Hi everyone,    

A quick note of introduction--beginning with this story, I will be using
my penname of Cassandra Hope. I hope this isn't too confusing <g> 

  

Disclaimer: This story is written for the private entertainment of fans.
The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the
creation of this story. Fraser, Vecchio, et.al. belong to Alliance; the
McKenzies and friends belong to me. Cat Madden belongs to Carol Trendall
and is used in this story with her permission. No infringement of any
copyrights held by CBS, Alliance, CTV or any other copyright holders of
DUE SOUTH is intended. This story is not published for profit, and the
author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for
profit. 

Thanks to Carol Trendall for sharing her poem, One, with me and allowing
me to use its words in this story. 

Lavender Memories 

By Cassandra Hope 

(Copyright May 1997 Revised July 1999) 

Running--his heart beating faster...he felt like he had run for miles.
Ever since his return from Canada three weeks previously he had run. Why
was he punishing himself by running in the heat? The lonely coldness he
still felt was no reason to push himself longer and harder in this heat
but, still, he ran. 'She never married...' echoed in his mind. 

Benton Fraser slowed then came to a stop, bent over, and breathed deeply.
He expelled the air slowly, then breathed in again. He repeated this
ritual several times attempting to cleanse his lungs of all stale air. It
was a futile effort, what with the pollution and the general state of the
air in Chicago, but it was the best he could do. He gagged slightly on a
choice scent that must have originated from the vicinity of the
meatpacking district. His companion's nose eagerly tracked the rank smell
and his lupine ears pricked with anticipation. 

"No, Dief, we are not rummaging through any garbage cans, refuse bins, or
trash carrels tonight!" Benton Fraser turned indulgent eyes toward the
pleading wolf sitting at his feet. "Can't you think of something more
constructive to do with your time than be a nuisance to the sanitation
department?" 

*Woof* Dief fervently hoped Alpha Male had forgotten about that little
escapade with his friends. 

As if reading the wolf's mind, Ben grunted, "And no, I have not forgotten
about that incident with those garbage cans last year. It almost cost you
your life!" Ben wiped the sweat from his face, stretched his arms over his
head, and began to walk back the way they had come. Diefenbaker fell in
step with him. 

The wolf regarded the man he paced beside. 'You save a human's life and
you pay and pay and pay!' he thought. Now, that little misunderstanding
with the animal control people had nothing to do with those garbage cans!
Granted, his friends were a little on the wild side but Maggie was
different. 

*Woof* 

"All right, I understand...you had to protect your mate. Couldn't you
have, at least, told me about her? Why did I have to be the last to know?"
Didn't the wolf trust him enough to share something as important as a mate
with him? They stopped to wait for the light to change to green then
proceeded across the street. 

Dief rolled his eyes. Look who was talking! Did Alpha Male trust him
enough to tell him about the Lavender Woman? Why did his packmate have to
wait until after the Dark Woman had nearly killed both of them to tell him
about the female he could scent on the pieces of paper? Sometimes he
despaired of Alpha Male ever finding the right female. 

*Woof* 

Startled, Ben stopped and stared at his companion. "I beg your pardon!
What has my love life got to do with yours?" How dare he think that Ben's
bad luck might rub off on him! 

*Woof* Well--Alpha Male's love life was pitiful. He just didn't know how
to enjoy life and, especially, how to pick the right mate. 

Ben resumed walking. Gesturing with his hands, he mumbled, "Yes, I have to
admit that you have done admirably whereas I have apparently struck
out--again. What is it with me, Dief? Why can't I fall in love with the
right woman? Why do I always pick the wrong one to fall in love with? For
instance, Victoria..." 

*Growl* Just the mention of that name made his hackles rise. The though of
her throat between his jaws, her warm blood in his mouth was enough to... 

"I know, I know, and you have a right to hate her. I'm sorry that she shot
you, but it's not my fault. She wasn't the woman I thought she was."
Regret lingered in his voice. 

Who was Alpha Male kidding? She could never be that one. Dief had seen the
way his packmate protected that shoebox with the lavender scented pieces
of paper. An even fainter scent of a female clung to the pieces of paper
and contents of that box. Now that was the right one! 

*Woof* 

"What do you mean 'she can never be that one'? What do you know?" What
could he know? Dief had never met Phil and he had rarely talked about her.
But ever since the shooting, he had told Dief more and more about Phil. He
had poured his heart out to Cat, but Cat wasn't here. It helped to talk
about her to someone--and he had sworn never to tell Ray about her. But
what could the wolf know? 

*Woof* What did Alpha Male think he was doing all that time at the Cat
Woman's house? He heard what the two of them talked about but, then again,
they thought he was deaf. He recognized the scent in the empty bedroom as
the same one on those pieces of paper. He asked the cats about the
Lavender Woman and they told him about the new friend--the one to whom
Bella had given one of her kittens.  

Dief sighed, not another female with a cat. Didn't Alpha Male know any
females with dogs or a nice she-wolf? Not that he would really notice a
female other than Maggie but, still, it would be nice to visit someone who
had a dog instead of a cat. 

"I thought you liked Cat. You certainly act like you like Sheila and
Bella, and, may I remind you...who was it insisted on playing with the
kittens in the middle of the night?" Ben chuckled as he remembered the
sight of one arctic wolf totally cowed by three very playful kittens.
"That was a big mistake!" 

*Woof* At least he didn't make stupid mistakes like Victoria. 

Know-it-all wolf! Thought he knew everything. Ben glared down at the wolf,
but the smug look on Dief's face said it all. Deciding to change the
direction of the conversation, Ben asked, "What do you think of Inspector
Thatcher?" 

*Whine* 

"Now be fair, Dief. If you hadn't chosen to relieve yourself on Turnbull
as he stood guard duty, she wouldn't have banned you from the consulate
for a month. Just because Renfield ate the last donut--which I might add
was not yours--was no excuse to do what you did!" Ben glanced down at the
pacing wolf. There was no sign of repentance in the lupine face turned to
his. He sighed and spoke encouragingly, "After all, it could have been
worse. Inspector Thatcher could have permanently restricted you from the
consulate." 

*Woof* Alpha Male had seemed interested in that female, but she wasn't the
Lavender Woman. She wasn't the right one for him, either. Any female that
didn't like animals--particularly wolves--could never be the right one. 

"What do you mean 'she's not the right one'? How would you know who was
the right one?" 

Honestly, sometimes his packmate could be so dense. 'Did he really believe
I was sleeping all those times? Cat Woman was right!' Dief rolled his
eyes. It looked like he would have to enlighten him--again. 

*Woof* 

Ben stopped in his tracks. He stared at Diefenbaker. The lavender female?
Lavender? Lavender...Ben closed his eyes. Even now he could picture the
face framed by the lavender scented hair. A lavender scent that clung to
the pillow she slept on--letters she wrote. How did the wolf know about
the lavender scented letters?  

"Dief? How..." 

*Snort* Just look at the way Alpha Male mooned over those pieces of paper.
He was worse than a Pekinese in heat. 

"I do not moon over them." That was the truth. He had not read them in
almost a year. Not since Victoria...not since he had learned the
difference between being loved and being used. He had almost relented and
read them after that last visit with Cat. But he had maintained and not
delved into those remnants of a happier time. Now here a wolf was
reminding him, no less, about his mistakes. 

What had started this train of thought? Why was Phil's ghost being
resurrected to haunt him? Ben stopped and watched Diefenbaker sniff out
the trail of some marauding junk food. He closed his eyes. He didn't
really know what has unsettled him. Maybe it was the visit with his
friend, Cat--Cathy Madden, RCMP--his first love and, now, his dearest
friend, next to Ray. No, this had started long before that. He opened his
eyes but his sight was turned inward. It had started over 11 years ago on
a mountainside with a woman who could never know the true meaning of love.
It had started with a short letter to Phil that had condemned him to this
life of loneliness. It shook him to realize how such a small act as
writing a letter could have such long lasting effects. How had it affected
Phil? 

Cat told him she met Phil and her brothers. There was a special tenderness
in her voice when she mentioned TJ. She related the story of the escaped
prisoner, his hostage, and the rescue. Ben closed his eyes and relived the
fear and panic that coursed through him as Cat related the story. What if
Phil had died, trapped in that mine shaft? But, thankfully, Cat's
intuition had served her true. Phil was rescued and a friendship formed
between the two women. The shock of Cat telling him of Phil still held
him.  

'Phil was taken hostage by Landers, but she got away when the bear
attacked. She's a smart girl, Ben. Every bit as wonderful as you said she
was. We spent some time together after she got out of hospital. We talked
about you and found that we shared many things. It's even harder now for
me understand how you could have left her for Victoria. As with anything
you undertake, when you make a mistake you do it thoroughly and
completely. 

She's not involved with anyone. She never marriedsays she hasn't met the
right man. I think she's afraid of being hurt again..'.  

He remembered the things Cat told him he had cried out in the night so
many years ago. He didn't remember them but recognized the sentiment of
each as being genuine.	

"I'll never love anyone the way I love you, Phil," Ben repeated it aloud.
It was just as true now as it had been years ago. As for the other thing
he had spoken in his sleep, he didn't know how true it was. He bowed his
head and let it flow from his mouth in a whisper, "Phil, please help me,
you're the only one who can save me." A frisson of fear cut across his
thoughts. 'Am I asking too much? Are you the only one who can warm me?
Phil, I don't know anymore. All I know is I am freezing to death in my
loneliness and I don't know how much more I can take. I am so lonely,
Phil.' 

Ben looked up at the late afternoon sky and sighed at the haziness in the
air. A sudden wave of homesickness assailed him and he bowed his head.
Straightening, he conceded defeat. 

"Let's head back to the apartment, Dief." The rest of their walk was done
in silence. * * * 

Ben leaned against the bricked-up fireplace, wishing for a fire. His eyes
lightly grazed the collection of photos on the mantle finally settling on
the latest addition--a photo of Cat and Phil. He stared at the two
women--the two women who had loved him unreservedly. He hung his head. He
didn't deserve their love. Turning his back on the fireplace he let his
gaze slowly move across his spartan apartment. One complete circuit then
his eyes moved to his bed. 

The old wooden footlocker sat in its accustomed place. Ben stared at it
then reached for the journal lying atop it. It opened to the last entry
marked with one of the photos of Phil that Cat had given him. He stared at
it, then set it aside. Leaning back against the wall at the head of his
bed, he began reading.	

14 April 1968 

I don't know if I can put my feelings into words. How can I adequately
describe the despair and sorrow that has consumed me. I stared at a crocus
today, not marking its loveliness or the promise of spring it bore. I
stared at it but only saw the bleakness of my life--the emptiness of the
years to come. Caroline, my beloved spouse, is dead. 

The news waited for me upon my return from tracking and capturing Brian
Fuller. If I had know what awaited me, I would have let Fuller kill me.
How can I continue without my Caroline? She was my lover, my companion,
the mother of my children, my stability in this world. Just knowing she
was there kept me going. What am I going to do now? I don't know if I have
the strength to endure this trial. It would be so much easier to simply
walk out that door and walk until I collapsed in some snowbank and died. 

I tried to do just that, but the crocus in the snow stopped me. It
reminded me that even the bleakest of winters pass and spring comes again.
Life goes on and so must I. Benton and Becka need me more than ever. How
am I going to raise my children without their loving mother? 

I will ask for a transfer to a larger settlement--some place where I can
have my children with me. Surely, I can plead a hardship case. Surely they
will grant me that. 

But...what do I know of raising children? Benton is a strong independent
child--barely six; and little Becka--motherless at the age of four. How
can they possibly comprehend what has happened? I can scarcely believe it
myself. How can I live without my Caroline? She was the other half of my
soul. How can I go on living when half of me is dead?  

Ben laid the journal aside, fighting the tears that threatened. He
swallowed carefully but the lump refused to go. Leaning his head back, he
gave into the memories of the time shortly after his mother had died. Most
of his memories centered on his father's beard. Both he and his sister had
watched their father's beard grow as their father wasted away from grief.
And, then one morning, he and Becka came down for breakfast and there was
oatmeal with bananas and their father was clean shaven and he was crying.
He remembered being drawn into the circle of his father's arms--being
pulled up to sit on one leg and Becka on the other. His father hugged them
both so tight they thought they would never be able to breathe again. Ben
remembered the look in his father's eyes--a look of infinite sadness and
love. All he could do was return the hug and whisper, "I love you, Dad."  

He remembered his dad saying, "I love you, too, Benton. And you, too, my
little poppet." That was the only time Ben remembered his father actually
saying he loved him. 

"That was a bleak time in my life, Caroline." Bob Fraser put an arm around
his wife's shoulders. She snuggled into the crook of his arm. Bob turned
his head slightly and placed a kiss on her forehead. "How am I going to
help him through this mess?" 

"Just help him through this evening. As much as it will pain him, he needs
to relive his memories so he can start anew." Caroline watched their son
wipe the tears from his cheeks and press the palms of his hands to his
eyes. 

Ben swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood, then carefully stepped
over the sleeping wolf and went to his dresser. Digging through the top
drawer, he retrieved the key to his father's locker. Returning to the bed,
he slid onto the floor beside the wooden trunk. It had been ages since he
had last journeyed through the contents of the locker. He idly stroked the
sleeping wolf before pulling his knees up and resting his arms on them.  

Ben contemplated the locker. The first time he had gone through its
contents had been shortly after his father's death. Now it was his and he
had added his own treasures to those of his father's. He rubbed his
forehead with his clasped hands. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift
where it willed. 

"Well? What are you waiting for? Afraid it's going to bite you?" Bob
Fraser asked, his voice echoing in the gathering gloom. 

Ben raised his face to confront his father's presence. "Hello, Dad. I was
just thinking about you." 

A sympathetic look creased Bob's weathered features. "I know, Son. That's
why I'm here." 

"Oh? I thought you only showed up when I needed your advice. Is there
something going on that I don't know about?" Ben raked a thumb across his
left eyebrow. 

"Not that I'm aware of. I just thought I'd drop by and chew the fat with
you. We never really talked to each other when I was alive." 

"I know, Dad and I'm sorry." 

Bob waved his hand in negation. "Nothing to be sorry for, Son. It was as
much my fault as yours." 

"Still...it doesn't make me feel any better." Ben's eyes moved around the
room before returning to his father's visage. "There was so much I wanted
to say to you, but didn't...so much I wanted to share with you, but
didn't...so much I wanted to do with you, but didn't..."  

"I know, Benton. I feel the same. At least, I think I feel the same. Can't
really be sure, being dead and all that." 

Smiling weakly, Ben agreed. "Yes, I can see how that might confuse your
feelings." 

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two. Finally, Bob spoke,
"So...what did you want me for?" 

"I don't recall wanting you, exactly." 

"Of course, you did. Why else would I be here?" 

"I don't know. Could it be that, maybe, you wanted to be here?"  

Even Bob could hear the hope in Ben's voice. "You know, you could be
right," he said with a fatherly smile. He settled his ample frame next to
Ben's and nudged the locker with his boot. "So, you gonna open this or
not?" 

Ben sent a grateful smile toward his father's image then bent to the task
of unlocking the chest. Throwing back the lid, both Frasers stared into
the depths of the chest. A gentle fragrance wafted from its depths.  

Bob closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Ahhh--lavender--reminds me of
your mother." His eyes opened and he smiled across at Caroline, who had
settled on the bed. 

Ben looked at him in surprise. "It does? I didn't know that, Dad." 

"Yes, your mother loved lavender. It's possibly the one thing about her
that I remember with the greatest clarity. Everything she wore eventually
smelled of lavender. Even her hair carried the scent." Engrossed in his
memories, Bob smiled dreamily at Caroline.  

"I don't remember that, Robert!" The look she sent him was full of love
and tenderness. Her smile reflected his. 

He smiled back at her then sat up and peered into the locker. "I don't
remember having anything of Caroline's in here. For that matter, I don't
remember it being this full. Benton?" 

"I've...I've added some of my things to your locker, Dad. I keep my
'treasures' in here with yours." Ben hastily added. 

"Really? And just what might those be?" His eyebrows raised inquiringly. 

Eagerly, Ben asked, "Would you like to see?" 

Bob smiled and nodded. Ben carefully began to remove the contents of the
locker. "Why--that's my old revolver and...is that my rifle? You keep them
in this chest?" 

Ben laid the firearms on the bed before answering his father. "Yes, Dad. I
keep your gun, your rifle, and my gun in the chest. If you hadn't notice,
it's the only thing that locks around here." 

Bob glanced around the spartan apartment then nodded his head. "Quite
right, Benton. Smart thinking." 

Ben gradually removed Bob's journals placing them in a stack beside the
trunk. He stacked his own journals next to his father's.  

"I see you took my advice about writing out your thoughts." Bob motioned
toward the small stack of books. 

Ben nodded his head. "I only wish now that I had started writing sooner.
It has helped me deal with some hard times, difficult situations." 

"Understood," he calmly replied and Bob did understand. He contentedly
watched Ben remove the metal tin containing his medals and the pictures
Ben had drawn as a child. The next object pulled from the trunk was a
small ornate frame. He watched Ben stroke the glass in the frame before
turning it to face his father. Bob smiled and accepted the picture from
Ben. "Ah, Caroline...she was such a beautiful woman." 

"And still am, if you are to be believed!" Caroline shot at Bob. They
shared a loving smile then Caroline rose from the bed. "I'll leave you two
to your man-to-man talk. I think I'll visit Phil and see how she's doing."


"Good-bye, Dearest." Ben gave his father a startled look. Bob chuckled, "I
remember when this photo was taken. You were only about 6 months old." Bob
sat back and closed his eyes. "We were so proud of you. We wanted the
whole world to share our happiness..." He passed the frame back to his
son. Ben carefully laid it aside. 

Bob leaned over and stared down into the depths of the footlocker. "What
are all these books? They're certainly not mine!" 

"No, Dad. They're mine. Grandmother insisted that I read and, well, you
know Inuvik. There's a lot of time to read." Bob chuckled. Ben removed the
books one at a time. 

"Wait a minute. That one looks vaguely familiar." Bob took the dog-eared
book from Ben. "'20,000 Leagues Under the Sea'--that brings back a lot of
memories. What's that one?" He had noticed Ben's surreptitious attempt to
hide the small book from him. "Let me see that one," and he held out his
hand. As much as he didn't want his father reading the small book, force
of habit saw him handing it over. 

"Hmmm? Selected Works of Prose and Poetry." Bob opened the book and was
startled when Ben's hand shot out to capture the pressed flower that slid
from the pages of the book. 

"I'm sorry, Dad--didn't mean to startle you." Ben cupped the dried flower
in his hands. 

"That's quite alright, Son. It's nice to know that I can still be
startled. What have you got there?" 

Ben stared at the dried flower in his hands. Slowly his fingers uncurled
until his father was able to see it. Bob leaned closer examining the faded
flower. "Ah...if I'm not mistaken that's Aquilegia jonsii, limestone
columbine." 

"Actually its Aquilegia coerulea, blue columbine." Ben cradled the flower
as memories washed over him. 

Bob examined the flower again. "Quite right you are, Son. Don't know how I
could have made a mistake like that." He paused then continued, "So,
Benton...I never pictured you as one to save a flower." He looked at the
book again. It had opened to the frontispiece. His eyes sought Ben's
before returning to read the inscription there. Satisfied, he turned his
gaze to his son. Indicating the book, he spoke, "This explains it. That's
one of Phil's columbines, isn't it?" 

Ben reached for the book and replaced the flower between its pages. He
stared at the small book then swallowed before answering his father's
question. "Yes, Dad. I picked it from her flower bed that last day I spent
with her--the day I asked her to marry me." He felt the gentle weight of a
hand on his shoulder. How was this possible? How could he feel the weight
of his father's hand? 

Bob leaned forward and dropped his voice. "That was one whopper of a
mistake you made there, Benton." He lightly tapped the book in Ben's hands
with a finger. "Not that asking her to marry you was a mistake. No, the
mistake came later when you broke the engagement." He sadly shook his
head. "You know, Cat was right. Your actions were selfish. You were so
tied up in your own feelings that you forgot what you were doing to
others--to Cat and to Phil. I still cannot understand what you saw in
Victoria..." 

"I can't either, Dad. But I did and now I have to live with it," Ben
reflected with some bitterness. 

"I know, Son. We all make mistakes that haunt us. Sometimes we can right
the wrong we did and sometimes...sometimes we never get the chance to set
things aright. You want to know what my biggest mistake was?" 

Ben turned a puzzled look on his father's image. "I don't recall you ever
making a mistake--well aside from the one that got you killed." 

"That was a bad one, I'll grant you that. No, the mistake I regret the
most is never taking the time to really get to know you and Becka. I
should have pushed harder for that assignment that would have allowed me
to be with you...and now it's too late." He stopped and stared at Ben.
"Son, if you ever get the chance to rectify any mistakes you've made...do
it. Don't let anything stand in your way--not your pride, your feelings,
or even what others might think. Sometimes all you need to set things
right is the courage to do it. Sometimes all you need is that second
chance." 

"Dad? I have the feeling you're trying to tell me something." 

"Could be, Son. Could be." And with that cryptic remark Bob Fraser faded
from view. 

"I don't know, Robert. I hope that was enough." Caroline patted Bob's arm.


"I do to, Love. But, ultimately, it's up to him." Bob and Caroline took
one last look at their son as he placed the book with its captive flower
on the stack of journals. They smiled at each other and left Ben to sort
through the remainder of his 'treasures.' 

Long after his father left him, Ben sat on the floor beside the locker.
Shaking himself, he reached into the locker and removed the ragged
pillowcase. He slid his hand into the confines of the case and removed the
whale tooth. He closed his eyes, briefly hearkening back to the time when
he was blinded in the car accident and the carving on the tooth had
anchored him to reality. He buried his face in the pillowcase and
remembered his beloved great-grandfather. 'Ganggan' had carved the legend
of whale, old crow, and dog on the whale tooth they had found on that walk
to the beach. Ben basked in the love the old man had showered on him. He
caressed the scrimshaw letting his fingers 'read' the story once more.
Reverently he placed the tooth back in the old pillowcase, then set it on
the floor beside the locker. 

Ben quickly removed the Chilkat blanket, a gift from Eric, his Tsimshian
friend, letting his fingers trail over the goat hair and cedar bark of its
making. He set it aside and removed a small white seal pelt. Wrapped
within its softness was his Inuit story knife. He removed the knife from
the pelt and held it to the light, briefly scanning the story of Raven and
the Evil Magician etched on the blade before placing it with the blanket
and the pillowcase containing the scrimshaw. He smiled when his hands
encountered one of his most prized possessions. He carefully drew the
ragged toy and the sewing box out of the depths of the locker. Rabbit. He
cuddled the stuffed animal to his chest and closed his eyes in
contentment. It surprised him how much comfort the toy gave him. He felt
tension he did not know he had drain from his neck and shoulders. Smiling,
the rabbit joined the other treasures on the floor. What he wanted was at
the bottom of the locker--the small battered shoebox. 

His memories of Phil ensconced in one small box. A box that had gone with
him from posting to posting--small, easily stashed in the bottom of his
backpack. Never once had he contemplating discarding it. Although rarely
opened in the 11 years since leaving Phil, just knowing it was there
helped him overcome some bad times. He opened it after Victoria; the love
he felt from the letters helping heal the damage to his life she had
wrought. 

He retrieved the shoebox and pressed his forehead to its surface inhaling
the lavender scent that seeped from its interior. How could they still
retain that scent after so many years? Why did his heartbeat quicken with
that scent? Why did that tear insist on creeping down his cheek? Why did
Cat have to remind him of Phil? He was doing just fine until she reminded
him of what he lost. And his father was no better--talking about righting
mistakes--as if he could, as if he wanted to. Did he want to right that
mistake? He knew the answer before he even asked the question. Shivering
with loneliness, he missed her with an ache that cut through every fiber
in his body. 

Shakily, he set the box on the side of the bed and untied the leather
bootlace. The lid slid off and a stronger scent of lavender caressed Ben's
senses. He reached for the photo of Phil he had removed from his father's
journal. He settled back onto the floor and stared at the small image in
the photo. Using his finger, he traced the curve of her crooked smile. His
finger covered her entire face but that was all right--it was burned into
his memory. He would never forget those bottomless eyes and that crooked
smile and the lips that had seared his flesh. He closed his eyes and
recalled those long nights spent in each other's arms. His eyes flew open
when the photo in his hand split.  

'I've torn it!' One of only a few photos of Phil and he had torn it. On
closer inspection he could see that the photo was intact. He breathed a
sigh of relief. A second photo that was stuck to the back of Phil's was
now loose. Ben casually turned it over and stared down at the image
captured there. His hand shook and the color drained from his face.
Victoria. 

He held the photo of Victoria in one hand and Phil's in the other. He
stared at the two women he had loved. A grim smile crossed his features as
he laid Phil's back on the bed. He stared at Victoria's for several
minutes before taking it in both hands and slowly ripping it in half. He
took the two pieces and tore them in half also. He continued tearing the
photo until there wasn't a single piece larger than a fingernail. Taking
the pieces to the sink in the kitchen, Ben placed them on a plate and set
them on fire. He watched with grim intent until the last fragment curled
and turned black. 'As black as her heart,' he thought. Taking the ashes of
the photo, he ground them to dust beneath his fingers. Finally, he took
the sooty dust and flushed it down his toilet. He was surprised at the
satisfaction those small acts of vengeance gave him. 

*Woof* It's about time he got rid of that picture. 

Surprised, Ben turned to regard the wolf. "Dief? I thought you were
asleep." 

*Whine* How could he sleep with all the goings and comings in their
apartment? 

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you." Could Dief see his father? Who else had
come and gone? He eyed the wolf with suspicion. 'Nah...' 

"Let me show you something." Ben crossed the room to the bed. Dief trailed
behind him. Sitting on the side of the bed, Ben held the photo of Phil out
for Dief's inspection. "This is Phil McKenzie." 

*Woof* 

"Yes, I guess you could call her the Lavender Woman." 

Dief studied the photo committing the image to memory. He would know the
Lavender Woman when next he saw her. Now this female was the right one.
Ben turned the photo back to himself. He smiled as he regarded the photo.
His smile faded and a slight crease appeared in his forehead. Did she seem
thinner? Was there a haunted look in her eyes? * * * 

The light of the lantern was subdued and the soft shadows it threw masked
the harsh lines of his stark home. Ben lay on his bedroll, the open box
beside him. He finished the letter he was reading.   

...the snow continues to fall and I'm afraid that the forecasted 4 inches
is way off the mark. I hate winter when I'm trapped inside my house. I
long for spring to arrive so I can again enjoy the freedom warm weather
provides. I hiked out to the Point last week but the ice was so thick that
I was afraid to climb down to my ledge--so I sat there in the trees above
it and thought warm thoughts. Warm because they contained you. Warm
because of the memory of your hands and lips...what can I say except that
Cat taught you well. You have opened my eyes to feelings and experiences I
did not know were possible. Each moment away from you is pure torture. 

I know now that no matter where we live I will always be warm with you. As
long as I have your love to warm me I can face a year-round winter. I can
face your beloved northern wastes. I know that even if winter rages
outside--inside I will bask in your summer heat. All I need--all I have
ever needed is you. 

The days drag by with a slowness I never knew existed. My existence has
narrowed to the days when I talk to you or I receive one of your letters.
Every other day is lifeless and I long for them to pass quickly so I can
be with you again. Send for me soon, my love. 

Yours forever, 

Phil  

'Phil, I wish now that I had sent for you. In fact, I wish I had never
left you. I should have stayed with you or taken you with me. If I ever
get the chance to make amends...I promise you this, I will never let you
go.' 

He refolded the letter and placed it with the others in the shoebox. The
leather bootlace was retied and the box placed back into the locker. The
rest of his 'treasures' were soon replaced inside the locker. Finally, the
lid closed and the lock was locked. 

Ben reached down beside the head of the bed and found his current journal.
He opened it and began writing.   

Journal entry: 2 August 1996 

Today has been a strange one--reminders and memories of Phil--first, the
memories of Cat; then Dad and his locker. Even Diefenbaker reminded me of
her. Why do I feel like something is going to happen? Something that
concerns Phil. Does this mean that I will get a second chance to start
over with her? Would she even want to start over with me? After all I did
to her, could she forgive me? 

I worry about her. Cat said she never married. Did I hurt her so much that
she couldn't let herself love another? Did she draw back up into that
shell and truly become the Ice Queen? Did what happened so many years
ago--what I did to her prevent her from finding happiness? She wanted
children--my children--and now she has none. Can she forgive me for what I
did to her? 

I finally exorcised the last of Victoria's ghost from my life. I have to
admit to a small amount of satisfaction as I destroyed her picture. With
her shadow finally gone from my life I feel a peace within. All I need to
complete my life is Phil. Maybe I will find her again. Maybe she will fill
me with her warmth once more and I will no longer feel this bone-chilling
cold that surrounds me.  

I don't know what came over me but something inside of me cried out to be
released. This small poem is the result. I have finally been able to put
some of my feelings over Phil and Victoria into words. One makes my heart
bang away inside my chest like I was watching a scary movie or about to
tell a lie The other comes on soft, like a summer breeze or a fragrant
spring meadow One takes my heart with her when she goes leaving me empty
and cold The other fills my heart with song leaving me loved and wondering
why I find it so difficult to choose between one and the other 

Now...I find that choice is not difficult at all. I will choose soft
summer breezes and fragrant spring meadows and a heart filled with song. I
will choose columbines and a crooked smile. I only wish I had made this
choice years ago when it would have made a difference.	

Ben placed the photo of Phil in his journal, closed it, and laid it aside.
Turning off the lantern, he stared at the ceiling above him. The gentle
scent of lavender hung in the air and Ben let his mind dwell on it. He
turned to stare at the small flowerpot sitting on the sill of the window.
He could make out its outline in the moonlight. Lavendera sprig from the
bush he planted in Cat's garden--now growing on his windowsill. Someday it
would provide him with all the lavender he needed, but for now it was just
a tiny green sprout. He returned to his contemplation of the ceiling
letting the scent direct his thoughts to his memories of Phil. Lavender
memories of the love that had filled his life and made him complete.
Maybe, someday, he would get that second chance to correct that mistake he
had made. Maybe, someday, new ones would replace his lavender memories.
Maybe, someday, his lavender woman would again fill this void in his life.
He smiled. Where had Dief come up with that name? 

To be continued (?) 

Copyright May 1997 by Cassandra Hope 

Revised July 1999 

Comments are welcome at durango@ionet.net 

  

Nothing Lasts Forever (Book 2 of the Ben and Phil Saga)  Nothing Lasts
Forever Of Second Chances by Carol Trendall Winter is Cold in America by
Carol Trendall Lavender Memories Distractions by Carol Trendall No
Aphrodisiac by Carol Trendall Life's Insanity by Carol Trendall Standing
on the Edge by Carol Trendall Of Past Regrets and Future Fears by Carol
Trendall A Summoning of Things Past Three Parts Dead A Job Well Done
Touchstones of Character But For the Night Tangled Webs Suspicions Chasms
of the Mind (with Carol Trendall) Outskirts by Carol Trendall