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Date Posted: 09:04:41 03/26/03 Wed
Author: dqfan
Subject: Re: Say the Words - ch.54
In reply to: dqfan 's message, "Re: Say the Words - ch.53" on 09:00:07 03/26/03 Wed

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR


Pensively, Michaela wandered away from the bench, meandering slowly along the grounds, lost in thought. There, amidst the tranquil serenity of the Oakhaven gardens, she could imagine herself back in her own garden, beside the homestead, planting her favorite herbs, with Sully at her side.

Easily reading her thoughts, Sully followed her, and wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders, folding them across her breasts. She hugged him to her immediately, running her hands up and down his strong biceps. Quietly, they stood together, in appreciation of nature's song.

"You wanna go back to the hospital again?" he whispered in her ear, sensing her frustration.

"If I thought it would help…" Michaela frowned, defeated.

"I know," Sully noted wryly, "Only so long we can watch him sleep…"

Michaela was beginning to fear Peter's prolonged slumber, and all its implications. "I don't understand it…even Brian woke faster than this…"

"Michaela…" Sully voice was sympathetic, but firm. "Peter ain't Brian."

A chagrined look crossed Michaela's face. "I know that, Sully," she sighed apologetically. "But why isn't he waking up? Why isn't he fighting?"

"He'll tell ya," Sully reassured her, running his fingers lazily across her collarbone. "When he's ready…." he added, with a peck on her cheek.

Patiently, Sully continued his gentle soothing, reminding her of their good fortune thus far. "We've been lucky, Michaela. E.Z. came through fer ya."

Unaware that she was interrupting Sully's train of thought, Michaela smiled, in spite of her fears. "Yes, he's quite the young man, isn't he? He'll make a wonderful doctor, someday, Sully. I'm sure of it," she spoke proudly.

"I bet he will…" Sully nodded briefly, wanting to inject a note of caution.

"But, maybe…" he suggested as lightly as possible, anticipating Michaela's reaction.

"What?" Michaela asked, sensing Sully's hesitation already.

Lovingly, Sully smiled down at his wife, always so anxious to roll up her sleeves and tackle life's problems head-on. How often had he warned her that there were some things she just couldn't fix…some people she just couldn't change? Yet, even after all these years, the need in her was still there.

His next suggestion would go against every fiber in her being but Sully offered it anyway. "Maybe, it'd be best t'hold back a little? Stop tryin' t'dictate the future?"

"Dictate?" Michaela turned around to face him, far more hurt than angered by his observation. "That's what you think I've been doing, dictating?"

"'Chaela," Sully whispered softly, as he brushed a wisp of hair from her saddened face. "I'm just sayin' that maybe we oughta wait 'til somebody asks fer our help, for a change…"

Michaela Quinn valued no one's opinion higher than Byron Sully's. Seriously, she considered his words, and, reluctantly, she was forced to agree with the wisdom of her husband's counsel. Perhaps she had been interfering too much, in Peter's life. But, if she had, it was a mother's interference, based only upon the best of intentions and with nothing but love at the core of its foundation.

As Michaela leaned back into Sully's loving embrace, she tried to do as he had asked. Relaxing, she attempted to clear her mind of all of these useless comparisons. Peter wasn't Brian. And Peter and Sophie's relationship wasn't the same as hers and Sully's, either.

Instead, Michaela's focused her thoughts solely on Peter. He was strong and driven, courageous and loyal, and most of all, he was incredibly stubborn.

A thinly veiled smile crossed Michaela's lips as she recalled standing on the Colorado soil of their as-yet unbuilt homestead, having her first, very awkward, conversation with Sully about any children that might come along. Vividly, she remembered warning him that potential stubbornness was a distinct possibility.

And, how right she had been! From her beloved Katie on down, there had been one in every generation - one child who defied convention, followed their own conscience, and sought to make the world a better place. Michaela was so very proud of them all.

But, what if poor Peter had inherited more than just her stubborn streak? Michaela was extremely well aware that stubbornness was not her only fault. What if Peter had inherited some of her more deep-seated longings as well?

Keenly, Michaela considered one, last, thought-provoking question…

"What if Peter inherited my need for guarantees, as well?"

^^^^^^^

Sophie raced headlong from the Oakhaven veranda, down the stairs, to the imposing, majestic, old tree. The bench was there, just as Ezra had described, but it was also quite empty.

"Come on…Be here," she muttered desperately, going so far as to knock on the tree's trunk.

Sophie wasn't sure if she should pray, or chant, or turn three times and face to the east. She only knew that, somehow, she needed to find Michaela and Sully - before it was too late.

Slumping to the bench, Sophie let her eyes scan the Oakhaven lawn. Countless elderly men and women, some in couples and some alone, sat, walked, or were being wheeled about, on such a beautiful day.

"Where are they?" Sophie wondered fruitlessly.

Having to start somewhere, Sophie stood and surveyed each man, one by one. None of them were wearing leather jackets, or had long hair, for that matter. Afraid to stray too far from the bench, Sophie walked a few feet down toward the flower garden, hoping the peace and quiet might help her to think.

Sully's hair was flowing in the breeze and his buckskin jacket and pants fit him like a glove, even now. Likewise, Michaela possessed her same petite frame - graceful, elegant, yet filled with unmistakable determination.

All physical similarities aside, Sophie would have noticed them at once - just by their embrace. They stood wrapped together, her back against his chest, in silent reflection - one mind, one body. Any other couple would seem strangely disconnected in comparison. Sophie approached them in awe of their unity.

"Is it really you…" she whispered, afraid they might disappear if she touched them - but they didn't.

"Hello, Sophie," Michaela took her hand warmly. "I'm so glad you could visit us."

Sophie's voice was tentative at best as she struggled to contain her disbelief.
"How?… Why?…" she croaked uselessly.

Michaela smiled knowingly. "Why don't we sit down?" she suggested, meeting Sully's bemused gaze as Sophie insisted they go first.

Gratefully, Sophie reached the bench and rested her extremely shaky legs. This couldn't be happening, and yet, it was.

"Why are you here?" Sophie asked again, her voice returning somewhat.

"We came for your wedding, of course," Michaela answered truthfully. "Why are 'you' here?" she countered with interest.

No amount of astonishment could cloud Sophie's mission. "I came because Peter's in trouble," she said simply, her hopes fading.

"I don't think there's going to be a wedding," Sophie heard her voice crack and felt the tears welling within her. "I don't think he's…going to make it."

Immediately, Michaela's arms reached out to comfort her. "What does his doctor say?" she asked gently.

"She says I should talk to him…" Sophie replied with a shrug, exhausted.

"I think that's an excellent idea," Michaela agreed whole-heartedly.

"I remember Hank responded quite favorably to verbal stimulation when he suffered a head injury once," she reported encouragingly.

Sophie, however, took little comfort in the ability of Charity's great-great-grandfather to recover from whatever misfortune typically befell roguish saloonkeepers in the Wild West.

"But it's not working…" Sophie emphasized forcefully. "I've tried for days…I talk to him about everything…about what's happening at Horizon…about Charity and the kids…about my wedding dress."

"What's wrong with him?" she asked plaintively.

Michaela glanced at Sully, her eyes full of hope. "Are you asking for our help, Sophie?" she clarified to be sure.

"Yes, please…can you help him?" Sophie's desperation was written all over her face.

Sully wasn't certain if Michaela possessed the remedy Sophie sought; but, quickly, he nodded his approval that she should try. For, profoundly, at every crossroad, their instinct to protect Peter and Sophie seemed validated beyond dispute. Clearly, the Spirits were showing them the way…lighting their path. They were being given a sacred responsibility, one they would fulfill with all their hearts.

Intently, Sully listened as his wife offered her best medical and motherly advice.

"Perhaps you're not telling Peter what he needs to hear right now?" Michaela suggested gingerly. "Perhaps he needs a reason to wake up?"

"A reason?" Sophie's head was spinning. Michaela was talking in riddles.

"In a coma, one's subconscious takes control, Sophie," Michaela explained her theory. "Perhaps Peter's subconscious needs a little reassurance right now?" she offered hesitantly.

"Reassurance about what?" Sophie asked, confused.

Michaela paused, uncertain whether she should continue. If she was mistaken, if her suggestions didn't rouse Peter from his coma, Michaela truly doubted that he would ever recover. Advising Sophie incorrectly, raising her hopes now…seemed cruel, beyond belief.

As she always did when she was troubled, Michaela turned to Sully. His empathetic, deep blue eyes absorbed her fears like a sponge, and, tenderly, he returned her gaze with one of courage and pride. She felt his hand squeezing hers tightly to give her strength, and she sighed peacefully. Knowing her husband supported her was all the faith Michaela required.

Taking a deep breath, she faced Sophie once again. "Reassurance about the future…" she surmised thoughtfully.

"Oh, but I've told him how much I love him. And I've been talking to him about the wedding," Sophie dismissed Michaela's observation too quickly.

"Then what?" Michaela asked abruptly, hoping to make her point.

"What do you mean?" Sophie felt her defenses rising.

"What about after the wedding?" Michaela continued her inquiry. "What about your future together? Have you talked to him about that?"

Well…no…I suppose…I haven't…" Sophie hadn't even realized it herself up until that moment. "But he knows…"

"Does he?" This time it was Sully who questioned her.

Contritely, Sophie suffered their interrogation. "You mean because of my past…because I've left him so many times?"

Sophie considered their words and then shook her head defiantly. "No," she protested vigorously. "Things are different now…Peter knows that…He knows I want a future together as much as he does."

"I'm sure on some level he does, Sophie," Michaela soothed her. "But perhaps, now, more than ever, he might like to hear you say the words?"

Sophie couldn't deny such a simple statement of fact. Though she had told Peter how much she loved him a thousand times over, she'd never once mentioned their future beyond the wedding. Maybe it was because the concept both thrilled and terrified her so.

Eerily, Sophie recalled how she'd teased Peter that he should rest because, after all, they were getting married in less than a month. He'd replied jokingly, "Are we?" Now, she paused, wondering if he really had been kidding. Maybe there was a part of Peter that still wasn't completely sure.

"The future…" Sophie repeated the words direly in her head. What did she see when she saw their future?

Sophie could still picture the joy on Peter's face when he sat at the gazebo and asked her what could be better than a bunch of little Peters and Sophies running around their backyard? The reality that she couldn't give him that future, was something Sophie mourned every waking minute.

"So, what DO I see?" Sophie asked herself.

Well, she saw them teaching together, side by side, making the world a little safer for the kids who were already here, the kids who had no one. She saw them having adventures together, biking, climbing, traveling the world over. And she saw them loving each other endlessly, as endlessly as Michaela and Sully, who, miraculously, seemed to have extended their love through all eternity.

Sophie took a good look at them. Whether young and vital, as they appeared in her dreams, or old and frail, as they stood before her now, Sully and Michaela's love was the one thing that hadn't changed. It crackled and burned like a fire that wouldn't die…couldn't die. That was what Sophie wanted most of all for her future. She wanted to know the secret recipe. Sophie wanted to know how to stay with Peter - forever.

"What happened to you?" Sophie asked quietly, even fearfully.

"Happened?" Michaela had a pretty good idea where Sophie's questions were leading.

"To still be together after all this time…" Sophie pressed, feeling like such an intruder. "I mean, you must have died, right?"

"Everybody does…" Sully chuckled, ruefully.

"How did it…" Sophie couldn't even finish the sentence.

With his mesmerizing voice, Sully transported her easily, to another time, another place…

"It was late September, 1918," he began slowly, virtually hypnotizing Sophie with his words.

"Michaela and I were already into our eighties, but you'd never know it t'look at us," he chuckled freely.

"Kates used t'call us 'the kids,'" he reminisced with a twinkle in his eye.

Michaela beamed as Sully spoke of their lives together and the joy that each and every moment had brought them.

"I even ventured into the clinic on occasion," Michaela recalled happily, "though, Colleen and Andrew highly disapproved."

"Everything was goin' fine," Sully remembered vividly. "Until…"

"Andrew received word from a colleague in Boston," Michaela recounted seriously. "Soldiers at Fort Devens were dying at an alarming rate. Influenza, they diagnosed, quickly progressing into pneumonia."

"The doctors traced it back to Fort Riley in Kansas…but that was hardly helpful," she explained with a grimace. "World War I had been waging for some time and these soldiers had crisscrossed the Atlantic as well as half of the United States."

"Damage was done," Sully nodded, taking over his wife's story from there.

"It followed the railroad," he winced, never imagining that among the many evils he'd associated with the railroad's coming would be the spreading of a deadly virus.

"Folks were dyin' by the hundreds…thousands - healthy one minute and dead the next. Before it was over, a half a million people would die," Sully closed his eyes briefly as a sign of respect.

Michaela bowed her head as well and placed her hand atop Sully's. It was difficult for them to recall that last month of their lives, even now.

Sophie sat riveted by the tale they spun. In all her history classes she never once remembered hearing of such a devastating plague in the U.S.

"Entire towns simply closed," Michaela painted a dramatic picture of fear and panic. "Banks, saloons, schools and churches," she detailed incredibly. "Everyone stayed inside, wore masks, respected quarantines."

"Brian was livin' in Denver at the time," Sully continued. "His newspaper ran a story 'bout how they were runnin' out o' caskets back east. Towns were askin' fer woodworkers to volunteer. They wanted a hundred coffins on every train."

Instantly, Sophie's mind traveled to the old homestead, to the house Sully had built for Michaela, with his own hands. His woodworking skills were unparalleled - a talent Peter had been lucky enough to inherit.

"So you volunteered," Sophie surmised correctly, catching Sully off-guard with her quick insight.

"Me and Robert E.," Sully nodded sheepishly. "Weren't nothin' but two old men with too much time on their hands, anyway," he scoffed.

"'Specially once Michaela started spending every minute at the clinic," he winked, tellingly.

"I was a doctor, Sully," she defended herself against his reproach. "People were dying…they needed my help."

"But you knew how contagious it was?" Sophie was astonished by their bravery.

"Strangely enough," Michaela responded, "the medical research indicated that the virus was more likely to strike the healthiest and strongest members of the population, rather than attacking the old and the young, who were usually considered the most vulnerable."

"So what happened?" Helplessly, Sophie had a sickening feeling that she was about to hear the end of their story.

"Sully contracted it first…" Michaela sighed. "The Indian camps were being ravaged by the virus and no one seemed to care. Unfortunately, their custom was to sanctify each death with a communal burial, attended by the entire tribe. Sully ventured out repeatedly, hoping to make them see how dangerous that practice had become, under the circumstances…"

"I told her t'just let me die in peace, but you know, Michaela," Sully smirked, "Took me right up t'one o' the recovery rooms and started pourin' all these medicines inta me…"

"All the time, I could see her perspirin' like she did when she got the influenza before, back when she first arrived in Colorado Springs," he recalled with a faraway look in his eyes.

"I took care o' her then," he smiled shyly, "even gave her our first kiss…"

"Sully, we've had this discussion before," Michaela disagreed, pouting. "Our first kiss was on my birthday. Unconscious simply doesn't count…"

Sophie smiled faintly as their light banter warmed her heart. Even as they discussed the tragic circumstances of their deaths, Sully and Michaela were so obviously at peace, and so incredibly in love with one another.

In their gentle teasing, Sophie could almost swear she detected a glimmer of the playful rapport she had with Peter. How she hoped that, in time, their love would be a reflection of Michaela and Sully's devotion as well.

"So I curled up in his arms that night, intending to monitor his respiration." Michaela could still recall that last moment of consciousness…that last beat of Sully's heart next to hers.

"And we died in each other's arms," Sully shrugged, no other explanation necessary. His contentment was palpable, even now. There was no other death he could have wished for. There was no place else he'd rather be.

"You see, Sophie, the influenza brought us together and somehow it's kept us together ever since," Michaela commented, still amazed at the delicate thread, the perfect circle, that connects all life - on earth and hereafter.

"Thank you…" Sophie whispered, almost reverently. The words seemed so lacking, so little to offer, in the face of such lofty wisdom.

"Wisdom…" Sophie smiled at her choice of words. Perhaps now, she could begin to earn her namesake.

"Thank you…for the wisdom," she amended with a tearful smile as she prepared to leave them.

"Good luck," Sully wished her with a loving peck on the cheek.

Naturally, Michaela's goodbye took considerably longer and was filled with heartfelt wishes for Peter's speedy recovery, their marriage, and many glorious years together.

Sully was almost convinced his wife had finished, when, as an afterthought, Michaela decided to contribute one last piece of sage advice.

"Remember, Sophie," Michaela expounded with unconcealed satisfaction, thrilled to make her own contribution to her grandson's literary persuasions. "A loving heart is the truest wisdom."

Though she was anxious to leave, Sophie paused speechless, while Sully simply raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Mr. Dickens, of course," Michaela smiled with a tilt of her head.

"'Course…" Sully chuckled under his breath.

"I won't forget!" Sophie grinned, waving a last farewell.

It was time to get back to the hospital - and back to Peter.

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