She moved soundlessly through the house. It was not her house but that did not matter. She knew it as well as the old farmhouse that she had grown up in – better in fact, as there was an intimacy now between her and the world that had never existed before.

Effortlessly, she seemed to glide up the stairs – well, perhaps glide wasn’t the right word but it was close enough – drawn towards one particular room. Not the biggest room, not the smallest room; just a particular room.

She already knew what she would find when she entered that room….Pausing briefly outside the door, she sighed and then went in.

The room was bathed in darkness, the curtains drawn, shutting out the bright moonlit-night, and she moved effortlessly towards the bed and the sleeper in the bed.  She stopped and peered down at the handsome young face, one she knew so well…and reached out with her hand to caress his cheek. He shivered beneath her touch and she smiled at him.

Gently she pushed a strand of golden blond hair from his forehead and wished for one moment that he would open his eyes and look at her. It had been a while since she had seen them, so vibrant blue they took her breath away…and an even longer time since he had seen her.

Weightlessly, the girl sat down on the bed next to him and gently stroked his forehead in the way she knew he found comforting. He was dreaming and it was his dreams that had summoned her…called to her, as they always did.

Closing her eyes, she smiled sadly. He was dreaming of her. Again.

* * *

Joe Hardy stretched out beside the small creek, under the shade of a lazy old willow tree, and absently chewed on a long strand of green grass. Today was one of those beautiful summer days that begged for small boys and old men to play hooky, grab a fishing pole and head off to the nearest troutin’ hole; not quite Tom Sawyer, more Huckleberry Finn….

And that is exactly what Joe had done.

He smiled as he could imagine the look on his older brother Frank’s face when he went to get Joe up for breakfast only to find his bed empty with a note written in thick black marker, in place of him – GONE FISHING!

Chuckling, he lay on his back and peered up at the beautiful blue sky peeping at him through the quivering strands of the tree. A slight breeze stirred the long green grass around him, and he plucked another blade to chew on. Yes, he had brought his fishing pole but the seventeen-year-old had no intention of using it. None at all.

He had taken his motorcycle, walked it about a block from his house so he wouldn’t wake his family up, and then drove it the rest of the way to the farm.

The farm was actually a working dairy farm, loved and operated by long time friends of the Hardys, and he had already pre-arranged this secret getaway with the farmer’s daughter...

A knowing smile graced his lips as he heard her moving through the long grass towards him. Joe could hear the gentle telltale swishing of her skirt and closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Moments later, as he felt her lips brush his, he grabbed her and pulled her down beside him. They tumbled together for a few moments until they came to rest at the edge of the creek, his body pressing down gently on hers.

“Hello Angel…” he whispered huskily, looking deep into her dark brown eyes; lost in their liquid depths.

She smiled up at him and his heart melted as she brushed a long, dark strand of hair from her mouth. “Hello Hero…” she whispered, her own voice breathless and seductive.

His smile broadened as he lowered his mouth to hers….

* * *

She stopped stroking his forehead. He would leave her here, as he always did.

* * *

The warm living body beneath him grew cold…and then she was gone!

Jumping to his feet, he glanced around wildly, screaming her name over and over again…Iola! Iola!

The girl watched his face, her heart aching for him. To touch him, to comfort him, to love him…but she couldn’t.

She was dead – her ghost; his ghost.

She closed her eyes and waited. This is where the dream always ended, his eternal search; a search he carried into his waking and haunted his life.

And then her eyes opened – her face surprised…the dream continued….

After forever, Joe stopped. No matter how fast he ran…how loud he screamed…or how much it hurt…she was gone and he was left standing by the side of creek in knee high grass under a perfect sky.

She was gone.

Slowly, he sank down to his knees and bowed his head.

Iola was dead.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

She felt the intensity of his grief sear through her very soul; it had taken him a long time to get here. To this realization – that not only was she really gone but that she was dead; and there was nothing he could have done or still could do that would change that.

Now she could truly rest…but not yet.

She still had two things to do.

And this was her hard part. First she had to say good-bye.

Fighting back her own wave of grief, she leaned over him and gently brushed his lips with hers in an ethereal kiss – their last kiss. He shivered; goose-bumps.

She would come to him no more – not like this. Not anymore.

A silent tear tracked down the ghostly face as she once again caressed his cheek. She whispered, I love you, Joe Hardy.

And then she stood up and moved away from him, casting one more reluctant, longing gaze back at him. This was so hard. Things were supposed to get easier with death. She amended – not easier; final.

For one brief moment she wondered who this was actually more difficult for – her or him? The comfort they both sought spanned the extremes. His – life; hers – death.

Turning away, she had one thing left to do…

Soundlessly she crossed to the other room, to the other sleeper and stood over this one too for a few endless moments. This sleeper was dark haired and as handsome as the other, but the part of her heart that he owned, was for a different reason.

He was the brother. Frank. She loved one, so she loved them both. There could be no other way. And it was to Frank that she owed her love, his life. For if he had not been there…

She shuddered, hearing the echo of his screams in her death:  I can save her! I can save her, Frank!

Reaching out she touched his forehead as well, and like his brother, he shivered…but then smiled. He recognized her. Not as who she was, but as what she was.

She was peace for the unsettled, angry young man that had replaced his younger brother; she was acceptance in place of guilt and denial; and she was restoration of the boy back to life.

Joe would still miss her, yes, but it would not continue to be the pain that was searing his tender young heart, pushing him from one destructive ‘love’ to the next…that had to stop. And it would—

She smiled as the image of a willowy, grey-eyed girl came to mind. A special girl chosen by destiny and by her…

Leaning over the sleeper, she whispered, ‘He needs you’ and then was gone…released to her own eternal rest, once and for all.

* * *

Frank opened his eyes with a start. Sitting up quickly he glanced around the room. Someone had been here. He knew it; could sense it. Closing his eyes, he inhaled sharply and then frowned. Perfume?

Shaking his head, he slid his long legs out from under the covers and then grimaced when they hit the cold hardwood floor. Something had woken him but he didn’t know what.

And then he glanced towards the bathroom door. He and Joe shared a bathroom that connected their bedrooms. His frown intensified.

…He needs you…

The words seemed to echo around him and at once the eighteen-year-old stood up and moved briskly towards the bathroom door and then through the bathroom.

Joe needed him. How he knew it, he didn’t know. He just knew.

Pushing open the door to his brother’s room, Frank quietly stepped inside and then moved to the bedside and sat down.

His younger brother was crying, soundless sobs shook his muscular frame as tears wet his youthful face. He opened his eyes and peered up at his brother. “She’s gone,” his voice said, sounding surprisingly calm given his obvious upset.

At once Frank knew who he was talking about and slowly nodded his head. His voice was soft and compassionate, “Yes, she is.”

“I couldn’t save her,” Joe said, pain-filled blue eyes seeking something from the darker ones watching him so closely.

“No, you couldn’t,” Frank admitted, reaching out and brushing his fingers across his brother’s cheek.

“I should have been able to save her,” Joe closed his eyes and swallowed hard. And then he amended, “I wanted to be able to save her.”

“I know,” and Frank did.

Joe opened his eyes and stared straight up into his brother’s sympathetic face. His hand reached up and grasped the one still stroking his cheek. He stopped the movement. “Iola is dead, Frank. She isn’t coming back.”

The older boy didn’t know what to say.

“I think I loved her…”

This time it was Frank who closed his eyes and swallowed painfully. How could he respond to that?

“But she loved me more…”

He opened his eyes and blinked in surprise.

Joe slowly sat up in the bed and wiped his eyes.  “She did.”

“Joe, I—” Frank started, feeling he needed to say something, but his brother stopped him.

“You don’t have to say anything, Frank. I can’t explain it; it’s just something I know. Iola will always be my ‘first love’…but I will always be her ‘only love.’” He leaned back against the headboard and Frank moved to sit beside him, placing an arm across his shoulders. Joe leaned against his brother and sighed, “But it’s still hard.”

“You can’t care about someone, lose them and not expect it to hurt,” Frank offered quietly, as he glanced down at his brother. “But we learn how to carry that pain with us – and it can make us stronger…if we let it.”

Joe was quiet for a few moments and Frank wondered if he had fallen back asleep but then the boy sighed, “Pain teaches us lessons too….”  He pulled away from his brother and looked at him seriously.  “It reminds us how short life can be and that there are no guarantees in it for any of us.”

“True—” Frank started slowly but Joe put up his hand, stopping him.

“I love you, big brother. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that, but I do.” And then before a stunned Frank could respond, Joe gave him a tight hug and whispered, “Thank you for saving me…that day and always.”

“Oh little brother,” Frank finally managed, returning the hug just as ferociously. He tried to say something else but the words wouldn’t come.

After a few moments, Joe pulled away and yawned, “I think I’d better call it a night—”

Frank slowly got up off the bed and regarded his brother a bit tentatively.  “Are you sure you’re okay? I can stay—”

Joe scooted over in his bed, a wordless invitation, and Frank took him up on it, lying on top of the blankets and stifling his own yawn.

“’Night, old man,” the younger boy murmured, already half asleep.

“’Night, brat,” Frank responded and then smiled as, within moments, he heard Joe’s breathing even out. He reached over and gently tousled the blond hair.  “I love you too, kiddo…that day…and always.”

* * *

Across town in her own bed, a willowy beautiful girl with ash-blond hair and enchanting grey-blue eyes snuggled against her pillow. She was dreaming.

In her dreams was a handsome young man with the most vibrant blue eyes she had ever seen….

And the Angel smiled down upon them all.

*The End *