To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
― Mattew Arnold, Dover Beach
Uncertainty
It was a hard night out there in the shelter―not because of the rain and cold―the fireplace kept me warm and the hut kept me dry. What made the night hard was being haunted by images from my dream and the realization of just how toxic Jim and Bart and their crew actually were and how cruel they had been.
Jill and Natalie had done nothing to deserve this treatment. They were simply beautiful women who were alone and vulnerable and and Jim and Bart sought to exploit this.
All thought of researching my novel was abandoned because I found it impossible to ignore the crew's rapacious behaviour.
It was past 3 am and I was heartsick thinking of Natalie's neighbourhood party and how these men were planning to take advantage of this either to abuse Natalie or ruin her reputation.
Bart was an abuser and no doubt vindictive. He and Jim would have no qualms about being offensive or rude to Natalie or slandering her in front of all her neighbours.
I could warn Natalie and try to persuade her to call off the party but that would only delay the inevitable backlash she'd suffer by enraging the men and depriving them of their fun.
I spent the night drifting in and out of sleep as disturbing visions overwhelmed my senses.
The following morning I dragged myself back to the house pale from lack of sleep and worn out with worry.
"You look exhausted," Moll exclaimed when she saw me. "Was it that bad in the shelter?"
I shook my head. "It wasn't the shelter―I had a horrible dream and couldn't get back to sleep."
Jules was also concerned. "Maybe you should go back to bed and try to get some rest."
"No, actually I just got a text from Sarah and Ross―they want to drop by at ten and update us on their findings."
Moll seemed uncertain but I wanted answers about what happened to her.
"I'll be okay. I want to hear what they uncovered about your disappearance. Let's have breakfast and see what they found out. I can have a nap later."
"I'll stay for breakfast," Jules said, "but I don't think I should be here when they make their report. I'll call later to find out how things went."
Moll shivered. "Thinking about that lost time makes me anxious. I'm almost afraid to know what happened but on the other hand not knowing is even worse."
I put my arm around her, "We've been through a lot and deserve some answers. Whatever they uncover will help us to understand this."
Sarah and Ross showed up promptly at ten and once again Sarah took the lead in the discussion.
"What we found out about your accident is truly shocking," she told Moll. " Howard Whitmore, the coroner who pronounced you dead, was clearly mistaken. It's not the first time he has made a false diagnosis―he was actually sued by some parents he accused of child abuse and they proved that his findings were based on erroneous assumptions."
I found Sarah's explanation hard to accept. "But surely the mortician must have detected signs of life when he picked up Moll at the emergency room in the hospital."
"Apparently he did not and there's some confusion over what transpired when he transported Moll back to the funeral home. It turns out he suffered from heart disease and had a sudden coronary episode and died shortly after being taken to the hospital. The funeral home was understaffed because it was a holiday and Moll was left unsupervised for several hours."
"What are you suggesting?" Moll asked perplexed, "that I woke up on the table in the funeral home and in a dazed state walked out the door?"
Sarah shrugged, "We aren't really sure. It seems to have been something like that. And you apparently hitched a ride to Cambridge and the trucker didn't notice your head wound because he said you were wearing a hat and slept most of the way. He felt sorry for you and figured you were homeless."
"But where did she get this hat, or her clothes for that matter? There are so many loose ends to this explanation."
Sarah was apologetic. "We may never get all the answers here. We do know that Homer Whitmore's assistant assumed that a casket left in the funeral home contained your remains and that was cremated. Whether it was another dead person or an empty casket is unclear. It was a confluence of events compounded by Whitmore's untimely death. If it's any consolation, you have all the makings of a lawsuit here for gross neglect."
Moll shook her head. The last thing I want is to be a breaking news report and become a spectacle for the public to dissect."
"I hear you," Sarah conceded, "but you're entitled to be compensated for the incredible ordeal you've endured―you and your husband and your friends."
"I just wanted a credible explanation of how I ended up in hospital for nine days and then in a woman's shelter. I don't think I'm ever going to get a full account because of the circumstances. I guess I just happened to fall through the cracks."
Sarah nodded. "Unfortunately, it sometimes happens."
I sat there mutely listening to what Sarah and Ross uncovered. To say it was dissatisfying would be an understatement.
I can't calculate the odds of several improbable events occurring at just that time, but I do know that it did. Was that Fate or just blind chance? I don't know, but what I do know is that Moll and I have an opportunity to start over again.
Moll cheated death and now we know how precious our life and time is. The last thing either of us wants to do is waste even a minute of our time together pursuing a tedious lawsuit.
We have a hazy outline of what probably occurred―it's not perfect but it's sufficient to offer a plausible explanation and allow us to get on with the life we have.
Ultimately, that seems to be all any of us can expect .