Anna's Visions (4 page)

As she closed her eyes, she saw a vision of herself,
holding a beautiful little girl with bright red hair. Anna smiled. “We’ve
already started our family. Life can’t get any better. Thank you, God,” she
whispered into the sweet darkness. Soon, she drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

Every week, Anna wrote to Ma and Pa, describing her
house, the farm, and what a wonderful life she had. When she received a reply,
she could visualize the smile on Ma’s face as she shared in her daughter’s
happiness.

Two months passed, and one day Anna made the trip down
the long driveway to the mailbox and pulled out an envelope that had no return
address. The handwriting didn’t look like Ma’s, but the letter was postmarked
Fulton, Tennessee – the same postmark as was on all of Ma’s notes.

Anna hurried back to the house, sat down on the swing
and opened the letter. It was from Aunt Mabel

My Dear Anna,

I hope this letter finds you and your new husband
doing good and adjusting to married life. We all miss you around her, but we’re
happy that you have found your true love. It saddens me to half to be the
bearer of bad news, but your ma and pa have departed this world. A falling tree
crushed them while they were cutting timber. They died in each other’s arms,
the way they would have wanted to go. The funeral service will probably be over
by the time you get this, but know we all send our deepest sympathy and all our
love. Your brothers are bearing up.

Love, Aunt Mabel

With tears in her eyes, Anna stuffed the note into her
apron pocket and whispered, “I already knew, Aunt Mable.”

When Tom came in from the fields, Anna told him about
the tragedy. Tom offered to take her back home, but Anna refused. She said that
she’d already told them goodbye, and it was good enough. There was no point in
visiting a graveyard.

Before Tom headed back out to do the evening chores,
Anna said, “I need to tell you something about me that you don’t know. Please
hear me out before you say anything.”

Tom eased himself into a chair at the kitchen table,
looked into Anna’s eyes, and listened attentively as Anna did her best to
explain her gift of sight and how visions appeared to her, but he made no
comment.

When she finished, Anna said, “I know you probably
don’t believe me, but time will prove it to you. Soon I’ll be notified of the
death of my brother, Billy Joe. I saw that in a vision the day we left my
family.”

“Whatever you
say, sweet.”
Tom shook his
head slightly, rose from the chair, and then headed for the back door.

As the door closed behind him, Anna said, “Time will
tell, husband.”

Two months later, a note arrived from T.J.

Dear Sister,

You were right. Billy Joe went missing and his body
was found at the bottom of the ravine, just like ya said he would be. The
sheriff done some investigating, and well, seems that he and that scrandal,
Morley Nelson was drinking, got to scuffling around, then that jackass pushed
Billy to his death. Morley done admitted to it, so now I’m just waiting to see
what’s gonna be done to him. I hope I get to see him hang. I miss ya and Billy
Joe was always talking about ya.

Your brother,
T.J.
 

Anna wiped her tears, stuffed the note into her apron
pocket, and whispered, “I already knew, T.J. I miss you, brother. May Billy Joe
rest in
peace.
”

When Anna told Tom about it that night, Tom again
shook his head, but this time he said, “Lord, maybe there is something to your
visions. I’m sorry I doubted you. Do you want–”

“No. There’s no use," Anna said. She knew what he
was about to ask. "A person can’t ever go back home. Ma and Pa are gone,
Billy Joe is gone, T.J. and Howard have their own lives, and Aunt Mabel is
getting on up there. The old cabin is probably falling down.” She sighed
deeply. “My home is here with you now, and whatever lies in our future. I am
home, Tom.”

* * * *

In spite of the two tragedies, Anna continued to
adjust to her new life. She made friends with neighbors and church members. She
attended the quilting bee at the little country Baptist church, every Thursday.
As the ladies pieced the quilts, Anna told all about her life in the mountains
of Tennessee. The more she told, the more she felt as if she were back in her
little cabin, doing chores, and fighting with her brothers. Being able to tell
her stories to people who seem deeply interested help her overcome her
homesickness.

Three months later Anna was thrilled to announce to
all her friends that Dr. Wilson had confirmed her pregnancy. “Our bundle of joy
will be arriving by late January, maybe early February. Tom and I couldn’t be
happier.”

In late fall, Tom built a fire, and Anna saw he had
told the truth. The fireplace was even more beautiful when there was a fire
going. It was a magnificent sight. In fact, Anna suggested that they sleep on
the floor in the living room so she could fall asleep while enjoying the
romantic glow of the fire. Tom agreed, and hurried upstairs to get some
blankets.

As December arrived, Anna was getting large – and
becoming more and more miserable, to the point where she wasn’t sure she’d ever
want another child. Being pregnant wasn’t much fun as far as she was concerned,
and she wondered how other women managed to bear so many children.

On Christmas Eve, Anna went into labor and between
contractions, she told Tom, “I think you need to go get Dr. Wilson.”

Tom replied, “I won’t be able to make it in the wagon.
The snow is too deep, but I’ll throw a saddle on old Blake and ride as fast as
I can make him go. You go lie down, try to stay calm, and I’ll be back with Dr.
Wilson as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” Anna managed to say as she headed for the bed.
She watched as Tom grabbed a heavy coat from the hook on the back of the
bedroom door. She could hear his footsteps as he ran downstairs. When she heard
the front door close, she wished him God’s speed, picturing him hurrying out
into the snowy night.

* * * *

By the time Tom and Dr. Wilson arrived back at the
house and entered the bedroom, Anna was propped up in bed, holding a baby close
to her breast but staring straight ahead, her eyes glazed.

Tom rushed to her side saying, “Anna, sweet,
are
you okay?”

Anna blinked, as if returning to reality, and then
whispered, “Oh, Tom, the baby didn’t make it. It was just too early.”

“No!” Tom cried, reaching for his lifeless son.

Anna clutched the infant tightly.
“Stop!
You can’t take him yet.”

Dr. Wilson walked to the other side of the bed and
said softly, “Anna, dear, you need to give Tom the baby. I need to check and
make sure you’re all right.”

Anna turned her head toward Dr. Wilson. “Nobody is
taking my baby yet, and you’re not going to touch me! Go away and leave me be!”

Dr. Wilson looked at Tom and motioned toward the door
with his eyes. When Tom followed him into the hallway, the doctor said, “She’s
suffering from hysteria. Let’s give her time to work through her grief – in her
own time and in her own way. I’ll stay here until she comes to terms with her
loss. Then I’ll help you bury your son.”

Tom patted Dr. Wilson’s shoulder. “You go on back
home, Doc. I’ll bury my son. Thanks for coming.”

Dr. Wilson shook his head. “If that’s the way you want
it. I’ll check back tomorrow. If you need me before then, come and get me.”

“Thanks, Doc,” said Tom as he reached into his back
pocket and pulled out his wallet.

Dr. Wilson held up his hand. “You don’t own me a
dime!” Then he headed downstairs.

Tom checked in on Anna, who hadn’t moved from where
he’d first found her, then went back downstairs, put on his heavy jacket, and
went out to the barn to begin building a tiny coffin. When he had finished, he
took the coffin and a shovel and left them on the back porch before going back
into the kitchen. Then he went upstairs, where he found Anna still clutching
the baby and staring into space.

Tom walked to her side and said softly, “Anna, please
let me take him. I’ve got to lay him to rest in the Morgan graveyard. It’s time
to let him go.”

Anna blinked twice, and then said, “Yes, you can take
him now. We’ve said our goodbyes. He’s sleeping with the angels. Keep the
blanket wrapped around him tightly. I knitted it just for him.” She kissed her
son on the forehead, and then handed him to Tom. “Goodbye, my sweet child,” she
whispered as Tom carried the baby out of the room.

He closed the door to give Anna some privacy. As soon
as it clicked shut she began to sob. Tom leaned his head against the door and
squeezed his eyes closed, fighting against his own tears of grief. He needed to
be strong for his sweet wife.

As Anna's crying softened, Tom opened his eyes and
looked upon his infant son’s little face, marveling at his perfection and
agonizing over all the moments they'd never share.

From behind the door he heard Anna argue aloud.

“I don’t understand, God. You showed me a vision of a
living baby girl. What happened? You didn’t show me a dead son. If you had, I
could have been prepared. This doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never been wrong
when I saw a vision.”

Tom still wasn’t sure of what to think about Anna’s
visions, but she seemed sure, and he couldn’t deny what he’d witnessed during
their short marriage.

A little girl, the thought gave him hope. He kissed
the head of his little boy and whispered. “You hear that? You’re going to be a
big brother someday.”

Tom dug a grave and then gently laid his son to rest.
He stood over the grave in silence for a long moment, and then wiped his tears
and headed back to the house. When he finally walked into the bedroom, he was
relieved to see that Anna was sound asleep. He made a pallet on the floor
beside the bed so he wouldn’t disturb her, but he wasn’t about to leave her
side if she should need him during the night. She didn’t wake up until almost
noon on Christmas Day.

* * * *

For the next five years, Anna placed flowers on their
son’s grave every day and said, “Sleep with the angels, Little Tom. Say hi to
your grandma and grandpa West and your uncle Billy Joe and tell them I love them.”

Anna often watched Tom climb the hill to their sons’
grave, as she peered out the window over the kitchen sink. He’d pat the
headstone, and then walk away. Though Tom never mentioned their great loss, she
knew his heart was breaking. The day their son died was the first time she had
ever seen Tom cry. He hadn’t cried since.

One morning, Anna climbed the hill, placed flowers on
the grave, but her words were different. “Hi, Little Tom,” she said. “Your mama
ain’t feeling too good today. In fact, I’ve been feeling poorly for a few days
now. I guess I need to brew some herbal tea. That should perk me up. I need to
go, now, but I’ll be back when I’m feeling better.”

As she turned to go, Anna saw a vision – and it was
instantly recognizable. She saw the same red-haired baby girl she had seen
years before. Anna smiled, looked back at Little Tom’s headstone, and said,
“Well, I guess now we know why your ma is feeling poorly. I’m going to have you
a little sister – but she won’t be joining you for a long while.”

As she walked back toward the house, Anna could feel
the heartache of the previous five years begin to dissolve and be replaced by a
happiness that was impossible to describe. She placed her hand on her abdomen
and said softly, “We’re finally going to have our little girl, Tom. Life is
wonderful! Thank you, God!”

On March 9
^th
, 1929, Anna gave birth to a
beautiful baby girl. She had dark hair and dark eyes like Anna. Again, Anna
wondered about the vision she had seen twice of the redheaded little girl with
green eyes, the spitting image of Tom Morgan. Maybe another one was coming
soon. She kissed her baby girl and said, “You sure don’t look the way I saw
you, but you sure are a beautiful, my little Mona Marie.

The years swiftly passed, and although Tom and Anna
had no more children, Anna often laughed and said, “It’s a good thing we only
have one child. She’s a handful. I don’t think we could keep up with another
one.”

“You’re right, sweet. One is all we need. How could we
ask for more? She may be a handful, but she’s perfect. We could never do
better, no matter how hard we tried.”

But the vision of a redheaded little girl with green
eyes kept coming to Anna.

Anna’s Note

June 14, 1957

I shuffled down
the hospital corridor like a shambling dwarf, my 5’4” body slightly bent from
osteoporosis. The arthritis in my hips and knees was causing me pain, yet I
hurried as quickly as I could. I’ve always been famous for making predictions
about newborn babies, and I believe that the first hour after a new soul enters
the world is the most crucial – and my first grandchild was almost an hour old.