Rise and Shine, Benedict Stone

by Phaedra Patrick

  She blinked at him as she considered this. “I can try.”

  “Right, then.”

  She let the door close and came back inside.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked.

  “Do English people think tea solves all their problems?”

  He thought about this for a while. “It makes things seem better.”

  “Then I’d like a cup, please. We’re going to make a great team,” she said. “You know that, right?”

  “I’m sure we will,” Benedict mumbled as he made his way to the workshop to switch on the kettle.

  “And I think we have another WEB operation,” Gemma called out to him.

  Benedict stopped with his hand in midair. He suddenly felt very cold. “What’s that?” he asked.

  She walked over and jutted her head around the door. “You’re going to introduce me to your wife, right?”

  10.

  LAPIS LAZULI

  truth, relationships, enlightenment

  BENEDICT ALLOWED GEMMA to bring all of his jewelry test pieces into the shop in case she wanted to show them to customers. Some were only half-completed experiments, but others, he had to admit, were not bad at all. There was a simple gold ring set with a carnelian, and a silver choker necklace with drops of lilac glass beads. Base metal daisy-shaped stud earrings had a center of green and gold resin, and a filigree brooch was so delicate its swirls looked like handwriting. He grudgingly decided that he could let his quest for perfection slide a little, but he insisted on storing the pieces under the counter rather than put them on display.

  Because they didn’t have any customers, Gemma read out loud to him from the gemstone journal, though Benedict noticed that she moved it away from him if he got too close. She seemed to have assumed ownership of the journal and didn’t allow him to look at it unless she was there to vet him. She turned some pages quickly and steered the conversation away when he asked about certain gemstones.

  Even so, he learned that the ancient Greeks believed that coral was formed from the severed head of Medusa, and that jade changes color, often to shades of brown, when buried with the dead. He knew that jasper was one of the most popular stones for making seals and amulets, and that Mark Antony was reputed to own a red jasper seal ring with which he stamped his letters to Cleopatra.

  Gemma brought a clear glass vase from the house into the shop and Benedict watched her take it from her bag, set it on the counter and give it a quick dust with her sleeve. She picked up a small cardboard box full of the gemstones they had uncovered in the chest and shook them out. One by one she studied them, polished them with a cloth and checked if Joseph had noted anything about them in his journal. If the gemstone featured, then she dropped it into the vase, and soon there was an inch-deep layer of them, sparking like the most delicious sweets. For those gemstones not featured in the journal, or if Gemma didn’t know what type of gem they were, she created a small pile on the counter next to the phone.

  Benedict delved his hand into the gemstone jar and swirled his fingers inside it. He felt fidgety today. Yet again, Charlie hadn’t been in touch, and it was playing on his mind.

  Surely if Charlie hadn’t heard from his daughter for a few days, he’d try to contact Benedict? Even if Charlie didn’t have his phone number, Benedict lived in the same house and worked in the same shop, so he was easy to trace.

  “You’re kind of annoying me,” Gemma said. “Have you eaten enough breakfast?”

  “No, and I haven’t heard from your dad, either.” Benedict removed his hand, then bent down to take his laptop out from under the counter. He flipped it open and switched it on. “Maybe you could show me your farm. We can try to find a phone number for your dad, too.”

  Gemma closed one eye. “Why do you want to see the farm?”

  “Because I’m interested in where you live...”

  “I can just tell you about it. I’m good at describing things.”

  “Let’s take a look together.” He tapped a button to try to hurry the laptop into action. “What’s the name of your farm again? Sunny something?”

  Gemma’s angled eyebrows danced a little higher up her forehead. “Yeah, Sunnyside...”

  Benedict flexed his fingers above the keyboard but he noticed how Gemma held her breath as he typed in the words. “Why aren’t you breathing?” he asked.

  “I am,” she blew out.

  A list of searches appeared and Benedict scrolled down them, but he couldn’t find any farms in north Maine called Sunnyside. He clicked on the images. “Come closer and take a look,” he said to Gemma, who loitered a few steps back.

  She hesitated, then joined him.

  Benedict scanned the photos. There was one of an orange truck which stood out against the greens and golds of the other images. There was a logo on the side and he thought that he could make out the word Stone in pixelated letters. He squinted and moved his head closer. “Is this...?” he started to ask.

  “When can I meet Estelle?” Gemma interrupted. “Where shall we go to?”

  “I’ve not thought about it,” Benedict said, not moving his eyes away from the laptop. “I’m looking at this.”

  “Perhaps York,” Gemma said. “It has those really old black-and-white buildings, right?”

  “I’m trying to find...”

  The screen suddenly went black.

  Benedict hit a few keys but nothing happened. He blew through his teeth.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The bloody internet connection is down again. The hills surrounding the village stop the signal from working.” He tapped again. “It happens a lot.”

  Gemma didn’t say anything.

  Finally, Benedict slapped his hand down. “Damn it. We’ll have to search some other time.”

  “Ah, well,” Gemma said as she traced a circle on the countertop with her finger. “Never mind.”

  * * *

  The noise Lord Puss made sounded like someone being strangled. His mewling went on for most of the morning. “What’s wrong with him?” Benedict asked Gemma.

  She stroked the top of the cat’s head. “I think he’s missing Cecil and he’s trying to let us know. Can you take him with you to the hospital the next time you visit?”

  Benedict pictured himself with the white fur ball tucked under his jacket, his lemon yellow eyes terrifying everyone on the ward. “You can’t take pets in,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  Benedict was about to explain that hospitals had to be kept clean and sterile when he glimpsed Estelle through the window. He hurried across the showroom and watched through the window as she darted into Deserted Dogs.

  Gemma slid alongside him. “Why haven’t you answered me?”

  “Estelle.” He nodded. “She’s gone into the shop opposite.”

  “Hey. I can go over and say hi.”

  “No,” Benedict said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I want to introduce you, properly.”

  “Okay, then.” She shrugged. “Let’s do it.”

  “I didn’t mean now.”

  “Why not?”

  Benedict rubbed his neck. Perhaps it was best to just get this out of the way. “I don’t know.” He moved over to the door and opened it.

  After a few minutes Estelle came back outside. She fastened her purse and put it inside her bag.

  “Estelle,” he shouted out and beckoned her over.

  She crossed the road. “Benedict?” she asked coolly but followed him inside the shop.

  He cleared his throat and lifted an arm out to his side as if he was a circus ringmaster presenting an acrobat. “I thought that you might like to meet Gemma. Gemma, this is Estelle.”

  Gemma stood up straight and karate-chopped
out her hand. “Hello,” she said. “It’s so very nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” Estelle smiled. After Gemma had pumped her hand up and down a few times, she reached into her handbag. “I’m sorry that Benedict didn’t introduce us the last time I came into the shop. It must have been uncomfortable for you.”

  “It was.”

  They both flicked an accusing glance at Benedict.

  “I was going to drop by anyway,” Estelle said. “I have a few things for you, Gemma. There’s some toiletries and makeup, and a couple of scarves, too. In case you need them. How long are you staying in England for?”

  “I don’t know,” Gemma said.

  Benedict’s lips stiffened.

  “Oh,” Estelle said. “Benedict said that you were here for a week or two...”

  “I’ve lost my passport.”

  Estelle frowned. “He didn’t tell me...”

  “Gemma’s purse was stolen at the airport,” Benedict interjected. “Her phone and passport were inside. We’ve both reported them missing but nothing has been handed in yet.”

  “That’s bad luck,” Estelle said. “Have you contacted the network provider, to stop calls being made on your number, Gemma?”

  Benedict looked at his niece.

  “No,” she said.

  “Have you reported your missing passport to the passport office?”

  “No,” Gemma murmured.

  Benedict shook his head, feeling foolish for not thinking of these simple steps himself. “We need to put a stop on your phone number,” he said to Gemma.

  She gave a small shrug. “It’s probably okay.”

  “Someone might spend a fortune making calls on your phone,” Estelle warned.

  “Use the shop phone to ring the passport office,” Benedict said.

  Gemma didn’t move. “I’ll, um, do it later. Would you like a cup of tea, Estelle? I’m learning how to make it.” Without waiting for a response, she rushed into the workshop and closed the door.

  “Not for me, thanks. I have to dash off,” Estelle called after her.

  Benedict shook his head. “I don’t think she heard you.”

  Estelle looked at her watch. “I’m fine to stay for a couple more minutes, but I’m heading over to Purple Heather to finalize the plans for my exhibition.”

  When Gemma reemerged, she carried two steaming drinks, and she wore a proud smile.

  Benedict peered into the cups. “You forgot to add milk.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She vanished again. When she returned, she handed a cup each to Benedict and Estelle. The hot liquid inside was a murky brown, like damp wood.

  Benedict tried not to wince as he took a sip. There was no sugar in his.

  “This is lovely, Gemma.” Estelle raised the cup to her lips. “But I’m afraid I have to leave now for an appointment.”

  “Oh.” Gemma looked down. She kicked the toe of her boot against the base of the counter.

  “I’d really like to meet you again, when we have more time.”

  “Yeah?” Gemma blinked through her hair. “Promise?”

  “Of course.” Estelle took the toiletries out of her bag and put them on the counter, one by one. “Just let me know if you need anything else.” She winked.

  Gemma’s eyes grew wider as she saw the shiny, colored packaging. She reached out and caught a tube of mascara as it rolled off the edge of the counter. “Thanks, Aunt Estelle.”

  Benedict repeated the words in his head. Aunt Estelle. They sounded so strange. But they suited his wife, too. They were so full of possibility, adding another dimension to his family. If he and Estelle couldn’t be parents, then perhaps they could be an auntie and uncle together. The thought brought a small smile to his lips.

  After his wife had left the shop, Benedict poured the cups of tea into the sink.

  “Don’t you like it?” Gemma raised an angled, bushy eyebrow.

  “Yes, but I’m not very thirsty,” he said to save her feelings. “Now, we really should make those phone calls, as Estelle suggested.”

  Gemma stared at him for a long time and Benedict couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Then she screwed her eyes shut and yelled, “Oww.” She thrust her head down and her long russet hair fell over her face. Clutching her head with both hands, she cradled her skull. “Aargh.”

  Benedict reached out to take her arm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “A migraine,” she said through clenched teeth. “It hurts really bad.”

  Benedict recalled when the IVF drugs gave Estelle bad headaches. She used to lie in a darkened room with the duvet over her head and couldn’t bear any sound or light. He used to tiptoe around, or hold her hand, until she felt better. “Are you okay? Come and sit down,” he soothed and led Gemma through to his workshop. “Take my chair.”

  Gemma slumped down and pressed her cheek against the workbench. She shielded her eyes with a hand.

  Benedict crouched down beside her. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

  Gemma shook her head slightly. Her hair obscured her face. “Just leave me alone,” she whispered. “I’ll be okay.”

  Benedict tentatively stood up. He stared at the back of her head. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded again and gave a brave whimper. “I think so.”

  * * *

  Benedict stood and watched Gemma for a while, to make sure that she was okay. When she fell asleep on his workbench, he consigned himself to the showroom. He looked at the phone and thought about making the calls that Estelle suggested, but he didn’t have enough details about Gemma’s mobile or passport. It was probably best to leave it for today.

  He sat behind the counter and wondered what to do. Margarita walked past the window and gave him a wave. She clutched a bunch of spiky blue flowers to her chest and he noticed that she was no longer wearing the metal twist ring, but neither had she called in to order her aquamarine one. He reached out to stroke Lord Puss, but the cat hissed at him, jumped off the counter and swanked into the workshop to sit with Gemma instead.

  Benedict gazed around the showroom and noticed that the walls were looking grayer than usual. There were black speckles of damp in one corner. There was no color or energy about the room when Gemma and Cecil weren’t in it.

  The gemstone journal lay open on the counter and, although he knew Gemma didn’t like him to look at it without her, he pulled it toward him. Gemma had drawn a pencil star next to one of the gemstones on the page and Benedict read his father’s words.

  LAPIS LAZULI

  This stone was prized highly by the pharaohs of ancient Egypt, whose craftspeople used it to make treasures such as amulets and decorative scarab beetles. It is thought to increase mental clarity and intuition. Lapis is actually a rock rather than a crystal. It can give courage, and calms the nervous system. It helps you to adhere to your principles and rise above pettiness.

  Below this, he saw that a passage of words had been added and, from the notebook in Estelle’s studio, he recognized it as Gemma’s looping handwriting. He wondered what else she might have discovered about lapis and, without thinking more about it, Benedict read her words.

  Lapis can bring contentment and a strong sense of family loyalty. It’s supposed to help you to express your emotions. But who to? No one even wants me. Joseph Stone says that lapis is a rock, not a crystal. I think it kind of looks like Earth, when you stare down at it from space-blue and patches of yellow. I sometimes wish I could be up there, in the sky, so I can look down on everything but not be part of it. I thought that coming here would allow me to clear my head, but everything just feels more cloudy. Lapis is also supposed to help you to trust more... Yeah right. That's the last thing I'm going to do...

  Benedict felt a prickly ball of guilt form in his stomach, like he had swall
owed a horse chestnut. Gemma’s words echoed the ones she growled at him when she threatened to walk out of the shop. I know you don’t want me here. No one does.

  But she had fired those words at him on impulse, hadn’t she?

  He frowned and his fingers twitched as he closed the journal and moved it across the counter.

  He walked over to the workshop door and Gemma looked so serene as she slept. Her hair had fallen from her face so he could see her bushy eyebrows and her sticky-out ears. One of her boots lay on its side and she had curved her bare foot around on top of it.

  It looked as if she didn’t have a care in the world. But her own words told him otherwise.

  11.

  BLUE JACK

  new beginnings, determination, change

  BENEDICT STOOD IN the doorway of the workshop until Gemma woke up. He felt like he was a soldier in a fairy tale, guarding a sleeping princess. His niece’s eyelids were pale pink and her cheeks were ashen.

  He wriggled his fingers, fidgeting as he thought about reading her words in the journal. He felt sensitive and exposed, as if the sun had burned off the top layer of his skin. He was tempted to leaf through the journal again, to see if she had written anything else, but then he’d feel like he was spying. She might have been feeling vulnerable when she wrote her words.

  He often took a quick peek at Charlie’s schoolbooks, especially his English ones, to see what stories he’d invented. In an attempt at amateur psychology, Benedict tried to gauge, from Charlie’s schoolwork, how his little brother was really feeling. He felt sure that their parents’ deaths would adversely affect him in some way, whether that was his relationships with women, or resulting deep-rooted insecurity. But he only found teenage scrawlings about what Charlie had done on Christmas day, or his diary of the summer holidays. He wanted to fly to Australia and capture a koala bear to keep as a pet. His teachers said that Charlie had a vivid imagination, so that might help him to escape real life, in his head.