- So, maybe she
didn't remove all of his pain; a part of it, he told himself,
would always be with him, but she had certainly helped lighten
the load. She gave him companionship when he didn't want to be
left alone-and he was glad. Glad that God had sent the girl to
him, the likeness of Lindy's spirit gazing out at him through
those mysterious dark-lashed eyes.
But what was he going to do when he returned home? He couldn't
stay with Shelle forever. He was invited to stay for a few weeks
and he would, but what would he do after that? He'd go on writing
songs, he supposed. Then he remembered something that he'd so
strangely forgotten-Lindy had written a few songs and recorded
them before she died. They had been planning to make an album
of just her songs. That would be something occupying, he thought.
Compiling her new and old songs would give him something to do;
a purpose. But after that, he still had to do something, though
he didn't think he could play live shows anymore. She haunted
him-where she used to stand and play keyboards, her voice harmonizing
"James," came a soft voice, "you still can play
live. Lindy would have wanted you to. You know that." Shelle
sat with him; her brown head leaned on his shoulder.
"You're right; I do know that," he replied and put
his arm around her. The sun began to set, setting the sky a-fire
with brilliant colours.
"How would you feel if I asked you a favor?" he murmured
as a few clouds turned a brilliant gold-like Lindy's beautiful
"What is it?"
"For Lindy. Songs. But one special-a tribute song by you
and me. Would you like to?"
Shelle smiled, her eyes a little wet, and gave him her hand,
and her treasured "cheap" ring for him to have to remember
her and said,
"Of course I will."
© Lissa Michelle Supler
- Background and pearly stars courtesy
of Moira's Web Jewels