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by Andrea DiMaggio

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There are so many of us who find we can have faith that moves mountains, just not faith for our own sake. We see the best in others while seeing so little of worth in ourselves. Life can be hard when you’re stuck that way, but Bernice was about to find out that someone had faith in her.

Did I ever tell you how you live in me
Every waking moment, even in my dreams
And if all this talk is crazy
And you don't know what I mean
Does it really matter
Just as long as I believe

Previously...

She looked at the woman and both envied and pitied her, since she at least had life grow inside of her; no cruel taunting by a misfit body even if she lost the baby. But Bernice looked again. Even in her narcotic stupor, there was nothing that the medication would be able to do to ever remove the heartache.

Bernice shook her head, feeling so small and petty. Who was she to complain? Maybe she had it better, since she’d never feel the heartache of a miscarriage. She’d likely never have a child, so she’d never ever worry about losing that love as well. Guilt spent a great deal of time living in Bernice’s world, and it slapped her hard; the old doubts and shame about being false and inauthentic and perpetually barren. Her patient stirred enough to moan, gaining her briefly distracted attention from her self-loathing. She gazed down at the woman. Inez was almost completely under from the sedation, and didn’t see Bernice step into the hallway where she put her hand to her face and wept silently.

A few weeks later…at the office…

A petite woman sat at the desk across from Bernice. She was perhaps Eurasian or some other exotic mix. A tall woman, thirty-ish, sat next to her, clutching her hand.

“I know you’re anxious, Alice. Your first seems to be taking her time; no major developments, but she’s healthy, and that’s really what matters at this point. Besides, you already know that babies hardly every pay attention to due dates, right?” Bernice laughed and the young woman nodded. The woman beside her nodded as well, adding a warm smile.

“So, you must be excited. Just back from your tour and a new baby about ready to be welcomed into the world?” She smiled at the couple, but the girl scrunched her face a bit.

“Oh, Dr. Bernie….I’m sorry.” She looked at the woman sitting next to her.

“This is my sister-in-law, Ione….Duncan...my husband... is still in Germany.” She lowered her head just a bit and Ione smiled once again.

“Oh, gosh…sorry. I saw the wedding ring and she was holding your hand….” She began to turn red with embarrassment. Changing the subject quickly, she looked slightly away while speaking.

“Do you have any children…Ms. Stuart?”

“Two girls, Fiona is eleven and Maggie is ten. Please, call me Ione?”

“You and your husband must be proud.” Not an unusual thing to ask, but the woman winced almost imperceptively at the emphasis of the word 'husband.'

“They’re….they’re wonderful kids. Couldn’t be prouder.” She smiled, but there was a nervous squint of the eye.

“So….I’ll see you in the office next week unless …?” She struggled for the name, and Alice helped her out.

“Iris….Iris Chang Stuart.” She beamed proudly.

“Oh that’s right.” Bernice winced at her words; of course it would be right. She still measured her words carefully against what wasn’t necessarily expected.

“She’s named after someone in your family, right?

“Yes…my sister….Fiona and Maggie’s mom.” A sigh followed by a small tear that ran down her cheek. Ione bit her lip and looked away.

“Iris passed….about two years ago…uterine cancer.”

“Ohmygod.” Bernice put her hand to her mouth, wishing her words hadn’t been so abrupt; it wasn’t about her, and she wanted to be ….she didn’t know what she wanted to be, but certainly she wanted to show her support.

“I am so sorry.” Sorry for bringing it up? For her self-centered embarrassment? She sighed and tears came to her own eyes as she remembered the scene at the hospital with Inez only a few weeks before.

“You didn’t know. Iris….she…she was a fighter, and her passing was brave and even glorious in a way. She was strong for us all at the last.” The woman put her head down and put her head to her face for only a moment. She lifted her head and smiled.

“I think little Iris is going to be a fighter….just like her namesake!” Alice blinked back a few tears and smiled a very warm smile.

“Thanks, Dr. Bernie,” she said as she rose from the chair. Ione stood and smiled. Bernice reached across the desk and offered her hand. She took it gently and squeezed, shaking it with a firm grip. Bernice felt a wince of pain in her wrist; a reminder of an old hockey injury pre-Bernie, so to speak. A moment later the two had left the office and she sat back down at her desk, wondering what had just occurred. A moment later a knock came at the door.

“S’cuse, Dottoressa?” Liz stood in the doorway playfully holding up a calendar, pointing to date circled about three quarters down the page.

“You decide to break down and grace my table for Thanksgiving?”

“Oh…sorry….of course.” Her brother Dave was going to be in Pittsburgh with his partner Jason’s family for the holiday and the past year’s arrangements would be ever so awkward since her former girlfriend was now married. Annette and Linda had almost begged for her to visit with Linda’s family, but she couldn’t bear to be around Annette.

Too many good memories to miss as opposed to a bad parting. It wasn’t as if she only missed being with Annette so much as she missed being with someone. She would always love the woman, but not ever in the same intimate way of the past. Still, it was too soon after her own meltdown at the couple’s happy nuptials. And of course, Liz and her husband Jimmy and their own girls would be family enough.

“I’m looking forward to it.” She smiled and Liz smiled back with an almost conspiratorial grin. Bernice tilted her head and squinted.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that, Elizabeth François Carpentiere. I’ve known you since you and Jimmy and I used to try on your mother’s shoes.” She half-frowned and tossed a balled up piece of paper in Liz’ direction. Jimmy had ‘grown out’ of the being a girl thing, at least 'full-time,' as Liz would likely remind her; his own unique perspective gave him an understanding about his best friend’s change. And Liz François Dao Carpentiere had been right next to her in recovery; holding her hand through all the pain and joy.

“I just know it’s been hard on you since…well, since the wedding.” Liz reflected the half-frown with one of her own. She shrugged in sympathy and continued.

“And don’t get me wrong. I know you’re ‘over’ Annette, but you gotta know that still loving her isn’t an option…I mean…NOT loving her. I love Jimmy with all my heart, but I still have a special place inside for Leo Piccone, right? It’s just…different. You’ll get there in time, hun.” Liz smiled and patted her chest with her palm. A deft change of subject also deflected any suspicion regarding Thanksgiving dinner. She wanted to bless her boss…her best friend, and she hoped that the holiday would be the start of something wonderful.

People never tell you
The way they truly feel
I would die for you gladly
If I knew it was for real
So if all this talk sounds crazy
And the words don't come out right
Does it really matter
If it gets me through this night

At her home...a few evenings later....

Bernice sat on the couch with the laptop on the snack table in front of her; an electronic ‘thumbing through’ of the picture album of her recent life…a life that had been turned upside down by new needs by her love and new focus and direction and neglect by her. She hated herself more than she missed Annette, and she missed Annette really bad, since it was her inattentive devotion to her relationship and her distraction by her job that drew the two apart. Not that she had much of a choice. Her work was her calling…her life, in fact, as she helped others bring new life into the world. No regrets there, but perhaps a lifetime of guilty regret over the loss of her one ‘true’ love.

“She hates me…she hates me not…” She repeated the mantra as she moved each picture in file into a folder. Not to be discarded, but rather to be stored away from where she might be tempted to pine for what wasn’t meant to be. Once she finished the transfer, she moved the folder into the plug-in flash drive before removing it. She placed the drive in an envelope which she put on the mantel of her fireplace, right behind the clock in front of the large mirror.

“Keep it secret…keep it safe,” she joked, recalling Gandalf’s words to Frodo regarding the One Ring. Safe? The memories were almost unsafe in her heart, but at least the visual reminders would be far away from her in a way. She sighed heavily before returning to the couch. She hit ‘play’ on the remote to her CD player. A moment later the music began. Listening to the lyrics, all the preparation and planning to be safe from harm and hurt vanished only to be replaced by words that did more than just pull at her heart strings. They assaulted them; almost brutally, but in a way that was almost healing in its power to convince and sway and transform how she saw herself.

If I'm true to myself, nobody else can take the place of you
But I've got to move on, tell me what else can I do

Thanksgiving Day….the home of Liz and Jimmy Carpentiere….

It had begun to snow; Bernice stood at the doorway, debating to stay or to run away and hide at King Wah’s for Thanksgiving. She stepped back, pondering whether to knock on the door or ring the bell when she heard a voice from behind.

“Dr. Bernie? Nice to see you again…and out of the office.” Bernice turned to see Alice Stuart. The man next to her looked familiar and different at the same time.

“Oh….you haven’t met. This is my husband Duncan….Ione's brother? He just flew in today. And of course you’ve already met Iris.” She eyed the sleeping baby in the carrier held by the tall man beside her.

“Thank you so much,” Duncan said, giving Bernice an awkward half-hug. He had missed the birth by only a few days as his assignment kept him in Germany past the due date. She nodded and smiled before turning her attention to Alice.

“I’m glad to see you. I didn’t know you knew Liz out of the office.” She regretted the words; why wouldn’t they know Liz. But Alice explained with a smile.

“I was visiting my sister-in-law and the girls for a barbecue and she introduced me to Jimmy and Liz…they live next door.” She used her hand in a broad gesture to point to the house on her left.

“Liz told me what a fine doctor you are, and the rest, as they say, is history.” She smiled and her eyes seemed to twinkle as Iris cooed.

“Dr. Crocetti?” The name repeated with a vaguely familiar voice attached to a fairly familiar face. Ione Stuart stood on the bottom step of the front porch along with her two girls.

“Ms. Stuart? Oh….yes…” she struggled for words, since the group was growing bigger by the moment, but hardly keeping pace with her ever-expanding feelings of insecurity. Out of place, in a way. She found herself growing hot in the face, which she likely would have realized was blushing.

“Please….call me Ione.” She said it softly and with warmth she had never heard before, even from close friends and family. The woman exuded welcome and acceptance; commodities very scarce in her world, even if they were withheld from her by herself at times as well. Her face was hotter and she put her hand to her cheek, forgetting the gloves she wore.

“And what may I call you?” The question was more than just polite; the words seemed to express a calm but urgent need to know her, and she obliged, if awkwardly.

“Oh…you…you can call me.” She hadn’t forgotten her own name, but years of guilt and misplaced feelings of being out of place spoke old names as a tease….a cruel reminder of what had never really been real. Annnnn….for Angelo. Truth be told, she had always been her mother’s angel, but never really that person everyone thought they knew. Even after all these years and so much acceptance by friends and girlfriends and the love of her life, she still felt inauthentic and false, but the woman in front of her didn’t know that. She walked up the steps to the porch and took Bernice's hand gently in hers.

“Yes?” That voice…soothing and disarming; foreign….alien…unreal…but so warm and gentle that it coaxed the real woman to return from her retreat into a false past. She looked at Ione and her smile freed her.

“You….can call me Bernice.”

I will love again
Though my heart is breaking, I will
love again
Stronger than before
I will love again
Even if it takes a lifetime to get over you
Heaven only knows, I will love again

Next: Love by Grace (Finale)

I Will Love Again
Words and Music by
Mark Taylor and Paul Barry
as performed by
Miss Lara Fabian