The Thirteenth Tale

ground and showing their points, green and fresh, above the snow.

As I stood up I heard a sound. It was Aurelius, arriving at the lychgate. Snow had settled on his shoulders and he was carrying flowers. 'Aurelius!' How could he have grown so sad? So pale? 'You've changed,' I said.

'I have worn myself out on a wild-goose chase.' His eyes, always mild, had lightened to the same washed-out blue as the January sky; you could see straight through their transparency to his disappointed heart. 'All my life I have wanted to find my family. I wanted to know who I was. And lately I have felt hopeful. I thought there might be some chance of restoration. Now I fear I was mistaken.'

We walked along the grass path between the graves and cleared the snow from the bench and sat down before more could fall. Aurelius delved into his pocket and unwrapped two pieces of cake. Absently he handed one to me and dug his teeth into the other.

'Is that what you have for me?' he asked, looking at the casket. 'Is that the rest of my story?'

I handed him the casket.

'Isn't it light? Light as air. And yet…' His hand veered to his heart; he sought a gesture to show how heavy his heart was; not finding it, he put down the casket and took another bite of cake.

When he had finished the last morsel he spoke. 'If she was my mother, why was I not with her? Why did I not die with her, in this place? Why would she take me away to Mrs. Love's house and then come back here to a house on fire? Why? It doesn't make sense.'

I followed him as he stepped off the central path and made his way into the maze of narrow borders between the graves. He stopped at a grave I had looked at before and laid down his flowers. The stone was a simple one.

JOAN MARY LOVE

NEVER FORGOTTEN

Poor Aurelius. He was so very weary. He hardly seemed to notice as I slipped my arm through his. But then he turned to face me fully. 'Perhaps it's better not to have a story at all, rather than have one that keeps changing. I have spent my whole life chasing after my story and never quite catching it. Running after my story when I had Mrs. Love all along. She loved me, you know.'

'I never doubted it.' She had been a good mother to him. Better than either of the twins could have been. 'Perhaps it's better not to know,' I suggested.

He looked from the gravestone to the white sky. 'Doyou think so?'

'No.'

'Then why suggest it?'

I slid my arm from his and tucked my cold hands under the arms of my coat. 'It's what my mother would say. She thinks a weightless story is better than one that's too heavy.' 'So. My story is a heavy one.' I said nothing, and when the silence grew long, I told him not his story but my own. 'I had a sister,' I began. 'A twin.' He turned to face me. His shoulders were solid and wide against the sky and he listened gravely to the story I poured out to him.

'We were joined. Here-' and I brushed my hand down my left side. 'She couldn't live without me. She needed my heart to beat for her. But I couldn't live with her. She was draining my strength. They separated us, and she died.'

My other hand joined the first over my scar, and I pressed hard. 'My mother never told me. She thought it was better for me not to know.' 'A weightless story.' 'Yes.' 'But you do know.' I pressed harder. 'I found out by accident.' 'I am sorry,' he said. I felt my hands taken by his, and he enclosed both of them into one great fist. Then, with his other arm, he drew me to him. Through layers of coats I felt the softness of his belly, and a rush of noise came to my ear. It is the beating of his heart, I thought. A human heart. By my side. So this is what it's like. I listened.

Then we drew apart.

'And is it better to know?' he asked me.

'I can't tell you. But once you know, it's impossible to go back.'

'And you know my story.'

'Yes.'

'My true story.'

'Yes.'

He barely hesitated. Just took a breath and seemed to grow a little bigger.

'You had better tell me, then,' he said.

I told. And while I told we walked, and when I finished telling we were standing at the place where the snowdrops were pointing through the whiteness of the snow.

With the casket in his hands, Aurelius hesitated. 'I have a feeling this is against the rules.'

I thought it was, too. 'But what else can we do?'

'The rules don't work for this case, do they?'

'Nothing else would be right.'

'Come on, then.'

We used the cake knife to gouge a hollow in the frozen earth above the coffin of the woman I knew as Emmeline. Aurelius tipped the ashes into it, and we replaced the earth to cover them. Aurelius pressed down with all his weight, and then we rearranged the flowers to hide the disturbance.

'It will level out with the melting of the snow,' he said. And he brushed the snow from his trouser legs.

'Aurelius, there is more to your story.'

I led him to another part of the churchyard. 'You know about your mother now. But you had a father, too.' I indicated Ambrose's gravestone. 'The A and the S on the piece of paper you showed me. It was his name. His bag, too. It was used for carrying game. That explains the feather.'

I paused. It was a lot for Aurelius to take in. When after a long moment he nodded, I went on. 'He was a good man. You are very like him.'

Aurelius stared. Dazed. More knowledge. More loss. 'He is dead. I see.'

'That's not all,' I said softly. He turned his eyes slowly to mine, and I read in them the fear that there was to be no end to the story of his abandonment.

I took his hand. I smiled at him.

'After you were born, Ambrose married. He had another child.'

It took a moment for him to realize what it meant, and when he did, a jolt of excitement brought his frame to life. 'You mean… I have… And she… he… she-'

'Yes! A sister!'

The smile grew broad on his face.

I went on. 'And she has her own children in turn. A boy and a girl!'

'A niece! And a nephew!'

I took his hands into mine to stop them shaking. 'h family, Aurelius.

Your family. You know them already. And they are expecting you.'

I could hardly keep up with him as we passed through the lych-gate and strode down the avenue to the white gatehouse. Aurelius never looked back. Only at the gatehouse did we pause, and that was because of me.

'Aurelius! I almost forgot to give you this.'

He took the white envelope and opened it, distracted by joy. He drew out the card and gave me a look. 'What? Not really?' 'Yes. Really.' 'Today?' 'Today!' Something possessed me at that moment. I did something

I have never done in my life before and never expected to do, either. I opened my mouth and shouted at the top of my voice, 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY!'

I must have been a bit mad. In any case, I felt embarrassed. Not that Aurelius cared. He was standing motionless, arms stretched out on either side of him, eyes closed and face turned skyward. All the happiness in the world was falling on him with the snow.

In Karen's garden the snow bore the prints of chase games, small footprints and smaller ones following one