A cold November wind blew across the runway of Boston’s Logan Field. Helena peered out the window as her plane touched down. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was there. She had attended Victor Bergman’s memorial service a few days before thinking that would be her chance to say goodbye to her old friend. She had walked John Koenig to his plane after it was over. John was accompanying Victor’s body back to Boston. He was to make all the arrangements to have Victor buried next to his wife then return to Texas. That was the plan, until last night when he telephoned her. She had immediately realized that something was wrong. He didn’t sound good and he wouldn’t tell her why. After they hung up, she called the airlines and made a reservation. He didn’t know she was coming and she hoped that her impulsive decision would not be a mistake.
John Koenig stared out the window of his hotel room. Making the arrangements for Victor’s burial had been a long and difficult task. He just wanted it to be over. Victor had been a close friend and his death hit John particularly hard. Not only did he feel grief over Victor’s death, he also felt guilty for not being there when Victor died. "I should have been there," he muttered to himself. "I should have stopped him from driving." He pounded the windowsill with his fist as he looked at the busy street below his hotel room. He wanted to cry, to scream, to let the world know how much he was hurting but he couldn’t let go. As he turned from the window, he heard a soft knocking at the door.
He opened the door expecting to find Victor’s niece who had telephoned earlier. He was silent when he saw her. Without saying a word, he pulled her into his embrace. She felt his body tense against hers. After several long minutes they pulled apart. She looked into his eyes and knew immediately that he was hurting. He brought her luggage into the room and closed the door.
"Helena," he called as he pulled her in to another embrace. "What are you doing here?"
She exhaled deeply, still worried about her decision to come. "I had to come, John. I was worried about you." She shifted back slightly so she could look at him.
"Me?" he asked softly.
A small smile crossed her face. "Yes, you," she leaned up to kiss him. He barely responded to her kiss. She searched his eyes trying to judge his reaction. "Something is wrong, isn’t it?" He pulled away from her suddenly, uncomfortable with her presence. Hoping to break the ice, she moved over to touch his elbow. "Let’s get something to eat."
He smiled slightly, "You’re always hungry."
"Well, I didn’t get breakfast this morning." She touched his cheek with her palm. Her eyes became serious. "Maybe after lunch we can take a walk down by the harbor."
"Sure," he replied softly. "Just let me leave a note for Victoria. She was going to drop off Victor’s favorite prayer. He wanted it read tomorrow..." John’s voiced cracked and he stopped in mid-sentence.
Helena took his hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze as he tried to regain control over his emotions. She said nothing. He would tell her what was bothering him when he was ready.
During lunch he told her about the arrangements and the difficulties he’d encountered since he arrived. Victor had very few relatives and it had been a difficult task to locate them. When their meal was over they left the restaurant and began walking down by the harbor. It started raining as they walked. They found a bench under a gazebo and sat down. John felt Helena shiver and he placed his coat around her shoulders. "John..." she looked up into his troubled eyes, "tell me what’s really wrong. Maybe I can help."
Tears welled up in his eyes and he started to tremble. ‘Helena...I should have been there. I...should have been there and stopped him from driving. If I had been there he would still be alive."
Helena turned John so that she could look directly into his eyes. "John, there is nothing you could have done that would have saved Victor."
"Helena, I could have done something...driven him home or to the hospital" He pulled away from her and looked in the opposite direction.
"John, it wouldn’t have mattered..." He turned to look at her. "Victor would have died regardless. He had an aneurysm. It killed him."
"An aneurysm?" John turned around quickly and stared at Helena. " Dean said he died from his injuries in the wreck."
"Yes, he did die from his injuries in the accident."
"But you just said his aneurysm killed him?"
Helena crossed over to John. She knew he didn’t really understand. "Remember all those headaches?" John shook his head. "Well, those headaches were caused by an aneurysm his brain. Victor had a headache the day of the accident that much we know. John, there are witnesses that saw Victor driving erratically before the accident. He may have died because his heart couldn’t be repaired but the aneurysm caused the accident. There was no way for you to know about that..."
John stood silently staring at her trying to sort through all that she had said.
"It’s not your fault, John. You did everything you could to get him in for a check up."
John turned about and looked across the water, still trying to sort through his feelings. He turned swiftly and looked into Helena’s eyes. "I was with you when he died. I should have been there with him. Maybe he did die from that aneurysm, but I should have been there with him...and...not with you."
His words caught her off guard and she nearly lost her composure. It suddenly occurred to her that this was the reason he was acting so strangely. He was feeling guilty over being with her and not with Victor. With tears forming in her eyes she said, "Maybe my coming to Boston was a bad idea." She looked about slowly no longer able to face him.
"Maybe." He said distantly.
"Maybe we are a bad idea."
"Maybe."
After an awkward silence she spoke, "I’ll just go back to the hotel and get my things." She turned and walked past him. Stopping as she crossed in front of him she faced him. John looked at her and saw the hurt in her eyes. Hurt he had put there. "John, there is nothing you could have done to prevent his death. And as for as our being together when he died...well that’s something you’ll have to come to grips with on your own terms. You can’t go around feeling guilty because you weren’t there. I don’t think Victor would want that."
He remained silent as she spoke, staring out at the passing ships.
She turned and took two steps away from him and then turned back, "You know I remember a kind gentle old man who tried to bring us together once. I wonder what he’d think of us now?"
She moved away from him and started running back to the hotel. He stood watching her as she disappeared into a sea of umbrellas. She’d given him a lot to think about.
He moved from the gazebo and started walking in opposite direction. As he walked he thought about what she’d said. Watching one of the tall ships pass through the harbor, Koenig heard a voice behind him.
"John, Why are you doing this?"
John turned and stood speechless. All he could manage to say was one word, "Victor."
"Don’t stand there looking at me like that. It’s really me. I’ve been watching you...and Helena." He pointed his index finger in the air.
Koenig shook his head not sure of what he was seeing. "But you’re dead..." He blurted out still in shock.
"Well, yes my boy I am dead. Should have listened to you when you told me to see a doctor. Guess I was a stubborn old man." He grinned. "Now come over here and sit next to me, I want to have a word with you."
John moved cautiously over to the bench and sat down. He reached out with his hand to touch Victor but his hand simply passed through the air.
"Interesting, isn’t it?" Victor remarked as he watched John’s expression.
"I must be seeing things," Koenig muttered.
"No, you aren’t seeing things. I’m really here, in spirit of course."
"But how? Why?"
"Well, like I said I’ve been watching you. I know that you are beating yourself up about my death, thinking that you could have stopped me from dying."
John leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.
Suddenly, John felt the pressure of a hand being placed on his shoulder. He looked up still unsure about the whole situation. "John, listen to me. There was nothing you could have done to stop me. It was my time to go. You did everything you could."
"But, I should have been there when you died..." The remainder of the statement went unsaid.
"John, you were right where I wanted you to be. I didn’t want you there to see me die. You’ve seen too many people you’ve loved die."
"Victor..." His voice broke as tears returned to his eyes.
"Shhh...Hush John. Now I’m going to tell you something and you may find it hard to believe but nonetheless...John, I was given the opportunity to live or die. I chose to die."
The words shocked John back into reality. He stand up and turned toward the vision. "But why Victor? There is so much more you could do here."
"I know you find it hard to understand. But while I was lying in that hospital bed, I was reunited with my wife. Seeing her again made me very happy." He stopped and smile. " Oh, she tried to talk me into coming back, you know she was always like that." He grinned at John. "But I realized that you were my only reason to return. I was living just for you. I’ve worried about you since you were 18 years old. Now with Helena in the picture, my job is done. I can return to my wife."
"Helena..."
"It has always been my desire for you to be happy. She is the woman that will make you happy. She is your destiny."
"What?"
"She will be the one that worries about you from now on. She is your destiny. I chose to die because I knew you were with her. John, don’t you see? You were meant to be with her instead of me. I planned it that way" The old man looked at the expression of his friend and nodded his head.
It was at that point that Koenig realized that Victor didn’t want him there when he died. The cloud of guilt that had followed him from Florida disappeared. And for a moment he felt relieved. Until he realized that he had sent Helena away.
"She was my destiny, you mean." He stood and moved several paces from the bench.
"Oh yes, I saw that little exchange earlier. She’s a forgiving woman, John. Go to her. She’ll understand."
"She’s gone back to Florida." He stated sadly
"Well I wouldn’t be surprised if she can’t get back until tomorrow." He winked.
"Do you know something that I don’t know?"
Victor laughed loudly. "I know that the two of you are meant to be together. Whether either of you realize it or not. Promise me, that you’ll talk to her."
As John looked at Victor’s image it began to grow dim as if it was about to disappear.
"Victor?"
"My time here is done. I must return to my destiny just like you must return to yours."
"Victor, before you go...I wanted to thank you for all the things you did for me throughout your life." John’s voice began to crack but he continued. "I love you."
Victor smiled back. "You were the son I never had and you did me proud. I love you too." With those parting words, Victor’s image vanished.
Only John remained standing in the drizzling raining staring at an empty park bench.
A few hours later, Koenig arrived back at the hotel to find a note attached to his door. "Please send my luggage to room 127. I am unable to fly out until tomorrow. Thanks. HR."
He was relieved to see that she hadn’t gone back to Florida. He realized on the way back to the hotel that Victor was right. Helena was the woman that would make him happy. Smiling as he recalled Victor’s words, he grabbed Helena’s bag and headed downstairs to her room. He ran down the stairs to the first floor not wanting to wait for the elevator. When he reached her room, he held his breath hoping that she would talk to him.
Helena opened the door surprised to see Koenig standing there. "John?" She said searching his eyes trying to read his feelings.
He dropped her bags and pulled her into his arms. "I’m sorry...I’m so sorry," he cried as burying his face against her shoulder.
"Shh...shh.." She moved him inside the room. "Helena, I’m sorry about what I said. I know that Victor wanted us to be together and happy. It wasn’t a mistake for you to come. We aren’t a mistake."
She pulled away from him and wiped his tears away. "I know...I know."
"Will you stay and go with me tomorrow for his burial?"
She smiled up at him knowing that he had faced his ghosts and won. "Sure," she cupped his face with her hands. "I’ll be right here."
The next day under a gray New England sky, Victor Bergman was buried next to his wife. A small gathering of people attended the service. Victor’s only niece read her Uncle’s favorite prayer. When the service was over and those in attendance began to leave the cemetery, John remained at Victor’s grave. He knelt down by the side of the grave and grabbed a handful of soil. He gently tossed it on top of the grave. "Goodbye Victor and thank you."
December, 1999