𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧

PROLOGUE

9 October, 2024

"I know it's true...

"It's all because of you..."

An early autumn breeze teased the pale yellow curtains, shuffling them innocently before the open window. The words from the small tabletop radio seemed to float on the wind, sailing serenely through the cooled air until they filled the tiny room, bouncing softly off the walls.

It was simple in there, as a room of that nature had to be. Paint an angel food cake yellow to match the curtains, a plain mirror on the far wall. There was a large table beneath it that held all sorts of things: denture cleaning tablets, worn knit cardigans, old birthday and sympathy cards, and a vase of fresh lilies.

There was a door to the hallway, a door to the closet, a door to the bathroom. A periwinkle shag rug sat on the floor next to the bed, though no one ever stood on it.

And against the window, tucked into her bed the way a child would be, an elderly woman lay sleeping. Well, the closest she ever got to sleeping, anyway. In her dozing state she was still able to hear the radio, and she quite liked it that way. Frequently in her old age her eyes would simply grow too tired, so she would close them and let music be her world for a while.

Often the radio would choose the music for her. She couldn't reach it where she lay, so if she wanted to change the dials herself she had to call one of the nurses to bring it over to her. All too often it would fall slightly out of tune and go fuzzy, or worse yet a newer song would come on, and she couldn't stand those. It sounded shallow - but it wasn't as though she could remember anything else. Her nurse seemed to like it; she was probably the one who switched it all the time - but she couldn't understand why. She was sure she remembered a different kind of music, a kind she hadn't heard in a very long time. But every time she came closer to it, it slipped away.

The woman was used to this. She hadn't been able to remember much of anything for a long time. She remembered where her hands and feet were, of course; she could wiggle her fingers and toes when the nurses asked her to. But she couldn't remember where the long scar on her right hand had come from. And she couldn't remember why she was here in the yellow room. None of it made any sense, how sometimes the sun shone so brightly in her eyes and other times the sky clouded with rain.

Sometimes the world boomed with an energy she didn't understand. Those were the times when she had to call her nurse in, because she was scared. The nurse would bring her another blanket, a softer pillow, and maybe a cup of tea. But what she liked best was the radio.

This song had to be the most beautiful one she'd ever heard. The singer's voice was soft and tender; and hearing it felt like a wave of warmth passing through her. And something about it sounded vaguely familiar. It possessed her for a moment that maybe she'd been there when the song was written. But that was impossible. She didn't know any songwriters. Or if she once did, she didn't remember them now. She knew that she was very old, though. Perhaps she only remembered hearing the song on the radio years before.

How old the song was, though, she couldn't easily place. It didn't have the fast, energetic sound that most of the songs she liked did, and it wasn't clicky and mechanical like the songs that came on the newer stations. There was only a piano - at least she thought it was called a piano - and a voice.

"Well we will know for sure,

"That I... love you..."

And in that moment it hit her. Suddenly a flash of light, of something. The sound of fingernails striking metal strings, of a guitar strumming; God it had been long since she'd heard that sound. A flash of her own two hands in front of her, holding a pair of bony hands; a flash of long, wavy red-brown hair, of thin, round tortoiseshell glasses, of big, inquisitive brown eyes, of a thin face with dimples and a sly smile that turned up at the corners.

And suddenly she remembered that today was a special day. She knew it, she knew it so strongly it made her bite her tongue and wriggle her knobby fingers. She knew it was special, but she didn't know why. Surely there was a reason, but it had escaped her. 9 October. 9 October. What was special about 9 October?

She felt her eyes growing droopy; trying to remember things was typically exhausting, which was why she didn't try often. She saw one last flash in her head, someone sitting in a chair before her. She saw the same bony hands and a guitar, playing the same song the radio was playing - but right in front of her.

Her eyes were too heavy to keep open, and so she let them close, the weight of what had just come over her already starting to disappear into a cloud again. Faintly she heard a gentle knock, the creak of the door opening, the last few words of the song,

"I know you will return to me,

"It is our destiny..."

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HELLO! THE BOOK IS BACK!!!

I am so very excited to premiere this new project, the second piece of the story of John and Fiona. It's going to be another long haul, but I'm ready for it - and I hope you are too.

New chapters will be every Sunday once again - however, I can say without a doubt that there will be some weeks that just won't happen. That's me being honest; stay tuned for updates!

I picked today to premiere because, as we all know, it's a special day for a certain boy. Happy birthday, John.

And with that, please enjoy 'Now and Then'!