Now, as she walked, she pondered how strangely father had changed since mother's death, how cold and remote he had become. In all their dealings with each other, as jealous and possessive as he had become, there was still a sense of -- alienation and distance -- as if he were continually pushing her farther away while simultaneously keeping her evermore the captive.
It was an uncomfortable relationship and, no matter how much she loved him, she felt relieved to escape from it whenever she could, as upon the evening walks by the side of the sea that he had so begrudgingly granted her.
Leoda finally came to her favorite place, a solitary boulder upon the sand, a private place she had not dared nor desired to share. She had discovered it one evening after having gone out farther than usual -- in truth, she could not help but discover it, it was such a singular feature of this otherwise smooth, almost barren beach.
She fancied it the throne of some ancient sea-goddess, a seat from which a queen might survey the watery realm she ruled, it seemed to form the seat and backrest of a natural throne, carved here either, as she imagined, by divine whim, or, more probably, by eons of natural forces.
The center of the universe it seemed to Leoda as she clambered up once again into its comfortable embrace. A feeling of peace always descended upon her here, a peace she had once thought impossible, a peace that drowned understanding in the blissful waters of surrender. Once again she was soon lost deep in contemplation -- the stars in the sky expanding before her into sparkling diadems of light, the oceanic murmur of wind and wave seeming to trumpet the angelic choruses of a heavenly host. And then she felt descend upon her, for a fleeting instant, a pressure of remembrance where none should be; an essence uncapturable and yet, inescapable -- as if she belonged here -- as if, from the beginning of time, she had always belonged here.
This sudden shock of recognition brought her back to herself with a start. She saw once again nothing more than the gentle waves rolling in upon the beach and the clear cool moonlight casting her shadow before her. She gazed, as if entranced, within the depths of her shadow's darkness. Images arose, unbidden, before her. And she saw, once again, as within a crystalline vision, her mother, upon her deathbed, her lovely features transfigured now in her last moments. And, somehow, she seemed to hear again, in unmistakable tones, her mother's last, faltering words.
"Please, Conrad, please just let me speak with Leoda alone, please...."
Conrad glanced at his daughter, who sat quietly in a corner of the darkened room.
"Are you sure?" he said. "Are you sure you'll be all right? I'd rather stay."
"Yes, I'm sure -- I just want to speak with her alone -- I'll be all right."
Conrad glanced once more at Leoda, then looked again at -- at his dying wife. He smiled then, the faint smile of a regretful last indulgence, kissed her brow, smoothed the covers, pressed her hands tenderly with his, and left the room, still reserving one final glance for his silent daughter.
As, behind him, the door closed, Emily breathed a faint, painful sigh. She was not strong. This last attack had been worse than the others, and the doctors had warned her that, even with all the rest in the world, she would not last much longer. And still with so much to do, so much to say ... and so little, so very little time....
"Leoda -- darling - come here, would you please...."
Leoda left the room's darkened corner and approached within the aura of golden light that seemed to dance about her mother's head. She looks so radiant, Leoda thought, like a rose in full bloom. But it was a bloom pierced by a painful thorn. Leoda looked down upon her mother's transfigured features and the thought came to her that perhaps this would be the last time they would ever have together, the last moments they would ever share in this life. Suddenly, Leoda felt more alone than she ever had felt before and was very, very much afraid.
"Here I am, mother. Is there -- is there anything I can do for you?"
Emily peered up at her daughter through fevered eyes, a moist, warm glow brightening them so that they seemed to peer out far beyond the confines of this tiny room. A spasm of pain suddenly seized her, contracting her face in a grimace, her eyes squeezing shut -- and then it passed, leaving her, as always, weaker than before. It was as if death had suddenly taken hold of her, only to ease his grasp, if only for a moment. No, it was not the final moment, but soon ... soon....
She had to speak now, -- now before it was too late, too late to tell her child of all the things that really mattered, -- of the warm joys of endless summer days and of mild autumns with red-gold leaves and misty winter mornings crinkling with soft sunlight on snow. And most of all, she wished to tell her daughter of how much she had loved her father in the spring-time of their lives, and of how Leoda would have to take care of him, now ... now that she was all that he had left to him in the entire world, please, Leoda, please remember that no matter what happens, no matter what you might come to believe, you have to remember, that deep in his heart, he loves you and will always love you, -- very, very much....
Emily grasped her daughter's hand in her's and peered up at her with all the awful power of her dying gaze. And then she whispered to her daughter her last words, her final secret.
"You are not your father's child," she said.
Leoda made to protest, but even as she spoke, the light had left her mother's eyes, the breath her body, the strength her grasp. She was gone.
And then Leoda cried.
She did not know how long she cried. She knew only that, somehow, when it was over, she had let go. Upon her heart, a peace had descended, overflowing, and she knew that her mother was at last at rest; the warm ecstasy of its embrace held her firmly in its glory. Leoda dried her eyes then, still sniffling, yet comforted. She stood and clasped her mother's hand again, a last, tender pressure of reassurance, remembrance and embrace.
With the passing of her mother's life, Leoda knew that she now stood alone at the beginning of a vast, new era of her life. The light of an unknown future cast its shadow darkly before her. It was with a fear and a trepidation new to her that she passed from this room of sorrow. Her mother's last words, a visible heat, ringing still within her.
At last, she came upon him. And, as if for the very first time, she stared upon this strange new creature who, until now, had been the only father she had ever known.
She found him standing before the open fireplace, a drink in hand, seeing who knew what memories fading in the fire's dying embers. She did not know how to say it but somehow she did, she told him that Mama was gone. He never moved his gaze from the flickering ashes.
She repeated what she had said but he only answered, "I heard you.... Please, just leave me alone right now, would you?"
She nodded, going to the door, glancing only once back at this father who had so suddenly become such a stranger to her. And just as the door clicked shut behind her, she heard the sound of breaking glass -- glass shattering itself upon the door behind her and then the howling began and the fear returned, driving the peace from her heart and she is running running running...