The Call by Regina Spektor and the hymn are not mine but the people who wrote them

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Chapter Twelve No Need To Say Goodbye

There's times in our lives that seem to replay themselves. Not literally in actual time but in our hearts and memories, the times that matter most to us, they live on over and over again. They like to slip in and replay at some of the most heartbreaking moments or they can replay at the best of times. But whether or not we want them they come without fail.

For Kate they came when she was sitting in thought mostly, the good memories came when she was in an optimistic, fond recalling temperment. And then the not so good ones came when she was in dispair and heartbreak, and most of those memories only made the moment worse.

At this particular moment Kate was tending to a pile of knotted fishnets, mindlessly unknotting them as she let her thoughts wander freely away from the confines of the ship she and her sister where now entrapped on. Though in some ways Kate could hardly complain she was loved and protected by a man that fulfilled every dream she had dreamt since she was held closely in her grandfathers arms.

Now you have heard mention of her grandfather before but we hardly know much about this kindly man that Kate desired to find in someone else to take his place since his death. Well memories are good for this she thinks about him daily and hardly does she think of something that I miss thinking about also. It goes back about 18 years or so when our redhead spitfire was but a lass of three years of age. The age when little girls skip about, little curls glistening in the sun like young sparks of flame. tThe age when little girls cherish the fathers in their lives, and Kate's grandfather was that to her, the man she cherished most in her young life. He played the role of mother, father, and grandfather. As a mother he taught her about proper manners of young ladies, to cook, clean, sew, and play an instrument. As a father he taughter her how to cultivate the land, how to read, write, and do her numbers, as well as take care of the small amount of animals that they owned. And as a grandfather her taught her stories of myth, folklore, and love.

Eighteen Years Ago

Now the proper setting of this little abode she grew in is quite a pretty picture, close your eyes and imagine if you can paint these words into pictures once you read them.

At the base of a cliff and at the beginning of an expansive, green grassy glen sat a comely cottage with a straw thatched roof and firm beams of alder. The chimney made of stone had a curl of smoke traveling lazily up to the golden sky of an Irish sunset, a stunning sight to any man, woman or child. And set before this fireplace an old wooden pipe in his hand sat a later middle aged man in a rocking chair. He wore homespun clothing of a farmer and fisherman, having earned his way in life from both land and sea. He had faded brown hair atop his defined head, and a peppery short beard of gray and brown. His eyes were a deep, rich brown with a continuous kindly expression to them, put aside if he wasn’t angered by some form of injustice or another wrong doing. He was of an old age for the village he lived in not many lived past 35 because of the plague that swept through, being 43 made him older than the village elder. Orin Gibson was a man respected by the villagers, they looked to him for his wisdom and guidance.

He sat there his eyes closed slightly as he relaxed his hands sliding over the wood of his crafted pipe. He murmured something under his breathe like a prayer, though he whispered it was as if he was singing with that soft yet deep voice that hushed angered men and soothed a crying child.

O Father, hear me as I pray to Thee,
I know that I am far from purity;
But Jesus died that sinful men might live,
So in His Name I ask Thee to forgive.

Father, Father,
Humbly now I come to Thee;
Father, Father,
Hear, oh hear my humble plea.

I pray that Thou wilt pardon ev’ry sin;
O Lord, forgive and make me pure within.
Plant a desire for service in my heart
And give me strength to always do my part.

He stopped hearing the soft breathing of the new arrival in his home; it was his three-year-old grand-daughter. She stood there in her big button up shirt of his, her thumb in her mouth with a felt rabbit tucked in her little arm. She looked at him with wide emerald eyes, her red curls gone astray from tossing in her bed. He smiled kindly and opened his arms to her, which she gladly trotted over and climbed into his lap and snuggled in.

“What are you doin’ up Katelyn?” he asked curiously brushing the wild curls from the child’s face.

“No sleepy,” she said taking her thumb out of her mouth and shrugging her shoulders her eyes wide and full of wakefulness.

“Well now how can you not be sleepy after that boat ride here?” he asked in surprise.

She shrugged and shook her head “I don’ ‘no grampa”

“Ya don’t?! Hmmm well now it seems we have a serious problem young lady,” he said with mock sternness.

“We do?” she asked her eyes going wider.

“Yes you need yer sleep and so do I in order to work tomorrah,” he said with a yawn. “And you need to sleep so you can play and grow up,” he said chucking her chin gently.

She giggled resting her head on his shoulder. The little girl was quiet for sometime so he remained silent hoping she might drift to sleep. He sighed looking down at her no such luck in his hopes of sleep finding the young girl asleep she was still wide eyed as any kitten wanting to play with a ball of yarn.

“Katelyn you need ta go to sleep,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“Bu’ I cant grampa my eyes wont stay closed” she said holding her eyes wide her hands resting on his shoulders.

“They wont? Well what do ya reckon will keep ‘em closed?”

“Sing grampa thing!” she said bouncing excitedly her ‘S’ turning into soft ‘th’ because her tongue missed her two little teeth in her excitement.

He laughed bowing his head back a truly jubilant laugh that filled the room with mirth. “Alrigh’ then,” he said standing up and walking into the room he had put together for her. He set her down on the bed and went to a shelf picking up a little box.

He walked over to her bed and knelt down holding the box out to her. She looked at him hesitantly her purple-rimmed eyes cautious. He gave her a reassuring nod and she gingerly took the box and opened it. The box held a small humble crafted music box which filled the bedroom with the sweet innocent tricklings of music that make dreams come to life.

She looked at him her mouth gaping in a speechless smile. “I’th pretty grampa,” she said after trying to form words off the tip of her rosey tongue her emerald eyes glittering with wonder and awe, and at something so simply as a brass music box made of wood.

“Its your’s angel,” he said with a tender smile brushing her curls from her cheeks.

“Rweally?”

“On my word little one the music box is now yours,” he promised.

She smiled and puckered her little lips and kissed his feather soft bearded cheek wrapping her little arms about his neck. “tank you” she said softly. She then burst into giggles as he tickled her neck with his beard.

The little tickle turned into a series of tickles as he found her little places that sent her squeeling. In a matter of a minute she was red in the face and exhausted, when he sat back to look at her he grinned. He saw a yawn and she rubbed her eyes.

“Get in them covers Katie,” he said pulling back the soft woolen blankets on the straw mattress.

She did as told scrambling for the pillow, she shifted and turned for a little bit until she was comfortable her eyes almost closed. He leaned down and kissed her cheek lovingly as her eyes slipped closed. “Good night angel” he whispered before turning to the music box and twisting it. He set it down on a little table with a small candle and turned to leave the little voice from the bed spoke up pleadingly

"grampa sing for me please" she pleaded looking at him innoncently.

He smiled this little girl had a thing for music a rare gift in children her age. 'She's jes like her mum' he thought as he nodded and came to sit down next to her. "alrigh' lil one" he said clearing his throat.

"It started out as a feeling

Which then grew into a hope

Which then turned into a quiet thought

Which then turned into a quiet word

And then that word grew louder and louder

'Til it was a battle cry

I'll come back

When you call me

No need to say goodbye

Just because everything's changing

Doesn't mean it's never

Been this way before

All you can do is try to know

Who your friends are

As you head off to the war

Pick a star on the dark horizon

And follow the light

You'll come back

When it's over

No need to say good bye"

He looked down at her as the music box played her little eyes dropping finally after such a busy day. She truly was a little blessing, and she looked so much like her mother. He prayed Caitlin wouldn't fall to harm with that man she was married too. That Count from a devilish line had swept in like a knight in shining armour and had taken his little girl at only 16 and woed her into loving him. He had tried to persuade her but Caitlin was the romantic type that held onto love tightly she couldn't tell him no then, and now she was sending this precious child to him for safty from such a man. He sighed and went back to singing.

"Now we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling and now one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too
Doesn't mean that you have to forget

Let your memories grow stronger ans stronger
'Til they're before your eyes

You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye"

When he finished she was asleep, her eyes closed and the lamb tucked next to her tightly as the moon shown through the window onto her little angelic face. "How could someone wish harm on such a sweet innocent child?" he mused kissing her forehead lightly before walking out of the room and returned back to his rocking chair watching the dwindling fire lighting his pipe and putting it to his lips thoughtfully.

Kate sighed heavily hearing yelling as the men struggled with the cannons bellow, she wiped her face finding tears slipping down her cheeks as she set to work again humming softly and singing under her breath.

"It started out as a feeling

Which then grew into a hope

Which then turned into a quiet thought

Which then turned into a quiet word

And then that word grew louder and louder

'Til it was a battle cry

I'll come back

When you call me

No need to say goodbye

Just because everything's changing

Doesn't mean it's never

Been this way before

All you can do is try to know

Who your friends are

As you head off to the war

Pick a star on the dark horizon

And follow the light

You'll come back

When it's over

No need to say good bye"

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Well this chapter is a background basically into someone very important in kates past. Just a glimpse i may do more flash backs between kate and cerulean when the plot line is being a little out the i guess. And since ive mentioned her grandfather alot and people where curious about him i thought id give a little insight to her beloved grandfather. He was very young when he got married and kates mom was born and in this clip he's 43 which isnt very old now but then it was because of the illness' so when he dies he's 49.

This song i thought was sweet when it came to them because when she wants him all she has to do is call him and a memory or a thought of him comes to her basically. And she has no need to say goodbye because when she eventually dies she will see him in heaven too.

The Call is not mine but the people who wrote it. I got it from Prince Caspians movie i love it