Lilly of the Valley

Although his eyes were closed, he knew he had been awake for some time. Not fully awake, just not really asleep. He didn’t need to open his eyes, he knew that, at the moment, the room was empty. He would know if anyone came in. He tried to focus his mind, was there anything special that he needed to do today? Anything that would prompt him into action? Nothing came to mind. He wasn’t hungry, although………

No, he couldn’t be sure of what his last meal had been, but he was sure he wasn’t hungry. Not surprising, it had been a long time since he worried about what he was eating; same as bodily functions. He knew he didn’t need to visit the bathroom, so there really was no pressing reason to open his eyes or get out of bed. He was warm, safe and ……….

Had he fallen asleep? He had been thinking of something but now it was gone. It didn’t matter, he was awake now, but still he didn’t open his eyes. Something was different, since earlier; what was it? He listened carefully, he couldn’t hear anything specific, nothing that wasn’t part of the usual background hum of the room, but he knew that there was something that had not been there before. Not a sound, no, it wasn’t a sound; it was……. it was…….

Flowers, not just any flowers, it was that special fragrance. 

He opened his eyes.

The years tumbled away, the room faded and he was back to the training field. He could almost feel again his racing heart, his lungs drawing air in deep, burning breaths, the stinging sweat running into his eyes. His leg muscles were shaking and he allowed himself to sink to his knees as he struggled to take back control of his breathing. Rubbing the sweat from his eyes he noticed the small white flowers that littered the field in patches. The smell of the flowers was overpowering, surely such a tiny flower could not give off such an overwhelming scent. As he reached forward to pluck one from the ground he realised two things. First, that the source of the intriguing scent was not the flowers, and second, that the scent was emanating from the owner of the feet which had appeared at his side. Sitting back on his heals he raised his head to look up at, despite the drab military uniform, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had a half smile of amusement as she spoke. “The Colonel has sent me to inform you that you have broken the field record by three seconds. He would like to see you in his office.” She smiled to soften her next words, “But I do suggest you clean yourself up first, you don’t exactly smell fresh.” 

“Whereas you smell of heaven” he offered, “What’s the name your perfume?” She started to walk away “Why do you want to know?” She asked over her shoulder.

“I might want to buy some for you”

“Work it out” she called back, “the answer is in front of your face”

He had cheated. Botany wasn’t his subject so he had not realised she meant the white flowers scattered around the field. Instead he had asked one of the other girls in the Colonel’s office. He had bought some, it was his bribe to get a first date with her, and when he had confessed his identification method, it became a joke between them. 

He could smell the perfume more strongly now; his mind went back again. They had married and after a short seventy two hour pass he went off to Korea.

“Moira”

He called her name as she entered the ward. She came along the row of beds until she reached him; confused, “How could you know it was me?” she asked, “has your sight returned?”

Fourteen men had attacked the bunker, three had died as the strike started, two more as they reached the enemy position. Four, he was one of them, had been wounded. The bright, chemical incendiary flash had scorched his optic nerves. He was blind. A short month later he was back home, the diagnosis confirmed and a rehabilitation programme in place.

He has laughed at her confusion. Then he relented. “I’m afraid not,” he smiled, “we have to face facts, my sight will never come back, but I will always know it is you, so long as you always wear that perfume. No one else uses it.”

She had kissed him, and made a promise. “I will never change it.” She had said.

Sixty years they had been married, and she had been true to her word. Despite the abundance of new names and scents that had exploded on to the market over the years, she had never been tempted to change.

And now, he could smell it again. As fresh now as it was then, from the training field, to the office, to the ward, their home, their life. And he remembered.

For a moment the past, the future and the present merged together in his mind, and over all, was her perfume.

He closed his eyes, and exhaled for the last time in perfect happiness.

The monitor was sounding a continuous bleep when the nurse entered the room. As she switched off the monitor, she looked sympathetically to the young lady sitting by his bed. “I’m sorry” she said, “but he has passed on.”

The visitor nodded, “I know”. She looked at the nurse and smiled. “Just before he went, he opened his eyes. I could swear he was smiling and he called me Moira”.

The nurse looked puzzled. “ Moira?”

“My Mother’s name. She died last year, she was eighty one; same age as he is,..... was, now.”

The nurse nodded automatically, then her brow creased, “You have a different perfume today” a question more than a statement. 

“Yes,” she replied, “I don’t know what made me use it today. It was the only perfume my mother ever used, it’s called Lilly of the Valley.”