A Brilliant Ride

by Mitchell, Lisa J.

  The living room, painted a lemony color, has silk drapes in the same color that billow into the room when the French doors are open. Sometimes, when I stand in the center of that large room, I can hear laughter echoing from its walls of times gone by - Christmas parties, birthday celebrations, and romantic evenings when candles flickered, and the room glowed with love and protection around us.

  The room boasts a massive stone fireplace. Above the mantel, a cherished oil painting purchased during a trip to Italy. A painting of Tuscany in summer, I often feel it draw me in like a warm Italian greeting. The furniture is oversized and comfy, upholstered in pale shades. Behind one couch, sits my favorite piece, a large marble-topped buffet on which many silver frames hold pictures of us all, smiling and hopeful. Just outside the living room, through large French doors, is a stone terrace complete with outdoor dining set and lounge chairs. Beyond the terrace, there’s a lovely pool and cabana. There’s also a guest cottage and an apartment over the garage.

  There are six bedrooms at 38 Avery Lane. Blossom has the yellow room with the big window seat overlooking the rose garden, and the girls each have their own room. Jill’s bedroom is decorated in a fairy tale theme, complete with a hand painted mural featuring unicorns and fairies. Sarah’s is all about animals, jam packed with every sort of stuffed bear, dog, and kitty. Down from them, is a pale blue guest room with attached powder room, and down from that, another bedroom that’s used as an office.

  At the end of the hall, our beautiful master suite looks out over the terrace and pool. It’s my sanctuary, decorated in soft colors with satin bedding. Beside the king-sized bed are end tables purchased in Paris at a small shop Sam and I found on our last trip. They’re romantic little tables, whitewashed with golden knobs, so elegant in their simplicity. On top are placed items for easy reach such as telephone, lamp, reading glasses, book of the week and more photos of the children. This room is where I do my best dreaming…and hiding.

  The kitchen is the hub of the house and command station for Blossom.

  “I’m gonna fix something special tonight. After a healthy meal and some rest, you’ll feel good as new,” Blossom smiled.

  The light overhead started to flicker, and I told her it was probably a good idea to call the electrician.

  “Sarah said the one in her bedroom has been going on and off too. That electrician better take a look at all these lights.” Blossom shook her head. “Some strange things going on in this house, but never mind that. I have to start cooking. A lot to do,” she sang and slammed pots and pans around at record-breaking speed. The smells in the kitchen were enticing - exotic spices and warm bread in the oven. Watching Blossom cook was a treat in itself.

  “Tonight, I’m making my famous Blossom’s Jerky Chicken,” she proudly announced. “It has magic stirred into it, so it puts a little extra sparkle in your soul.” Her eyes danced.

  The girls and I watched with keen interest as she began preparing her charmed recipe, hoping to catch the part when the magic was slipped in. “Where’s the magic, Blossom. Where is it?” the girls squealed with delight.

  “Ha, ha, ha!” her laugh rang out. “You two sugarplums put your finger in that bowl for a second. There ya go. That be the magic ingredient alright.” She laughed hard, holding her belly, as they each dipped a pinky into her bright green bowl. “That’s right, there ya go…that’s magic alright. This is gonna be an extra special batch,” she sang. The girls and I giggled, as we sat glued to her every move, watching the magic unfold.

  l/3 cup olive oil

  l/3 cup vinegar

  l/2 cup orange juice

  l/2 cup lime juice

  l/2 cup brown sugar

  Two splashes of soy sauce

  5 green onions

  3 cloves of garlic

  2 cloves

  2 bay leaves

  Two peeled mangoes

  One tablespoon allspice

  One pinch of cinnamon

  One pinch ginger

  One teaspoon ground black pepper

  One teaspoon nutmeg

  4 pounds chicken pieces

  4 slices of pineapple

  Blossom carefully placed the oil and vinegar in her favorite green enamel bowl and poured in the orange and lime juice. Then she added the brown sugar, soy sauce, green onions, garlic, bay leaves and pepper. She swirled it all around with her strong hands and added the rest of her special ingredients. Next came the chicken pieces. When the chicken was carefully coated, she covered it with foil and placed it in the refrigerator for three hours so it could “soak up the goodness.”

  After three hours the mixture was placed in a skillet and browned, then transferred to a covered baking dish and placed in the oven at 375 degrees to bake for one hour, until it was cooked through. The smell was intoxicating, and when served with a crisp salad and brown rice, it was a heavenly meal.

  Watching Blossom, I wondered if her magical Jerky Chicken really could put the sparkle back in my soul. It was gone, and I wasn’t sure I could find it on my own.

  The kitchen window was open and the evening air was blowing, bringing the smell of autumn. I looked at the curtains and decided I might change the fabric to a livelier pattern. Lately, I had been feeling that the house needed to be lighter, filled with more sunshine. Maybe it was the changing season and the thought of shorter days, or maybe it was just my state of mind.

  I sat at the long country table and looked at the folded clothing previously ironed into crisp obedience under Blossom’s strong command. Her world was so orderly and simple. “Everything in its place; the rest God will look after.” Her broad smile seemed to promise hope, and hope was something I really needed. I wish I could be more like Blossom, I thought to myself dreamily. She is our strong ship steadfastly anchored in our choppy sea.

  Sometimes I would fantasize about running off to Jamaica with her and the girls. All of us barefoot, our hair braided with colorful beads, living on the beach and basking in the brilliant tropical sunshine with no cares - just mangoes, seashells, and sand between our toes. The thought always made me laugh. I wonder how the girls and I would sound with sing-songy Island accents.

  The phone rang, jarring me back from my island daydream. It was Sam.

  “Hi Pen…listen, something’s come up. I have to take a couple of clients to Vegas for the weekend.” My head started to throb, and I rubbed my forehead. “Gotta keep the clients happy, right Pen?”

  I looked at the phone in disbelief. Is he kidding me? After lunch with the girls, I didn’t have much left. “I really don’t want to leave the kids right now, Sam. They have their play at school this weekend and there’s the craft fair…it’s just not a good time for me.” I fumbled for the calendar. The whole idea of a trip with Sam’s clients gave me a sharp pain in my head, like someone stuck a pin in my crown. “I really don’t feel up to…”

  A deafening silence on the other end told me I was being a fool, again.

  “Um, sorry…I don’t think you understand. Wives aren’t going. Just the guys, you know…a man’s weekend. You understand, right?” He cleared his throat.

  I understood only too well.

  “You wouldn’t have any fun anyway. These guys are rough and ready, and I won’t have any time for you. You know the drill; meetings all day, drinks, dinner, and probably more drinks. I’ll be home on Monday night.”

  I twirled my eternity band around my finger, as if to remind myself of the vows we took and the role of a good wife… stand by your man. A vision of Mother, her one eyebrow in that funny triangle, flooded my mind.

  “Oh, yes, of course; I understand. Well, don’t you have to come home to pack?”

  I could hear Blossom behind me, mumbling something about salvation, but I refused to turn around.

  “Nope, I threw some stuff in a bag this morning, and I’ll just buy what I need when I get there. No worries, ma cherie. Give the kids a kiss for me, and wish me luck. This could be big for me. I have to get going; au revoir.” I felt my body
ebb and flow like the tide and reached for the counter to steady myself.

  “Wait. Where can I reach you? Where are you staying? Sam? Hello?” My heart sank.

  There was a pause, and I heard some papers shuffling around as Sam stuttered, “The Peak. It’s that resort we stayed at two years ago, remember?” I remembered it as being loud, gaudy, and definitely not my cup of tea. After that trip, I decided to cut back on accompanying Sam on his business trips.

  “Okay. Well take care of yourself and call us. Don’t break the bank. Love you Sam.”

  The phone clicked, and I hesitated before meeting Blossom’s stare. She saved me the embarrassment by turning on her heel and heading for the staircase. As soon as her foot hit the first step, she belted out, “Go call it from the mountain...”

  THE POT’S BOILING OVER

  That night, after the girls and I ate the magical Jerk Chicken, we played some board games and talked about school. I looked at the clock and wondered when Sam was going to call, knowing in my heart he probably wouldn’t. I tried calling his cell, but all I got was voice mail. I didn’t bother leaving a message.

  Later, the phone finally did ring, but it was Claudia.

  “Do you have the Local News on, Pen?” She sounded agitated.

  “No. Should I? I hope it’s good news.”

  “No!” she said in a shrill voice.

  “Geesh; calm down; you sound hysterical.”

  “Listen, Pen, it’s bad. You know that good looking waiter from Magnolia?” Magnolia is the restaurant of choice for anyone who’s anyone in town. The type of trendy place that’s popular with the in-crowd - giant vases filled with exotic flowers, overly priced, too much help…and packed with puffed up peacocks. Sam’s favorite place…Jackie’s too.

  “Yes, the tall one with the long blonde hair?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. He was found in back of the place, in the alley, dead. They think it’s murder,” she whimpered. “Oh, Pen, it’s just awful.”

  It was inconceivable. Not in our little town.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Totally serious; they found him in the back alley with his apron tied around his neck…his mouth was stuffed with dinner rolls!” I thought for a moment she was joking.

  “What?”

  “It’s true. I even drove by to check it out. The street is closed off. The place is absolutely crawling with police and news vans. Pen, we all just ate there the other night. It’s a nightmare. What are we going to do?” she whispered.

  “Calm down; we don’t need to do anything. It has nothing to do with us. The guy was probably involved in something shady.”

  The news was alarming, but I was taken aback my Claudia’s reaction. She was bordering on hysterics. Still and all, the news was unsettling.

  I hung up and hurried down to tell Blossom the whole story, but she already had the News on and was taking the whole thing in, her eyes blazing. I sat down next to her and tried to focus on the scene being played out on the screen. They were showing Magnolia and the large crowd that was lined up outside. There were some familiar faces in the crowd as well: the pizza delivery guy, Mr. Osborn from the bank, the couple with the little black poodle…and Jackie?

  What was Jackie doing there?

  It was difficult to see. The crowd was large and the camera only panned by, but it certainly looked like her - wrapped in her fabulous ebony mink, her red hair hanging loosely around her shoulders, and that ring…the ring with the blue stone…shining from her right hand.

  “What is Ms. Jackie doing at the crime scene?” Blossom shouted out. “She could be an accessory to the crime.” Blossom is a fan of the Mystery Channel.

  “Oh, don’t be silly; she probably ate dinner there tonight.” I laughed nervously. Blossom wasn’t buying it and shot me one of her high alert looks.

  I turned the volume up.

  The newscaster was explaining, “Peter Bailey, a waiter from the posh eatery Magnolia on Longfield Road, was found dead in the back alley of the well-established restaurant at approximately 6pm today. Details are sketchy, but it appears to be a homicide. The owner of the restaurant has declined to comment, but I can assure you, this certainly is an upsetting scene here in Chatsdale. Back to you Sandy.”

  I turned the television off and thought about how my quaint little town seemed to be changing, overnight.

  CAN YOU FEEL IT?

  All evening I felt odd. I had chills, and the back of my neck felt prickly. I also had a gnawing pain in the pit of my stomach. “It’s my nerves. They’re shot after hearing about that ghastly murder,” I mumbled. “Maybe I’m coming down with something. There’s that awful flu going around.” I decided to take Blossom’s advice and made my way down to the kitchen to make some tea with honey.

  As I entered, I noticed the room had a different look, a new feeling. It seemed to glow, and the walls appeared to glisten and sparkle like the sea. A tingly sensation run up and down my arms, and the atmosphere was decidedly lighter. I felt like I was floating.

  I must be tired, I thought, and stepped over to the stove to fetch the kettle. Stress can really play tricks on the psyche, and this day has been a doozy.

  As I filled the kettle, I felt something touch my shoulder; something soft and delicate. I turned quickly, but nothing was there. Nothing I could see, anyway. I chalked it up to exhaustion and my lunch with the girls. “I need sleep. I’m obviously punchy…it’s been a long day.” As I made my way up the staircase, I couldn’t shake the feeling something was different.

  My head sank into my pillow, and I was reminded of the Cove. Just the thought of that magical place sent me on a whirling adventure in my mind. Oh, how I adored the glorious blue water I spent hours in when I was young and filled with sparkle and hope. My young body sinewy and bronzed from the summer sun, I would happily swim past the craggy rocks covered with bright green seaweed and the washed-up boat wreck that was my pretend sea castle and take refuge in my favorite dune, perched high behind tall reeds. Drying off in the brilliant sunshine, I would daydream. The sparkle of sand and crushed shells beneath me, a bed of diamonds on which I dreamed the dreams of young girls longing to be women. Back then, life seemed so full of promise, endless possibilities, and freedom.

  Foolishly, I tried calling The Peak Resort, half-knowing Sam wasn’t there. “Sorry madam, there’s no one here under that name. Shall we try another name perhaps?”

  I wasn’t surprised, really. Sam often lied to me. I gave up fighting about it long ago. The more I questioned him, the longer he stayed away. It was exhausting, and so I fell into the pattern of letting things go. It was easier. It was the children that concerned me. They were worried, when he didn’t call. I tried my best to reassure them. Still, they were concerned when he didn’t check in.

  Later that evening, Jill woke up, ran into my room, and leaped onto my bed. She wanted to share a dream she had about a man with a snowy colored bird.

  “He was very nice, Mommy. He told me I don’t have to worry about Daddy, because angels hear the prayers of little children and take care of everything. He had bright blue eyes and held a snowy white bird in the middle of his hand.” As she spoke her eyes glistened, and I scooped her up in my arms smothering her with kisses. Poor sweetheart, children shouldn’t have any worries. I held her close.

  When Sam did return, there was that horrible feeling in the air. The tension was high, but we played our parts as usual. Theatrics are a big part of these homecomings. It’s always the same - him rushing in the door full of smiles, fast talk and very tacky gifts.

  “Hey, Daddy’s home…wow, I had a great time. You should have seen me; I won loads at blackjack. Those other guys couldn’t keep up. Look, I got you little chickens some gifts. I got one for you too, ma cherie.” I managed to squeeze a half smile.

  Sarah looked at Sam with those big beautiful eyes that had the power to reach deep into your soul and said, “The phones must have all been broken in Las Vegas, right Daddy? Otherwise, you would have ca
lled us; I know you would never forget us. I think they need stronger phone poles there.” Sam didn’t reply.

  It’s amazing what the human heart can endure. As I stood motionless, looking at Jill and Sarah, I felt a bit of mine break off and shatter into a million little pieces. Amazingly, it kept beating.

  I started to think about Jill’s dream, wondering if the man with the snowy white bird was an angel or some kind of guardian. It was comforting to think that perhaps there were magical beings taking guard over my precious children when I couldn’t be there myself to watch and protect.

  I never believed in angels. I mean, I never gave them much thought. In my mind, they were something cute that graced valentines with chubby little arms holding bows and arrows or golden figures placed majestically atop Christmas trees. It never really seemed logical to me that some sparkling creature could swoop in and change your life. However, when I met Brilliant, he explained it to me in a way that opened my mind more to the unexplained. He has that special way of stretching your mind to look at things from a different angle.

  “You see, it’s not the way you think at all,” he explained in his soothing voice. “Angels aren’t a bit concerned with you knowing who they are or what they look like. They are very happy to hover in the background, ready to swoop in at a moment’s notice with great love and compassion. They exist to assist. All that’s needed is an open heart, love, and faith.”

  But, I’m getting ahead of the story…

  THE BEGINNING OF THE END