Fate's Keeper
Windows of the Soul | Sunshine over Shadows | Larger than Life
Windows of the Soul
Some people tell me I have beautiful eyes. They tell me their colour is so special, their appearance so sparkling and their gaze is so warm. They tell me eyes are the windows of the soul, that they can see I must have a gentle soul. What do they know of it? Eyes are deceiving like all appearances, and true beauty lies far deeper within… there where the soul is hidden...
-
Mrs. Palmer fidgeted nervously with the hem of her coat, while trying to seem interested in the magazine on her lap. It was to no avail, her husband noticed, and smiling softly he laid one of his large hands on her much smaller ones. When she looked up to him with her soft brown eyes, he send her a look which conferred all his love for her, telling her that it would be all right, that everything would be fine as they could go through it together. She allowed herself to get lost in his eyes, soaking up his support.
A sudden cough made them both jump slightly.
‘Mr and Mrs Jacob Palmer?’
They both looked at the prim woman who stared down at them sternly over a pair of half-rimmed glasses.
‘Yes, we are, nice to meet you, Mrs Carlinton.’ Jacob ‘Jack’ Palmer stood and shook hand with her, his wife copying his example.
‘Come on in,’ Mrs Carlinton gestured to the open door of her office, ‘I’ve just called for Keith, he will meet us here shortly.’
Mr and Mrs Palmer sat down into some rather uncomfortable wooden chairs as Mrs Carlinton took a seat behind her giant mahogany desk. She removed her glasses to peer at the file in front of her. ‘Ah, yes, I see everything is dealt with satisfactory by my substitute. These forms,’ She handed a closed envelope to Mr Palmer, ‘are for you, sir. You may take Keith home as soon as he arrives. I hope you will find him not too troublesome.’
Jack Palmer managed a small smile. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Carlinton. We will take good care of Keith.’
The elder lady nodded politely.
A small knock on the door broke the awkward silence.
‘Come in!’ Mrs Carlinton called.
The office door opened and a young boy dressed in baggy clothes shuffled into the office, dragging a rather large tattered suitcase with him. His light brown eyes peered up at them from behind dark brown coloured bangs. His voice was soft as he greeted them politely. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Carlinton, Mr and Mrs Palmer.’
Mrs Palmer – nervousness suddenly forgotten – got up and crouched in front of the small boy. ‘Hi to you too, Keith. We would be very happy to take you home with us. Please call me Laurie, and the big ugly over there is Jack.’ Her eyes shone warmly and her voice seemed genuine, but Keith knew better than to trust first appearances.
Jack got up as well and shook hands with Mrs Carlinton again. ‘Thank you for everything, Mrs Carlinton. ‘ He received a prim nod. ‘Let’s go people! No, Keith, I’ll carry that bag for you, oufff, well it’s kinda heavy, what did you put into it? The kitchen sink perhaps…?’
Mr Palmer’s voice grew dimmer as the new family walked away. Left in her office Mrs Carlinton sighed softly. Hoping that fate had finally decided to smile upon the young orphan named Keith Willard.
-
This life's dim windows of the soul
Distorts the heavens from pole to pole
And leads you to believe a lie
When you see with, not through, the eye.
- William Blake, The Everlasting Gospel
-1-
It was his eyes that had first drawn their attention to him. Coloured in warm hazel, like shimmering gold, looking straight into the lens of the camera, partly hidden by errant bangs of long dark brown hair. Those strange eyes that seemed to be sparkling with vibrant joy even on the dull picture paper, but at the same time held a pensive look in them. They radiated trust, intelligence and curiosity. They ultimately convinced the couple…
In reality, his eyes looked decidedly different, Laurie Palmer mused. They were still of the clearest hazel, still showing intelligence. But they no longer held the spark of joy and curiosity that had lit them up in the picture. They looked no more like the eyes of a bright twelve year old, but seemed to hold the wisdom and sorrow of an 80-year old.
An 80-year old foster son?
Get a grip, Laurie! You’re probably frightening the kid.
She gave the little boy in front of her what she hoped was a relaxed smile. ‘Hi Keith, welcome in our family! I’ve made some chocolate chip cookies, you want some?’
Keith gave a tiny smile that never reached his eyes. ‘If it would not inconvenience you, Mrs Palmer.’ He said politely as he kept his eyes downward.
Laurie frowned slightly. ‘You can call us Laurie and Jack, dear. And you’re a real gentleman, Keith. I’ve made these cookies especially for you, so you’re very welcome to tuck in. Jack’s already got a few too many pounds on him.’ She pointed at her scowling husband.
Keith nodded slightly. ‘Thank you, Mrs Palmer.’
‘Laurie!’ she chided softly.
‘Thank you, Laurie…’ he said hesitantly and very carefully took one cookie of the plate.
Jack Palmer smiled down at his new foster son as he too scooped a cookie. ‘Welcome to the family, Keith!’
Keith gave him a tiny smile as well, still not quite meeting his eyes yet. He slowly ate the cookie, before addressing his new foster parents again. ‘Mr… euhm, Jack and Laurie, could I please be excused to unpack my suitcase?’
Jack caught his wife’s pensive look and realized she was brooding on something. He grabbed Keith’s rather heavy, tattered old suitcase. ‘Right to it, squirt! Let’s get you installed. Ya need a hand? Laurie’s very good at cleaning up.’ He winked deliberately exaggerated. ‘Too good for our sake, actually…’ He laughed as his wife blushed and threatened to throw the cookie plate into his face.
Keith patiently observed the exchange. He noticed the looks of love exchanged, the easy bantering, the wordless communication. These foster parents seemed gentle and friendly enough, but Keith knew better than to trust first appearances. Bitter experience had taught him as much.
Laurie felt her husband’s arm slipping around her waist and his large hand squeezing her smaller one. Soft words were murmured in her ear. ‘Laurie, dear, spill your guts. You’ve been frowning more today than in the rest of your life. Bet you’ve got some wrinkles by now, darling!’
Laurie glanced once more at the small, frail body that made the bed suddenly look extremely large. A beam of light from the hallway fell into the dark bedroom and made it possible for her to see his pale face. Once he slept, she mused, he looked much younger then he was. And, her mother heart melted, awfully cute with the tousled longish hair and soft features. Like a little angel. Her little angel.
She sighed softly, and then allowed herself be led into their own bedroom, where she cosily curled up beside Jack under the covers.
‘He is such a sweetheart, isn’t he, Jack?’
‘He sure is, love. Frankly I don’t see why his file describes him as a problem case…’
‘Me neither, Jack. But he’s got me worried. He is so polite and so afraid to do something wrong! He tries to be invisible, as if the poor dear thinks his presence bothers us. He has got to be the only boy his age that doesn’t eat cookies or candy without being explicitly told, and even then apparently only to please us! And he has just spent the entire evening reading in his room, Jack! As if he is afraid to sit with us in the living room!’
‘Mmm, maybe he’s just very shy. He still has to get used to us, darling. And you’ve seen the number of foster families he’s already been in. He’s probably terrified to do something wrong so we‘ll decide to send him back to the orphanage… What a creepy place that was, ewk!’
‘Well, Jack, I don’t intend to send him back. I feel… somehow… as if he’s the gift we’ve been praying for, Jack.’
‘Same here, Laurie, same here… We’ll be okay, together…’
‘Yes, Jack, we will…’
He kissed her lovingly goodnight.
‘Night, Jack’
‘Night, love’
-2-
He gazed out of the window, his feverish forehead pressed against the cool glass, his golden eyes dull and dazed. His small eleven year old body trembled from fatigue and pain. A soft whimper escaped his faintly bluish lips.
I can’t hold on… I don’t want to… I have nothing left to loose… Except my life… Which isn’t worth anything to anyone anyway.
He was burning up because of a raging fever, but the thoughts were clear and not delirious. His little heart had been broken before, and the shreds that were still left of it were now falling apart fast.
I’m useless, … Even worse… I’m a burden… I should leave…
His head hurt so badly his vision was swimming out of focus. Black dots were trying to creep up from the periphery of his eyes. He vaguely heard the front door open, followed by shouting in the living room a minute later. He floated in and out of consciousness as the screaming continued and gradually increased in intensity. Suddenly, he noticed a small body being pressed against his. He moaned softly as the pain in his body flared up again, bringing him to a higher level of consciousness. He now saw the soft brown curly hair framing the scared little face peeking up at him. He noticed her greyish green eyes full of tears and the steady trembling of her lithe body. He summoned all his strength, once more, for her.
‘Hey, my little princess…’ he whispered as he gently caressed her hair with one hand and pulled her closer with the other, ignoring the onslaught of pain it cost him. ‘Be still, my little heart, you’ll be safe with me…’
She gave him a teary smile, and the quivering lessened somewhat, but she was still scared to death. It didn’t help that things were being thrown harshly in the living room as the shouting continued.
For what seemed like eternity but in reality hadn’t even been five minutes, they sat on his bed, holding onto each other for strength and reassurance.
And then, that which he had always feared most, happened.
The sounds in the living room died out.
Heavy footsteps approached his door.
She trembled nearly convulsively in his arms.
‘Hide!’ he whispered and pushed her under the bed.
His room door was thrown open with a resounding bang.
The stench of alcohol wafted into his nostrils.
He knew.
The other knew.
The final confrontation was near.
-3-
With a soundless gasp he scrambled frantically upright, sending the covers of the bed fleeing into a messy pile on the flour. His entire body trembled harshly, but not because of the slight chill penetrating his thin nightwear. He curled into a tight ball, arms wrapped protectively around himself, his face nearly touching his knees.
So cold.
It was so cold.
Like those clear nights in the forest, when they would sit together tucked in several blankets ad huddled close together, looking at the innumerable stars, his mother telling him stories about their names...
A soft moan escaped his quivering lips. With his eyes tightly shut, he couldn't see the nauseating spinning of the room any more, but he couldn't tell up from down any more either. He felt as if he was floating in a sea, a stormy sea, a sea where one wave brought him troubled dreams alternating with waves of pain. The nausea increased tenfold and he painfully heaved up the meagre contents of his stomach.
I can’t hold on… I don’t want to… I have nothing left to loose… Except my life… Which isn’t worth anything to anyone anyway… I’m useless, … Even worse… I’m a burden… I should leave…
The same old mantra spooked around inside his head.
His fever-clouded mind had taken him back to one of his worst nightmares.
He heard sounds in the hallway.
Footsteps approached his door.
'No, no...' he moaned softly, trashing weakly when someone entered, accompanied by a beam of bright light from the hallway that temporary blinded his soggy eyes. He could just make out a tall shape approaching his bed fast, and fear gave him one last adrenaline boost. He scuttled out of the bed and tried to dart past the shape. Then his body betrayed him and he collapsed on the floor, halfway on the way to safety. All strength drained, he shut his eyes and waited.
He thought he could vaguely hear a voice,... a very familiar voice...
'Mum?'
A red-haired woman was standing there, beaming and waving. He smiled back at her and started to run towards his mother, but just before he reached her, the world dissolved into darkness...
-4-
It had given Jack a near heart attack when he had seen Keith fall limply to the floor, in the midst of his frantic dash to the door. He quickly knelt next to the unconscious boy and felt for a pulse. Keith’s hand was clammy and hot to the touch. Jack felt the boy's forehead and swore silently when he noticed the kid was burning up with fever.
'Laurie!' he yelled, not even trying to keep the panic out of his voice.
She must have been up and already in the hallway to check up on him or else she must have broken the world record on the 10 meter sprint.
'What's wrong? Oh dear...!' She dropped unceremoniously next to her husband and placed her hand next to Jack's on Keith’s forehead.
'Oh, dearie...' She switched from panicky to full mother hen nursing mode. ‘Keith, sweetie, can you hear me? It's Laurie. Can you open your eyes for me?'
A soft moan as the brown-haired head tossed fitfully. Dark eyelashes flutter but didn’t open.
She turned to her husband. 'Get me some cold towels and a thermometer.'
Jack complied with lightning speed.
'Well, his fever's pretty high, but not yet dangerously so, Jack. We've just got to tuck him in and make sure he gets some fluid in to prevent dehydratation.’
Jack nodded and gently picked the boy up, cradling him with all the care one would carry a precious, breakable treasure. Laurie helped him settle the boy in the middle of their own bed as comfortingly as possible. Laurie woke him up enough to gently force some water and medicine down his throat, before she and her husband settled on either side of the boy. Neither felt like going to sleep however.
Laurie softly stroke Keith’s sweaty brow and cooed reassuringly when he started tossing fitfully again.
Jack, strong brave unshakeable Jack, looked so lost and frightened Laurie simply had to reach out and hug him.
In doing so, she was leaning over Keith at the exact moment the boy became briefly more lucid.
“Mummy?” Keith’s voice sounded so small, so hurt, yet so hopeful Laurie couldn’t deny it, not even if she had wanted to.
“Shhh, sweetie, it’s okay, go back to sleep. Mummy will make you better.” And she kissed him lightly on his hot forehead.
With a deep content sigh, Keith leaned slightly into her kiss, and then nodded off to a deep sleep filled with happy memories of his mother.
-5-
Just before he woke up, in that strange state between dreaming and waking, when somehow you know you are dreaming and you sometimes have the ability to influence what happens, he saw her. A tall slender figure coming forth out of swirls of grey mist. “Keith…”
“Mummy!” He ran into her embrace. It felt so real, not at all dream-like. Her warm body against his, her soft laughter tickling his ear, her hand affectionately ruffling his hair…
“My precious son…”
How had he missed that sparkling laugh, those brightly shining golden eyes so much like his own.
“I will always be with you, Keith.” She cupped his cheek.
He knew she had heard his thought about the similarity of their unique eyes, but he also felt she meant something far more than just outward appearances.
A lump formed swiftly in his throat and his eyes became increasingly watery. You weren’t supposed to be able to cry in dreams, or feel any of these strong emotions now racing through his mind, were you?
“You are special, Keith. Your dreams are special.” His mother spoke up softly.
He looked nonplussed.
“You will find out in due time. But for now, you must let go of me.’
Keith looked stricken, but his mother gave him a small encouraging smile.
“Don’t dwell on the past, my son. What is lost in the shadows of the past, cannot be found, but what is still present - however broken it may appear to be -, can still be fixed. Embrace your new life, don’t feel as if you betray me by loving your new parents. They love you, Keith, and they will take good care of you. Don’t be afraid to love them back. It may be easier never to love and trust another person anymore, because then you cannot get hurt if you lose them. But, Keith, if you never let others in your heart anymore, what joy is there in life? No matter how short-lived it may be, a binding of hearts is truly the greatest strength you can be given in life…”
Keith didn’t understand everything completely, but somehow he knew those words would linger in his subconsciousness and provide support when he would need it most.
“Farewell, Keith, until we meet again…”
She kissed him on his forehead, the feeling still lingering when he fully woke up. The dream was quickly becoming more and more hazy, but his heart was still light. Surprised, he found himself lying comfortably nestled in between Jack and Laurie, who were now both sleeping soundly, curled closely around Keith. He felt the warm bodies against his, Jack’s soft snoring tickling his ear and Laurie’s hand on his hair.
And he remembered Laurie’s voice soothing his feverish nightmares.
“Mummy will make it better…”
And he decided to give it a chance. He would grant them his trust and his love, no matter what…
-6-
Much later that morning, Laurie had awoken groggily and had panicked momentarily when she didn’t find Keith next to her. She had been surprised to find the boy up and dressed, reading in the living room. ‘Good morning, Mrs Palmer.’ He greeted her with one of his soft smiles. ‘Would you like me to prepare breakfast?’
‘It’s Laurie, Keith, and you really don’t need to help me preparing breakfast... Are you feeling better already?’
‘But I ‘d like to help you, Mrs… Laurie, if you agree of course.’ His eyes held her gentle gaze for a little longer then yesterday already. Laurie took that as a promising sign. ‘And I feel fine now, thank you for helping me.’
‘Helping you? With what? Getting better? You did that all by yourself, young man.’
Laurie smiled warmly.
Keith gave her his first real smile. It was still hesitant and didn’t quite reach his eyes yet, but to Laurie it was as if a bright sun had just shone through dense dark clouds. It made her body tingle and all her weariness from the near-sleepless night disappear.
Suddenly her stomach rumbled, effectively ruining the moment and returning her thoughts to making breakfast. ‘Very well then, I’ll gladly accept your help in the kitchen. Shall I demonstrate how to make ‘Jack’s all time favourite’?’
Ten minutes later, Jack followed the tantalizing scent of bacon into the kitchen. ‘Good morning, kids!’ He said good-naturedly, meanwhile grabbing his wife for a prickly unshaven morning kiss. When he lightly ruffled Keith’s hair, both Jack and Laurie saw the boy nearly imperceptibly flinch. Laurie got a dark look in her eyes, and Jack understood her reasoning. Problem case child? Sure… More likely the problem had been the stray hands of his foster families.
Jack knew from experience things like that were best discussed a.s.a.p., to let the boy know how this family worked and what his place in it was.
Jack crouched in front of Keith, tipping his chin up gently to force the slightly trembling boy to meet his eyes.
‘Keith, I want you to listen carefully.’
The trembling of the child’s body increased as he ducked slightly, as if expecting a blow.
Laurie sat down on the floor next to her husband, and lightly put her hand on one of the boy’s, eliciting a startled look.
Jack continued. ‘Keith, we don’t know what happened to you in those other foster families. And we won’t press you into telling us. As a matter of fact, we want you to understand we will never press you to do anything you don’t want to. Neither Laurie nor I intend to ever hit you, or punish you in any way other than grounding you or stuff like that. We promise not to hurt you, Keith, heck you’ve wormed your way into our hearts already… We like you, Keith, a lot. We would be proud and pleased to call you our son, and we do not intend to leave you, you hear me? We’re stuck together, we’re a family now. Well, we will be if you want to stay with us of course…’
Keith’s bright eyes were suspiciously wet. He whispered with great difficulty: ‘I would like that very much…’
‘Ah!’ Jack solved the awkward silence and saved his wife and newly acquired son from dissolving into a puddle of tears. ‘Family hug!’
It was painfully clear that Keith wasn’t used to this display of affection, but Jack and Laurie made up for it by hugging and tousling his hair until he finally relaxed into their embrace.
And then, Laurie noticed the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Accompanied by Keith’s second albeit still hesitant real smile, a small spark of joy had now been lit in his soulful golden eyes. A first glimpse of the radiant soul behind… And she vowed to herself to do everything in her power to make sure that that spark would nevermore die…
Sunshine over Shadows
This story is dedicated to all dogs.
Because in a dog’s eyes you can see the purest of dedication and love.
-
Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow.
-- Helen Keller
-
My life hasn't always been as easy and pleasant as it is now. I've encountered my fair share of masters before my human finally found me. What happened during that dreadful time with the other masters, is gradually becoming nothing more than a disturbing nightmare: frightful at the time but less and less clear as happy dreams replace bits. That part of my life is over, and I won't mention it again, but I will tell you about that one master that I perceive as my only family left. My human's call name is Keith and when I first met him, I was on death row in the asylum and he was on the edge of a depression.
-
“I guess that’s about it, sir.”
The voice of one of the caretakers echoed slightly through the long hallway, partly masking two sets of footsteps on the concrete.
My ears no longer perked up as they had those tens of times before whenever I had been in one shelter or another waiting for a new potential master. I had lost my faith in humankind, and I had to admit, also the previously indestructible faith in myself. As even diamond can be cleaved by one sharp blow in the correct place, likewise my spirit was broken, my heart shattered, my strength dissipated.
Disinterestedly I caught the response of the potential buyer. “Oh. And what’s back there?”
He must have meant my end of the hallway because the footsteps were now approaching.
“Well, sir, these are the ones on death row, as we call them. They’re really impaired in some way or another, and it’s more humane to put them to sleep, if you get my point…” The caretaker carelessly waved the question away as of no real importance.
“Impaired...” The other voice echoed pensively. “I’d still like to take a quick look if you don’t mind, before I go.”
“Sure, sir.”
I could hear the ill-disguised longsuffering tone in the caretaker’s high voice. “I’ll be back in my office if you’d still need me.”
“Okay” was the soft answer, and one pair of footsteps click-clacked away quickly. The remaining set of footsteps drew nearer slowly, a lot more softly and gracefully than the caretaker’s high heeled contraptions. Sports shoes probably, fairly worn judging from only little squeaking.
At this point I mentally smacked myself. Why was I suddenly so interested in this guy’s shoes? I was supposed to be depressed, disinterested and detesting life in general. But somehow my ears pricked up slightly outside my will to follow the soft footfall.
And suddenly, the hallway was quiet again, bar the yowling of some of the other caged dogs, a sound I had grown so used to I filtered it out as normal background noise.
But above that noise, there was another sound, one that was not part of the usual animal racket at the shelter. The sound of rustling clothes. Very close by. Close enough to be right in front of my cage. My nose informed me the vague scent of the human was now indeed strong enough for the man to be within 10 paces radius. So he was either looking at my cage or the empty one across. Take your pick.
Unwillingly, my ears pricked up a tad more, only the regular breathing of the other was discernable right in front of me. He must be crouched and presumably also looking at me.
“Hey.”
The sudden sound of his voice, though it was merely above a soft whisper, startled me badly and I couldn’t keep a shiver from running over my body.
He cleared his throat before hesitantly continuing his monologue. “Hey there, buddy… I’m Keith… I would like to ask you to take a chance on me…”
He must have felt awfully stupid requesting a dog, but he managed to find the words eventually: “Do you want to come home with me?”
Another irrepressible quiver ran through my body.
Home. The word still had a tingle of magic to it even after all previous disappointments.
But a wall of memories still stood between me and this human.
And I didn’t move another inch.
He sighed softly, disappointed by the lack of reaction no doubt.
Again rustling of clothing signalled he was getting up, soft footfalls once more on concrete floor.
As that sound slowly faded, I felt as if my last hope left with it.
Hope.
I had still hope.
I never knew what had possessed me at that moment, but I let out a small yowl, and shuffled to the bars.
And the footsteps returned.
Suddenly, there was a small ray of light returned to my life, even despite the shadows in my mind and my blind eyes…
-
“She will be quite a handful…” The caretaker’s shrill voice still sounded surprised. Apparently she hadn’t gotten used to the fact my new master had decided to take me instead of any other dog in the asylum. To be frank, neither had I yet. But somehow, he felt nice. His hands had been soft and warm when he had stroked me gently and he had kept one lightly on my head the entire time since the caretaker had taken me out of my cage and handed him the leash.
“She’s completely blind, she’ll require a lot of attention…” She droned on.
“Don’t worry.” He said simply. “Thank you for your concern and your help.”
“Very well…” She replied, and I could hear her mutter something along the lines of “He’ll be back in a week’s time to get rid of the animal…”.
My new master -Keith- probably hadn’t heard the whispering, because he kept walking, one hand always on the collar to guide me through the twists and turns without having to yank the leash.
I was grateful for his concern, but deep inside I wondered how long the compassion would last before it turned into pity or annoyance. I had met both and was not too keen on renewing the acquaintance.
The stairs in front of the animal shelter were the first real problem we encountered. I felt he was insecure about continuing walking, so I knew there was probably some obstacle in front of us. A gentle pressure of his hand cautioned me to stop. I lowered my nose and cautiously sniffed the floor in front of me, noticing the sudden stop of solid ground a few centimetres further. I was young and untrained, lost and frightened, and I had pretty bad experiences with sudden drop. So I froze when he gently urged me forward. Even his warm voice couldn't convince me of stepping into that floorless abyss. He sighted, in what I first thought to be annoyance with me but I later realised it was frustration at his own inexperience.
"Listen, luv." He dropped next to me, cupped my face and started petting me gently. "I'll never be angry at you for not being able to do something. Frustrated maybe, but never angry. I do expect you to try it once, but I won't ever try to rush you."
Then, a pair of strong caring arms cradled me against his body and he slowly lifted me.
I was terrified. I'd fall! He'd drop me! I'd get hurt!
I yowled loudly, but he kept talking to me in a low comforting voice till I finally stopped. Still murmuring sweet encouraging words, he started to walk, causing me to yowl softly again. By the time he put me in his car, my body had stopped shaking and I had found my first shred of faith in this human.
He might not drop me...
Whether my faith was justified remained to be seen, but for now, I had decided to grant him my trust.
-
That first day incident was very indicative of the days and weeks that followed. Keith's tactics were simple. He'd show me how to do a task, and I'd refuse or stumble at first. He was adamant I tried it at least, but if it was too hard or too taxing for me he'd embrace me and tell me in his warm soothing voice he believed in me, that I could do all I wanted if I myself believed in it. And he'd make me do it again, in some different way, until I got most of it right. I never learned some of those tasks, but he never pushed me past my limits. But I did learn loads of other things, way past the obligatory commands of 'sit' and 'down'.
He taught me to stop immediately whenever he commanded, so I could actually run unleashed without fearing to bump into obstacles. I love the wind brushing against my coat and pulling on my ears. When I run, I feel free, the world around me disappears, I can leave my sorrows behind as I fly on the wind. There is only one thing that remains in my world except the wind. And that is my human's voice, guiding me on my flight. I have learned to trust him implicitly. I have learned to discern laughter from deadly seriousness in his commands.
He taught me how to find my way in his flat, and he's always very meticulous in 'showing' me whenever a piece of furniture is moved. I can now run through the flat at top speed or walk at his side, brushing slightly against his legs, to follow him anywhere, stupefying visiting neighbours whenever Keith tells them I'm actually blind.
He taught me how to use my nose and ears to distinguish between different toys, and I can fetch them anywhere he throws or hides them within seconds. I love to play this game with the neighbourhood dogs, who really have to do their very best to beat me once a week.
As I changed, he changed as well. He was sad and withdrawn less often. He went out with me to visit old friends and made new ones. He laughed a lot more and could be tempted to join in playing more often.
But some things are not easy to overcome.
We both still had some shadows looming over us.
For me, the major thing I kept having problems with, were the stairs. Whenever my nose met another one of those floorless abysses, my heart went wild and my mind went blank.
We tried many methods to make it work, but that wall of memories was still there to block me. But Keith's patience is as endless as his love for me. He never gave up trying. He never got mad though sometimes I could feel he was very frustrated. He never hit me, on the contrary, he always hugged me and told me I was the most beautiful, smart and courageous dog in the whole wide world after every one of those taxing sessions.
He didn’t drop me even once.
But despite all the love and all my trust, I simply couldn't.
Until one dark day.
-
Keith had been late coming home after work. He had left very suddenly again after a quick nap on the couch. He had the strangest hours so I really shouldn’t be worrying as something probably had come up last-minute. But with that special sense all dogs have -an advanced form of what humans call intuition- I knew something bad was bound to happen, like I would feel the heaviness of a thunderstorm approaching. I got restless, frustrated enough to start chasing my own tail, but I simply couldn't do more than agitatedly running in circles and barking my head of, hoping one of the neighbours would check in on me. Finally the annoyed janitor opened the front door to take a look, and I easily slipped past him. His shouts and running footsteps followed me as I made a beeline for it. Fortunately for me, but less fortunate for him, he stumbled over a loose carpet and fell down rather heavily.
It bought me time to disappear around a corner and enter the main hallway. By now I knew this layout very well, as we passed here every day for our walks and every weekend for the "stairs" torment. But there was one problem. A rather big problem.
I knew how to get in the moving box the humans call an elevator but only after Keith summoned it. Barking and yowling at it obviously didn't work, nor did scratching at the doors. Behind me, I could here the grumbling of the limping janitor approaching slowly but surely.
No!
The bad feeling was getting worse. Keith was in trouble. He needed me to be there by his side as he had always been by mine. It was time I returned the favour.
I had to.
Because of my love for my human.
Dog's honour.
I took the stairs.
-
Afterwards I was amazed at this feat, but at the time all I could think of was Keith. It wasn't even too hard. Sure I stumbled a bit and fell down the last bit of the first staircase, but I took the remaining three as if it was routine.
Getting out onto the street was a piece of cake, since the doors open themselves whenever they see someone. My nose told me Keith's latest –still fresh - path, my ears warned me of the few moving boxes the humans call cars and my feet took me where I needed to go.
I found my human near our favourite park, but he wasn’t there for running with the wind. In fact his voice sounded more agitated than I had ever heard as he tried to explain something to another man that smelled like coffee and donuts.
“But, Officer, you’ve got to believe me! I saw him enter the building carrying a bomb!”
The other huffed disdainfully. “I assure you, sir, they’ve got impeccable security.”
“But he was dressed as an air force colonel!” Keith retorted.
The officer snorted. “Probably because he IS one. And now stop harassing me, before I take action against your person.” I heard his footsteps fade on the sidewalk.
Keith sighted deeply. “What’s the use… Why do I even bother? What can I do, really? Why me? Why me…?”
I heard him collapse in the grass nearby and carefully trotted over. I had to but my head against his legs for him to finally notice me.
“Diamond?” His voice sounded surprised, thick with bottled up frustration and sadness.
I gently licked the salty tears of his face, only to prompt more to start flowing. He sobbed softly as he pulled me close, clamping himself to me for assurance and protection as a puppy to his mother. And I continued to express my love for him by licking every bit of skin coming within the range of my eager tongue. I don’t know for how long we sat there, in our favourite park, seeking strength and reassurance and love from the other. But after a while, Keith pulled back and abruptly got to his feet.
“I have a task to do, luv. Wait!”
“Woefff!” I want to come with you. I demonstratively ignored the command and stood at his leg, my usual position for following him during our walks.
“No, luv, you can’t help me with this one. This is my own ghost I have to face.” He gently scratched behind my ears. “Stay, please…”
Though I could smell his fear and hear his apprehension, his voice sounded very determined.
And I felt my part was played.
The rest was up to him.
I sat back down.
A last stroke over my head and he was gone, off on some obscure mission to meet his own particular set of stairs…
-
Time passed with the speed of an ancient turtle. The sense of danger was now acute, the hairs on the back of my neck tingled with anticipation. Something really bad was about to happen…
My human was in danger but I was not to interfere.
Some stairs we need to take alone…
-
Finally, very suddenly, the air felt less heavy as the doom hanging above our heads was lifted. Moments later, a familiar warm voice called out and soft hands embraced me gently.
“Thank you, luv, for giving me hope and strength when I needed it most.” Keith whispered gratefully in my coat, as I expressed my relief by showering him with hundreds of wet doggy kisses.
We settled in the grass to simply enjoy the feeling of being truly alive.
“Hey there, mister Willard!” The janitor huffed, puffed and limped his way over.
"I see ye found yer dog. Or she found ye. I’m sory ‘bout lettin’ the lass escape. But she was makin' quite a racket, sir." The janitor explained. "When I went to take a look, she darted right past me, down the stairs and into the streets. She was pretty damn fast, she was, unbelievable!"
"The stairs, huh?" Keith said, after thanking and waving off the janitor, and I could hear the lightness in his voice.
"Diamond, luv." He whispered, his voice very soft but overflowing with pride and love. "You are truly the most outstanding jewel of a dog. Like your namesake gemstone, you may have few weaknesses, but they are by far outweighed by your strengths. You may be hurt but you are strong. You reflect the light and amplify it a thousand times over. Your beautiful sparkling spirit has driven away my own darkness. Thank you, Diamond, for making me see the light of hope."
He suddenly grinned playfully.
“Fancy a game?”
He rose quickly, commanded me to “stay” and took off running with all the exuberance and foolish joy of a young puppy.
“Diamond, to me!” Keith yelled from afar, and I took of with all my youthful strength, guided by the sound of his voice. The wind brushing against my coat and pulling on my ear, I’m flying on the wind. “Stop!” I obeyed immediately.
I could feel the abyss of emptiness in front of me.
The edge of a ledger.
“Jump.” Keith said gently from below.
The wall of memories no longer stood between me and my human.
And I jumped past the abyss into his strong and gently embrace. He will never drop me…
-
I am Diamond. I am an Australian Shepherd. I am a ‘lethal white’.
My vision may be fully impaired, but my heart is whole, my spirit unbreakable, my faith in mankind restored and my love for my family endless.
Being blind is a limitation you impose upon yourself. There are no shadows as long as there is light within…There are no walls faith cannot break… There are no limits hope cannot cross…
Larger than Life
What is a hero? That had been Jessica's question. A question she had liked to ask me. If it's about saving someone's life, than all doctors are heroes. If it's about standing up against unfairness, than all political prisoners are heroes. If it's about not giving up when life beats you down, about going against all odds, then we're all heroes as long as we don't give up. When life throws things at you, you can either try to duck or try to catch. Trying to duck would be the smartest thing to do. Trying to catch might not leave you unscratched, but it will teach you, both the bad things and the good things, that life is truly the greatest gift you have ever received...
-
'Good morning, kids! It's time to wake up.' A hand appeared from under the bundle of blankets and crept slowly to the alarm clock. 'We are expecting a balmy spring day with temperatures o...' Thump. The hand swiftly rejoined the bundle under the blankets, which issued a soft moan. A sudden second thump outside the room caused a tousled dark haired head to peer cautiously out of the coverings. 'M comin'!' He mumbled as he disentangled himself out of his warm nest. Yawning deeply, he trotted through the room and opened the door...
His blind Australian Shepherd, woken up by the alarm clock much more effectively than her master, enthusiastically waved her tail in greeting. 'N good mornin' t'you too...' Keith yawned, scratching behind the pricked up ears. 'How 'bout a walk, luv? I need to clear my head...'
The tail started wagging even more feverishly, the moisty snout touched his hand briefly before the dog trotted off, returning moments later with the leash between her teeth. Keith quickly changed his sweats and shirt for a pullover and a faded jeans, threw on his coat and fastened the offered leash to the dog's collar. 'Let's be off, then, Diamond...'
-
While the dog diligently explored the bushes and trees of the park, Keith dropped down on a bench with his daily paper. He urgently needed to distract his mind, and other people's misery would hopefully keep him from mourning his own troubles. The fifth page however shocked him so badly he thought he was going to have a coronary. 'Millionaire offers daughter's mysterious saviour 1 million if found.' And surely enough, there was the story of Jessica, the daughter of the wealthy and influential Bernard Hardinger, being miraculously saved by an unknown dark-haired man. Quickly Keith skimmed the article, heaving a relieved sigh when he found out no more accurate descriptions could be given. It turned out the daughter happened to be a star reporter for the paper, and she herself offered also an exclusive interview and a photo shoot to her Mystery Man. Overwhelmed he shook his head. They were surely intent on finding out who he was. Not that he would ever come forward of course, but it was a nice change to see something appreciative about him written in the paper. For some reason, his spirits were suddenly lifted and he even whistled all the way home from the park, causing the dog to tilt her head curiously once in a while.
The day went by rather uneventfully, although he finally found some encouraging evidence for his theory from the monkey twin studies. All in all, his happy mood lasted the day fairly intact, and when he installed himself and the dog cosily on the couch for a nice evening of old classics, he felt more at peace than he had for a long time. The news was still on, and so he followed the last part rather uninterestedly, until suddenly a name caught his wandering attention.
'Bernard Hardinger's offer to give his daughter's saviour 1 million dollar has produced an impressive parade of would-be candidates claiming to be the 'Mystery Man'. So far, none have been able to grab the jackpot yet, though Mr Hardinger commented he would certainly proceed his search. He ...'
Annoyed, Keith switched channels, only to be met with a picture of Jessica Hardinger. Sighing, he put on National Geographic Channel for the next ten minutes, missing the first part of his movie.
-
That night, the face of Jessica Hardinger spooked around in his dreams. He again saw her bright blue eyes looking up into his with such fear mixed with hope it made him shiver. Suddenly, the vague randomness and fuzziness of dreams was lost. He could clearly see her blue eyes darting around frantically, looking for help where there was none. A red stain on her white blouse becoming swiftly larger. A blond-haired man with dark hooded eyes sneering madly down upon her. 'Just what you deserved, bitch!'
Shivering, pained face, helpless look, ... she couldn't breathe ... a stream of red blood pouring from her mouth...
'Nooooooo!' Keith awoke violently, trembling uncontrollably, his vision blurry. He moaned softly as he fell backwards on the bed, waiting for the world to stop spinning like mad. The soft tapping of paws alerted him the dog was approaching, and the cold wet nose against his feverish cheek calmed him down more effectively than any Prozac ever could. He cuddled close to the warm furry body, letting the shivers dissipate slowly. After what seemed like hours but in reality could be no more than minutes, he had sufficiently regained his self-awareness to let go of the dog and to get up to make himself a nice strong cup of coffee. The dog remained at his feet, silently watchful. Half of the coffee ended on his left wrist as his hand started shaking badly again. His cup finally drained, Keith looked down. 'She needs help...' The dog tilted her head, his sightless blue eyes blinked slowly. Keith took a deep breath. 'Let's go to the park...'
-
This time, the dog didn't stray far away at the park. She quickly came to sit next to her master, giving whatever silent comfort she could. Keith distractedly perused his paper, suddenly gasping as he saw one tiny ad:
To my mysterious hero
Who are you, I ask myself.
I look for you and yet you don't show up.
I beg of you, visit me once more: I wish to thank you for your brave deed. You are my knight in shining armour, larger than life itself. Please, answer my call...
J. Hardinger
The weight of the dog's head on his knees made him look up. Absentmindedly he scratched behind the ears. 'Well, luv, it looks like she'll get her visit, but for entirely different reasons she could ever phantom...' He sighed as he pulled out his cell phone to call his supervisor, knowing this wouldn't be pretty.
-
His ears still ringing from the verbal chastisement over the phone, Keith dropped the dog off at his flat, before making his way clear across the city to Jessica Hardinger's brand new and yet-to-be decorated penthouse. He managed to get into the building using the back door without attracting much attention, following exactly the same way as her attacker would soon take. At the double doors to her penthouse, he hesitated ever so slightly. He fervently hoped she wouldn't recognize him. The last thing he needed was a fawning woman when a deadly killer was after her. Steeling himself, he rang the bell. 'Who's it?' A female voice half-screamed annoyed from the inside. 'Room service, ma’am'', Keith replied the same as the killer would have done, knowing she'd respond to it. 'Coming!' She yelled, 'Just a minute...' After what must have been at least five minutes, she finally opened the door, only to throw it closed again as she immediately spotted he wasn't from room service. But his foot between the door, besides giving him a limp for the next two days, also prevented her from closing it entirely. His strength easily outweighed hers and he entered, quickly closing the door with its bolt. Apparently he wasn't quick enough, because she managed to land a pretty impressive, and painful, right hook on his jaw, before he restrained her. 'Shhh, I don't mean you any harm...' He found it decidedly hard finding the right words while she was kicking and screaming for all her worth. 'Jessica, it's al right, ... I ...' But suddenly, she went completely still in his arms. Surprised he let her go free, stepping back to steer clear of her hearty punches just in case. Large bright blue eyes sought his. 'It's you! You saved me before! I recognize your voice!'
-
Jessica looked at her 'attacker' more carefully now. The slightly messy brown hair, his slender build, and mostly his warm vaguely accented voice were identical to the man who had saved her from getting hit by a van two days ago. His eyes were of a golden brown colour and seemed to be fixed in a perpetual sad look, not unlike a hurt puppy's. In their depths, she saw compassion and a gentle understanding, and she felt compelled to trust him. '
You are my saviour' For her, it was a rhetorical question if any at all, but the tiny blush that crept on his cheeks confirmed once more she was right. 'You finally came!'
That seemed to distress him for some reason, and he lowered his eyes briefly. When he looked back up, she read something else in his eyes: an urgent determination. 'We have to get out of here...' He whispered.
'Why?' Frowning, she forewent any chitchat, feeling he was deadly serious.
'There's someone that wants to hurt you... who's coming for you now... we should get going immediately!' He answered, softly, but with an unmistakable urgent undertone.
She prided herself she was a rational girl, with the inquisitive mind of any good reporter, but at that moment, she believed him without questioning. The fact he had miraculously saved her from a certain death before did add to her faith of course.
'OK, what do we do?' she asked.
'Please, you have to believe...' Keith did a double take that under other circumstances might have been comical. She believed him? People never believed him. He had received his fair amount of verbal thrashings in which “lunatic” and “pervert” featured often…
But time was precious, and in decreasing short-supply. 'Follow me, I'll go first...'
She merely nodded and grabbed a nearby coat.
He was starting to get his hopes up that this was going to be relatively easy for once, but he had missed one tiny detail...
His watch, disagreeing with the early morning coffee seeping in, had decided to stop working some fifteen minutes ago...
Jessica followed him out of the penthouse, wondering more about whether his hair was always slightly messed up or if he needed some gel, than about what exactly he was rescuing her from. A fact of which she was reminded immediately.
The elevator doors went open with a 'ping'.
And out stepped the very last person she ever wanted to see...
-
Keith had been most surprised at the 'ping', and made the mistake of glancing at his watch to check the time. When he looked up again, a blond-haired man with dark hooded eyes was already approaching them fast, a mean looking gun in his left hand. Keith's self-preservation kicked in as his conscious mind was momentarily stunned. He pushed the woman behind him swiftly back through the double doors they had just passed and threw them shut, bolting them for good measure. A bullet impacted, but was stopped by the heavy wooden doors. Frantically he looked around for something to barricade the door with, his eyes falling onto a bulky expensive looking dressing table. Unfortunately, the thing turned out to be as heavy as it looked, but Jessica silently lent him a hand, and together, they managed to drag the monstrosity in place. Muttered curses could be heard from the other side of the doors. Suddenly, their attacker fell silent for a moment, then called out clearly in a taunting voice: 'Have you found another master to follow now, my little pigeon?'
Jessica paled at least three shades. She noticed concerned golden eyes seeking her frightened ones. 'He's my ex-husband.' She said in response to his unspoken query. 'He's an ex-cop...' Her ex-husband's voice interrupted her: 'Well, pigeon, it wasn't very nice to rat out on me, now was it?'
'I found out he was getting paid by the mob to do some of their dirty work and to keep them safely out of the hands of the police force.' Jessica explained. Keith’s eyes widened slightly as he nodded in understanding.
'My sweet pigeon needs to get her wings clipped, doesn't she? This taunt was the boiling point for Jessica.
'You sadistic bastard! You used my money, my contacts, you used mé! You have always directed how I should live my life! It took me a lot to stand up to you, but I did and I freed myself. Your little pigeon has flown away, Derek! And she's not coming back...'
Derek grinned and drawled: 'Your life belongs to me, pigeon, you live only because I want it, to please me!'
She dissolved into frantic weeping, and Keith scooped her into a gentle embrace, rubbing her back awkwardly. Unfortunately her loud sobs distracted him from the fact it had suddenly gotten really quiet outside the door.
He realised it at the same moment as one of the windows broke into a thousand pieces, giving way to an angry, gun-carrying ex-cop, who had leaped onto the balconies from a corridor window.
Keith's eyes darted to the sudden menace; his ears heard the shot and his mind knew he couldn't escape this one. Time stood still. He once more saw the steadily spreading red stain on the white shirt, the begging blue eyes... He had failed, the bullet would hit her still...
'Noooooo!' He pushed all his suppressed anger at fate, all his helplessness, all his soul into that cry, wishing for all the world that the bullet could just disappear.
Time resumed its course, and he pushed her to the floor, much too late, but desperate to have saved her. Her body was still underneath his. He looked up with tear-shed eyes at the advancing Derek. 'You killed her!' His voice broke. Derek grinned madly, and cocked the gun, aiming once more to get rid of the annoying witness. 'Just what she deserved, the bitch.' And then, Keith defied all laws of physics by lunging at him so fast and ferociously the other man completely missed. Keith tackled him with all the strength of desperation, causing Derek's head to hit the wall hard, and his body to go limp immediately thereafter.
Breathing heavily, seeing blurry because of his tears, Keith rolled of the ex-cop, using his shoe to kick aside the offending gun. He briefly felt for a pulse, and figured the bastard would live to wake up with the mother of all concussions. Dejectedly he turned around to face the body of Jessica...
And gasped as he saw her sitting up, her hair tousled and her look confused, a small gash on her forehead where it had connected with the ground during his tackle, but otherwise fine. His eyes travelled from her still purely white blouse to her very much alive bright blue eyes. A giant relief washed over him like a tidal wave and made his knees nearly buckle. A vague sound of sirens approaching made him look up sharply. He shakily made his way to the doors, and laboriously pulled the dressing table aside enough to let him open one of the doors.
-
Jessica's mind was clearing slowly. 'Hey! Wait!' She stumbled to get up, 'Don't leave me again!'
The stranger looked back at her, and she got paralysed losing herself in his sad golden eyes.
'No, Jessica, don't follow me anymore. What you pursue is but a ghost. I'm not larger than life, merely trying to be small enough to look up to life with wonder. Have a good life, Jessica, it is yours, and yours alone, to enjoy. Farewell...'
And in the shadows of the abandoned corridor, he disappeared without a trace.
-
Five minutes later, cops were swarming all over the place, a concerned paramedic had insisted she was checked out at the hospital, but Jessica was too busy listening in on a curious conversation between two officers.
'There were 3 bullets fired from the gun, we found one outside, one in the floor here, but where is the other one?'
The other shrugged. 'That would be the one aimed at Miss Hardinger, right?'
'Very strange...' The first one scratched the back of his head.
Jessica smiled softly. 'It was a miracle...'
They looked at her, suddenly aware of her presence and looked very uncomfortable. 'Ma’am?'
Jessica wanted to know one more thing. 'How did you know?'
One officer smiled at her uneasily. 'We had a strange anonymous call some 15 minutes ago. First thought it was a joke. But the operator said the voice sounded familiar and we should check, just in case. I'm really sorry for the delay, Ma’am...'
Jessica shook her head. 'Don't feel sorry, officer, I was well protected...'
'Ehm, Ma’am, about your 'protector', where did he go, how can we contact him for a statement...'
She smiled with a faraway look in her sparkling blue eyes. 'He goes wherever he is needed...'
-
The next morning, while the dog was once again trudging happily amidst the park's bushes, Keith sat on his bench browsing the newspaper, gently rubbing his painful and rather nicely coloured jaw. His eye fell on the small article at the very back of the paper:
I've Found My Hero
What is a hero?
It's a person like the next guy,
but who knows what lies before him,
and still goes out to meet it...
It's just a person
being in the right place at the right time
who actually answers the call...
It's not about standing above other people
but standing underneath them
ready to catch them if they fall...
It's not about being larger than life
but about being small enough to look up to life
and to treasure it above all else...
It's not about a quest for fame and glory
but about giving without asking
time and time again...
For a true Hero is not a knight
in shining armour
with a handsome face and a noble steed
But a stranger in the night
inconspicuous
with a large heart and a noble deed...
To my Hero
I have found you
Not by searching
But by needing
Though your face might be forgotten
Your kindness never will
J. Hardinger