****
“So tell me everything that happened,” Jennie said as Justin handed her a broom and dustpan.
Justin had been helping Jennie clean Happily Ever After By Amelia so it would be spotless for Amelia’s return. Although the place was already tidy thanks to Justin’s earlier efforts, they were both more than happy to pretend that a good cleaning was in order so they could keep their hands and minds occupied in the hours after they’d left Amelia at Venus’s gate.
“As you know, I worked in animation. I was in the midst of developing a parallel sound system that would revolutionize the way sound is developed.”
“What does that have to do with animation?”
Justin laughed.
“Absolutely nothing. It was just something I’d been thinking about for years, based on a theory I had about how sound traveled across the fields on our farm.”
“So that’s what you were sued over?”
“Indirectly. The guy who came after me had gotten wind of my ideas. See, if this system ever works, well let’s just say movie watching will never be the same again. Nor will production. Anyway, as you know, he thought no one would believe I could have come up with such a system. So he threatened me–claimed I was guilty of intellectual property theft over the story I was currently working on. Offered me a ‘settlement.’ If I turned over my method, he’d drop the plagiarism lawsuit. Naturally I gave him my unvarnished opinion about his offer and the rest is history as they say.”
“Do you still have all your notes?”
“Yeah. I sent myself coded e-mails using my grandmother’s Swedish dialect.” Justin chuckled.
“That’s the one satisfaction I’ve gotten over all this. He had one of his minions hack into my e-mail accounts but he’s never been able to break my code.”
“You’re something else,” Jennie said. “Come on, enough with the cleaning. Let’s go for a walk.”
****
Stella closed the blind and looked down at Gerard. He’d had a relapse, shortly after Amelia left for the underworld. Once again, he’d disappeared into a hazy fog she could not penetrate. Despite the fact that he was unconscious and tethered to tubes and monitors, she could still sense the vibrant man she’d married all those years ago. Carefully she carried the chair in the corner of the room over to his bedside. She sat down beside him and took his hand in hers, as she had many times since he’d been hospitalized.
She didn’t want anyone to know of her visits. There was no use upsetting Amelia by giving her false hope that her parents would someday reconcile. And she didn’t want to have to spend any more time hearing the doctor tell her there was nothing more they could do for Gerard. So she came at odd hours, during the nurses’ shift changes and whenever she was relatively certain the doctor would not be making her rounds. She’d had a close call, earlier in the week, when she’d been forced to stand behind the curtain as a team of physicians entered the room.
“I’m glad you’re not conscious. You would never want to see Amelia suffer, and that’s what I’m afraid is going to happen with this boyfriend of hers. Do you know, she’s even gone to the underworld to hunt him down. I think she’s making a big mistake and I told her so. Letting him know she’s pregnant isn’t going to win him over. Makes her look desperate. But she says she’s got to find out whether he really is a god, and what that would make her baby. I tell you Gerard, I’m too young to be a grandmother.”
Stella looked at the face she knew so well. Although Gerard’s eyelids flickered they remained shut. She sighed. It was still so hard for her to fathom she might soon live in a world without him. Even though his persistent efforts to win her back had driven her almost insane over the years, she realized with a start how much she would miss the attention.
She touched his cheek.
“You know I’d never admit this but you’ve always made me feel special and I’ve always loved you for it.”
She picked up the remote control that swung from Gerard’s bed rail and turned on the television. That Samantha Yolandez was standing in the middle of a sand dune, still in her safari jacket, surrounded by a team of khaki wearing men and women carrying clipboards.
“We’re coming to you live from,” she glanced at a spot off-camera and nodded, “a secret location where biologists and oceanographers report that this fallow spring has extended into the sea.”
Samantha shoved the microphone into the face of a grizzled, slightly stooped man wearing small glasses atop his lopsided head.
“That’s right, Samantha. The situation is critical. Not only for marine life and the men and women who fish these waters but also for recreational boaters and swimmers. Not to mention California’s massive tourist industry, much of which is predicated upon our coastline.”
“I don’t understand, Dr. Johnson. Why is the lack of marine life so catastrophic?”
“Because it upsets our entire ecosystem. From the food chain to the safety of our waters. We’re about to see natural selection like we’ve never seen in our lifetime. It’s going to get really ugly out here.”
Stella had been so engrossed in the news report that she hadn’t heard Dr. Franklin slip into the room. She shivered and turned off the television set. She hung the remote back in his place and turned to her ex-husband.
“I’m glad you’re not seeing this, Gerard.”
“You’re right. That would be gravely upsetting,” replied a low voice.
Stella jumped.
“I, I was just passing by the hospital and thought I’d stop by.”
Dr. Franklin held up her fat fingers.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Coillard.”
Stella winced. Neither she nor Amelia had corrected the hospital’s misconception about her relationship with Gerard, though she sensed that this perceptive young woman understood the situation.
“We know you’re a frequent visitor.”
Stella tilted her head.
“You do? How?”
“This floor, and particularly Dr. Coillard’s room, is under constant video surveillance. I thought it would promote an atmosphere of healing and tranquility to remove the armed deputy from the door.”
“That was very thoughtful of you,” Stella said as she looked down at Gerard. “I guess I should also be grateful that Gerard isn’t seeing any of these news stories.”
“I agree,” Dr. Franklin replied as she picked up Gerard’s wrist. “I’m hoping that for once I’m wrong and he is immune to outside stimuli.”
Stella’s eyes widened.
“What do you mean?”
Dr. Franklin frowned.
“I thought I explained this clearly to your daughter. Research shows that many patients in Dr. Coillard’s condition hear and understand what’s going on around them even though they give no visible signs of comprehension.”
“I have to go.”
Stella slung her small designer handbag over her slender shoulder.
“Nice seeing you again,” Dr. Franklin’s voice trailed off as the heavy hospital door closed with a snap behind Stella.
****
“Everybody’s going to the underworld,” Enrique stated as he closed the elevator doors after Cupid and Concordia boarded. “If this keeps up we’ll need an underworld express.”
“Everybody?” Concordia asked absently, looking at Cupid.
Her brother was clenching his jaw the way he used to when he was small. Concordia knew that meant Cupid must be worried. She hadn’t seen him adopt his old habit in centuries.
“Practically everyone, Signorina Concordia. I just took your mother down there no more than an hour ago. And earlier today, I transported that beautiful mortal. I tell you it’s no wonder some gods think angels are really from their world.”
Enrique turned to his side and looked at Cupid.
“You’ll forgive me, but I was so certain it was the woman I heard you two discussing. It’s not that I mean to eavesdrop….”
“Of course not,” Concordia snapped, then
caught herself. “You would never do such a thing. We know that. Naturally you can’t help but overhear what people say. Listen this elevator cabin is your domain. Nobody says anything in here that they don’t want you to be privy to.”
“Thank you, Signorina.”
Enrique removed his hat and held it in his hands.
“About that woman?” she prompted. “Can you describe her?”
“She was small, almost fragile. Her hair was the color of autumn leaves. She wore a lacy white sweater. She reminded me of all those paintings you see of the Madonna, very delicate. Though I suppose I must’ve been wrong about her being the woman you spoke of, since she was a guest of your mother’s.”
“What?” Cupid practically roared.
Concordia grabbed him by the arm. “Mother’s guest?”
Enrique nodded.
“She must’ve been–it was Renaldo who brought her down here, gave her one of your mother’s protection cards.”
“Where’d you take her?” Cupid asked, his voice unsteady.
“To the main gate. But don’t worry; I told her not to concern herself with getting lost, since your mother will be able to track her every move.”
“Did she say where she was going, or what she was doing here?”
Concordia looked over at her brother. Cupid’s face had taken on a sickly yellow undertone. Concordia reached over and squeezed his hand.
Enrique frowned in concentration. “No. She seemed almost like she was in a daze. As though a spell had been cast over her.”
****
The green, wooden door at the edge of the garden opened easily. Amelia stepped over its threshold and into a hot breeze that reminded her of the desert at night after the sun had set. As she stepped from the Eden-like sanctuary she released her grasp of the door’s faded brass handle. As it swung past, lodging itself back in its green wooden frame, she noticed with horror that there was no handle on her side of the door.
The new spot where she found herself reminded her even more of California, with its often-unforgiving landscape and raw sunshine. She crossed her fingers, like she had when she was small, and began to walk across a series of low hills. With each step, the terrain grew slightly steeper and she grew increasingly parched. However there was still nowhere to buy a drink. Which was pretty irrelevant anyway, Amelia thought wryly to herself, as she had no money since she’d abandoned her purse.
She wondered what kind of currency they used in the underworld. Paper notes? Coins? Perhaps some sort of barter system? Or maybe something more esoteric like doubloons.
Amelia heard the sound of a babbling brook off to her right. She walked in its direction. When she arrived, she knelt at the water’s edge and cupped her hands, as Gerard had shown her years earlier on their camping trips, to drink the cool liquid.
As she stood up, Amelia thought she heard the sound of talking. The warm wind died down for a moment; there was only the sound of birds singing in the distance. But then the breeze shifted and she heard it again: low talking, punctuated by bursts of male laughter. She began to walk briskly in the direction of the voices, her boots brushing along what looked to be a fairly well worn path. As Amelia carefully made her way she was unaware she was being watched.
****
High above Amelia, there was a small sigh.
“Pretty, isn’t she?”
Bacchus turned to the group of Roman gods sitting with him on the wrought iron chaise lounges arranged in a circle on his stone terrace. He was hosting one of his afternoon wine tastings, which meant that his guests would be treated to a five-hour feast of fancy hors d’ouvres, several fine wines and a lot of stimulating conversation. The gods were all, like Bacchus, semi-reclined on large deep cushions. A cadre of beautiful women rubbed their shoulders, refilled their wineglasses and hand fed them the grapes Bacchus himself had selected for the day.
“Hmmm, I think you’re right, Bac. I don’t recognize her. And what is she wearing?”
Bacchus lifted a fat, fleshy hand and shielded his eyes as he peered at the figure quickly making her way toward them.
“Looks like she’s from the upper world. Unless someone here’s having a bit of a laugh at my expense.”
Bacchus gathered his toga about him and reluctantly pulled himself to his feet with the aid of two servants. The younger one, Grissella, carefully tied his crimson sash around his enormous waist and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled.
“Thank you, my dear. Could you please bring out another chair for our guest?” he asked as he narrowed his eyes. “And a water goblet; I don’t believe she’s going to be imbibing in her condition.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Venus smiled as her former lover sank into the cushion next to her. He’d just handed her a glass of wine and had that expectant look she’d always found irresistible. She had positioned herself on the settee in anticipation of this. She was in the spot where Mercury had always begged her forgiveness after one of his transgressions. She held up her glass and smiled.
“To you. For giving me Cupid.”
Mercury raised his glass.
“And to you. For my son.”
Venus rolled the warm wine around in her mouth, letting its thick body coat her teeth. Although she knew Mercury was watching her, she pretended not to notice. Slowly she let the liquid ooze down the back of her throat.
“So how is he?” Mercury asked.
He leaned forward and brushed Venus’s knee.
“You know, I’ve always been jealous of your relationship with him. He never confided in me, never wanted to work for me.”
He shook his head and continued, “I know I was wrong when he was younger and I hope you’ll forgive me. I, well he was my son. Bacchus and the others were always all over me about how he wanted to work for you instead. I didn’t handle it too well.”
Venus exhaled. It was hard to believe, she thought to herself, that she’d been so certain Cupid was working for his father. Of course that might have been easier to face than the reality that he’d abandoned his family and fellow gods, totally rejected them and their place in the world, in favor of a mortal….
“He’s enjoying L.A.?” Mercury asked.
Venus roused herself.
“Yes. He’s on a bit of a spiritual retreat in Japan just now. No doubt he’s been influenced by all that southern California New Age jargon.”
Mercury raised his eyebrows. He reached for the wine bottle and topped off their glasses.
“I guess you’re hoping that’ll get him back on track after this spring?”
Venus set her glass down so hard the glass topped iron coffee table top appeared in danger of shattering.
“Who told you I’m having trouble?”
Mercury frowned. He reached out and rubbed her shoulder. “It must’ve been Bac. You know how he hears everything since he still keeps up with the Greeks.”
“I don’t know how they’d know,” Venus pouted.
Mercury shifted uneasily.
“I’ve been warning you for centuries not to tell Aphrodite anything you don’t want broadcast to the entire underworld.”
Venus’s cheeks reddened.
“So it’s true. Vee, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Mercury stroked her hand. At the feel of his warm touch, Venus’s large eyes filled. She began to sob softly.
“I don’t know what I did to make him betray me. He’s taken up with this mortal.” she sniffed. " A matchmaker who, along with her father, is obsessed with rendering me obsolete.”
Mercury inched closer to Venus. He pulled her head onto his shoulder and slowly ran his hand through her hair. The memory of his past embraces made Venus feel even more hopeless. She lifted her head.
“You tell me what you need me to do,” Mercury said quietly. “I’m going to fix this mess. He’s not going to get away with this. And Vee, I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done that’s led to this year. All those years of disrespect.”
Mercury sh
ook his head.
“I’m going to teach Cupid the value of loyalty to his mother if it’s the last thing I do.”
****
After Dr. Franklin had discovered her at Gerald’s bedside, Stella abandoned her habit of sneaking into her ex-husband’s room at odd hours. Instead she made lengthy visits in the middle of the day, when she knew Dr. Franklin would be making her rounds, since Dr. Franklin was the one physician who did not insist on giving her moment by moment updates on Gerard’s unchanged condition.
“You know, I feel bad I can’t answer you with any degree of certainty,” Stella replied after yet another question about Gerard’s major scientific influences. “I’m afraid when he told me about his research, I didn’t listen.”
Matching Wits with Venus Page 21
