Free September Again (September Stories) by Hunter S. Jones, An Anonymous English Poet Page A

live in the house?” asks Sky.
    “No, I have a cottage.”
    “So you know Zelda Savage too?” asks Jazz.
    “I was there the day she was born.”
    Harry whines.
    “None of this feels real,” says Sky. “I still can’t believe we’re here. Is this really where Jack O. Savage used to do his writing?”
    “Yes, some of it,” says Malachy. “He’d done all his best work before he bought this place, but yes , he did write poems in here sometimes. Mostly he wrote in the barn, surrounded by his sheep. He had a sort of den down there. The barn’s the oldest part of Nook Manor, fourteenth century.”
    “Can we see it?”
    “Yes, why not? Has, erm…” Malachy nods towards the door through which Liz left the library. “Has Mrs. Savage finished talking to you?”
    “We think so. She wants us to contact Zelda for her.”
    “And will you?”
    “Yes, we’ve said we will and we will. We’ll do exactly what she wants.”
    “Excellent, she really needs your help. Would you care to join me in the kitchen? Then I’ll show you round the place. I can show you some of his actual writing if you like. I’m cataloguing a box of his papers right now.”
    Jazz almost trips over Harry as they follow Malachy down an oak- paneled corridor, ever deeper into the inner sanctum of a poet’s dream.
     

Part III
 
Tennessee River

8.
 
A Contrite Heart
     
    T he silent raven crosses overhead, black against the blue sky of the Tennessee Valley. Liz can’t hear any other birds or outdoor sounds. The stillness of the scene feels ominous. A waft of lavender fills the air. Her mother’s favorite herb is lavender. She always kept it in the garden on the farm in Georgia. Someone is watching. She turns to see the Cherokee warrior. He is finally here. She is so tired. Most days, she can barely move. It will be a relief to shake these mortal chains and be with the ones who love her. Especially Jack, the poet, her dream come true. Finally, she will be with him forever. The warrior looks at her. He shakes his head. No.
    No. No. No. She attempts to call to him, to implore that she must go this time. He shakes her, someone wakes her. She opens her eyes to see Mrs. T and Malachy.
    Mrs. T is lightly moving her shoulders in the beginning light of a new day as it creeps through the velvet drapes in the bedroom. “Liz, Liz, please wake up. We’ve had a call from America,” she whispers.
    “America? Is my baby okay? Is Zelda al l right?” Suddenly, Liz is in full panic mode. “Where’s the phone? I’ve got to talk to her!”
    “Liz, Liz, your Zelda is okay.” Malachy pulls up a chair and sits it alongside the large bed. He reaches for her left hand. He pats it softly before speaking again. “Liz, your father called us. Not long ago, just a few hours ago, your mother passed away.”
    Mrs. T takes her other hand. “Liz, she died peacefully in her sleep. Your father got up during the night because he heard a noise outside. When he returned to the bedroom, he noticed that your mother wasn’t breathing. She didn’t suffer, Liz. She didn’t suffer for a minute.”
    The tears run down Liz’s face. Mom. My sweet mother. She always supported me, but she never completely recovered from losing Charles. Now, with Zelda gone from me, I understand the depth of my own mother’s sorrow. At least I have hope that Zelda will return to me one day. That hope was taken from my mom by a drunken driver.
    Mrs. T continues, “You’re the only child, Liz. Your father says you need to come home and spend some time there. He needs your support. He’s very much in shock, as you can understand. Also, your mother named you as the executor of her estate. You have to go to Georgia to take care of your family.”
    “Liz, me and Mrs. T. can keep an eye on Nook Manor for you. You know that. You need to be with your family for a while. It will take you maybe three months. We’ve handled Nook Manor that long for you and Jack many times.” Malachy gives her hand