The Olive Branch

[chanaud]

http://www-ang.kfunigraz.ac.at/~katzer/pictures/olea_03.jpg



January 1, 2003

Dear Nick,

Yes, it’s me. Before you rip this letter to pieces, I hope you give me a chance and read what I have to say. Yes, a chance. A chance to say how sorry I am. I know I don’t deserve it. And if you decide to rip this letter, I don’t blame you. What I did ten years ago was absolutely unforgivable. I pray each and every day that with time, your soul has healed. At least enough to forgive me.

You see, Nick, I’ve been absolutely miserable the last ten years, since I left you. I’ve been lost and empty. My life has no purpose. Because of that, I can’t even bear anyone near me showing a remote bit of happiness. My relationships with others are ruined. I have given up trying. I know no one can’t compare to you.

All I ever do is remember our times together. We were so happy. So in love. Oh how, I wish to go back. I know we can’t. I’ve ruined the opportunity. Please. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to take me back. I just want you to know, I’m sorry. Deeply and utterly sorry. I think if I can be assured that you have forgiven me, I can at least know I haven’t ruined your soul and I can manage to live with a little peace.

Remember how we dreamed of Greece? How we talked about living frivolously in white linens and sandals amongst olive trees and drink red wine? I do. I think of it every day. I imagine that’s where we would be if I had never left. I digress…

What you will find in this envelop is an olive branch. A remembrance of our happy times and our dreams. If you accept this olive branch, I will know you have forgiven me. If this letter returns, I will know you haven’t. It will break my heart. But I will understand.

I still love you and will forever,

Claire

P.S. I need to know two things. Have you forgiven me? And are you happy?


OOC: I'm looking for a partner to play Nick. If you're interested, please PM me. Thank you.

 

[prometheus 2]

Log entry for March 4, 2003.

Tied up in St Thomas 0800 hrs. Must remember to check the rip I saw yesterday in the jib and repair it before leaving port. Also consider painting deck again always something to do but will take some time to see the sights haven't been to St Thomas for five years, though by the looks of it it hasn't changed much.

Nick set down his pen, closed his ships log and went topside. He had had a leasurely breakfast and was ready to venture into town, anxious to pick up his mail that he had asked to have forwarded from his last port of call, Key West, Florida. It was a beautiful day Sea gulls were busy scouring the shore forr fish left stranded by the receding tide. Merchants were already hawking their wares on the boardwalk as he slowly made his way past them glancing now and then at the artwork and craft articles on display. This island had always been a tourist attraction and he grinned thinking he'd seen that same painting five years ago as he examined a particullary good impressionistic seasscape scene of the bay.

Seeing the post office ahead he quickened his pace. At the window he asked the clerk."Anything for Nicholas Peterson."

The clerk smiled and disappeared coming back with a bundle of letters. "These have been piling up for a couple of weeks, Mr Peterson. he said as he shoved them across the counter.

"Thanks." Nick replied puting them into the cloth bag that held his camera and other valuables suspended from his shoulder.

He turned and spotting a sidewalk cafe walked over and sat down at an unbrella covered table.

"Tea would be nice." he said as a waiter approached.

Pulling the letters out he sorted them according to importance, a letter from his agent, a couple from his brother in Atlanta his monthly stipend statement from his estate. a few bills.

A rather tattered one with a half dozen postmarks forwarded several times caught his attention and he set it to the side sipping the tea the waiter had brought and settling back to read his brothers news. Not much new in either letter, Roger and his family healty and happy. His brother wrote short infomative statistical letters which Erick apprechiated getting but getting excited about. He sent letters back desciblig almost every detail of his voyage, wqhich he thought his brother appreciated as well.

Tthe tattered envelope caught his eye and he lifted it weighing its contents before opening it noting the many forwards. Obviously this letter had been following him around for some time the first postmatk in January followed by Norfolk Va. Charleston N.Car. Savana Ga. Ft. Lauderdale and on down to Key West evidently it had arrived just after his departure form each port never quite catching up with him as he headed south.

he cut it open with his jack knife and pulled its contents out. along with a letter a green powdery substance spilled out on the table and he tried to ignore it as he read the letter smiling as he understood about the strange green powder. His smile turned to a look of consternation as he read the letter again, elated that she had written him yet confused that she had waited all those years.

" Ten years he thought, had it been that long? it seemed like only yesterday...


January 1, 2003

Dear Nick,

Yes, it’s me. Before you rip this letter to pieces, I hope you give me a chance and read
what I have to say. Yes, a chance. A chance to say how sorry I am. I know I don't deserve it. And if you decide to rip this letter, I don’t blame you. What I did ten years ago was absolutely unforgivable. I pray each and every day that with time, your soul has healed. At least enough to forgive me.

You see, Nick, I’ve been absolutely miserable the last ten years, since I left you. I’ve been lost and empty. My life has no purpose. Because of that, I can’t even bear anyone near me showing a remote bit of happiness. My relationships with others are ruined. I have given up trying. I know no one can’t compare to you.

All I ever do is remember our times together. We were so happy. So in love. Oh how, I wish to go back. I know we can’t. I’ve ruined the opportunity. Please. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to take me back. I just want you to know, I’m sorry. Deeply and utterly sorry. I think if I can be assured that you have forgiven me, I can at least know I haven’t ruined your soul and I can manage to live with a little peace. Remember how we dreamed of Greece? How we talked about living frivolously in white linens and sandals amongst olive trees and drink red wine? I do. I think of it every day. I imagine that’s where we would be if I had never left. I digress…

What you will find in this envelope is an olive branch. A remembrance of our happy times and our dreams. If you accept this olive branch, I will know you have forgiven me. If this letter returns, I will know you haven’t. It will break my heart. But I will understand. I still love you and will forever,

Claire
P.S. I need to know two things. Have you forgiven me? And are you happy?

 

[chanaud]

The first month after the letter was mailed, Claire waited anxiously for Nick’s reply and bit her fingernails until it was red and raw. She cried almost every night and conjured every plausible excuse as to why he haven’t responded yet . Perhaps he was ill, or perhaps he’s dead, which saddened her deeper, she didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. She knew he wasn’t dead. Which was worse, he hadn’t forgiven her.

The second month, Claire was bitter again and even more so than before. Everyone and anyone who happened to be in her path was awarded the wrath of a bitter angry woman. Her professional life was failing. Her hard earned, long term employment as Executive Director of Grant Development at the University of Virginia was being questioned. She was declining quickly, she knew it and didn’t know how to stop it.

At the end of February, the realization struck Claire like a lightning bolt. Nick didn’t want her. He had forgotten her and she must do the same. So she set out a plan for herself – she would create a new Claire, starting with her image. The first thing she did was cut her long, frizzy hair into a short chic over the ears hair style, then added highlights to draw the red that was dulled into a mousy brown from years of neglect. A little makeup widened her doleful eyes and when she smiled the gold specks sparkled in the light. Little by little she modernized her wardrobe. People started noticing her even giving her second glances. They sought her out. Men had even dared to ask her out. She declined them all until…

They bumped into each other at the University’s library. Benton was new to the area and was lost in the European Civilization when he really wanted the History of Southeast Asia while Claire was searching for another fictional love story of Napoleon and Josephine. They stood for hours in the dark aisle lined with books, his dark eyes swam with passion as he talked of his upcoming trip to Thailand. Nick used to dream of faraway places and would spend countless hours talking of them Claire felt her body stir for the first time in a long, long while. At first she observed him casually, then more carefully. She decided he looked like Nick. They both had blonde hair, only Benton’s seemed course to the touch while Nick’s was soft and curly. When Benton asked her out to dinner, she surprised herself by accepting immediately. She was even giddy with anticipation and bought a short red dress.

The date didn’t meet her expectations. Still she allowed him to kiss her. Several times on her front doorsteps. He whispered something about a drink, she laughed and pushed him away. He walked away reluctantly, not before making plans for the following evening at his house. She accepted and watched him drive away in his Jeep. She even smiled and waved. She stood outside and gazed dreamily at the black blanket of stars. Then she smiled. It was a good evening. She was moving on.

Claire rose to walk inside. Then she remembered she hadn’t checked her mailbox. When she opened the gray metal box, she froze. Inside was a single flat white envelope. Before she saw the handwriting, or the sender’s name, she knew. It was Nick..

 

[prometheus 2]

Nick

Ater spending the morning taking care of business affairs Nick called a friend. Finding him home, he hailed a cab and soon was ringing his bell. After greeting his friend with a hug they went to the veranda and had an iced tea. Recounting their lives for the last five years took a bit of time and realizing it was getting towards sunset Nick made his strange request.

" Have you an olive branch I could have." His friend looked at him puzzled and then went to the garden and picked one from a tree He listened quietly as Nick told him about Claires letter. They said their goodbys, Nick promising to come around in a couple of days and shoot some pool, "Stay the night if you want his friend had added but he knew Nick would say no. Once Nick set sail he stayed aboard. Not so much as to protect his boat but because he felt more at home there.

On the way to the pier Nick thought about the end of Claires letter:

"Do you forgive me and are you happy?"

Nick mulled this over in his mind as he made his way back to his boat looking out to sea, wondering if the light woud be good for the sketch he had planned for the afternoon. He pulled out his camera instead deciding that it might be a bit late by the time he got his materials ready and took a few pictures with his digital camera before boarding his boat and going below. once in his cabin he pulled the disk from the camera and inserted it in the g drive of his laptop to download the days pictures to his hard drive.

"Later", he told himself as he pulled the mysterious envelope from his bag and dumped the contents on the table. more green dust and a shriveled up twig fell on the polsihed surface.
"Must have been a big leaf." he said to himself grinning, holding up the shriveled stem and twirling it between his thumb and forefinger.

He looked at the envelope and let out a soft whistle recalling the date she had sent the letter January 1, over two monthes ago, She'd probably given up on a return answer by now he surmised, yet he remembered her as a very persistant woman, at any rate he felt he owed her an answer. At least to let her know that he was still alive and to answer her very direct questions. She wasn't one to beat around the bush, this girl. She never played games and thats what he had liked....no loved about her.

He had loved her, never forgot her, still loved her, he supposed in a sort of distant vague way, or at least loved her as he remembered her. If he saw her today he might feel different. he realized people changed he knew that, he thought he had.

His mind started to go back to that time and then he stopped himself from thinking about it. None of that mattered now. Hell that was ten years ago and had no bearing what so ever on the here and now. He rubbed is finger through the green dust on the table. Just like the leaf the past had vanished. There was no going back to reconstruct that time and place and event. It wouldn't be any easier that making a whole leaf out of this dust and dried up stem.

He went to the sink and washed his hands. Returning to the table he wiped it clean and got a clean sheet of paper from his desk. He sat down to write about the present.

" Dear Claire, I will be as up front with you as you were with me. Time has, perhaps, forgiven you, and because that past time no longer exists in this present time, I can say honestly that I have no need to forgive you, or not forgive you for that matter. What's done is done. forgiveness or lack of it will not change that but time has, so that part of our lives is finished. As far as where we are today, hundreds of miles and ten years of our lives apart I would like to start anew."

"Hello Claire, my name is Nick, I am presently anchored off the coast of St Thomas in the Caribean."

"I just got this letter from you as it has been chasing me half way down the coast of the United States for the last two months. I have been sailing for seven years now, having built my own sail boat. My father was a cabinet builder and I learned more from him than the six years I spent in college. Though my engineering degree and my courses in astronomy, geology and journalism may contribute to my present purpose in life, I sometimes wonder if a simple "how to do it" book wouldn't have done as well.

Five years ago I sailed across the Atlantic and spent a year in the mediteranean. After that trip I wrote a short account of the experience added lots of picture and sold it to a publisher who specialized in that type of literature. It didn't make the best sellers list or you would have read it by now being the interest you have in sailing and your love for a good book. Yes, it is a good book Claire and I will have my agent send you a copy as soon as I can. I know you will enjoy it. I'm telling you all this to lead up to your second question ( Am I happy)

Of course, you would be the first to agree that happiness is relative and the more one thinks about it the more the answer eludes one. When I rise in the morning and see the sun come up without thinking I know feel happiness after a good day I feel the same happiness. Could I be happier? Is there something that would make me happier? I'm sure there is and if I discovered that special something I would embrace it and make it part of my life and my happiness. Too vague? Maybe so. But then when you look at my impressionist art you know of course in the picture I paint of my life I leave lots to the imagination of whoever is viewing it so that they can add their own feeling about it and come to their own conclusions.

The sun is setting here in St Thomas it was a beautiful day the tide is coming in and I will have to change my mooring lines before I turn in and let the ocean rock me to sleep. Your letter was a pleasnt surprise and a welcome addition to the day. Thank you for that.

I will be in this area for a couple of weeks don't really know where I'm off to from here but will let you know if I change plans.

Love.

Nick


He folded the letter carefully and slipped it inside the already addressed envelope. Taking the small olive branch from his shirt pocket he added it to the letter and sealed it. He would mail it first thing in the morning.

 

[chanaud]

All the events before that exact moment, the date with Benton, the kisses, her pretty red dress, and even the date for the next night were forgotten when Claire saw the letter. Her hand trembled as she reached for the lone letter. Her heart raced madly, dulling all other senses. As soon as her finger touched it, she jumped up as if it electrocuted her.

With the envelope clutched tightly in her hands, Claire brought it up to her face and smelled it. It smelled like the sea. Claire smiled. Nick was happy. She was sure; he was at peace with himself. He had always wanted to live by the sea. And she was the cause of him being unhappy ten years back. City life didn’t suit him. But he had stayed just for her and her career.

Claire hurried inside her home, turned on a lone copper lamp, and settled in her favorite chair, a cranberry chaise lounger. Then she sliced the envelope open with her sharp nails, and pulled out the two page letter and an olive branch. Her hand grabbed the olive branch before it landed on her lap. She spun it and smiled. A sense of peace washed over her. He had forgiven her. She knew it before she read his letter.

She stared at the letter and gazed at the branch. Through it flashed the happy moments – when he followed her at the Saturday morning market and bumped into her, pretending to be an accident; their first date at Carmine’s Restaurant, they shared linguine with fresh clams and a bottle of Portuguese port; their first kiss under twinkling stars and a full moon; and then the first time they made love…

Electric tingles coursed through her veins waking Claire from her revelry. She looked around to see if anyone saw her, and remembered she was alone. Then she picked up the letter and read it slowly. Then she read it again, and again, until she had memorized each word. Then she read it again to search for hidden agendas and saw none. Though Nick was always a dreamer, he was always direct with her.

She rose, walked to her antique walnut desk, settled in her hard chair, and started writing.

Dearest Nick,

I can’t even begin to tell you how much your letter, your words, your happiness, and most of all, your forgiveness mean to me. Thank you, Nick. I suppose I should have written long ago, but I was too stubborn to. You know how I am, Nick – too stubborn for my own good. At least that’s what you used to say to me.

So you gave it all up to live on the water now. And you’re published! I’m so happy for you. You’re living your dreams. Never would I have thought that in a million years. I always imagined you to live by the sea, but with a pretty wife and children. Or a bachelor and teaching in a college in the Northeast. The mind is a stage for a wild imagination when you’re alone. And I’ve had plenty of time to invent them.

Please do contact your publisher. I would love your books. Someday, when I’m old and gray, and a grandmother, I can tell my grandchildren that I knew Nick way back when.

I’ve never made it to the ocean. I suppose when we separated, there wasn’t any need to. I started dreaming it because of you. When you described the ocean, it was exactly how I imagined it to be. And your letter reminded me how much I’m missing in my life. I should start seeing the world. Perhaps one day, I will.

Well Nick, now that we’ve found each other again, I hope you keep in touch wherever you might be. I would love to hear your worldly travels, your accomplishments, and who knows; maybe we will bump to each other. Who know what fate has in store for us…

Sail safe, Nick.

Love,

Claire

Without editing it, Claire sealed the letter in a plain white envelope, and addressed it immediately. If she mails it tomorrow morning, it should reach Nick before he leaves for his next port.

Hours later, Claire was sitting in her back porch with a glass of port in her hand, gazing up at the blanket of stars and dreaming of Nick.