Everlasting Memories

Summary: Esme Evenson dreamed of his face every time she closed her eyes. She knew that in her lifespan she would never see him again, yet in her dying moments, it was his face she thought of most. This is Esme’s story, do you want to listen?

Inspiration: The painful story behind Esme's compassion.

Chapter 1

A Golden Eagle

Every time my gaze rests upon your face,
Inside my chest, my aching heart does race.

Never shall I hear those three, perfect words,
Echoing, like water to floods. Unheard.

Never shall I feel your hand, clasped with mine,
Your final words falling, as sands of time.

How could you love me? So broken, bruised, spent.
When stood next to you, you’re an angel, sent.

“Fool,” You say gently, “Your life is wasted,
Wishing on dreams that will never come true.”

Wasted?
I close my eyes, a smile curling my lips upwards…

No day is wasted, when it’s spent, dreaming
Of you, by the blossom. The sun. Screaming.

It was a warm summer’s day with a gentle breeze, full of the sweet scent of wildflowers. Above, was a clear periwinkle-blue sky, and the last of the daffodils were still in bloom. The apple orchard was overgrown, with branches scattered wildly and large ferns concealing the wooden fence that ran around the edge enclosing it.

A young girl stood before it, her eyes alight with curiosity. Her long caramel curls fell down her back in a wave of sunlight and innocence, her bare pale feet twitching impatiently with the longing to run and play in the stream of rich green grass before her.

She looked down quickly at her dirt-stained pinafore with a mischievous grin on her face before climbing over the fractured picket fence into the orchard. She stopped, pulling her light curls into a white tie, leaving a few strands to fall across her flushed cheeks, before gazing shortly at each of the trees.

She fixed her eyes on the large oak at the bottom by the lily pond which was full of reed clumps and willow leaves. She smiled once more, her eyes dancing with excitement as she skipped towards it. Standing at the uneven roots of the oak, she gazed upwards, imagining what it would be like to sit at the top; a golden eagle soaring upon the horizon.

Her slight hands found the dips in the rough bark for her to climb and she lifted herself upwards, her hands eagerly reaching for the next ledge. As she climbed to the first high branch, she paused, swinging her legs round so she could sit down on it.

There was a small bird's nest, balanced precariously near the end of the branch, with two spotted eggs nestled snugly inside.

She squealed quietly with happiness, sliding herself closer to the nest. Reaching over towards it, she picked up a single egg by the tips of her fingers, gently tracing the faded spots with her other hand.

A shout broke her out of her reverie, and she dropped the egg, falling backwards of the thin branch. She screamed, bracing herself for the impact, her leaf-filled hair billowing out behind her. She landed with a dull thud, hearing a snap as a bone broke.

Then came the pain.

“Esme!” came the voice once again, and a young man with dark brown hair rounded the fence, instantly leaping over it as he saw her, sprawled across the grass.

“John,” she whimpered. “My leg,” which was now twisted distorted out from her side at a strange, unnatural angle.

“I know,” he murmured reassuringly, biting his lip as his eyes were filled with indecision. In one fluid motion he lifted her into his arms, clutching her close to his chest.

She whimpered slightly as the movement jogged her bone, but that only made him hold her closer.

She liked John. He was a nice man.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just passing by, when I saw you," he explained, his words coming out in a jumble of speech.

“It's fine," she assured, wincing as he stumbled on a piece of loose rubble from the farmhouse. “Just please, take me to my father.”

“Of course.” he rounded the corner, striding up towards the back door and easing it open with his back. Her face was still distort with pain, and as he lay her down on the nearest couch, a few tears fell onto her pinafore. She made a slight gasp when a cushion jogged her leg, and she curled her fingers into fists, her muddy nails pressing into her palm. His fingers quickly traced under her eyes gently, wiping the pain away, as he struggled to comfort her.

As her mother entered the room, she gasped quietly, rushing to her side and slipping her palm into her daughter's.

“She fell from the oak tree in the orchard,” John explained quickly, grimacing a little at his own carelessness, which had caused her to be in this pain.

“I’m going to get your father,” she warned her, before hurrying out of the room.

It wasn't long before her father marched through the door, stopping to look around, before gazing at the couple by the couch.

“Esme?” he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“Yes father."

“Stupid girl, what happened?”

“I fell father.”

“How?”

“I was climbing, I-In the orchard... up the oak tree,” she turned her head into the pillow, her chest heaving. “I’m sorry."

"Shhh," he smoothed down her hair, "Everything is going to be fine. I'm here," he sighed softly, lifting her into his arms as John had done.

"Go home John - your own father will be wondering where you are."

"Of course sir."

"And John?"

He turned, his eyes almost immediately drawn to the girl in his arms.

"Thank you for bringing her back. I'll send word to your family, for when she is better," John bowed slightly, muttering his thanks, before retreating out the doorway.

Her father turned back to the girl in his arms, his mouth relaxing into a sad smile, "What am I going to do with you?" he teased, stroking her cheek once, before carrying her through the main entrance and then outside. There was a carriage, waiting and alert by the porch, and as they drew closer a servant rushed to the door, opening it so that he could lift her in.

"The hospital please," her father called out in a loud, authoritative voice to the driver, and with a click of the tongue, and a nudge of the whip, the horses burst into a trot, pulling the carriage away from the house, and onto the main road.

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