Coffee and Reminisce (Excerpt)

(This story is now part of a longer tale called Flowers for Alice - which I expanded after writing a few chapters - and covers the first meeting of two lovers who were cruelly separated when a crash claimed the life of one of them. It is a story of reincarnated love after twenty years apart. I think it sits well enough as a stand alone - hope you like it).

  John woke early, washing and dressing even before the cockerel had time to share its wake up call with the world. Breakfast was a simple one of cereal and tea, with a piece of crusty bread and butter afterwards to quieten his still-grumbling belly.

  His nerves were on edge, crackling just below the surface making him feel as though he were performing a jitterbug on ice-skates. The food reached his stomach and calmed him down a little – settling him and slowing the shakes that had begun to creep in. He had drained his cup and stood to pour himself a third from the teapot when he heard the distant hum of an approaching engine.

  Pulling the curtains aside a fraction, he peered out into the early morning darkness, straining to see and hear what was coming. The noise quietened as whatever it was disappeared behind a hill, and then growing louder as it re-emerged. John caught a flash of headlights and he saw the vehicle moving along the ings road, which was the main route that led from town, to the farm and beyond.

  Instead of driving on, it slowed and made the turn into the long rutted dirt road that opened up onto the yard in front of the house. He could see the lights jumping, as whoever it was, made their way along the pot-holed road, before the car came to a stop and parked at the side of the tractor.

  John watched on as the car stilled and was quiet. No one got out for at least five minutes and he was beginning to wonder if he should go out and challenge him or her. Then, the door opened slowly and a pair of slim, jeans clad legs swung out, followed by a body wrapped in a fur-lined coat, with the hood settled against the back. The face that he could see – ghostly white in the glow of the moon – was Alice’s.

  Moving quickly, he scrambled to the front door and opened it wide. Alice had stopped halfway across the yard and was staring at him, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her winter coat. They regarded each other for a few seconds before John managed to break the silence, “Alice” he said.

  The switch on the kettle flicked off as the water boiled, sending wafts of steam to the ceiling in the kitchen. Alice sat at the small table in the middle of the room; her hands clasped together on her lap and were twitching nervously. John poured the water into the two cups and made them each a strong coffee – his black and hers with milk.

  “I guess you want to talk?” he said. “Yes”, she replied - a little too quickly she thought to herself. “I woke early and just could not get back to sleep – too many questions flying around in my head I suppose”. John nodded, as if in agreement. She continued, “I got your address from Claire – as well as your number – I hope you don’t mind?” “No, not at all”, John said, the traces of a smile just showing as he looked at her, marvelling at her beauty once more. “The things you said, about the ring and flowers, how did you know? “How could you know? It does not make sense”. “What you said about Paul, as ludicrous as it sounds; I need to know how you found out and if you are telling the truth”.

  John pulled up a chair and sat opposite her, cup cradled in his hand, savouring the warmth it gave off and feeling it penetrate the chill. He began to recount the day in question, including every detail he could recall – even down to the clothes she was wearing and the way she had her hair tied in a ponytail. All the while, he talked, she listened raptly, chin resting in the palms of her hands – eyes never leaving his, not even for a second. It seemed to her that she had not blinked in hours. Names of places they visited, people they met, and times they walked – hand in hand in the woods and fields – making love, laughing, joking and all the things she remembered and more.

  John spoke of memories that Alice had forgotten which sprung back to the front of her mind once he uttered the words, touching that deep down place where secrets lay dormant forever. Finally, John reached the end. She knew it would hurt hearing this, but it had to be finished. The crash.

  “I was driving, you were at the side of me – laughing at my jokes, my bad jokes I might add”, and John chuckled at this and shook his head, before resuming; “The sun was very bright, almost too bright and I remember having to shield my eyes often as we passed the trees along the road. We were approaching the big old barn, the one that is still there I think,

on the bend before the new by-pass starts. The reflection was a bad one and it caused me to close my eyes – for just a second – but it was enough. I saw it too late, it was upon us and there was nothing I could do – other than try and shield you from it”

  John looked up, and across the table at Alice. The tears were full and brimming, already flowing down her cheeks and dripping onto her coat. “I am so sorry Alice,” he said, “So, so sorry”.

  “After that, I don’t remember much, although I have dreams (memories maybe?), of you standing at the grave side, crying”. “I guess it was my gra…sorry, Paul’s grave you were looking over. You had flowers. Lilies.

  “There are lots more things Alice – so much that I can barely remember it all”, John continued, “I just want you to know that I am not a crank and everything I am telling you is the truth and straight from the heart – or is to the best of my knowledge”. “The times that I have convinced myself I must be going mad, that there is just no way it could all be true but it keeps coming back to the same thing – I have lived before and I was with you, of that I have absolutely no doubt”.

  Alice was silent for a long time, taking it all in and digesting it – seemingly trying to convince herself that the person sat opposite her was not some crazy, but was a normal man, a man whom she had once loved and shared life with many years before.

  She wiped absently at the tears, streaking them across her face and blurring her vision. There was a big decision that needed to be made – one that could have a ripple effect, the size of which she could not imagine. Then of course, there was the matter of the letter to consider.

Would she tell him? Should she tell him? That was for consideration at a different time maybe – not for now.

  Without thinking, Alice stood and walked around the table. John stood to meet her, pushing his chair back and leaning on the back of it. She faced him, tears still falling freely and unashamedly, wiping them away with her sleeve. Walking as if in a dream, she went to him, into his arms, which enveloped her – holding tight and holding close.

  It was difficult to know how long they both stayed that way – Alice fighting to stave off the sobs that threatened to wrack her body - neither wanting to let go, to break the bond. It was John that stepped back first, once more looking into those eyes, deep and dreamy, wet with tears. The overhead fluorescent lights reflected from them making it seem as though they were ablaze. To Alice, John’s face merged and changed as she stared at him, switching from his, to Paul’s, and back again – taking her headlong into the past and reawakening a passion that she had thought lost forever.

  “I’m sorry”, she whispered, stepping back. “No need to apologise”, John replied, “I wanted to do it just as much as you did”. “I feel so daft, so stupid”, Alice said – more to herself than to him.

  John took her face in his hands and turned it up so he could look her directly in the eyes again. Her lips were trembling ever so slightly and he could feel the vibration as she shook beneath his steadying hands. “I’m so glad you came,” he said, gaze never faltering. Slowly, deliberately, John bent and brushed her lips with his. It was brief, barely a peck, but to him, it felt as though an electrical current had suddenly been switched on, passing between them

both. Alice gasped as they parted - her mouth open, breathing quickly – her face flushed and feeling hot.

  It was so familiar, the kiss, the feeling of closeness and safety in his arms, the sensation of being young again was powerful and all consuming. Inside, she sensed that it was Paul; her heart told her as much. Somewhere far into the depths of her soul - beyond all the emotional parts, the fantasy and dream world that had so often occupied her thoughts – there was one solitary cell sparking a signal, which transferred the information to the logical part of the brain, the part that told her it could never be, it must all be fake.

  “I need to sit down John”, she said to him and tottered a little before he grabbed her elbow to steady the wobble, and pulled out the chair so she could drop down with a thud. “I will make us both another coffee, if you want one?” John said as he turned away towards the kettle – taking the two empty mugs from the table. “Yes please”, she replied, a little sheepishly. “I would love one”.

  They talked for the rest of the early morning and on until the sky began to change from the dark to a murky grey. When the sun did come up, it sketched its beautiful colours across the horizon, before finally casting the bright yellow glow over the world – all unnoticed by the two of them as they chatted. It would be a warmer day than it had been recently, with a mild breeze that gently rocked the trees and the fields surrounding the farm. The cows were lowing from the barn with a deep, guttural sound that demanded attention. John looked up finally from his cup and glanced over at the clock – realising how late it was – and standing, pulled his jacket from the hook by the door. “Alice, I need to see to the livestock, I am really sorry – you are more than welcome to stay for a while, I should not be too long”, he said to her, in a pleading, apologetic sort of way. “No, you need to get on”, she said, “We can talk some more again soon, you need to see to your animals”.

  John walked with her to the car, opening the door so she could slide in behind the wheel. “Thank you for coming to see me”, he smiled, leaning in and briefly kissing her cheek. Alice returned both the kiss, and the smile, before pulling the door closed, starting the car and driving away along the bumpy track to the main road. John watched her leave with a sense of loss. He had wanted her to stay longer but did not want to push the situation as it was. There would be time enough in the future – after all, they had been apart for so long so a bit more of a wait would not hurt.

  Alice glanced back at him in the rear view mirror as she negotiated the potholes, which were numerous along the whole length of the track that led from the farm. John was standing, hands in his pockets, staring out and following her progress. She afforded herself a smile and returned full attention to keeping the car from sliding off into the drainage ditch that ran along both sides. Reaching the junction with the main road, Alice indicated right and pulled out onto the deserted two-lane carriageway that at this time of day should have been a little busier.

  Thoughts turned to the conversations they had had, and the ones that would follow – some good and some that would undoubtedly cause concern on both sides. She had enjoyed the few hours spent with him this morning at the farm, it felt natural and right between them, as if they were kindred spirits. The plan to meet at the cemetery and then go for coffee fell badly by the wayside, instead, Alice had bowed to the urgency within her to see him, to speak with him and to find out as much as she possibly could – which she had really gone a good way towards.

  Traffic remained light all the way home and Alice arrived feeling good, parking in her usual spot, locking up and letting herself into the house. She dropped her keys on the counter and spotted the letter – sitting there as if accusing her, with its simple plain envelope, white and glaring with the address and name written on the front. She would tell him next time she saw him and then deal with what came next – which reminded her – she would need to call and arrange something with him and this time, somewhere a little nicer than sat in a farmhouse kitchen at silly o’clock drinking strong, bitter coffee. Dinner perhaps or a walk in the country. She made a mental note to ask him what he liked to do.

  The wash basket was full to the top with clothes, she grabbed an armful and dumped it into the washer, filling the drawer with softener and popping a tablet into the drum, before selecting a quick cycle and pushing the button. The machine whirred into action, instantly bringing the house to life and filling it with familiar sounds and smells. Flicking the kettle on, she dug out the piece of paper in her purse that had John’s address and phone number on. She picked up the phone and dialled.