The headlines concerning the good doctor's death soon swarmed the media and public. There was no escape from the news and gossip that latched themselves onto her demise, and like Emeline's public execution, Rose's end was laid bare for all to see and judge.
Saint Michael's hospital was in chaos, some not so accepting of their professor's grim fate. Many had already gone into mourning the next day, and all those she knew attended her funeral which was arranged two weeks after her passing. The drunk driver, a boy of no older than twenty, stood trial the following month and was convicted.
Rose Anderson the doctor had been kind to them in this life - the only life each of them knew to live and were saddened by her sudden departure. Except perhaps, for the good doctor, it was not so sudden at all.
Life is quite fickle - fleeting at best and memorable to a select few. We all seem to be content with rushing through the days unfazed and unabashed at our own selfish desires. We take, we grow, we love, we befriend, and then we depart. A few of us grow to be quite successful, some do not. A few, perchance, find a love to last their lifetimes, others are content with the peace and quiet solitude provides.
But Emeline, nor Rose in this life, never had the pleasure of growing old and falling in love. Her curse of repeating her lifetimes only to die at the measly age of twenty and something haunted her, even as she dedicated this paltry existence to serving others. After all, how could she commit to a life with another, knowing her soon and inevitable death? That the cycle, as powerful and omniscient as any willful God, could take her away any moment?
Rose Anderson died content, but not happy. Rose had friends, no family, but those who cared. And yet, the crimes of Emeline loomed over her shoulders, and there seemed no escape to her struggle for this strange and somber human existence.
The cycle, now taking pity at the fate which was designed for her, deemed Emeline worthy enough for a second chance - but chances are just that, opportunities to fulfill what must have been done. This does not mean that all of us rise to the occasion, nor are we graced by endless wisdom and talent to pursue our wildest goals, but merely that we have a rare and kind opportunity at a beginning so seldom handed out anymore.
Endings are aplenty and come in great abundance. But real beginnings, the sort of beginning that may only be accompanied by a sense of great and painful self-awareness - are in short, rare.
Emeline never thought she was worthy of another beginning. Both lifetimes had felt like repentance, and both lifetimes had been filled with the need to either suffer or serve. There was no beginning in such lives, only endings, and the payment of one's dues.
Perhaps the cycle had chosen to break and take pity on her - or God, or whichever great and malevolently kind being shaped the souls of human lives.
The truth is, we are all deserving of better beginnings, but seldom do we acknowledge our own deservedness or possess the self-awareness necessary to give our own opportunities justice. This is the struggle with human existence, endings are aplenty indeed, beginnings less acknowledged so.
~~~
When Emeline awoke in a bed which was most notably familiar, in a body that she faintly recognized, she spent the next twenty minutes staring up at the ceiling in tears. The panic had subsided fairly quickly, she had two other lifetimes after all to get used to the feeling of being born once again, but this was entirely too different. And for the first time in over sixty years did she feel truly and utterly afraid.
"This time" she vowed "...would be different."
We very often tell ourselves that each new day would be different, it is a kind and docile lie we have come to familiarize ourselves with, only a few bring these words into reality. But Emeline's heart had been humbled by sickness and strengthened by resolve, she was ready to take back the strings of fate.
Ever and again, despite our own human faults and inadequacies, all we need is the knowledge to recognize our opportunities, and the kindness necessary to grant ourselves the chance to pursue them.
~~~
It had been three days since my third awakening. I had only finally begun to wrap my head around things.
Emeline's body, or my body, did not feel as I remembered it all that time ago. Gone were the strength from her limbs despite my youth, and she felt all too weak as I sat in bed, my hand trembling as I wrote.
My personal maid, Christa, was right beside me fidgeting with the hem of her apron. She seemed so young to me now, barely fifteen, still but a child. Then again, I was only sixteen in this life.
"Here, Christa-" I handed the parchment to her eager hands. "Please make sure my father receives this letter before dinner, I'm not sure if I'll be able to join this evening."
Christa all too energetically took it in her hands and bowed, her clumsiness adding to her childlike demeanor.
"Yes my lady!" she had rushed to the door in her haste before stopping nervously by the foot of my bed. Her mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish with the effort of the words she wished to convey. I could practically see the gears turning in her mind.
"Is something wrong?" Did I look as weird as I felt?
When she didn't answer, I added "It's alright Christa, is there something you'd like to say to me?" I pushed kindly. The mother like instinct and way of speech I had developed as a doctor was still there - and it was obvious it had taken Christa by surprise.
From what I could remember, Emeline was not known to be kind. I was more or less, well, an ungrateful brat. I cringed inwardly at the thought. I may be sixteen in this body, but my mind was the age of all my collective years. I almost felt like lecturing my own self.
Christa straightened her shoulders bravely, and it made me smile. Was I so scary?
"I wanted to ask if everything with my lady was alright..." she started, her voice lowering into the next few words "...you've been sick for three days now and refuse to see the doctor. My lady also hasn't been talking very much. The master is worried."
It was true, I had taken residence inside my bedroom like a badger mole determined to sleep through the winter. I only allowed Christa to see me, and even then, only when she was to bring me meals or my books.
There were too many variables I needed to consider before I could face my family. Even when I ached to see them again, my fear of the unknown overpowered my eagerness.
I gave a gentle smile. "Please tell my father not to worry too much, Christa. I've been very under the weather due to the changing season. I should be better by tomorrow."
She nodded. "I understand Lady Emeline." then a curtsy "Please allow me to take my leave."
The door shut with an audible click once she was gone, and I was once again thrust into self-imposed isolation with my own thoughts.
Huh, a curtsy, haven't seen one of those in a long time.
I fell back upon the bed with a sigh. My eyes met the ceiling I had grown to be so well acquainted with, picking apart its strange blue patterns.
Inside my heart was a lake of feelings so deep I could scarcely see the bottom of it. A cocktail of emotions swirled inside my blood. There was great and unpalpable fear, but also excitement, relief, and a strange humbleness. In my mind remained the tangled mess of thoughts I had tried to pick at for the past three days - but I salvaged only more questions, no answers.
There was very little I was sure of.
I knew I was Emeline in this life. There was no mistake. The first day of my arrival had been a horror and a dream, and although my panic subsided quickly, the shock had only just begun to leave my system.
In little flashes throughout the day I could remember how Rose Anderson died, how I died. There were people, the screeching of tires on a cold winter's pavement, and many blinding lights. The visions would leave as quickly as they would come, and yet the remnants of the crash stayed with me and I had an anxiety attack that same afternoon. Christa didn't know what to do with me.
I took the pillow under my head and pressed my face into it.
I need facts.
~~~
The next few hours were spent in concentration, my hand upon the paper as I gathered all that I could remember of this life and the past. My limbs had felt heavy and awkward as I maneuvered myself from the bed to the dressing table.
I knew my full name to be Emeline Cordelia Vandergaust, sole daughter to the Vanderguast Knights. According to Christa, this was the year VX 1208, eight years after the great drought that plagued this land. I was sixteen.
The year VX 1208 was exactly two years before my crimes against the crown, and one year before I married into it.
I could feel the blood burning behind my eyelids as I laid my head to rest on the oaken table. Dread began to grow within my insides. The panic I felt when I awoke came back, and it took more than a feew shallow breaths for it to subside once again.
One month. I had to change the course of my fate in just one month.
The truth was, I had loved Prince Alan long ago. As much as any sixteen-year-old girl could love, I did. With all my heart.
But I had not been enough, and my anger and despair fueled the actions that soon set me on my determined path against the crown.
I squared my shoulders and looked at myself in the mirror.
"Things will be different now, Emeline." I said to myself, and I partially felt like a lunatic talking to my reflection. There was a strange familiarity in the way my eyes shone against the glass, how my hair fell in long waves behind my shoulders and down my back. I felt like myself, but at the same time, not.
"I am wiser now more than I have ever been before. I will not fail." Surprisingly, tears came to my eyes. I took comfort in the fact that I had knowledge of the future, that I was no longer the same that I was all those lifetimes ago, that with Alice's humbleness and Rose's strength, what I had become was more than I ever was as Emeline alone.
I vowed to take back my fate, and live a long and happy life pursuing the things I believed in. My love for Alan the prince, which had died the day he sentenced me to death, would no longer hinder me.
I didn't know what I wanted to do yet. But one thing's for certain, I was determined to change my life, I was determined not to die, and I was determined to enjoy my existence for as long as it was granted to me- because gnawing at the back my mind was the cycle responsible for my rebirth, and how at any moment it could once again take away all that I held dear.