She Never Gave Up

She Never Gave Up

Gabrielle Rhinehart jerked into consciousness with her chest heaving, still under the influence of an uncontrollable panic. It had been that dream again; the same dream she had been having every night for the past week. Some nights, she even had it multiple times, if it started early, woke her and then she returned to sleeping. She was never able to remember all of it, only bits and pieces of images and emotions. The one consistency was that she always awoke with a feeling of loneliness and the sense that she had failed. At just what, exactly she had failed at, she wasn’t sure. Lying back in bed, her heart finally slowed its frantic beating, and she was once again drawn into the dream.

* * *

She awoke at dawn, as she did every morning to make her husband’s lunch. He spent long hours underground, working in the salt mine. It was a dangerous job, and she always worried for his safety. As much as she wished he would find employment elsewhere, she knew there were few alternatives to the salt mine and they involved less steady work and lower pay. So instead, she smiled and kissed her husband goodbye, handing him his lunch.
This day did not start out any differently than usual; the morning routine proceeded as it always did. And yet, she felt inexplicably uneasy, as if the hairs on her neck were standing straight up. The air seemed to be charged, as before a storm, and the animals were also ill at ease.
All day, this charged feeling of anticipation remained, slowly building upon itself. She went about her daily chores, caring for the cows, sheep and chickens, wondering about the feeling that something was about to happen. She knew that occasionally she has flashes of unease before something happened, and wrote off her tension as a result of it.

* * *

Around sunset, when Alistair normally returned from work, she was preparing supper for the two of them as always. Hearing a light knock at the door, she expected her husband to be there, smiling at his own joke. Instead, she encountered Alistair’s supervisor, Cornelius Wormley standing there, hat in hand.
“May I come in Mrs. Blake?” he inquired.
“Of course, Mr. Wormley. What can I do for you?” she answered, allowing him through the door.
“Well, you see, Mrs. Blake…,”he started awkwardly.
“Mary Elizabeth, please Mr. Wormley. Alistair’s worked with you for years; you can at least call me by first name.”
“Missus…Mary Elizabeth, today one of the teams started working on a new tunnel. Alistair was one of the members of that team,” Wormley began.
“Yes, I knew that; Alistair told me about it last night at dinner. He was quite excited, as they would be implementing some new tools and methods,” Mary Elizabeth said.
“Yes, well, about that. Everything was going fine until the noon lunch break. When they returned to the mine to continue work on the new tunnel, something went awry. We don’t know what, but at least part of the tunnel collapsed. We have no way of knowing if your husband or any of the men were killed in the collapse or if they’re still alive now, trapped inside the mine.”
“No, this isn’t true! Alistair can’t be dead! You’re lying to me!” She exclaimed, shaking her head in negation of what she had been told.
“I’m sorry Mary, but it’s true. We’ve called all the other teams off from their assignments, and have them working over-time on digging through the collapse so we can find your husband’s team. They’re working over-time to try and reach them; we’ve even had the teams from all the shifts come in to work in waves on the digging.”
Standing, she walked over to where her cloak and hat hung, and wrapping it around her, she turned to Mr. Wormley.
“I appreciate you coming to tell me this Mr. Wormley; I will be accompanying you back to the mine. I endeavour to at least keep vigil at the entrance, if I can’t help the efforts.”
“But the salt mine is no place for a woman! There’s nothing you can do there, you’re better off just waiting for further word here where it’s warm and safe.”
“Do you think Alistair is warm and safe trapped within the mine? No! And I don’t intend to sit in comfort while he suffers. I will go to the mine, with or without your permission, Mr. Wormley,” she answered him forcefully, opening the door to leave.
“I, but…oh alright, you are determined to go down there no matter what I say. I might as well act as your escort for your own safety,” Mr. Wormley said with resignation, putting his hat back on and preceding Mary Elizabeth out of the house.
“Thank you Mr. Wormley. Honestly,” she said, closing the door behind them.
She followed behind Cornelius Wormley as they walked the few miles back to the salt mine where her husband, Alistair had worked for the past decade. She had known him for more than twice that, as they had grown up together, neighbours and best friends who had eventually developed a deep love for each other. They were not only husband and wife, they were each other’s best friend; to loose Alistair would be to loose half her soul. She had to do everything in her power to help bring him back to her; she would not loose him to the mine that had already claimed so much of their youth.

* * *

Upon their arrival at the salt mine, Cornelius informed one of his foremen that she was to be allowed only to the entrance of the tunnel that led to the one that had collapsed. That done, he went to discuss the progress with some of the engineers.
Left on her own, she borrowed a lantern and went to the entrance, where she stood and simply gazed into the tunnel. A while of time passed, and she began to pace back and forth around the entrance, never entering, just burning off nervous energy. Moving also helped her to think, and she certainly had a lot to think about. All night long and into the morning, she kept her vigil in front of the tunnel. Around midmorning, one of the other wives persuaded her to at least have a cup of tea; she refused all offers of food or rest, unable to fathom either while Alistair was trapped inside the collapsed mine.
By late afternoon, the workers had managed to clear as much of the rubble from the collapse as they were going to be able to without chancing another one. All they had found was the bird cage, with the crushed body of the bird contained within its warped bars. The men began to clean up what they had cleared out, and prepared to return home to their families; they had done all that they could to aid their co-workers, but they all knew the dangers of working the salt mine when they signed onto the job.
She weaved from one man to the next; imploring them to continue digging, she was certain Alistair was still alive down there. But they all assured her that even if he hadn’t been crushed in the collapse, that he was probably dead by now from lack of oxygen.
She refused to take this for an answer, and returned to her pacing of the entrance, asking only for some extra oil and wicks for the lantern. If Alistair was down there, she was not leaving him alone; she would wait here, for some sign that he was either dead or had somehow miraculously managed to escape from the earth which held him. For days she continued to pace, waiting and praying for any sign.

* * *

Gabrielle sat up in bed, stricken with grief and sympathy. Finally, she was able to remember the entire dream. She had dreamt she was Mary Elizabeth Blake, the wife of Alistair Blake, who was one of the men killed in the salt mine collapse over a century ago. She was the face and name behind the legend of the Blue Lady she had been told years ago by one of her teachers. The same apparition many of her friends and classmates claimed to have seen on multiple occasions.
Even a hundred years later, Mary Elizabeth grieved and searched for her beloved husband. She never gave up on him.

Fin