The Meeting Place

"Where is Mrs. Spring's family?" an elderly nurse asked, looking around the waiting room.

"They went straight to the emergency room," a young male nurse answered from nearby.

"Oh," the elderly nurse exclaimed, "It's good they are here."

A young woman, dressed in a black and white maids work uniform, joined the conversation, "I kind of feel sorry for Mrs. Spring."

"Why is that?" asked the male nurse, curious despite the horrible situation.

"Well," the maid replied sadly, "she specifically came back because she had found out the manor was understaffed. If the master had continued to perform like he used to, there would have been no talk about money, and this accident wouldn't have happened."

The young maid burst into tears. The old nurse went over and put a hand on the hysteric girls shoulder, "They both lived full lives and were pretty old. They both could've died of old age at any time."
The maid's cries of sorrow slowly faded into soft sobs.

A young woman with long, wavy, golden brown hair; dressed in the same uniform as the maid in the waiting room, stood over the expensive maple king size bed. She put her face down close enough that she could see the individual stitches of the gold and red flower embroidery on the duvet cover. She drew in a deep breath and said loudly, "Good Morning! Master Jonathan, time to get up! Breakfast is ready! Rise and shine!"

Two middle-aged women fallowed a nurse to the waiting room.

"You can sit down here," the nurse gestured to some chairs, "We'll inform you if there is any changes."

The two women nodded and sat down. They heard someone at the door talking to the nurse, a few seconds later a middle-aged man walked in, "How's mom?"

One of the two women began to sob; the other looked down, "We don't know."

They all sat holding hands in the dim lighted white room.

A pair of bright blue eyes opened and stared at her, "You…Your…You're…"

"Master Jonathan," she smiled her hazel eyes sparkling, "How could you? It's me Amy."

The young man sat up quickly, pushing the blankets away, and brushing strands of messy platinum-blond hair out of his face so he could stare.

Amy laughed, "You look like a child who doesn't want to go to school."

"Humph," he snorted, getting out of bed, and putting on an expensive scarlet bathrobe, "You were nothing but a gnarled old hag until today. Trying to look young at your age is a tad eccentric. Why now?"

Amy grimaced while putting clothing away in a large dresser. She turned around and smiled evilly, "I should point out that, Master Jonathan was a stubborn old goat until today. You look young yourself."

"What?" Jonathan asked staring at her.

Amy went over to the cabinet and opened a drawer, "Care to look in the mirror?"

She held up a small silver hand mirror in front of Jonathan. He took it from her and stared in disbelief.

"See," Amy said smugly, "You're not bald anymore."

Jonathan stared the man in the mirror. He was considerably younger then the eighty-year-old man he knew he was. Jonathan's face didn't have the excess skin of someone who was old but the buoyancy of a youth. His face was clean-shaven with no wrinkles, and he had silver blue eyes that sparkled with the youth that had left him long ago. His head, which had been bald, was full of thick platinum blond hair. It was so messy that it made him look even younger. He licked his lips and cleared his throat, "This is me, I mean of course it's me, but it's how I looked…"

Amy smirked, "Indeed, it is how we looked sixty years ago."

Jonathan slowly held the hand with the mirror at his side and looked at Amy, realizing that she didn't just look young, she was, "I was twenty you were seventeen."

Amy smiled sadly and took the mirror from Jonathan's hand and took it back to the drawer and gently placed it inside.

"More or less," she said walking further and looking at a gold-framed picture on the wall. There were two people in the picture; one was Jonathan in a tuxedo and the other was a pale blue-eyed beauty of a girl, in a fancy old-fashioned wedding dress. Amy took in a deep breath and continued, "It was quite a year. You married your fiancé and I left your services."

An awkward silence fell over the room. Jonathan looked like he was about to apologize. Amy brushed a strand of honey hair out of her face and huffed, "Don't get any wrong ideas. I had a wonderful life." She made sure she stressed the word 'wonderful' so that he couldn't apologize, "A loving husband, darling children, I was happy."

Jonathan looked down sadly, "Yeah?"
Amy put something else away and looked at him over her shoulder, "Yeah."

Jonathan looked up with a dazed expression on his face, "Well, you weren't the only one. Sure it was an arranged marriage, but Julia and I were happy together."

Amy walked to the ancient hallway door slowly opening it. She stopped half way through and looked at the work of the doorframe, "I'm sure you were."

The old mans heart monitor stopped. The doctors all looked at each other, stunned the man died so quickly. One swallowed, "I doubt we could've kept him alive much longer."

Jonathan watched her go and remembered what had happened long ago. He could recall thinking, what is this feeling?

"Regret?" No, that's not quite right.

He thought about what happened in the piano room that fateful afternoon. The sun was at its highest point, its beams hitting the pond in the garden and reflecting throughout the white French styled room.

"I'm getting married," he had said in hope that Amy would say something to stop him. He recalled her face turning ash white and her hazel eyes growing huge. She quickly recovered, smiled, and curtsied with practiced grace, "Congratulations I hope you will be happy with Miss Julia."

He watched her as she walked out of the room with so much dignity he couldn't believe she was only a maid. The next day she left his services.

Jonathan looked up at the high ceiling; that could've been the end of it, never to see each other again. That would have been all right. He got dressed slowly then went to the bookshelf, grabbed a book (that he had never finished) and sat down to read.

"Master Jonathan! I told you that breakfast is ready!"

"Yeah, yeah," he went down the grand staircase, turned the corner and entered a large room. The walls were a deep navy with white trimming. In the middle of the room was a large oak table, with claws, and matching chairs. Two cabinets filled with French white rose china lined both walls. He sat down at the table, the book still in hand, and waited.

Amy came in with many plates full of expensive looking foods. She put them down randomly on the table in front of him, "Master, you must stop being so cranky. Very few people have stayed as staff here. I have to work twice as hard."

"Quit whining, no one asked you to come." He stated flatly stuffing a piece of sausage into his mouth.

"See! That's the attitude!" Amy muttered, putting her hands on her hips.

"My wife's dead. I'm by myself so a small staff is adequate." Amy went quiet as he sipped his last bit of coffee and held it out so Amy could refill it, "I don't like to many people."

"Man, you've gotten sour with old age." Amy murmured pouring him more coffee.

The doctors all started running as the heart monitor started beeping faster, "We're losing her!"

They started racing to keep her stable, a doctor yelled, "Another IV of blood!"

The two women outside the ER began to cry at the sounds. The man stared as the doctors ran everywhere and turned to the two women, "Mom will pull through, she's a fighter."

A yell broke through his thoughts and he began to sob.

"We're still losing her!"

"Master Jonathan!" Amy glared at the man through a window. He didn't answer. She sighed and walked out onto the balcony.

Jonathan looked up from the book and glared just as fiercely as Amy, "What now?"

Amy tried to hold a straight face but she broke into laughter, "Even your hair is exactly the way it used to be! It's unbearably funny!"

"It is not!" Jonathan yelled putting his book in his lap and running his hand through his messy hair.

"Your father was never happy with how long your hair was," Amy mused, putting a tray with cookies and tea on the table beside Jonathan's chair, "He was always berating you to have it cut. He would approve of the length now or lack of it."
Jonathan glared at her still, crossed his arms, and then pouted, "Prattling on until the end I see."

She smiled beginning to walk back inside the house. Jonathan looked up as she almost reached the door, "Wait."

"Yes?" she turned and looked at him curiously.

"Sit down," he motioned to a chair on the other side of the table. She looked like she was about to deny, then she decided against it and sat down next to the table. He watched as she took a small sip of tea and couldn't help but ask, "Why don't you hang in there?"
She looked at him like he had grown another head or two, "Do stop asking the impossible. It was a nasty fall and I'm afraid that I'm quiet frail now."

She watched as a sad look washed over Jonathan's face, she decided to brighten the mood a little. She slapped him on the back making him spit tea across the table, "Don't you think it's perfect now? We couldn't have a wedding but at least we can have a funeral together."

"It's anything but perfect!" Jonathan pounded his fists on the table, making Amy jump, he sighed exasperated, "You have too much to live for; children, grandchildren, you can't just die like that!"

Amy stood up he hands digging into the table, "How dare you! I am not 'just dying like that'!"

He stopped talking and watched as her face went from bright red to snow white. He would've laughed if the topic had not been so serious. Amy sat back down on her chair, took a sip of tea, and looked at him, a sad expression on her face, "I'm taking this dying business very seriously, but…" She paused as if searching for the right words she smiled sadly, "But I think I can go to heaven feeling surprisingly happy."

She smiled sadly, "Isn't that enough?" He looked at her shocked and enchanted.

"Oh God! Please don't let mom die!" the younger of the two women cried. The doctors were trying to keep Amy Spring stable; they had already lost Jonathan Richard.

The two went into a room, a room that was full of memories for them both. There, standing alone and looking out the window onto the rose garden below, was a grand piano, the same piano that had fallen on them only hours ago. Amy brushed her hand over the woodwork in silent regret, "It must've been ruined."

Jonathan smiled and played a high note, "No, it's not that out of tune. I'll play you a piece of something for when you go."

He sat down on the piano bench and stretched his fingers making Amy smile. She watched him prepare to play, "You often played for me when we were younger. Not to mention all the other girls you met."

He chuckled nervously, and then began to play. A warm sound filled the room as his long pale fingers moved across the keys. She smiled she had heard this song before; it was a song of warm summer days.

"Do you know this song?" Jonathan asked hesitantly, continuing to play. In that moment Amy realized what song it was.

She began to giggle uncontrollably, "La Fille Aux Cheveux de Lin? Master Jonathan you joke. My hair has been long gray."

Jonathan smiled and kept playing, letting the melody weave its way throughout the room doing all the talking. Amy walked closer, gently reached out, and touched Jonathan's shoulder making him flinch slightly.

"It must have hurt." Amy said sadly, "Nobody could have saved me Jon, you died in vain."

Jonathan smirked, "I didn't have anything left to live for. I have lived long enough."

"But…" Amy began; Jonathan stopped playing and stood up. Amy backed away surprised.

Jonathan looked at her and smiled knocking down all her barriers, "Would you just shut up and listen?"

Amy stared stunned then smiled softly and nodded, "Yes."

Jonathan smiled and sat back down. He began to play again, the melody washed over Amy as she sat down on the floor and listened. Jonathan played the song twice through, sighing he looked down at her at the end. He smiled and said, "It's over."
Amy stood up and walked over to the piano and played the last note of the song sending a high hauntingly piercing sound throughout the room, "It was short but really sweet."

The three people in the waiting room broke down in tears; the heart monitor had stopped beeping.

Jonathan watched Amy sadly. She turned and smiled about to say something. Tears trickled down Amy's face. He couldn't take it any longer. Jonathan closed the distance between them and kissed her. He pulled away first then the two hugged each other as tight as they could.

As they were hugging Jonathan looked at the ceiling one last time, my first love was so very long ago. I shall never cry about it nor ever think of it again. But still…

Jonathan looked back down at Amy; tears finally flowing down his face, but still, please God let us go to heaven together.

The mansion was old, rundown, and about to be torn down. Through the door was a long hallway and at the end of the hallway was a room. The cream walls were cracked and the wallpaper was falling down. The floorboards were rotten, many were missing, and the ones that were there squeaked. In the middle of the room looking out onto the overgrown garden was an old black grand piano alone and forgotten. A single rose lay on its old dusty keys. Yet still a soft melody could be heard.

The End

BC: I wrote this based on a story I know...I read...or something like that. I dont remember who it was by though. The characters names and some of their personality are mine as well as the descriptions of them and their home... As well as the medical room scenes...And the discription of the old rundown mansion...Some of the lines...

I do not own the piano idea or the idea of them meeting after their deaths... That was from the story I read... I probably could have changed it if I wanted too but I liked the story so much I thought it should be a short so I'll put it this way. The story is not owned by me but I jazzed it up a bit.

Please R and R.