index