Jean and Bill were a professional couple living the good life in San Jose, California. They had been married for eight years and were both thirty years old, working in the technology sector of Silicon Valley. They were busy people and fully enjoyed the Bay Area. There were long weekends for them when they’d go to the wine country or just to play in San Francisco. This was a couple deeply in love, highly successful and with a very bright future.  Jean and Bill had put having children on hold but had started thinking it was about time to start a family. There was nothing difficult about their lives nor as regards their own families, life was good.

Spring had brought a lot of late season rain including an odd thunderstorm that had lasted all night long. Bill and Jean found it difficult to sleep with all the noise of the thunder and bright flashes of lightening. It was about 3AM when an odd thought entered Bill’s mind, “I’ve got to go to Charleston.”  He was surprised and wondered where that thought came from. He had never been to Charleston, no family or friends there. In fact he had never even been in the South. The thought of having to go to Charleston wrapped around him like the twisted blankets on the bed. The thought dug deeply into his mind. He tossed and turned, he would try to think of other things, and yet the thought kept coming back to him, “I’ve got to go to Charleston.” As the night wore on this inner voice kept getting louder and more demanding. He became scared at one point, got up and went into the den to smoke a cigarette. But the thought continued and persisted. Finally he was to fall asleep but only one dream kept playing over and over in his mind.  He was at the airport and there was a  women standing next to him, she was bathed in a luminescent blue glow, she said, “Bill you need to go to Charleston now before it’s too late.”  He woke up at 5:30AM; rolling over and he put his arm around Jean. Putting his head up next to hers he whispered into her ear, “I’m going to Charleston today.” “What are you talking about Bill?” Jean said half asleep. “I have to go to Charleston,” Bill said again, now more loudly. Jean sat up in bed, turned to Bill and said, “is this something about work?” “No, I just have to go to Charleston.” Bill said again, now getting out of bed. “What’s going on, what the hell is going on?” Jean said with anger in her voice. “I don’t know, all I know is I have to go to Charleston and I’m going today, I have to go,” He said loudly but with a sadness in his voice. “Bill I don’t know what this is all about, this is just too weird, are you OK?” Jean was standing up next to the bed looking very concerned. “All I know is I have to go to Charleston, I’m not sure how long I’ll be there but I have to go today.”

Jean looked hurt and confused. She was wondering to herself if he was leaving her. “What’s the problem, maybe you should speak to a professional?” Jean said with a tight voice. “Maybe when I return, but I’m leaving today.” “What about work?” Jean now had near panic in her voice. “I’ll call and take some personal time off, I’ll call you when I get there.” Jean figured this was an early midlife crisis for Bill and it was best to let him follow his present odd need. “OK, call me when you get there. She walked over to him; “I love you Bill.” She said holding him tightly. “I love you also, everything’s going to be OK, I just have to do this.” Bill said with a sheepish half smile.

Later that day Bill found himself, just as he had seen in his dream, himself waiting at the San Francisco airport for a plane to Atlanta which would connect to a flight to Charleston.

After a layover in Atlanta there was a short flight to Charleston. He was very nervous, almost jumpy when he got off the airplane in Charleston. It was warm and humid, almost a sour smell in the air. He took a taxi into the old town part of the city getting a hotel room in an historic and charming 19^th century building just down from the old slave market.  He went to his room, sat on the bed and cried hard and long. He later called Jean gave the number of the hotel and said, “I love you!”

The next day Bill walked the few blocks to the harbor. It was a bright, hot and muggy day, almost oppressive. Everywhere he looked there were wonderful 19^th century homes and shops, it was as though he had stepped back into time. He looked out into the harbor wondering where Fort Sumpter was.  He walked along the parkway and came to a park bench; the heat was too much he had to sit down. On the bench was a woman about 40, exceedingly thin, narrow face, in a light blue dress. He sat down and nodded at the woman, she smiled and said “good morning.” Bill paused a moment, the woman looked familiar to him, but from where? “Do I know you.” He said. “You look like someone I’ve met before,” Bill said. “I was thinking the same thing, my name is Laura, Laura White.” The woman said extending her thin hand to Bill. “I’m Bill Farthing, from California, are you from California?” Bill asked. “Never been there, my family is from Charleston, many, many generations,” Laura said still holding Bills hand. Laura let go of Bill’s hand, “perhaps we just look like people we have both known before. Life is funny like that.” Laura said in a slow southern manner. “Yeah, that’s it, we just look like other people from our lives.” Bill said looking into Laura’s eyes.

The two of them talked a while about the history of the city, the old buildings and about all the usual tourist questions. Finally Bill asked a personal question, “what do you do?” “Nothing,” was the soft rely. “Nothing?” Bill said somewhat startled. “You see, I’m ill and taking life easy right now.” Laura said. Laura continued talking to Bill telling him about her illness. She had cancer and she was home to wait for the end, there was nothing the doctor’s could do. Laura had no family, no one at all, just her big Tomcat and a home a couple blocks from the harbor. “It’s charming and home, very old!” Laura said with a smile. Bill was speechless; tears welled up in his eyes. Laura took his hand, “It’s OK, I’ve come to accept it all, honest it’s OK.” “But being alone aren’t you scared?” Bill said.  “I’m not alone, just look, you’re here,” Laura said standing up. “I must go now,” Laura said with abroad smile. “Can I see you again,” he asked. “Of course you can. I’m here every day at this time.” Laura turned and walked away.

That night Bill called Jean. He told her about Laura. “Bill maybe that’s why you’re there, to be with her” Jean said.

Every day for a week he went down to the same bench to meet Laura. They talked for hours at a time. One day Laura took Bill to her home, truly a piece of Charleston history. The house was narrow and brick. The house was furnished in late 19^th century furniture with lace on the windows. “Tommy” the cat came right up to Bill. “He has never done that before,” Laura said smiling. Bill noticed a picture of Laura sitting on the piano in the parlor. It was Laura at 20. “Pretty picture,” Bill said picking it up in its heavy brass frame. “Take it, it’s yours.” “No I can’t accept this,” Bill said putting it back upon the piano. “No, please take it, I want you to have it.” Laura said, picking the picture up and placing it back into Bill’s hands.

Bill and Laura met three more days at the same bench. Laura spoke to him about her whole life and all the things that mattered. Bill listened to Laura, many times taking her hand in his. “I have all my cremation arrangements already made,” Laura said one day. Bill made no reply; he just sat there silently.

It was Sunday, as before he walked the few blocks to the park bench to meet Laura. She never arrived. Concerned Bill walked to her house. She was not home, but oddly Tommy, the cat, was sitting on the front porch. Bill went back to his hotel and waited. He called her house but there was no answer. He went back to the park bench again but she was not there. Finally he looked up hospitals and started calling. Finally he called a hospital and the person on the other end said, “let me transfer you.” A nurse picked up the phone, “are you a member of the Laura White’s family?” The woman asked firmly. “Yes I’m her cousin,” He decided to lie. Bill said. “I’m sorry to have to tell you... Laura died last night at 11PM.”  He asked about the funeral home and the nurse gave him the name. He called the funeral home. She was to be cremated and there were neither planned services nor a burial. She was to be scattered over the ocean. Bill ran from the hotel all the way to Laura’s house. There on the front step Tommy the cat was sitting. He quickly picked the cat up and went back to the hotel room.

Epilogue

Years have passed since Bill’s fateful meeting with Laura in Charleston. Bill and Jean now live in a Victorian house, in Santa Cruz, California. They have two children, a boy named Angelo, and a girl they named Laura. They are a happy and peaceful family. Tommy the cat has the run of the house.

In the living room there is an upright piano and on the top of the piano sits the picture of Laura, in its large brass frame, she is smiling out over the years. And there is comfort in Heaven and Earth.