#carolyncoulson

[persimmonsimmer]

Carolyn was restless. The sun had set hours ago and everyone but her had fallen into fitful slumber. But Carolyn couldn’t sleep. She was positive she hadn’t been mistaken; it was her time. But where was he?

Growing tired of waiting, she began pacing. Her quiet footsteps (she didn’t want to wake the girls) led her all around the house she and Wilson had built together, and then outside.

At last, Death appeared to her.

“It’s about time. You’re late,” Carolyn said, feeling emboldened by her irritation at Death’s lack of punctuality.

IT IS TIME.

“You don’t deviate from the script much, do you? Your self presentation could use some work, you know. It’s a bit off-putting when a specter wielding a scythe materializes in front of you and says nothing except, ‘It is time.’“

. . .

AHEM. ER . . .

It was surprising to see that an otherworldly being without a face could look chagrined, and yet there was no question that Death was taken aback by her words. He conjured a drink from midair and mutely shoved it at Carolyn.

“Now that’s an improvement. Perhaps we could be friends, you and I. With some effort, I might be able to help you learn how to become more approachable. We’ll have plenty of time, after all, won’t we?”

. . .

ER. ARE YOU PACKED?

Carolyn was about to say that no, of course she wasn’t packed, when she felt the weight of the suitcase that had appeared in her hand. She knew instinctively that it contained everything she would need.

“Yes. Now take me to my husband, please. And keep these fruity drinks coming. I like them.”

[persimmonsimmer]

Phoebe began opening the farmstand on a regular basis again. Business was good. Everyone loved to tell her how much they’d missed her fresh produce while the stand had been closed. Mercifully, most also knew better than to bring up Griff. While Phoebe was doing her best to follow her wife’s example, any mention of their missing son was still wont to bring her mood crashing down.

[persimmonsimmer]

Carolyn had been unprepared when Wilson’s time had come; caught off guard and consumed by the thought that she would be losing him so soon, it had never occurred to her to spread the news to their neighbors so that they could say goodbye. She had a feeling that Wilson hadn’t forgotten, exactly, but had chosen to spend his last hours with her alone. He’d never been very fond of being the center of attention.

For herself, though, wouldn’t have felt right going without a proper goodbye. She had been, for all intents and purposes, the town’s mayor for years; she knew everyone who lived here intimately, and had a soft spot in her heart for all of them, flawed as they were. So, after she’d tired herself out playing with Iris and Idara, she’d asked the twins to spread the news that her time was near.

Now there was a steady trickle of people in and out. Some stayed for a few minutes. Others stayed and reminisced for hours. Carolyn was glad to see every one of them, and doubly glad that the activity was helping to distract Meda and the girls. Leonor Morales, after saying her goodbyes, had taken it upon herself to entertain the twins after one glimpse at their morose expressions.

Domingo was one of those who lingered and seemed reluctant to say a final goodbye. He’d been just a boy when they’d met on the road all those years ago, and had looked at both Carolyn and Wilson as parental figures. Now he was a grown man with a family--with a grandchild of his own, even. With Carolyn gone, he would be the oldest resident of their little town. Carolyn knew that thought must be weighing on him, but he was doing an admirable job of keeping his emotions under control.

Carolyn knew that to call too much attention to their goodbye would make Domingo uncomfortable, so she kept it simple.

A quick hug, and an equally quick direction: “Take care of yourself, and take care of your family. They’ll need you.” The rest could go unsaid; she knew he understood.

[persimmonsimmer]

And then, one morning at breakfast before the girls were sent off to school, Carolyn cleared her throat.

As if sensing a change in the air by instinct, all three younger Coulsons looked at her expectantly.

She began with no preamble. “Shortly before Death came for Wilson, he sensed that his time was near. I couldn’t feel it at the time, but I could see the change in him. Now I know what he felt. Death will soon come for me, as well.”

She was greeted with silence. Meda wouldn’t meet her eyes. Idara was watching her with a strange expression on her face, more quizzical than sad.

“You mean you know you’re about to die?”

“It’s a feeling that comes to many people when their time is near, if they’re lucky, yes. Some believe it is one of the Watcher’s blessings, giving us time to find peace and say goodbye to our loved ones.”

“But you can’t go!” Iris cried.

Carolyn looked at her gently. “All of us must come to an end sooner or later. I want all three of you to know how much I love you. This is not an easy time. But I’m ready.”

Meda hadn’t spoken a word. Now she stood up. “I’m sorry. I need a moment,” she said, and left the table.

“Is Mom OK?” The girls were split between their concern over their mother’s abrupt departure and their sadness about the news their grandmother had just shared.

“She needs time to herself,” Carolyn said. “I’ll speak to her later.”

“Grandma, is it really time for you to go? Can’t you ask Death to give you just a little longer?” Idara asked.

“I’m afraid not. But I have a little time left yet. How about we finish breakfast and then go play outside? It’s a beautiful day.”

Iris’s heart felt heavier than a boulder, but she put on a brave smile. She could tell that her grandma didn’t want them to be sad. She’d called this a blessing, so maybe they should all try to be grateful for the time they still had together and save the sadness for later.

[persimmonsimmer]

Carolyn didn’t sleep much these days. Her big bed felt empty without Wilson in it, and it seemed that a cat nap here and there was all she needed to get by. Just another side effect of her age, she assumed.

Iris was also an early riser, and would often come across her grandma in the kitchen in the mornings while her sister and mother were still asleep. Sometimes she helped prepare breakfast, or washed the dishes while her grandma cooked. Other times she just listened to her grandma’s stories. They weren’t quite as nail-biting and full of adventure and intrigue as the ones her dad told, but they had the benefit of being entirely one-hundred-percent true.

“I can’t believe you and Grandpa and Mom all lived in tents for so many years! Even when Mom was younger than Idara and me? Even in the winter?! Wasn’t it cold?”

“We did what we had to in those days. It was either make do with what we had and live off the land, or-- Well, don’t worry about that. But I’ll tell you, I grateful once we got these houses built. Not just for the shelter, but because I was sick of cutting down trees.”

“You helped cut down the trees, Grandma?”

“Hard to believe it looking at me now, huh? I sure did. Hundreds of them! I had quite the impressive physique back in those days.”

“Wowww!”

[persimmonsimmer]

“I certainly won’t,” Meda said.

She’d heard everything from the kitchen while helping her mother clean up; Jeremy had intentionally spoken loudly so his words would carry.

“As long as--you don’t mean that you’re planning to stop traveling completely, do you?” she clarified.

“No, not exactly. I’ll still carry messages, but locally, so I’ll never be gone more than a week or so at a time. I still don’t think I can give it up altogether.”

“Good,” Meda said firmly. She’d known since before beginning her relationship with the messenger that he would never be happy pinned down in one place for long, and she’d long since accepted that fact. She was relieved to hear that, although Jeremy was considering a change, he was still realistic about his desires and limitations.

“It’ll be good for all of us, I think. I can watch the girls grow up before they get too big for me, and, if I’m being honest, my route’s been getting harder on me lately. Must be getting old.”

“You can stay here as much as you want, old man.”

Carolyn quickly reaffirmed Meda’s offer. She had just one request to make of Jeremy in return. “Take care of my girls. And take care of yourself.”

“Of course. I will.”

“I know you will. You’re a good boy.”

“Mom. Can you not call the father of my children a boy?”

“We can discuss that when you have some grey hairs of your own, girly,” Carolyn rejoined, an arch in her brow and a twinkle in her eyes. “Don’t you and Jeremy have some... private matters to attend to before he sets off again?”

“Mom!”

Not that Carolyn was wrong.

They waited until it seemed like everyone was occupied; then Meda and Jeremy slipped away to say a private farewell to each other before he left for his final full-route circuit.

[persimmonsimmer]

Peter had plenty of stress in his life.

Without Citlali’s help, keeping the Mercantile running once again fell entirely on Peter’s shoulders.

He was a whiz at the register, had an encyclopedic memory for out-of-stock items, and could easily help customers find anything they needed, but even he couldn’t do it all alone. He worried that the store’s reputation was slipping as the checkout lines grew longer and more impatient, all while his shelves stood half-empty because he hadn’t had a moment to restock them and confused customers went unhelped.

Only after he closed up for the day did he have time to put everything to rights. Any tasks he didn’t complete that day put him farther behind for the next, so Peter was often at the store until late in the evening.

[persimmonsimmer]

All grown up, the twins finally joined their own party.