at his parents’
graves.
I could only imagine what Luke was thinking – how the pain
that he kept so carefully in check was ravaging him now. For my part, I
couldn’t chase from my thoughts Jude’s account of the accident. Had Jude not
acted that night, Luke would lie here too, beneath the cool green grass, beside
his parents. Had Jude acted further, there would be no headstone here for Ryan,
nor one for Anne. It tore at me, that truth. It made me want to throw my head
back and yell at the heavens: Why? Why couldn’t he save them? Why was it
their time? They were young. They were needed.
Tears were threatening and I clenched my teeth. This was
Luke’s pain, not mine. I had no right to stand here today and cry.
It was Jude’s choice that made the emotion hard to control.
I knew it was a choice that he and the other healing Ceruleans must make often
– in the sure and certain knowledge that a person was not meant to be
healed, they had to walk away. But I didn’t know how they could bear it, how
they handled the guilt of not doing all they could conceivably do to save
someone.
Almost a month had passed since Jude had set me on my own
healing path, and in that time I’d too often come across people who were so
much in need, and yet untouchable – destined to live with, or die from, their
disease. A father riddled with cancer, a teenager with a ticking time bomb for
a heart, a young girl with cerebral palsy, an old man with Parkinson’s… the
list went on and on. And I remembered them all, especially at night, before
sleep gave me a brief reprieve from the guilt. I remembered that I hadn’t
healed them – though I could have, if I’d broken the Cerulean rules. I could
have.
Now the tears were spilling down and I didn’t want Luke to
see, so I turned a little, towards the rear of the church. The weeping willow
by my grandparents’ grave was just in sight. And so was a man, standing beside
it.
I looked away. In a place like this, there is an unwritten
code that you leave people alone with their grief. You don’t stare when they
stand frozen. You don’t gawp when they fall to their knees and bury their hands
in the grass of a grave. You don’t so much as glance their way when you hear a
sob.
And yet... I looked again.
The man was walking towards us and his eyes were fixed right
on me. I started, and stared. I knew this man from somewhere.
In moments he was close enough that I could recognise him,
even without the tux, and he nodded at me and said, ‘Hello, Scarlett.’
Three things happened then in very quick succession:
I mumbled automatically, ‘Hello.’
The man, who hadn’t slowed his pace in the slightest, smiled
at me and walked past.
Luke looked around and said, ‘Who...? Not Jude…’
It wasn’t Jude, of course. There was no resemblance, even,
between the two. But I knew exactly what had led Luke to make the connection:
the stranger had disappeared mid-step, melting away into a blur of brilliant
blue.
Luke squeezed my hand. Tight. ‘Another Cerulean, Scarlett?
Who was he?’
‘I don’t know, Luke. I mean, I’ve met him before – he was at
the murder mystery fundraiser on the boat.’
‘That guy I rescued you from? The creep who started talking
to you out of nowhere?’
‘He wasn’t creepy. He was… nice. I just wasn’t sure why he
was talking to me. But I guess I know that now. How embarrassing – he must have
known me on the island, and I didn’t even remember him. There were so many male
Ceruleans, though, and I hardly saw most of them.’
‘So why’s he hanging about you?’
‘Oh, I’m sure he’s not. I mean, the dinner cruise was for
the Ceruleans’ Lux Beneficent Society. He probably works for it or something.’
‘And today?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But he seems harmless enough.’
Luke’s jaw tightened but he said nothing, just looked down
at his parents’ graves. I glanced back at the willow tree and wondered why I’d
come so quickly to
graves.
I could only imagine what Luke was thinking – how the pain
that he kept so carefully in check was ravaging him now. For my part, I
couldn’t chase from my thoughts Jude’s account of the accident. Had Jude not
acted that night, Luke would lie here too, beneath the cool green grass, beside
his parents. Had Jude acted further, there would be no headstone here for Ryan,
nor one for Anne. It tore at me, that truth. It made me want to throw my head
back and yell at the heavens: Why? Why couldn’t he save them? Why was it
their time? They were young. They were needed.
Tears were threatening and I clenched my teeth. This was
Luke’s pain, not mine. I had no right to stand here today and cry.
It was Jude’s choice that made the emotion hard to control.
I knew it was a choice that he and the other healing Ceruleans must make often
– in the sure and certain knowledge that a person was not meant to be
healed, they had to walk away. But I didn’t know how they could bear it, how
they handled the guilt of not doing all they could conceivably do to save
someone.
Almost a month had passed since Jude had set me on my own
healing path, and in that time I’d too often come across people who were so
much in need, and yet untouchable – destined to live with, or die from, their
disease. A father riddled with cancer, a teenager with a ticking time bomb for
a heart, a young girl with cerebral palsy, an old man with Parkinson’s… the
list went on and on. And I remembered them all, especially at night, before
sleep gave me a brief reprieve from the guilt. I remembered that I hadn’t
healed them – though I could have, if I’d broken the Cerulean rules. I could
have.
Now the tears were spilling down and I didn’t want Luke to
see, so I turned a little, towards the rear of the church. The weeping willow
by my grandparents’ grave was just in sight. And so was a man, standing beside
it.
I looked away. In a place like this, there is an unwritten
code that you leave people alone with their grief. You don’t stare when they
stand frozen. You don’t gawp when they fall to their knees and bury their hands
in the grass of a grave. You don’t so much as glance their way when you hear a
sob.
And yet... I looked again.
The man was walking towards us and his eyes were fixed right
on me. I started, and stared. I knew this man from somewhere.
In moments he was close enough that I could recognise him,
even without the tux, and he nodded at me and said, ‘Hello, Scarlett.’
Three things happened then in very quick succession:
I mumbled automatically, ‘Hello.’
The man, who hadn’t slowed his pace in the slightest, smiled
at me and walked past.
Luke looked around and said, ‘Who...? Not Jude…’
It wasn’t Jude, of course. There was no resemblance, even,
between the two. But I knew exactly what had led Luke to make the connection:
the stranger had disappeared mid-step, melting away into a blur of brilliant
blue.
Luke squeezed my hand. Tight. ‘Another Cerulean, Scarlett?
Who was he?’
‘I don’t know, Luke. I mean, I’ve met him before – he was at
the murder mystery fundraiser on the boat.’
‘That guy I rescued you from? The creep who started talking
to you out of nowhere?’
‘He wasn’t creepy. He was… nice. I just wasn’t sure why he
was talking to me. But I guess I know that now. How embarrassing – he must have
known me on the island, and I didn’t even remember him. There were so many male
Ceruleans, though, and I hardly saw most of them.’
‘So why’s he hanging about you?’
‘Oh, I’m sure he’s not. I mean, the dinner cruise was for
the Ceruleans’ Lux Beneficent Society. He probably works for it or something.’
‘And today?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But he seems harmless enough.’
Luke’s jaw tightened but he said nothing, just looked down
at his parents’ graves. I glanced back at the willow tree and wondered why I’d
come so quickly to
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