A warm breeze brushed against her, soft as a sigh.
(…Deidre?)
Through her hazy awareness, Camilla wandered a world washed in pure white, searching for her child.
Deidre, Deidre. Where are you?
Where is my sweet girl?
“Mother.”
A young girl’s voice came from beyond the white.
“Over here, Mother. This way. Father is waiting, too.”
(Ah… Deidre.)
Camilla reached toward the voice.
A slender hand emerged from the mist and grasped hers firmly, tugging her onward.
The faint rustle of wind teasing the curtains was what woke Camilla.
“…Hm?”
Her eyelids fluttered, then opened slowly. The fingers she had left strewn atop the sheets trembled as she curled them into a fist, then released them again.
(…Where am I?)
Camilla sat up, moving carefully.
Only then did she realize she was lying in a bed inside an unfamiliar room.
It was a little larger than the bedchamber she normally used as the lady of the house. The bed was neatly made, without a single wrinkle from her turning in her sleep. For some reason, a bouquet lay beside the pillow, filling the room with a sweet fragrance.
“Why… am I here?”
Camilla sifted through her blurred memory.
On the night, just days before Luke was meant to return, she had seen shadowy figures attacking Deidre. She had managed to snatch her daughter up, but the liquid that was thrown had robbed her body of movement.
Luke had arrived, perhaps earlier than planned, yet Camilla had not even been able to see his face. Holding Deidre tight, she had thought she died.
And yet.
(Is this… heaven?)
Still floating in a strange, light-headed fog, Camilla stepped barefoot from the bed and went to the window.
Outside, a meadow sprawled into the distance, filled with blooming flowers. The sight made her want to laugh.
“So this really is heaven.”
There was no such lush, green landscape in the royal capital. And the wind drifting in was warm.
Camilla had died in winter, so perhaps she had been brought to a paradise of eternal spring.
She felt sorrow at the thought of never seeing her husband and daughter again, but perhaps God had praised her for protecting Deidre and brought her here. Luke would surely raise Deidre safely.
“Heaven is such a beautiful place.”
She smiled faintly and watched the field for a while, until another thought came.
Where in heaven was she, exactly?
There was a door that seemed to lead into a corridor. Perhaps other residents of heaven lived beyond it.
“Then I should introduce myself.”
With light steps, Camilla went to the door.
It was locked.
There should be no wicked people in heaven, and yet the doors were firmly secured.
Still, the lock could be undone from inside, and it opened easily. Camilla stepped into the corridor.
There were other doors along it. She knocked on several, but no one answered. Perhaps the other residents were out in the meadow, basking in the sun.
“Then I would like to join them.”
Humming softly to herself, Camilla started toward the stairs, and then paused.
She heard someone coming up from below.
Perhaps it was her heavenly neighbor.
Her heart lifted with curiosity, but the one who climbed the stairs was a beautiful young girl with blackish-gray hair.
She looked fifteen or sixteen. Her thick hair flowed down her back, and she wore a dress the same blue as her eyes. Even as a woman, Camilla found herself momentarily entranced.
Yet Camilla, who had died at twenty-six, could at least understand herself being taken. For someone so young to have died, too, felt unbearably cruel.
The girl noticed Camilla as well. Reaching the landing, she stared up at Camilla, wide-eyed and blank with shock.
“Hello,” Camilla said gently. “I’m your neighbor. My name is Camilla Beresford.”
Camilla assumed she must be the newly arrived soul and offered her greeting first. The girl covered her mouth as if in disbelief.
“No… that can’t be…”
“…Is something wrong?”
“Mother. Mother, you’re awake!”
The girl cried out, ran up the stairs, and flung herself at Camilla as though she could not stop herself. Camilla nearly toppled back, but managed to brace her feet. If she had been wearing heels instead of standing barefoot, she might have fallen with the girl in her arms.
“Oh!”
“Mother is standing. Moving. Speaking… I’ve waited so long. So very long…!”
“…neighbor?”
Camilla still did not understand. She patted the girl’s back carefully, and the girl pulled away, looking up with reddened eyes.
“Mother, you must be confused. That’s only natural.”
“…What are you saying?”
“Mother. I am Deidre. Your daughter, Deidre Beresford.”
The beautiful girl placed a hand over her chest, then smiled through tears.
“Mother, you were turned to stone, and you slept for fifteen years. I’m so happy. I’m truly happy to see you again.”
“…Excuse me?”
Camilla stared at the girl who called herself Deidre.
It seemed she had not reached heaven after all.
