Lillian

Epilogue

It was almost three p.m. by Vincent's watch and he looked up pleased as the neatly dressed stranger, a Rastafarian man, walked up to him. They shook hands briefly before Vincent walked him over to the painting that he had expressed such an interest in seeing over the phone. His awe was apparent and he took in the huge painting in oil of the two people who had defied the dictates of their time and sired an empire.

"Richard and Lillian Hawthorne!" he exclaimed in a powerful tremulous whisper that suggested the two were not just subjects on canvas to him but something much more. Vincent nodded and gazed at the work himself. He was never tired of recounting the story of their much frowned upon relationship in an era where sugar and slavery were still powerful remnants of the day and he had never stopped believing that somewhere out there waiting for him was a woman as courageous, beautiful and graceful as the striking black woman who gazed down smilingly at him now. It was as if he knew her somehow and he mentioned his mutual love of the piece to the slim bodied Rastafarian man who also stood paying homage to it.

The man who stood proudly beside Lillian had inherited the famous Bluefields estate from his very wealthy but childless uncle and had used it to acquire all the surrounding estates due largely in part to a black labour force that admired and revered him for his fair and humane treatment of all individuals regardless of race. In a society where the black majority was still treated as chattel by an oppressive white minority the much ostracized couple had founded schools, a hospital and various social programs that had helped to uplift the poor and downtrodden in that part of the island. For her part Lillian became a strong advocate for black women and the mother of three beautiful children who later went on to make even more powerful strides in history.

It was an awe inspiring story and Ras Marcus listened to Vincent even though he had grown up in Bluefields himself. It was as if history...no it was as if time itself had been altered and the sheer awesomeness of it baffled him to the core. Up to a week ago he had never heard of their story, had never known of those events despite his forty odd years of living on the beach that stood in the shadow of the imposing great house. What he remembered was the beautiful young woman who had visited his beach-side restaurant, smiled at him and had sent him reeling back to his childhood: The same young woman whom he had accompanied to the house that night and who had disappeared without a trace.

All that he found when he had entered the strange room for the second time in his life was a very old, wooden music box with his name elegantly etched into the surface. Somehow he knew that the box had been left there for him but it was only in the privacy of his bedroom that night that he had found the secret compartment stuffed with elegant gold pieces. There had also been a succinct note on paper grown brown with age that had brought tears to his eyes and had told him everything:

"A gift in exchange for my most precious gift Marcus."

It had been signed R. Hawthorne and even though he couldn't even pretend to understand it all a profound sense of joy had taken over his spirits. It was that same sense of joy that now seeped through him as the couple who had battled bigotry, fear and the confines of death smiled knowingly at him from the shadows of the high museum wall.

Finis

A/N

This is it guys! The end of Lillian and Richard's story. It was an awesome first experience and I look forward to publishing again soon and benefiting from your love and encouragement. This isn't goodbye...just until next time. 

P.S: Look out for Ghost Lover soon!