Summoned Illusions

Her name was Heather, like the beautiful heather scattered endlessly across the mysterious and haunted moors.

The moors of Dartmoor called to Heather, both in her waking hours and her nightly dreams. They beckoned her like a beacon, summoning her to their luscious hills as she slept each night in the comfort of a bed that had once belonged to her parents. Each morning when she awoke, the smell of heather permeated her bedroom, and she knew well enough it was the remnants of her dreams lingering in the air.

Born in the year of 1908, her parents had named her for the lovely, flowering heather that grew upon the beautiful moors of Dartmoor, and as a result, she longed always to be near those moors even though she was now nearly fifty years of age. The moors were a part of her, and she, a part of them; it was as if they co-existed. Their beauty filled her with a purpose and determination, and her heart was most at peace when she was near to them.

This early September day, Heather was packing the same thing she packed every Saturday morning. Inside an old wicker basket, she carefully placed a small blanket, a book, an egg sandwich, a wedge of cheese, two wine glasses, and of course, a lovely bottle of French wine. Although she took the trip to the moors alone, she always packed the spare wine glass in case anyone came along in need of refreshment.

Despite the temperature of nearly 21°C, Heather pulled a woolen knitted sweater from where it hung upon a hook near the door as she exited the stone cottage. Sometimes it grew quite chilly upon the isolated moors as she lingered to read late in the afternoons, reluctant to leave. Pausing beside the corner of the stone cottage, she pulled a ripened piece of fruit from a solitary pear tree that grew just outside her bedroom window. She smelled of the pear’s sweetness before she added it to her basket’s contents.

The walk to the moors was a goodly distance, so it was a good while later before she cleared the moor’s crest, inhaling of the pink and lavender colored heather that filled its' lush greenery. It was a wild and perfect arrangement of nature painted across the moors. She always thought to herself that no artist could truly capture the actual beauty therein. She knew this to be undeniably true because the moors’ beauty was something one inherently felt in addition to what one could see.

She pulled the blanket from her basket, spreading it on the ground and then took a seat upon it. She then carefully unpacked the rest of the items from the basket she had brought. Choosing to partake of the wine before eating, she pulled the cork from the bottle and poured herself a glass of the rich drink. Immediately and despite the overwhelming, earthy scent of the heather, she could smell the blackcurrant and black cherries infused in the red wine. As she tasted of its’ rich, velvety sweetness, she sighed, immensely enjoying the sensuous warmth that invaded her body. The wine helped to ward off the chill in the September wind. Picking up the book, she read several chapters before pausing to eat a bite of food.

As Heather finished the sandwich and sipped her wine, she looked up to find him appearing in the distance, just as he always did each time she visited the moors. She lifted her hand to wave in greeting, and he responded with a slight nod and tip of his hat. He never ventured any closer even though Heather wished that he would. From what she could make out about him despite the distance, he was tall and slender with dark, wind-tousled hair, and he always wore riding breeches and boots along with a jacket that she imagined was a woolen, hounds tooth one. He carried a riding crop even though he had no horse. He made an attractive figure, at least from afar, and she wished that he would draw closer and introduce himself. After all, it felt as though they were already friends as they had seen each other on the moors nearly every weekend for over a year now. She watched as he disappeared over the crest of the moor and sighed. It appeared there would be no introductions today despite her desire for such.

A bit later after finishing her glass of wine, Heather placed the book on the blanket and then stretched across the blanket to lie down. Her dreams had been particularly intrusive the prior night, preempting her sleep so that she had tossed and turned. Lulled by the wine, the wind, and the redstart birds flitting across the skies above, it was not long before she relaxed. Sated and content, she slept.

********

“Miss. Are you unwell?” a deep voice invaded Heather’s afternoon slumber.

She reluctantly stirred and opened her eyes. Upon seeing him, her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ of surprise. He was kneeling over her, obvious concern for her well-being etched across his rugged, handsome face.

She ran her hand through her hair and quickly lifted herself. “Oh, my goodness. I am perfectly fine. I am so sorry that I gave you a fright, sir.” She did not realize the lovely picture she made as her waves of red hair fell in disarray, trailing down her slender shoulders as it escaped the confines of the bun at the nape of her neck. Her cheeks, slightly reddened by the wind and sun, were flushed a soft, pink hue against the creaminess of her skin.

The man leaned back on his haunches and smiled. It was a lovely smile, and this close to him, it was easy to see that she had been correct in her assumption that he was handsome. “I’m so glad,” he said, the thickness of his accent accentuating his words. Without a doubt, the timbre of his voice was both alluring and melodic, and so hypnotic that she felt as if she might be sleeping still and dreaming. It was all quite surreal. However, if she were indeed asleep, she hoped she would not awaken for some while.

The dawning awareness of embarrassment suddenly flooded her, making her cheeks a brighter shade of pink. “I am so sorry. I promise that I am perfectly fine,” she managed a smile in response to his as she sat straight upon the blanket and nervously smoothed her dress over her lap.

“Aye, lass, I can see that you are,” he said with a glint of humor in his green eyes that were the color of the sea. She thought that she would enjoy finding what secrets lurked therein, and her cheeks grew pinker still at her hidden thoughts.

Hurriedly, Heather pulled the extra wine glass from the basket. “Where are my manners? Would you care for a glass of refreshment?” she asked.

“Aye, most certainly. Much thanks,” he said and settled to take a seat beside her on the blanket. “Tis a most lovely day for a picnic, is it not?”

Heather nodded and looked up at him through thick lashes as she poured the wine. She could not believe he had finally come so close and was now sitting beside her. Thank heavens she always had the foresight to pack the extra wine glass.

He graciously accepted the offered glass of wine and said, “My name is Colin. It is lovely to meet you, lass, although it feels as though we’re already acquainted after seeing one another from a distance so often upon these moors.”

Heather settled back into her spot on the blanket, grasped her glass and took a sip of the wine. She smiled at Colin, delighted to meet the man whom she had only previously admired from afar.

“My name is Heather. It's nice to finally meet you,” she said.

“Indeed? Heather, as in the beautiful heather that grows all about our Dartmoor moors? How thoroughly enchanting!”

Her smile grew until it was nearly as intoxicating as the fruity scent of the wine they drank. She took note of every aspect of the man seated next to her, including his clothing and noted that it was somewhat dated - most definitely not the type of clothing the average gentleman would wear; nonetheless, it suited him well. She wondered if he wore the old clothing on his walks in case he dirtied it beyond repair.

Heather eyed the riding crop by his side. “Have you lost your horse, Colin?” she asked with a bit of amusement. All the times she had spotted him, she had never seen a horse with him despite the fact he was never without the crop.

“Aye, but I’m sure Betsey’s awaiting my arrival back at the stable. She’s a bit of a spirited, strong-minded one,” he answered.

Heather immediately wondered where he lived; she had never really given it much thought before now. Surely, he lived nearby, but she would not ask such questions of him when they had only just met.

Colin sipped his wine, his green gaze rarely leaving Heather. She was keenly aware of his perusal, and where she had thought the wine had warmed her before, she now knew that this man’s regard held much more intensity and warmth. Indeed, he was akin to a full bottle of the luscious French wine, invading her senses and making her acutely aware of all things, including his near presence.

The two continued to chat although a calming and comfortable silence eventually settled between them, and they found a rare peace in each other’s companionship with little need to speak. As the afternoon passed, they drank the entire bottle of wine, nibbling on the remaining food, and Heather found herself laughing more than she had in the long, preceding months. A vitality seemed to emanate from Colin, and she was fast growing accustomed to it.

Much later in the afternoon as the sun began its’ daily descent, Colin sighed and said, “As much as I don’t want to, lass, I’m afraid I must be going.”

“Yes, of course,” Heather said. She was reluctant as well for their sweet interlude to end. It had been an unexpected and delightful afternoon. “I hope I will see you again soon, Colin,” she said.

“That, my dear lass, is entirely up to you,” Colin smiled and replied.

Heather gave him a perplexed look, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Colin.”

“Aye, Heather, but you will know soon enough,” he said as he rose and tipped his hat before donning it, his sea green gaze intense as he continued to watch her.

Heather shivered as her mind searched for answers, although the chill that invaded her had nothing to do with the temperature. Colin had said it was entirely up to her if she saw him again. What could he mean she would know soon enough?

Heather's flushed face reflected the confusion and surprise she felt, but regaining a measure of composure, her voice only above a whisper in the light afternoon breeze, she said, “Well, if it’s to be my choice, we will assuredly see one another again, Colin, and very soon. I shall eagerly await our next meeting. Until then.”

Colin’s smile broadened, and he winked at her. “Aye, I shall see you next Saturday, if not before, my sweet Heather, just like the flower on the moors. Until then, lass, I shall see you in your dreams,” he said, picking up the riding crop as he turned to leave.

Heather watched in silence as Colin walked away, surprised by his mention of her dreams. She watched as he turned to glance back every few steps, as if he, too, did not wish to leave. Eventually, as he neared the spot where he had always stood when she saw him from afar, his visage grew exceedingly faint until he disappeared before he reached the crest of the moor.

Surprise upon her sun-kissed face, Heather rose and peered into the distance, searching for any sight of Colin against the backdrop of the moor, but he had seemingly disappeared completely into the thick of its' illusive air. Where had he gone? What had just happened? It was though he had suddenly vanished. Had he truly even existed or was he a ghostly apparition, a figment of her imagination and the manifestation of something her heart desired? He had seemed real enough, but Heather’s mind raced with the possibilities and the surprise his sudden disappearance had presented.

She could hear the rapid beat of her heart pounding in her ears as she attempted to make sense of it all. Her hands shaking, she made quick work of folding the blanket and repacking the picnic basket as she prepared for the return trip home. Had she in fact beckoned this handsome, kind man to fill her lonely days upon the moors? If so, she was not the least bit sorry. Indeed, she was pleased beyond measure that she had summoned his illusion and only wondered why it had taken so long for him to appear. The longing in her heart told her that either way, Colin had been all too real, at least for her. Slowly she headed home, a lovely blush and smile upon her face with every step she took.

Heather paused as she neared the moor’s edge and picked several stalks of the earthy smelling, lovely heather. It would make a beautiful addition to the ivory antique vase that rested on the table beside her bed. Moreover, each time she looked at it, she would think of Colin and be able to feel the intensity in his green eyes when he had looked at her that afternoon. It would seem like an eternity until next Saturday when they would assuredly meet again, but she knew she would see him then. She felt it in her soul just as she felt the life and scope of the moors with every breath she took. Indeed, she already knew that Colin, like her, was very much a part of the moors that they both so loved.

It would be a long while until the following Saturday, but Heather would bide her time and wait patiently, busying herself as she remained content that promises made would be fulfilled. Until then, the welcoming arms of Morpheus had never been so appealing. This night, and every night thereafter until next Saturday, she looked forward to searching for Colin in the midst of her heather filled dreams.