And the Last Thing is Hope

(Autograph Book Story #5. The introduction to this series is here.)

You are always in the garden. I’m the only one who can see you. I couldn’t understand why nobody else ever noticed the girl in pale green until the day I saw the faint outlines of trees and flowers right through your body. And the air always smells of lilies when you’re here.

That’s all right. I’m not afraid. These things happen sometimes, particularly in our family.

You never show up at quite the same time of day. I’ve seen you in brightest sunlight. I’ve seen you shimmering and pale in the moonlight. Whenever I notice you, I stare as if the power of my eyes could hold you in place. But that never works. I blink; you’re gone.

After I’ve learned how to draw and paint, I find the small book of pictures that Mum gave me, and I make a little portrait of you. It takes a long time to do you justice, and even then I know I’m not getting you just right. It’s not as if I can study you at length.

I show the portrait to Grandmother. Her breath catches and she puts a veiny hand over her mouth.

“That’s Lucy,” she says. “Poor, dear Lucy.”

“Why poor Lucy? What happened?”

“Her family used to live in this house, and she died here. Consumption took the poor thing. Her family moved away, but she’s still bound to this place. She’s waiting for them to come back for her.”

“That’s dreadfully sad. Can’t we help her, Gran?” I ask.

“No, love. She must work this out on her own. That could take years. Long after you’re gone, even.”

“Why does it take so long?”

“Because there’s nothing stronger than hope. It hangs on longer than all the other emotions. It’s the last thing left when everything else is lost. She’s still hoping to see her family again.”

Lucy. Your name is Lucy and I still see you in the garden sometimes. So patient. So beautiful. So sad. So hopeful.