Where the Path Begins

This is a "Mystery Woman" story that I did for the 750 Word Project for 2024. All characters are over the age of 18.

Where the Path Begins

It hadn't been Ethan's plan to visit the park today, yet here he was, on the walking path not far from Windermere Lake. His arthritis had decided to give him the morning off, and it was too rare an occasion to waste. Even his long complaining knees were quiet.

He'd lamented the day when the city fathers decided to pave the paths that wove through the trees, but in the name of fewer sprained ankles for the local joggers, he supposed it was alright.

Ethan stopped in the path and closed his eyes. He took a moment to reach out with his other senses—the soft touch of the breeze, the smell of the pines, the joyous sounds of children playing in the lake.

He knew where he was. He looked down to his left and there was their bench. It was solidly made of brick and painted wood. A brass plaque was screwed into the upper plank.

In loving memory of

Jill Swanson

Ethan smiled. "Here we are again, babe. It's a beauty of a day." A breeze blew into his face, and he closed his eyes again. When he opened them, a beautiful young woman stood before him. Her skin was like alabaster, and her dark hair and eyes reminded him of his Jillie. The soft smile on her face was at odds with the dress she wore.

Startled, Ethan immediately averted his eyes after realizing that he could see her breasts and the dark patch between her legs through the diaphanous material.

"Miss, are you all right!?" Ethan said as he hurried toward her.

The soft smile never left her face. "Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?" Her voice sounded youthful and bright.

Ethan frowned. "Hun, that's not the sort of thing one wears to the park. It could attract the wrong sort of attention."

The young woman turned to the two young men who were jogging by. Ethan was stunned when neither of them seemed to notice the lovely woman. "Who are you?" Ethan asked nervously.

The woman cocked her head and smiled again. "Call me Emily." She looked at the bench and then gestured with her hand. "Shall we sit, Ethan?"

Incredulous, Ethan could only nod. She knew his name. Emily sat and pulled the hem of her dress tightly around her legs.

She turned and glanced at the plaque. "Jill Swanson. She was so special." Ethan felt his eyes well up with tears. "This was your spot."

Ethan nodded again and closed his eyes against the deluge of memories of his beautiful wife and him, laughing and loving on a tartan blanket under the trees not far from here. It's where she had told him she loved him for the first time. The ache in his heart that had never eased threatened to take his breath away. "How do you know that?" Ethan asked, a sob sitting in the back of his throat.

The woman turned and reached out for his face. At first, he jerked back out of instinct, but then relaxed and let her touch him. Her soft hand caressed his cheek, and she felt the three-day-old stubble there. He turned his face into her hand and pressed it between his shoulder and cheek. It had been so long since anyone besides his physical therapist had touched him.

"Ethan Swanson, husband of Jill. Navy corpsman during the horrible war. Dedicated nurse in the many years that followed. A wonderful friend and father of two. She was always so proud of you."

The sob that had been waiting burst forth in a gasp. He bowed his head and tears fell. "I miss her so much." His eyes met hers. "It's been so long. Why did I have to wait?"

Emily smiled, knowing that Ethan now understood. "That is not given for us to know. But I think that your heart and hands were still needed here on Earth. Think of all the people whose lives you touched. All the pain that you helped ease."

Ethan calmed down and took a deep breath. He looked longingly at Emily. "I'm ready. So ready."

Emily smiled and kissed his cheek gently. "She's waiting for you." She pointed off between the trees. "There, at the clearing at the end of the path."

Ethan rose with joy, then smiled and took his first step.

***

Six weeks later, the brass plaque was replaced.

This bench has been dedicated to the memory of

Jill and Ethan Swanson