into his wife's eyes and saw no trace of their teenage son's death. It was supposed to be a good thing. He'd erased the pain. Margaret would no longer cry out in the middle of the night. She would be able to eat again and move on with life.

But she'd never again remember she'd had a son. In order to erase the memory of their son's death from her mind, Benjamin had to erase the memory of the boy's life as well.

A tear coursed down Benjamin's cheek. Margaret reached out and wiped it away.

“Why are you crying? It's only a little headache.” She smiled, and her eyes were full of light for the first time in months. “I'll be up in just a little while. I feel much better now.” The light in her eyes dimmed. “Of course…”

“What, dear?”

Her forehead creased and her head sunk into the pillow again. “Well, I don't quite remember getting this headache. And I feel kind of…fuzzy.”

“Must have been a migraine then. You know you've been having those lately.” Benjamin brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “Get some rest. I'm sure you'll feel like getting out of bed soon.”

He stood and closed the blinds, banishing the late-morning sunlight from the bedroom. Margaret closed her eyes, and before Benjamin left the room, her breathing was deep and steady.

Benjamin sat down behind the huge mahogany desk in his study. Tears burned his eyes, but he refused to let them flow. He'd made the right decision. Margaret's pain was too much to bear. He'd already lost his son; he couldn't survive losing his wife as well. And if she didn't start eating, she was going to waste away. She'd loosened her grip on life the day their son had died, and no amount of coaxing would budge her. She was willing herself to die.

Benjamin had tried everything. Erasing her memory had been his last resort. Erasing memories had been a last resort ever since the incident on the playground when he was ten. A boy had bullied him, and Benjamin had made all the kids on the playground forget, just as he always did when he embarrassed himself.

But something unexpected had happened. A girl on the playground had a Talent for amplifying other people's magic. When Benjamin had used his Talent, she'd lost her memory completely. He'd wiped her mind clean, including her ability to use her Talent. Benjamin had tried his best, but he couldn't reverse it. And he swore he would never use his Talent again.

He pulled open the desk drawer and lifted the false bottom. Underneath lay a picture of his son--the only one left in the house. He'd had to eliminate every bit of evidence, and it had broken his heart. But it was worth the cost to save Margaret.

*

The first days passed without incident, and Benjamin relished the renewed joy in Margaret's eyes. She woke each morning singing, and resumed her favorite hobby, baking.

She laughed as she licked chocolate icing from her finger. “This is heavenly, Ben. Come taste. I feel as if I haven't eaten in months.”

Benjamin felt a hollow spot open up inside of him. He stood silently in the doorway, gazing at Margaret's thin frame. A few days hadn't done much to put weight back on her, but given time…

Weeks later, she looked as frail as ever. She still sang in the mornings, but at times would stop and stare out the window. Then she continued her song, albeit more solemnly.

Soon, she began to make comments and ask questions.

“Ben, there are days when I feel like I've misplaced something, but I can't seem to remember what it is. That's not supposed to happen until I'm old.” She chuckled, but her brow furrowed nonetheless.

“Ben, why didn't we take that vacation we were talking about last year?” She stared down at the brochure for a Bed and Breakfast with the price of a two-bedroom suite circled. It had been planned for the very week following their son's death.

“Ben, there's this lullaby that keeps playing over and over in my head. I can hear the tune, but not the words. If I can't think of them soon, it's going to drive me mad!” She smiled playfully, and then turned to leave the room, and grabbed the doorframe as if to steady herself.

“Ben, why doesn't anyone want to visit us?”

He was beginning to run out of excuses to give her and only sighed. No one knew what he'd done, and he hadn't yet figured out a way to explain it. He continued to tell people she was in mourning and wanted to be left alone.

And then came a day when he could not ignore the signs any longer.

“Ben,” she said, rocking on the front porch, “I keep trying to remember what we used that back room for. It wasn't always a storage room.” Her chair stopped its movement and she raised her head. “I can't remember a lot of things lately, Ben. I'm thinking maybe I should go see the doctor.”

A tear slipped down her cheek and Benjamin's throat threatened to squeeze shut. The hollow inside him grew.

Six months after their son's death, Benjamin agreed to take Margaret to the doctor. She still had not gained an ounce. Her sleeping was fitful some nights, and other times she slept the day away. Benjamin often caught her muttering to herself, and when he asked what she was saying, she replied, “Nothing, I was just trying to…” But she never finished the sentence.

And worst of all, the light in her eyes dimmed ever so slightly with each passing day.

The doctor looked Benjamin square in the eye. “She's dying.”

The words ground Benjamin's eardrums, boring a hole into his brain. No…no…she can't be! I took away the pain! His chest tightened, and he struggled for breath.

Tears glistened in the doctor's eyes as he peered over his glasses. “There's nothing I can do.”

Ben allowed the man to grip his shoulder, and then slumped in his chair and sobbed. All he'd wanted was his wife back. He knew he could never have his son again, but why Margaret?

The words he dreaded asking sliced through his throat. “How long does she have?”

The doctor's shoulders sagged, and his eyes clouded. “Two, maybe three weeks.”

It couldn't be. She was thin, yes, but not so much. Her eyes were dark underneath, but she'd been through a lot. Benjamin could erase the memories, but not the damage her months of mourning had done.

He dropped his face into his hands. That's right. It was only the memories I erased. The experience is still there.

He hadn't saved his wife, he'd only stolen their son from her.

As he walked into their room the next day, it struck him how tiny Margaret looked. Like a baby bird curled up under a huge quilt. Huge, sorrow-rimmed eyes stared at him from over the covers. She'd refused to go to the hospital. She wanted to die at home, in familiar surroundings, on her own terms.

Benjamin sat beside her and stroked her hair from her face.

“I've done something, Maggie, and I need to tell you about it. I've taken something from you, something precious…” He inhaled deeply and fought to steady the tremble that was overtaking his hand. “I took what meant the most in the world to you. But, I love you. And I'm giving it back.”

She stared at him, a look of confusion playing on her face. “What could you have taken from me, Ben? What are you talking about?” Her voice was so weak. Ben shuddered.

“Here, this will answer your questions. All of them.”

He laid his hand on her forehead and allowed the energy to flow through him. Margaret gasped as if in pain, and her brittle hand reached up and touched his arm. Tears were streaming down her face.

“Benjamin…it's….Peter.” She choked on a sob. “He's what I couldn't remember.”

Benjamin begged her forgiveness, and she responded by kissing his hand.

For two weeks they talked about their son. They shared stories and memories of Peter as a baby, as a child, and finally as a young man. They didn't speak of his death, only his life.

They didn't mention Margaret's death either, although with each day its presence made itself more known. Finally, it could be ignored no more, as Margaret's breathing slowed and she looked at Benjamin with knowing eyes.


“Sing to me, Ben,” she said, barely more than a whisper.

And he did--a lullaby.

“I know the words again,” she said when he was done. “Thank you, Ben, for the gift.”


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~~~~~ <~
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Kat Heckenbach is a freelance writer, homeschool mom, and magna cum laude graduate of the University of Tampa (Biology). Her short fiction ranges from light-hearted fantasy to dark and disturbing. You can enter her world and learn about her novels and other writing at www.findingangel.com and www.kat-findingangel.blogspot.com