She wishes she had waited

‘A new future,’ he told her. ‘Together forever.’ He laid a gentle hand on her stomach. ‘The three of us.’

It was more than she hoped for, more than she expected. A husband, a child, a new start in a new land. A past gladly left behind.

‘We catch the dawn ferry,’ he said.

Woman standing at a dock in golden morning light

She packs a small bag. ‘We’ll buy everything we need when we reach our new home,’ he said. She slips from the house in the pre-dawn shadows, keeping to the lawn so her sandaled feet make no noise on the gravelled drive. Her heart thumps in her chest at her courage. She doesn’t look back.

He’s waiting on the dock, together with two other sleepy passengers. He smiles, holds her in his solid arms, whispers, ‘On our way soon.’

And then he say, ‘Did you bring the necklace?’

Guilt flushes her face. ‘I couldn’t,’ she says. ‘I know it will come to me one day, but not yet … Mama will miss it.’

‘Ah, but does she deserve it?’ He lifts her chin. ‘Does she?’

She forages in her bag, pulls out a silk pouch. ‘I brought these instead,’ and pours a double string of flawless pearls into his cupped hands. Jewelled rings glitter among the tangle of pearls.

His eyes gleam. ‘Beautiful, but–’ he shakes his head, disappointed ‘–the necklace is more important, for us. A symbol, as we agreed. An inheritance for our child.’ His smile breaks her heart.

She looks to the east, where a golden line shimmers on the grey horizon. ‘There’s time,’ she says. ‘I’ll go back. I’m sorry.’

He nods. ‘Yes.’

She leaves her bag on the dock and runs to the house, across the lawns and in through a back door which is never locked. Up the stairs, stealthy as a hunting cat, into Mama’s dressing room, lifts the jewel box lid, pockets the necklace with its elaborate setting of diamonds and emeralds, and out again.

At the dock, her bag sits lonely on the boards, lit by golden morning light. There is no ferry, no passengers, no him. No silk pouch. She stares out across the waters, fingering the necklace, she and her baby as abandoned as the bag.

She wishes she had not gone back to the house. She wishes she had waited, caught the ferry. She wishes grief had not come so soon.  

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3 thoughts on “She wishes she had waited”

  1. It would have been so easy to hang around – and now she wishes she had waited.
    Only a few minutes longer and none of this would have happened.
    “I’m always so bloody impatient,” Tina scolded herself, surveying the wreckage of her new car still wedged under the delivery truck.
    “Also, lucky to be alive,” she observed out loud.
    With some difficulty, emergency services attending the accident scene had managed to extricate her and, as luck would have it, she didn’t have a scratch.
    However, the car was a write off – the passenger side completely caved in and barely recognisable.
    “Thank god, no one was with me,” she thought.
    Tina and her sister Doreen had decided to go shopping that morning in town and both girls were looking forward to it.
    But, as usual, Doreen dilly dallied – taking forever to do her hair and put on makeup that, totally fed up, Tina finally decided to leave without her.
    Now, as she watched several firemen pulling the remains of her vehicle away from the truck, she wished she had not been so intolerant.
    Not that the accident was her fault. The truck came out of a side street and she had no way of avoiding it.
    Still, Tina felt like it was a sliding doors moment – and speculated what would have been if only she had bothered to wait.

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