Reflections - Challenge 111 (PG) 12/12/09

[darkstarrising]

Hi All

This one shot is my response to the challenge to write a short piece on a minor character. One of the characters we saw for all of 15 seconds in the series was Beth's mother. She never said a word, yet you could feel her anguish as she enlisted the aid of a scruffy looking PI to find her missing daughter.

This isn't my first take on writing about Beth's mother, nor am I alone in finding her fascinating. PNWGal and I have both 'filled in blanks' around Beth's return to her mother from different POVs, mine being 'The Touch of Another' and PNWGal's being the wonderful 'Whatever It Takes'. This new story, 'Reflections', is just that - a brief take on a mother's thoughts as she rocks her newly returned child to sleep.

Reflections

Creak ….creak ….creak ….creak ….

She sleeps. My angel sleeps.

I’ve rocked you for hours. I’ll rock you for all eternity if I have to. Your face is smudged and your golden curls lay flat and limp against your face, but I’ll not wake you this night. For now, you’ll sleep in my arms, cradled against my heart, right where you belong. Sleep, little one, and know that you are safe.

Creak ….creak ….creak ….creak ….

My baby. My Beth. How tiny you were, how precious when first I held you. I thought we had a lifetime together, all of us, a happy family. But life can be cruel, and once gifted with your life, another was taken away. My cherished dream faded as we found ourselves alone, mother and daughter, our love for each other the only certainty in our lives. Yet when you hold my hand and smile your brilliant little girl smile, all my troubles fade away. You’ve filled my life with love, sweet one, and brought joy to my heart. A gift I never fully appreciated until you were gone.

Creak ….creak ….creak ….creak ….

My child, I’ve known heartbreak and happiness in my life, but nothing as what I’ve felt these last few days. Your cold, empty bed was nothing compared to the chill in my heart and the emptiness of my soul. Your room became my refuge; bits of cloth and plastic, my only link to you. My heart ached to hold you again, to kiss you gently and tell you everything would be all right, that no one would hurt you ever again.

I had to believe this, my angel, for without hope of your return, I had no reason to live.

Creak ….creak ….creak ….creak ….creak .. creak ..

As hours turned to days, my hope faded and dread engulfed me. There was no sign of you, no calls for ransom. I saw the pity in people’s eyes and heard their whispers, but I refused to believe.

She’s gone forever, she’ll never be found.

Creak ..

Despair is a terrible feeling, my child, something I pray you’ll never know. Once in its grasp, you either surrender to it or struggle to break free. When all others had given up, I could not. For your safe return, I’d have given anything, done anything, without hesitation, without question. And I did.

Creak ….creak ….creak ….creak ….

Mick St. John, Private Investigations

One of the police detectives slipped me his card. ‘Your best hope’, he whispered. After three nights without sleep, I barely remember how I got to his office, and even less, what I told him. A picture was all I had of you then, my tear-streaked face and disheveled appearance testimony to my desperation. Somehow, I knew he felt my pain and understood the depths of my sorrow. The look in his eyes, the conviction in his voice when he told me he’d take the case gave me reason to hope.

I promise.

He said more, but those two words were all that mattered. This man was a total stranger, yet when he said he’d find you, I believed him. I had to. Losing you was not an option. It never was.

Creak ….creak ….creak ….creak ….

Tonight, he brought you back to me. My heart nearly stopped when I saw his car pull up. I couldn’t move. If he was alone, I knew I’d never see you again. If he was alone, my own life would be over.

But he wasn’t alone. As he approached the house, I saw that he held you close, your tiny arms wrapped tightly around his neck. I ran to him, to you, to touch you, to hold you, to take you back into my arms where you belonged. Face buried in his shoulder, you clung to him, refusing to let go.

Once inside, I cried out as light revealed what darkness had hidden. His clothes were torn and bloodied, traces of reddish brown residue streaking his hair. My eyes scanned every inch of you, my hands ran over your body as he held you in his arms. I thanked God you were unhurt and that whatever blood was on your clothes wasn’t yours. While he bore no physical wounds, I could sense he was in pain. My eyes relayed the unspoken question, but his own belied his response that tomorrow would be soon enough for answers.

Trust me. Please.

I did. You were home, safe with me. Nothing else mattered.

Creak ….creak ….creak ….creak ….

You’ve never been a shy one, Beth, but the way you clung to that man surprised me. When you finally left his arms for mine, I could see his sadness as he let you go. Perhaps you reminded him of someone, a sister, a child of his own? No, something else, I think. In bringing you back to me, I fear he did something terrible, something that caused him pain. That blood came from someone.

Before he left, he placed his hand on your head, in benediction it seemed. Your eyes held his for a moment, silently pledging to keep the night’s events a secret between you. Maybe it’s wrong, my child, but as long as you're safely back in my arms, I don’t care where the blood came from. I know that someone was hurt tonight or perhaps worse, but God forgive me, I just don’t care. Whatever story Mick gives to the police tomorrow, I’ll go along with. Silence is a price I'm more than willing to pay.

Tomorrow is here already. I know I should get some sleep, but not just yet. For just a little while longer, let me hold you close and feel your heart beat against mine. Let me enjoy the miracle of your return and let me pray that from now on, God sends you a guardian angel to help me look after you.

Creak ….creak ….creak ….creak ….

[wpgrace]

Oh brava honey!!!!!!

The palpable relief of a mother... and we've all had small moments when we think the kid has run off or been irrevocably hurt... just resonates with me as she rock rock rocks this child... and OF COURSE she would not let her go, bathe her, wake her up... she's just gonna hold on, all night.

And incredibly cool description of how a Mommy would react to Mick... his appearance at that point, the way Mick and Beth locked onto one another... and Mrs. T's determination to ask no questions, to brook no doubts. She doesn't need to ask questions. She cannot imagine the vampires, but she knows it was horrible... blood, soot, rent clothing... and a living breathing healthy child. He did whatever it takes and that's what she hired him for.

A perfect fill in the blanks, a perfect image of a mother saved as well as a child... and a perfect rendition of how a human mother and her relief and gratitude would react to our Mick. No wonder he decided after that night that his life had to change. The look in HER eyes, as well as Beth's... wow! You captured it here.

[PNWgal]

When Jamie was 14 months old, someone left the door open and he walked out of the house and over to the neighbor's in his stocking feet. Those five minutes it took me to find him standing on the neighbor's porch were the longest of my life.

You've captured that feeling of panic and relief perfectly here.

A gift I never fully appreciated until you were gone.

I think many, if not all, parents are guilty of this during the course of their children's lives.

Your cold, empty bed was nothing compared to the chill in my heart and the emptiness of my soul. Your room became my refuge; bits of cloth and plastic, my only link to you.

The reader can almost see Beth's mother haunting her room like a ghost, clinging to the pieces that are left behind, wondering if her little girl was ever coming home.

Then a P.I. says he'll help:

I promise.

He said more, but those two words were all that mattered. This man was a total stranger, yet when he said he’d find you, I believed him. I had to. Losing you was not an option. It never was.

And this is where I started sniffling:

My heart nearly stopped when I saw his car pull up. I couldn’t move. If he was alone, I knew I’d never see you again. If he was alone, my own life would be over.

Since we know that Beth comes home, this is something that rarely occurs to me - Mrs. Turner's pain should her daughter NOT come back to her.

I know that someone was hurt tonight or perhaps worse, but God forgive me, I just don’t care. Whatever story Mick gives to the police tomorrow, I’ll go along with. Silence is a price I'm more than willing to pay.

As a mother, this resonates. I would do anything to ensure the safety of my child - no matter what it takes, no matter what happens.

So, SO well done, Karen.

[nutmegger911]

This is a very touching piece, DSR. The image of Mrs. Turner rocking her child, not ready herself to let Beth go, is so compelling. You can hear the creaking in your mind's eye and feel the release of her pent up emotions with each push of her toes on the floor. Well done.

[wpgrace]

And btw... since I've read this piece, I've had that old Supremes song named Reflections, that used to come on when China Beach was on tv, running thru my head...

[redwinter101]

This is so gorgeous, dsr. Really beautiful. That overwhelming desperation, facing her loss of everything, and the knife-edge on which the resolution stands. Joy or disaster. Life or death.

I know that someone was hurt tonight or perhaps worse, but God forgive me, I just don’t care. Whatever story Mick gives to the police tomorrow, I’ll go along with. Silence is a price I'm more than willing to pay.

No wonder. No wonder at all.

Just lovely.

And kudos for a second-person piece that just works - that's hard, and beautifully done.

Red

[darkstarrising]

Oh brava honey!!!!!!

The palpable relief of a mother... and we've all had small moments when we think the kid has run off or been irrevocably hurt... just resonates with me as she rock rock rocks this child... and OF COURSE she would not let her go, bathe her, wake her up... she's just gonna hold on, all night.

And incredibly cool description of how a Mommy would react to Mick... his appearance at that point, the way Mick and Beth locked onto one another... and Mrs. T's determination to ask no questions, to brook no doubts. She doesn't need to ask questions. She cannot imagine the vampires, but she knows it was horrible... blood, soot, rent clothing... and a living breathing healthy child. He did whatever it takes and that's what she hired him for.

A perfect fill in the blanks, a perfect image of a mother saved as well as a child... and a perfect rendition of how a human mother and her relief and gratitude would react to our Mick. No wonder he decided after that night that his life had to change. The look in HER eyes, as well as Beth's... wow! You captured it here.

Thanks, grace

Mrs. Turner's rocking is for her own benefit as well as her child's. Her baby is back, she can breathe again, but she also knows the storm isn't over yet. She'll have to face the cops in the morning, and while she doesn't know the details, she knows someone was either hurt badly or even killed by the man she hired to find Beth. She's regrouping, talking herself through her decision to remain silent about what she saw, while holding on to the one thing that keeps her going - Beth.

And btw... since I've read this piece, I've had that old Supremes song named Reflections, that used to come on when China Beach was on tv, running thru my head...

Well, we're even then....I was trying to finish this last night when we got 'distracted' by AussieJo . You got the Supremes, I got Glen Yarborough singing Molly Malone....I think you got the better end of the deal

[darkstarrising]

When Jamie was 14 months old, someone left the door open and he walked out of the house and over to the neighbor's in his stocking feet. Those five minutes it took me to find him standing on the neighbor's porch were the longest of my life.

You've captured that feeling of panic and relief perfectly here.

A gift I never fully appreciated until you were gone.

I think many, if not all, parents are guilty of this during the course of their children's lives.

Your cold, empty bed was nothing compared to the chill in my heart and the emptiness of my soul. Your room became my refuge; bits of cloth and plastic, my only link to you.

The reader can almost see Beth's mother haunting her room like a ghost, clinging to the pieces that are left behind, wondering if her little girl was ever coming home.

Then a P.I. says he'll help:

I promise.

He said more, but those two words were all that mattered. This man was a total stranger, yet when he said he’d find you, I believed him. I had to. Losing you was not an option. It never was.

And this is where I started sniffling:

My heart nearly stopped when I saw his car pull up. I couldn’t move. If he was alone, I knew I’d never see you again. If he was alone, my own life would be over.

Since we know that Beth comes home, this is something that rarely occurs to me - Mrs. Turner's pain should her daughter NOT come back to her.

I know that someone was hurt tonight or perhaps worse, but God forgive me, I just don’t care. Whatever story Mick gives to the police tomorrow, I’ll go along with. Silence is a price I'm more than willing to pay.

As a mother, this resonates. I would do anything to ensure the safety of my child - no matter what it takes, no matter what happens.

So, SO well done, Karen.

Thanks, Jen

That must have been a horrible feeling for you, and time does seem to either standstill or speed up when we're most upset. Beth's mother is reliving the last few days as a way of reassuring herself that going along with the less-than-true story she expects Mick to tell the cops is the right thing to do. The person who took her daughter paid a price, perhaps the ultimate one, and she struggles for a moment as to how to deal with that knowledge. Ultimately, her maternal instinct kicks in and she decides to remain silent about what she knows. As a mother, she has to look out for her child in any way she can.

[darkstarrising]

This is a very touching piece, DSR. The image of Mrs. Turner rocking her child, not ready herself to let Beth go, is so compelling. You can hear the creaking in your mind's eye and feel the release of her pent up emotions with each push of her toes on the floor. Well done.

Thanks NM911,

Ah, you caught the rhythm change in the rocking. She rocks faster as she recalls the moments working up to realizing her daughter just might not be coming back to her. When she talks about despair, she stops rocking for a moment, the recollection too painful to continue.

[darkstarrising]

This is so gorgeous, dsr. Really beautiful. That overwhelming desperation, facing her loss of everything, and the knife-edge on which the resolution stands. Joy or disaster. Life or death.

I know that someone was hurt tonight or perhaps worse, but God forgive me, I just don’t care. Whatever story Mick gives to the police tomorrow, I’ll go along with. Silence is a price I'm more than willing to pay.

No wonder. No wonder at all.

Just lovely.

And kudos for a second-person piece that just works - that's hard, and beautifully done.

Red

Thanks red

For a mother who's faced her worst nightmare, she's now reliving parts of it to reassure herself about what she's done and what she's about to do. But having the little blonde headed child safe in her arms is all she needs to make her decision to choose silence.

[wpgrace]

And btw... since I've read this piece, I've had that old Supremes song named Reflections, that used to come on when China Beach was on tv, running thru my head...

Well, we're even then....I was trying to finish this last night when we got 'distracted' by AussieJo . You got the Supremes, I got Glen Yarborough singing Molly Malone....I think you got the better end of the deal

Oh I totally got the better end of the deal then... so so sorry!!!!! Tho I have no idea who Glen Yarborough is... a folk singer I'm guessing? But that cannot be a good reel to be looping...

[francis]

I love this. Without giving us so much as a name you give us all the despair, hope, relief and protectiveness of a mother. She's like a lion protecting her cubs, nothing can stop her. I really like how you explain that she never asked Mick about the circumstances, how this secret could be safe with Beth. Sitting in a rocking chair the mother relives the horror of the days before, and the soothing rhythm of the rocking is such a great counterpoint to the jumbled emotions she's going through. Lovely!!!

[darkstarrising]

And btw... since I've read this piece, I've had that old Supremes song named Reflections, that used to come on when China Beach was on tv, running thru my head...

Well, we're even then....I was trying to finish this last night when we got 'distracted' by AussieJo . You got the Supremes, I got Glen Yarborough singing Molly Malone....I think you got the better end of the deal

Oh I totally got the better end of the deal then... so so sorry!!!!! Tho I have no idea who Glen Yarborough is... a folk singer I'm guessing? But that cannot be a good reel to be looping...

Glen Yarborough was part of a trio in the early to mid 1960s called the Limelighters. They were an odd blend of comedy, contemporary and folk ballads, Yarborough's area of expertise...but he had an extensive solo career as well, still going in fact. Just can't get the cockles and mussels out of my head...

[darkstarrising]

I love this. Without giving us so much as a name you give us all the despair, hope, relief and protectiveness of a mother. She's like a lion protecting her cubs, nothing can stop her. I really like how you explain that she never asked Mick about the circumstances, how this secret could be safe with Beth. Sitting in a rocking chair the mother relives the horror of the days before, and the soothing rhythm of the rocking is such a great counterpoint to the jumbled emotions she's going through. Lovely!!!

Thanks, francis When you look back at the series, Beth's mother was never named, she never said a word, we see her only in a black and white flashback for all of about 15 seconds. Yet in that brief appearance, she made a tremendous impact. We saw a panic-stricken mother going to a PI as a last ditch effort to find her child. 'Reflections' was my attempt to convey her introspection of the previous few days and how her actions and silence impacted her life.

[allegrita]

DSR, this is just a wonderful story--you bring Beth's mother to life so vividly, through her memories, her hopes, her despair, and her determination that nothing, NOTHING, will hurt her baby again. She'll do anything, agree to any lie, close her eyes to evidence of violence done-- anything to protect her Beth.

My Beth.

That really struck me. Of course she used these words, so long before Mick thought them!

As a mother, I ached right along with Beth's mom, and cried at her relief when Mick brought her baby back to her. I absolutely understand her determination to protect Beth at all costs. And the creaking of the rocking chair is a perfect counterpoint to the rhythms of your story. Beautifully crafted--and best of all, your hard work feels effortless.

This is a story I'll read again and again.