Page 1 of Trusting His Heart
A Moment in Time
Whoever said time heals all wounds was a jerk, Professor Geoffrey Swains thought as he struggled with his suitcase. Many years ago, he found his life’s love. She had been cruelly taken from him with scars still so fresh, he never sought the courage or the willingness to open his heart again.
With his luggage now packed, he took a last look around his office. The invitation taunting him on the desk. He should have burnt the envelope the moment it tore him apart. Instead, his secretary found the embossed card at the bottom of his in-tray.
“Professor, you should be proud they want to celebrate your career.”
“Then book me some video chats. I don’t want to go.”
“Why not?”
Why, indeed. Normally he appreciated the way she organized his life, but she didn’t know the significance behind this invitation and he lacked the composure to explain. Instead, he offered a feeble excuse, “It’s too much time away from class – I’ll spend most of my time on a plane between Australia and Boston.”
Ever helpful, she approached the Vice Chancellor who jumped at the chance to promote both the Professor and the university.
Resigned to his fate, he accepted the invitation to return to the States, to receive a ten-year commemoration of his break through work in economics. The reputation building work that some said should have resulted in a Nobel Prize.
The university decided to host a celebratory reception and farewell drinks before he escaped to the airport.
Geoffrey picked up and kissed the small photo from its discrete place on his desk. The woman, thin and pale, rugged up in a thick parka and beanie smiling in his arms. His thick dark hair windswept, his dark eyes not looking at the camera but closed as he kissed the top of her head. A treasured moment from one of their last magical days. Replacing the photo, he glanced at the desk calendar turning out the light. 26 November. On 14 December, it would be ten years - ten lonely years since he lost the love of his life and turned into a man his wife would never recognize or want for him to be.
He locked away the memories and the feelings still too fresh and forced himself to become the brash, confident, Professor Swains for another hour or two for the university elite. Two weeks of functions overseas marking the ten-year anniversary of his academic successes before he blanked out a week of his schedule. Seven days alone to grieve and mark his own anniversary.
“Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention, please?” Of course, Vice Chancellor Rigby would have to make a speech. Geoffrey had never known a finer man or a better friend. The two couples had once been close friends, before Geoffrey closed himself to the pity and sympathy by hiding from the world of couples. At least Rigby would be sensitive to the other anniversary.
“I have known the esteemed Geoffrey Swains for decades and regret to say, I am but one of his many friends and peers who didn’t realize the greatness he kept hidden during our wild student days and early academic careers. Back then, Geoffrey found passion in rugby, rowing and only turned up to lectures because the only alternative was finding a real job.”
Geoffrey chuckled to himself as he saw the looks on the audience as they tried to imagine the world famous Professor Swains as a mere mortal student or aspiring academic such as themselves. Behind every successful Vice Chancellor hid a frustrated stage performer. With a captive audience, Rigby hit his stride, mocking Geoffrey as only old friends and respected peers could do. Formal functions normally bored Geoffrey, especially when he was the center of attention, but he found Rigby’s banter harmless and even fun to return if given the chance.
“Geoffrey, the work we are celebrating changed the course of our research. You probably still find great humor in knowing some of us here today – myself included –were forced to trash partially completed thesis and start again because your work proved us wrong before we had a chance to show how brilliant we were.” Rigby waited for the laughter to subside.
“It is totally appropriate you return to the scene of your crime against us,” Rigby paused, “Of course, I mean, to the scene of your accomplishments, to receive whatever gongs, awards and tributes they want to bestow on you.”
Geoffrey thought the speech ended. Not as painful as he feared. Glasses were filled and raised all around. One toast and he’d make his excuses and leave – after all airport security would take hours to clear.
“Geoffrey, I have known you as a friend and colleague more than half our lives. As a colleague, and now as your Vice Chancellor, on behalf of the university I commend you for your achievements past and present. I thank you for your continued work here at the university and on behalf of the many students you have supported, mentored and cajoled towards their own brilliance, I thank you again.
“As your friend, well,” Rigby wouldn’t, would he? Geoffrey’s throat tightened. Muscles froze. Breath held. Surely, Rigby wouldn’t go there. Not now, not without warning - he wouldn’t expose Geoffrey’s private pain to the crowd.
“I know success has not come without personal loss, I mean cost. Ten years and yet it still seems like yesterday when you arrived back from the States.” The two friends shared a long glance, oblivious to the audience starting to fidget, waiting for the opportunity to finish the toast. Geoffrey knew what Rigby wanted to say. Instead, face flushed, Rigby faced the front and choked, “To Geoffrey Swains, to ten years.”
Turning back to Geoffrey, he raised his glass again and in low tones enough for Geoffrey’s ears only, “To Rachel.”
The next hours leaving the reception and getting to the airport were a blur. “To Rachel,” burned in his ears and reverberating in the chasm of his heart. As if every day wasn’t for Rachel, with him thinking of her, missing her. As if every night he didn’t wish Rachel still lay in his arms, his bed, his life.
Reclining back in seat, waiting for the final aircraft safety checks to be completed, Geoffrey allowed himself to remember back ten years. One hundred and twenty months since he held her as the doctors told them all options had been exhausted.
Ten years since he tried to distract himself from his fear of losing her by scratching thoughts on random pieces of paper while she lay in a hospital bed.
Ten years since she opened her eyes after days of unconsciousness and they enjoyed one last day together. He hoped the day was the beginning of her recovery. He prayed she would prove the experts they had consulted from all over the world, were wrong.
The nurses fussed over them, the doting husband and his sick wife, gently warning him not to leave anything unsaid. They brought in her favorite music and he read aloud her favorite works from Jane Austin.
Every moment of the day filled with reliving their life together, from the first day she saw him at high school, to the day she was diagnosed, and they fell asleep wet with each other’s tears.
She told him to always remember her but to find love again. He begged her not to leave him. Insisted he didn’t want and couldn’t live without her.
“Geoff, you need to accept this.”