Rachel is in the lobby of the Afterglow Journey Center, baffled by her receptionist’s hesitation on answering her question.

“Tina, I was just talking with Mrs. Stone an hour ago. Is she still cleaning out Mr. Stone’s room or isn’t she?” The girl just stared at me like I had lost my mind.

“Tina. Why won’t you answer me? Yes, I know you were using your cell phone on work hours and yes, I will have to write you up for that, but right now I need a straight answer: is Mrs. Stone still here?”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Cox, I didn’t mean to use my phone but I thought it was a call about my mom, she’s still in surgery and—”

Everything inside me wanted to reach across the desk and shake that girl. “Tina! Is Mrs. Stone still in the building?!” I had never raised my voice at work before. Not once. Why was I losing control? This crazy journal—this crazy couple had driven me insane!

Tina looked at the phone messages now crumpled in my angry hand. “What? Why do you keep staring at these messages?” I clamped my lips shut as I sensed a powerful, monstrous anger overtaking my body. Now that I look back on it, I swear something outside of me helped me get a grip and stop that thing from crushing Tina. I shudder just thinking about it; I could be writing this from prison right now had I acted on my feelings in that moment.

Thankfully, I gained enough presence of mind to focus my eyes on the messages in my hand. I flipped through three before I got to the one that was the reason behind why Tina could not give me an answer to my question. It was from the local police department, received at 4:30 AM and retrieved from voicemail by Tina at 8:40 AM—the exact time I was in Mr. Stone’s room with Mrs. Stone; the exact moment she handed me her journal.

The message only said that the police called and nothing about why. I knew her habit of forgetting to write down the message was part of her hesitancy. “Tina, this is from the police. What did they say?”

“Didn’t I write it down?” she said, avoiding my eyes.

“Stop messing with me, Tina. What did they want?” The monster inside me struggled against my will. I forced it down and slammed the messages on the counter. Tina jumped.

“I don’t have time for this,” I snapped. I stomped off to Mr. Stone’s former room to see for myself if Mrs. Stone was there. I would graciously give her back her journal and this whole thing would be over once and for all. I’d even help her pack and personally load up her car with Mr. Stone’s things if it would advance that end.

Mr. Stone’s room was just as I had found it before Mrs. Stone joined me in it at eight that morning. Not one thing was touched. The only thing missing was the journal I had found on his nightstand now firmly gripped in my hand. That’s strange.

I yanked the door open and rushed back down the hall to the Afterglow room where the staff had laid Mr. Stone’s body. There it was, just as it had been before Mrs. Stone and I had entered to view it together shortly after I had arrived to work that morning. By now, the body should be in the morgue readied for transport to the cemetery. The Stone’s had chosen to bypass all formal services. Something isn’t right here. I hurried to the nurse’s station and marched toward Angie.

“Why isn’t Mr. Stone’s body at the morgue?”

Angie shrugged without looking up from her clipboard and said, “probably because Mrs. Stone hasn’t shown up to view it yet.”

If there was such a thing as a cork that kept my insides from exploding, I believe at that moment it popped out of my head. “What?!” My outburst stopped every human being within 50 feet of my voice like a child’s “freeze” game. I swallowed hard and turned on my heel. I did not have the ability at that point to either explain my outburst or apologize. Instead I stomped back to Tina.

“Hand me the phone,” I ordered Tina. I plucked the message from the police off the counter and dialed. I reached the detective named in the message, identified myself and asked why he called. As I listened, I glanced at Tina—her face was white.

“Hi Mrs. Cox,” said the detective, “I just called to let you know that Mrs. Stone was in a car accident last night. Must’ve been right after she left your facility, around—” his voice trailed off as he shuffled papers, “oh, here it is; yeah, it says here it was around one-ish, maybe shortly after.”

“One AM?” I asked?

“Yes.”

“Okay, so she’s okay, right? I mean, she was here this morning—I spoke with her myself…”

Silence. “Uh, no ma’am, that would be impossible. The accident was fatal. Mrs. Stone was pronounced dead at the scene.”

I dropped the phone on the counter and Tina quickly retrieved it, thanked the officer and hung up. Another thud popped the receptionist off her chair—it was the journal that slipped from my hand. She picked it up and handed it to me without a word. I looked at her, my mouth gaping open, devoid of words.

Rachel, read this before you go to court today. That’s what she told me. Mrs. Stone said that to me this morning. Mrs. Stone put this journal in my hands this morning.

Though Mrs. Stone’s death explained the behavior of my staff, the rest was a mass of mystery for quite some time. I still don’t know after all these years what happened that day, but I’ve read Mrs. Stone’s journal many times since and you might be surprised to learn that me and Steve never divorced.

Somehow, through the story of Mr. and Mrs. Russell Stone, I learned that love is impossible as long as it is focused on me, my rights, my needs and my desires. The minute I began loving Steve like Mrs. Stone loved Mr. Stone, I discovered the mystery behind this bizarre couple. To the world, Russell Stone existed as an un-lived life, a waste, a fake; non-deserving of his wife’s love. But in reality, he was a prisoner, condemned to serve his abuser’s sentence. Mrs. Stone understood that and gave up her life so he could be free.

I discovered something else from Mrs. Stone: real love doesn’t demand reciprocation. It flows freely, extravagantly and unconditionally; it gives new life to the “un-lived.”

The End

Author’s Note: Did you enjoy this novelette? Please let me know. Jot me an e-mail at: cheryl@semickinc.com or send a letter to the Community Word Editor. You can read parts the whole novelette online at:www.thecommunityword.com/online – click on Doors & Windows), or watch this column for news on getting a copy of it in print. Have a Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year!