Lost Hope

Lost Hope

By Kyara Caledonii

Copyright December 18, 1996

Today was the day, a dreary February day that seemed to match perfectly with my mood. There was a small pond that I had found while driving aimlessly in the backwoods outside of Montreal and it seemed like the perfect place.

Secluded and down an old road, I didn’t expect that anyone would bother me. There was a thin sheet of ice over the clear, green water and I saw my face staring back at me from under a sky of gray. Dressed only in jeans and a thin sweater, I dove in.

The cold knocked the air out of my lungs and immediately I took in a lung full of water. Not fighting, I slowly sank to the bottom. I was losing consciousness when I was suddenly yanked to the surface by my sweater.

I struggled but was pulled to the bank of the pond and someone started to push on my chest. I choked out the water in my lungs and took a deep gasp of air. Distantly I heard a dog barking frantically.

The hands on my chest stopped pushing when I started to breathe again. I stumbled to my feet and almost fainted. Strong hands grabbed me and held me upright.

“Hush, Hassard,” said a quiet and very masculine voice and the dog stopped barking.

I shook my head to clear it and turned to my would be rescuer, pushing him away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yelled!

He looked confused and used one hand to brush back a lock of wet hair from his eyes.

“Saving you. I saw you slip.”

“I didn’t slip, you idiot, I jumped.”

He looked more confused than ever and I started to cry. Alarmed, he started pulling me back to my car and I let him. Seeing as how I was in no condition to drive, he opened the passenger door (I’d left the doors unlocked and the keys in the ignition since I hadn’t expected to have to use the car again.) and gently pushed me in. I just put my head down and continued to weep. The back door opened and a large dog hopped in.

My rescuer got in the driver’s seat, started the car and cranked up the heat. He drove a couple of miles down the road to a large farmhouse. By then, not only was I crying, I was also shivering in my wet clothes and trying not to let my teeth chatter. He turned the car off, got out, let the dog out and came around to the passenger side. He took me into his arms like a child and carried me into the house. By then I had my tears under control but was still sniffling and shivering.

A large fire burning in the fireplace warmed the house but I was still soaking wet. He put me on my feet slowly, ready to catch me if I fainted but I managed to stand by myself.

“Wait here, I’ll get you some dry clothes,” was all he said before he disappeared down the hall. The dog, Hassard presumably, rubbed against my leg and I reached down to pet him.

Then I walked to the fireplace, hugging myself in an attempt to get warm. As I stood there, a warm towel was thrown over my shoulders and I turned around.

He had changed into a black sweat shirt and black sweat pants with a towel around his neck. He held some clothes out to me and I took them slowly.

“There’s a washroom down the hall, first door on your left,” he said, toweling his hair with one hand. I nodded and went to change. I was a mess judging by my reflection, but I cleaned up as best I could. The shirt came down to my knees so I didn’t bother with the pants since they were way too big.

When I came out of the washroom, I heard a tea kettle boiling and heard noises to my right. I followed the noises and found my rescuer puttering about in the kitchen. I watched him as he put together a tray with tea and pastries. What I hadn’t noticed before in my anger and self pity was that he was extremely handsome, with chiseled features, long, wavy auburn hair and beautiful dark green eyes. He noticed me in the doorway and motioned me out to the living room. We sat and he pressed a steaming cup of tea into my hands.

The warmth slowly seeped back into my body and I stopped shaking. He watched as I sipped my tea with approval and finally looked into my eyes. The compassion in them made me want to start to cry all over again.

He said in a soft voice, “Now, why did you jump in the water ?”

Then I really did start to cry again. I don’t know why I started telling my life story to a complete stranger but he seemed so sympathetic. I explained that I had lost my parents, my job, my boyfriend, and my apartment, in that order, all in the last two weeks. I felt like I had nothing to live for. As I talked, he gently wiped my tears away.

I fell silent finally; feeling wrung out and stared down at my lap. He gently took my face in his hand and I looked into those incredibly deep green eyes. They held nothing but sympathy and warmth.

“But now you have me,” he smiled, and leaned close to envelop me in a hug. He pulled back slightly and his lips were reaching for mine when I pulled back as well.

“But I don’t even know your name,” I whispered.

“You can call me Roy.” And that was all that needed to be said for a long time.

The End


	Lost Hope By Kyara Caledonii Copyright December 18, 1996 ***All Rights Reserved. Story cannot be reprinted/reproduced without Kyara's permission.* Today was the day, a dreary February day that seemed to match perfectly with my mood. There was a small pond that I had found while driving aimlessly in the backwoods outside of Montreal and it seemed like the perfect place. Secluded and down an old road, I didn’t expect that anyone would bother me. There was a thin sheet of ice over the clear, green water and I saw my face staring back at me from under a sky of gray. Dressed only in jeans and a thin sweater, I dove in. The cold knocked the air out of my lungs and immediately I took in a lung full of water. Not fighting, I slowly sank to the bottom. I was losing consciousness when I was suddenly yanked to the surface by my sweater. I struggled but was pulled to the bank of the pond and someone started to push on my chest. I choked out the water in my lungs and took a deep gasp of air. Distantly I heard a dog barking frantically. The hands on my chest stopped pushing when I started to breathe again. I stumbled to my feet and almost fainted. Strong hands grabbed me and held me upright. “Hush, Hassard,” said a quiet and very masculine voice and the dog stopped barking. I shook my head to clear it and turned to my would be rescuer, pushing him away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yelled! He looked confused and used one hand to brush back a lock of wet hair from his eyes. “Saving you. I saw you slip.” “I didn’t slip, you idiot, I jumped.” He looked more confused than ever and I started to cry. Alarmed, he started pulling me back to my car and I let him. Seeing as how I was in no condition to drive, he opened the passenger door (I’d left the doors unlocked and the keys in the ignition since I hadn’t expected to have to use the car again.) and gently pushed me in. I just put my head down and continued to weep. The back door opened and a large dog hopped in. My rescuer got in the driver’s seat, started the car and cranked up the heat. He drove a couple of miles down the road to a large farmhouse. By then, not only was I crying, I was also shivering in my wet clothes and trying not to let my teeth chatter. He turned the car off, got out, let the dog out and came around to the passenger side. He took me into his arms like a child and carried me into the house. By then I had my tears under control but was still sniffling and shivering. A large fire burning in the fireplace warmed the house but I was still soaking wet. He put me on my feet slowly, ready to catch me if I fainted but I managed to stand by myself. “Wait here, I’ll get you some dry clothes,” was all he said before he disappeared down the hall. The dog, Hassard presumably, rubbed against my leg and I reached down to pet him. Then I walked to the fireplace, hugging myself in an attempt to get warm. As I stood there, a warm towel was thrown over my shoulders and I turned around. He had changed into a black sweat shirt and black sweat pants with a towel around his neck. He held some clothes out to me and I took them slowly. “There’s a washroom down the hall, first door on your left,” he said, toweling his hair with one hand. I nodded and went to change. I was a mess judging by my reflection, but I cleaned up as best I could. The shirt came down to my knees so I didn’t bother with the pants since they were way too big. When I came out of the washroom, I heard a tea kettle boiling and heard noises to my right. I followed the noises and found my rescuer puttering about in the kitchen. I watched him as he put together a tray with tea and pastries. What I hadn’t noticed before in my anger and self pity was that he was extremely handsome, with chiseled features, long, wavy auburn hair and beautiful dark green eyes. He noticed me in the doorway and motioned me out to the living room. We sat and he pressed a steaming cup of tea into my hands. The warmth slowly seeped back into my body and I stopped shaking. He watched as I sipped my tea with approval and finally looked into my eyes. The compassion in them made me want to start to cry all over again. He said in a soft voice, “Now, why did you jump in the water ?” Then I really did start to cry again. I don’t know why I started telling my life story to a complete stranger but he seemed so sympathetic. I explained that I had lost my parents, my job, my boyfriend, and my apartment, in that order, all in the last two weeks. I felt like I had nothing to live for. As I talked, he gently wiped my tears away. I fell silent finally; feeling wrung out and stared down at my lap. He gently took my face in his hand and I looked into those incredibly deep green eyes. They held nothing but sympathy and warmth. “But now you have me,” he smiled, and leaned close to envelop me in a hug. He pulled back slightly and his lips were reaching for mine when I pulled back as well. “But I don’t even know your name,” I whispered. “You can call me Roy.” And that was all that needed to be said for a long time. The End**