Jack in the Night

The shadows were long over the river and the sun was sinking into the horizon when I saw the man walking slowly along the riverbank. The ancient hound attached to the leash looked as though he would have rather been tucked up in a warm bed, but was leading the man amicably along, albeit at a painstakingly slow pace. The man did not seem to mind. His face looked as though he were somewhere a million miles away, perhaps on the moon that had just begun to rise in the dusky sky. As he approached, he glanced up, probably hearing my footsteps on the crisp fallen leaves. His face changed, and I saw that he was an expert at pasting a friendly face over the true emotion rippling beneath the surface. A professional then. I smiled and raised my hand in return. “Hello” I greeted him. “Hi there” he said, and nodded toward the dog, “I hope I’m not trespassing; I’m just walking Byron before we bunk down for the night.” I looked at him closely, noting the worrying lines in the corners of his eyes. His salt and pepper hair blew gently in the breeze coming in off the river, a faint spray of chill bumps sprang up on his neck. “Its fine” I replied, “the river is so peaceful at sunset, and I was just walking down to watch the starts come out.” I hesitated a fraction of a second, then added “Would you like to sit for a minute before you go on?” The man glanced down toward the dock and noted the chairs there, then back at me for a moment before the dog made the decision, and started tugging toward the water, anxious to sit down where the dirt was not. This was a dog not accustomed to the feel of dirt beneath his paws. “Thank you” he responded, “I walked a bit further than I meant to, and a few minutes of rest will be nice, By the way, I’m Jack” “Hello, Jack” I replied, I’m Alicia” I smiled and continued my leisurely pace toward the dock. I knew if he wanted to speak, he would. Humans are not nearly as mysterious as we try to imagine.

We arrived at the dock, and I took my customary seat, motioning for Jack to sit at the chair across from me. “What brings you to the river today?” I asked casually. I knew most of the local people, and many of the regular campers, like me, who owned camping property with permanent motor homes along the riverfront. Jack did not strike me as the “river rat” type, as we locals called ourselves. Those of us who found solace in the rushing water and peeping frogs, and who held places at the river to escape the reality of day-to-day life. “I brought my wife home” he said, a choke in his voice. I glanced up from the water and saw a glint in his eye, gone so quickly I might have imagined it. That would explain things, I thought, his wife is obviously the one that brought them here, so obviously out of his element. I nodded and smiled “Oh, where is she?” I asked, looking around. “Here” he said, pulling a small ornate box from his pocket. I gasped, beginning to understand. It was an urn. He had ashes in that box. His wife. My heart sand to the pit of my stomach and I whispered “I’m sorry” as he gently placed the box back into the pocket of his oversized coat. “I am taking her to all the places she wanted to go. There are so many, and I always told her…later.” His voice hitched a little, and he went on. “She wanted me to see where she grew up, here, and she wanted me to see her hometown. She wanted me to meet her grandparents, and she wanted us to explore the coast together. She wanted to see the stars at night again and she wanted to walk barefoot in the warm sand of a desert. She wanted to see the world, and I always told her we would, later. When I wasn’t busy. When I wasn’t tired. When I had time.” He looked into my eyes, both of us fighting tears. “I never took her to any of those places. I never got the time. And then, the time was taken from me.” He got up and walked to the end of the dock. The river was flowing calmly, and the stars were now reflecting on the surface. A shooting start left a fleeting glint, then snuffed out of existence. Jack looked back at me, then back to the water. “Is it ok?” he asked, holding the box again. I nodded and sat still as a statue as he took a pinch of the creamy ash from the inside and sprinkled it on the surface. Jack looked up at me and smiled a thin, tight smile. “So far, every place I have gone for her, the perfect opportunity has arisen, and I know she guided me. Thank you for being one of her angels today.” I could only nod as he took up the leash and led the dog back up the dock and off into the night, back the way he had come. Like a ghost himself, he was gone. But I was forever changed. I would never look at opportunities with those I love the same way, ever again.