by B. Roman
“This sounds serious. Are you sure you're over her?”
“Truthfully? No…I'm not sure.”
Heather stops short and grabs David's arm. “David Nickerson!” Heather says, signing emphatically every word she announces out loud. “You tell me right now if I mean anything to you, if we have any kind of future together or if I should just move on!”
David put his hands gently on her shoulders, trying to reassure her. “No, no. You do mean something to me, Heather. It's just that I never know what's going to happen to me. My life has been so crazy.”
“Crazy? You mean like walking on water and getting on a clipper ship made of crystal and gold and then sailing through the air out of sight? That kind of crazy?”
David drops his hands to his sides, slightly embarrassed. “Well…yeah…that is crazy all right.”
“Are you ever going to explain that to me?”
David is stumped. He wants to tell her, but then again doesn't want to. It's his personal experience, his very own manifestation. Yet, he needs to tell someone all of it.
Not today, however.
“Be patient with me, Heather,” David says. “I might be able to tell you someday. But if I did, you'd probably run for the hills. I don't want to lose you over this.”
Heather sighs deeply. “I know I'll be sorry for letting you off the hook, but it's okay. I'll try to wait for someday.”
Epilogue
Sally deftly climbs the steep, narrow stairs to the attic of the house. From the top of the stairs, David smiles happily at his sister's agility.
“Did you find the chest, David?” Sally moves her fingers swiftly to sign the question.
“No,” he says, clearing away some cobwebs from the rafters. “I waited for you so we could make this mysterious discovery together.”
David and Sally carefully move and re-stack boxes and old furniture to another part of the attic to reveal the secretly stored chest Dorothy bequeathed to them.
“I wonder why no one ever found it before now.”
“I don't know that anybody even knew it was up here but Aunt Dorothy,” David reminds her. “No one's been up here in years.”
“It looks almost new, even though it's an antique.”
Using the oversized key Dorothy had put in the envelope with a copy of her Will, David easily opens the teakwood treasure chest. He lifts the lid and rests it back on its hinges. Inside are other small boxes and items wrapped in silk cloth, mementos of Dorothy's colorful life as a member of the Nickerson clan.
One by one, Sally and David carefully open each box, reveal each photo. One in particular catches Sally's attention. It is a sepia-toned photo of a beautiful woman, dressed rather glamorously in a satin and lace form-fitting gown. It is signed, just as one would sign an autograph, “To my beloved grandniece, Dorothy. Welcome to the world. Love, your Aunt Rose.”
In the same package as the photo, there are theater playbills featuring the name Rose Wyndham, as “chanteuse and principal dancer” in several turn-of-the-century shows.
“David, this was Dorothy's aunt? That means she was Dorothy's mother's sister, and our great aunt? She sang and danced, and her name was Rose. How amazing.”
“More than amazing, Sal. Take a closer look at what's around her neck.”
Sally gasps. “My gosh!” She instinctively places her hand up to her chest, where the Rose Crystal pendant rests. “It looks just like — “
“Just like,” David repeats.
“This is so exciting, David. What else are we going to find?”
“Well, I have a feeling the answers are in here.” David holds up an old journal and opens the cover.
Inside is a picture of an old man, David and Sally's great-grandfather, standing on the deck of a beautiful white sailing ship. He squints to make out the name imprinted on the hull, but it is too small. Sally hands David a magnifying glass that is packed inside the journal's box. He holds it close to the picture and lets the image clarify. One by one, David reads the letters, “W – i – n – d”
“Golly, David. It can't be…”
“It is. It's called The Wind Rose.”
David and Sally settle in comfortably, ready to discover all the secrets and connections their lives hold to the past, how they are affecting the present, and hopefully where they will lead them in the future.
* * *
Later, in David's Room, Isaac visits his son and sees the Wind Rose compass. He picks it up and studies it carefully.
“David, where did you get this?”
“It's a long story, a really long story.”
“I'm ready to listen, son. Let's take a walk together.”
“Sure, Dad. I'd like that.”
* * *
“And so, his journey ends.”
Other: For now.
“With a powerful realization.”
Other: That the ability to know, understand and make meaningful choices is within all of us. No one can do it for us. Yet we do not do it alone.
“We can seek guidance, look to role models for advice, but in the end the choice is ours - in this case his - alone.”
Other: Accept gratefully the consequences and the rewards.
end
Author Notes
Since childhood, I've been torn between two worlds: writing and singing. It's difficult to serve “two masters,” as they say, but I was compelled to do so. When I was not singing, I was writing; when I was not writing, I was singing. Now I do both. (While still working a day job!)
I've learned, for me, that one creative expression nurtures the other. Much of my writing has a musical theme somewhere in the plot, or is the plot, whether it's in my non-fiction writing about the power of music itself, in picture books and stories, and of course in writing songs and lyrics for songs.
It is natural, therefore, that my trilogy of adventures for young readers, “The Secrets of the Moon Singer,” has its roots in musical theories and metaphors, entwined with the magic and mystery of metaphysical concepts and matters of ethics, faith, compassion, love, and heroism. Books 1 and 2 of my trilogy lay the groundwork for this power of music of the highest order. Book 3 pulls it all together and will give you a complete understanding of the importance of music in our lives and in the world.
Most of all, I hope my books inspire you to know that, whatever your circumstances in life - just as my “hero” David Nickerson learns - your greatest challenges are opportunities for growth and strength, and that your “disability,” if you have one, can be your greatest gift.
I've lived a long life (won't tell you how long!), and my path has gone every which way but straight to my goals, but I believe that my time for soul fulfillment is NOW. Perhaps my books will inspire that belief in you as well.
B Roman, Author
Thank you for taking time to read The Wind Rose. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated.
