Rise and Shine, Benedict Stone

by Phaedra Patrick

  “Hold out your wrist,” he said, and tied it in place. “Citrine attracts love and happiness and helps new pursuits. It gives you optimism and boosts your confidence.”

  “Oh, mate, it’s cool,” Nigel said, admiring it. “What do I owe you?”

  “Nothing,” Benedict said. “Have a great time with Josie. Just be yourself and you can’t go wrong.”

  “You’re like some kind of doctor,” Nigel said. “But instead of medicine you prescribe gemstones.”

  “I’m happy with that.” Benedict smiled. “Feel free to tell others.”

  His enthusiasm and happy feeling slipped a little when the next customer through the door was Lawrence.

  The gallery owner shook the rain from an oversize red-and-yellow umbrella and propped it against the door. He casually strolled across to the counter in his black jeans and striped T-shirt.

  Casting his eye over Lawrence’s lionlike frame, Benedict felt as bulky and awkward as a buffalo.

  “Benedict,” Lawrence boomed. “Hello there.”

  “Hello,” Benedict muttered back.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not here to berate you for the mess the llama left on the pavement after Estelle’s exhibition. Such an unusual, um, gift for your wife.”

  “She seemed to like it,” Benedict said through gritted teeth.

  “Estelle seems more of a champagne kind of woman to me.”

  “We’ve been married for almost ten years,” Benedict emphasized. “So, I think I know her pretty well.”

  “Ah, yes. She said that your anniversary is approaching. Is she, um, still living in Veronica’s apartment?”

  “Yes,” Benedict said. “I think I saw you there the other night.”

  The two men stared at each other.

  “I like to help my artists out.” Lawrence grinned. “They appreciate my input.”

  Benedict wanted to shoot out his fist, to thump the smug gallery owner on the nose, but he had to keep calm. Even if Lawrence was trying to provoke him, he was also helping Estelle with her art, and to realize her potential. He took a deep breath to steel himself and was grateful when Gemma placed her hand, lightly, on his wrist.

  “Did you want to buy anything?” she asked Lawrence.

  “Oh, I want something.” Lawrence placed both his hands flat on the counter. When he moved them away again, he left finger-shaped halos of condensation on the glass. “I rather fancy a new pair of cuff links. I understand from Margarita that you do commission pieces, using gemstones. So what do you recommend?”

  Benedict thought he knew the perfect gemstone for Lawrence. Sunstone. It was a bright orangey yellow and ideal for self-discipline and humility. It might help the gallery owner to exercise some self-restraint.

  He took a piece from the jar and set it down on the counter. “I think this will suit you,” he said.

  “Very vibrant.” Lawrence smirked.

  Benedict sketched a pair of sunshine-shaped cuff links and Lawrence agreed to the design, though he wanted them made larger.

  When he left the shop, Benedict sighed deeply. “Do you think that sunstone is the right gem for him?” he asked Gemma.

  She shook her head. “Hmm, I’m not so sure...”

  “You’re not?”

  “You’ve been getting them right, Uncle Ben, but I don’t know about this one.”

  She grabbed for the journal as he reached out for it at the same time. Benedict took hold of it first. “Give it to me,” she said. “I’ll read to you about sunstone.”

  Benedict flicked his eyes at her. It looked like she was hiding something from him again. He placed his arm across the counter as a barrier between his niece and the journal. “I can read it for myself,” he said.

  SUNSTONE

  Believed to actually be a piece of the sun, sunstone was highly prized by ancient magicians. Found in Norway and the USA, the gemstone is associated with the legendary phoenix, who is said to rise from ashes and anew every five hundred years. Vikings believed sunstone to be an aid to navigation, and it has been found in Viking burial mounds. Sunstone can warm the heart and lift your spirits. It is said to enhance male sexual potency.

  Benedict groaned aloud at the last few words. But he read on, not noticing that his father’s words turned into Gemma’s.

  Sunstone can give you a feeling of self-worth and it promotes positive self-image. The gemstone helps you to believe that everything will turn out well in the future. You should enjoy the present without worrying if the good times are about to end. That's something that I'm trying to do, too. If I think about the future, I don't think I can handle it.

  Benedict turned to Gemma and his eyes narrowed. She might gloss over it, but he had to understand her words. She sounded so troubled.

  He could leave this be and tell himself that she’d written them in an angst-ridden moment. Or he could demand to know what she meant.

  His niece’s thoughts about the future and her not being able to handle it tipped the balance. If she was in trouble, or was upset about anything, then he wanted to know and help. He didn’t want any more secrets to pull the Stone family apart.

  He tapped on her words about sunstone.

  “What?” she asked cautiously. Then her eyes fell upon her own handwriting. “Oh,” she said.

  “What can’t you handle?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “These are your words in the journal, Gemma.”

  “They don’t mean anything...” she tried.

  Benedict read her passage aloud. Then he found her ones for lapis lazuli and tiger’s-eye and reminded her of them. All the while, Gemma looked at the floor.

  “I think they do mean something, and we need to talk about this, once and for all.”

  23.

  GARNET

  initiating, life force, self-confidence

  “IT’S JUST SILLY SCRIBBLE,” Gemma said. “Honestly, Uncle Ben. In fact, I didn’t even write that stuff. Joseph must have used a different pen.”

  Benedict folded his arms. He couldn’t ignore her excuses. He had to find out what was going on. “The handwriting is the same as in the notebook in your room.”

  Her eyes flickered upward and to the right, as if she was running through every explanation in her head. “You read that?”

  He didn’t speak.

  “I thought I could trust you. Why are you prying?”

  Still Benedict didn’t say anything. He wondered how else she might try to distract him. She sucked on a piece of hair and studied her boots. And still he waited.

  Finally, she spit out the lock of hair. “Okay, I wrote it. But I was pretending to be a character. Like in a book or something. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “What can’t you handle about the future?” he repeated.

  “Nothing.”

  Benedict studied her and, with her bottom lip protruding, she looked like a small child sulking in a supermarket because she’d been refused a bar of chocolate. He supposed she was still only a young girl, and with her friends living thousands of miles away and her mother gone, she had no one to share her feelings with. He was a forty-four-year-old man and couldn’t pretend to understand a teenage girl’s emotions.

  “Sorry, Gemma,” he said firmly but kindly. “This time you’ve got to tell me the truth. I’ve read other parts of the journal that tell me things aren’t okay for you.”

  “You shouldn’t read it. It’s my project.”

  “I want to know what’s going on. You’re not going to get a sudden headache, or a need to be anywhere else but here.” To show her that he meant business, he walked over and locked the front door. “No more.”

  Gemma kicked one of her feet with the other. She ran her hand through her hair and tugged
on the ends. “Okay,” she said finally. “You win. I suppose I didn’t just come here for an adventure.”

  “No?”

  “I wanted to get away from home, too, and to think about stuff.”

  “But Charlie knows you’re here?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “But it helps for me to be gone.”

  “Why?”

  “I dunno.”

  Benedict sighed. “Why don’t you trust me and tell me the truth for once?”

  She blinked through her russet hair. Her eyelids were pale pink, like seashells.

  “I want to help you.” He gave her a small encouraging smile. “You’re my family...”

  Her head ticked slightly like a metronome for a while and then it stopped. “I like the f-word,” she said.

  “Family?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, tell me...”

  “My dad’s girlfriend...” she started.

  “Janice?”

  “Yeah. Well, she’s having a baby.”

  Benedict felt his jaw slacken.

  “I’ll have a new brother or sister soon, and it sucks.” Gemma shrugged as if she didn’t care, but he could see from her expression that she did. “It’s been me and Dad for years. We stuck together when Mom left, like we were twins or something. Then Janice rocked up and everything changed. Dad has less time for me. He wanted the three of us to go and stay with Janice’s parents in New York, and play at being a happy family, but I didn’t wanna go. So he said I could come here instead.”

  “He must trust you, and think that you’re grown-up enough to come on your own.”

  “Maybe. Or perhaps he was happy for me to leave...so he can be with her.”

  “I’m sure that’s not the case.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said, tears pricking her eyes. “I get so confused, so I write stuff down. I really wanted to come here, but I also kinda wanted him to put his foot down and stop me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Because I don’t want you to discuss it with him. We need some time apart. I bet you don’t understand...”

  Actually, Benedict did. Just as Estelle needed to stay away from him for a while, Gemma wanted that, too, from Charlie.

  He remembered when he and Gemma stood on Dinosaur Ridge. Getting away from the village allowed him to think more clearly and take a different perspective. He was relieved that she had shared what was wrong. “I think I do understand,” he said.

  “I feel that Dad doesn’t need me anymore, so I like helping you out, and the customers. It makes me feel useful. Like I’m finally good at something.”

  “I’m glad you’ve told me all this.” He reached out his arm and rubbed her shoulder.

  She stood still for a while and then stepped toward him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and briefly pressed her cheek to his chest before awkwardly pulling away. “I’m kinda glad I’ve told you, too, Uncle Ben.”

  “So, no more lies or strange behavior?”

  “No more.”

  “So what should we do about your dad?” After spending so many days willing Charlie to get in touch, Benedict was beginning to feel ambivalent. It was up to his brother to make the next move.

  “Can we wait until he gets your letter? Then he’ll reach out to you, right? And we can all talk then.”

  Benedict told himself that it wouldn’t make much difference to wait a few days longer.

  Gemma tried a small smile. “I don’t want Estelle to leave you for good, like my mom left me. That’s why I want the two of you to get back together.”

  “Operation WEB?” Benedict asked.

  “Yeah. Stupid, huh?”

  Benedict closed the journal. Wanting to win Estelle back had taken on another dimension. It was no longer something personal, just for him. There was Gemma to think of, too. With Amelia leaving, and Janice on the scene, she needed a strong female role model to look up to. Estelle could be the perfect match.

  “It’s not stupid at all,” he said. “You’ve done more to make me think about my life than anyone before. If you want to wait until the letter arrives with Charlie, then I trust you, okay? Though you did give me an address for a farm in Maine, not New York...”

  “He should be back home by now,” Gemma sniffed.

  “No more lies?”

  “I promise.”

  “I’m glad we’ve sorted things out. And do you still want to help me move forward with my efforts to get Estelle back?”

  “More than anything.”

  “Good, because I have an idea for my next challenge, and I want you to help me, so that WEB is a team effort this time.”

  “Okay.” Gemma’s lips switched into a tiny smile. “What is it?”

  Benedict thought of how much his life had changed over the last two weeks and how relieved he was that Gemma had been so honest. He unlocked the front door and told her of his plans. “I want the shop to shine as brightly as the jewelry and gemstones inside it,” he said.

  24.

  POPPY JASPER

  enthusiasm, enjoyment, fresh energy

  BENEDICT PUT ON his black tracksuit and found an old gray shirt for Gemma to wear over her clothes. He opened up his shed and took out all the cans of paint and paintbrushes, and loaded them onto his trolley. He folded up some old white sheets and added a plastic bottle of turpentine. He’d bought a lot of the stuff a couple of years back, when he promised Estelle that he’d redecorate the house. His intentions had been true but his spirit was weak back then.

  “This will be a fresh start,” he said to Gemma. “For you and me, and Stone Jewelry.”

  They trundled the decorating materials along the high street down to the shop, and Benedict ushered Lord Puss into his cat carrier. “We’ll move you into my house for a few days, to keep you away from the paint,” he said. Gemma pushed the piece of tiger’s-eye under the cat’s cushion in the carrier.

  When they let Lord Puss out at home, the cat instantly made himself welcome. He strolled around the kitchen with his head held aloft, as if he owned the place. “There’s a cat flap in the back door, so no smelly presents from you,” Benedict warned.

  Lord Puss looked at him as if to say, Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.

  * * *

  Benedict handwrote a sign and taped it into the shop window. Closed for Refurbishment.

  He and Gemma moved all the cabinets from the showroom into the workshop and covered the floor with the old sheets. He stored the jar of gems, the cash till, the appointment book and phone in the cupboard under the counter, and covered that up, too. He wrestled his ladder out of the store cupboard and set it in the middle of the floor. Standing with his hands on his hips, he took a deep breath. It was time for change. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  He climbed up the ladder, carrying a can of white emulsion paint in one hand and his paintbrush between his teeth. He worked on covering the ceiling with a fresh coat of white paint, whilst Gemma painted the walls.

  After he’d finished the ceiling, Benedict tackled the skirting boards next, and he and Gemma conducted a strange kind of dance as she moved clockwise, and Benedict worked in the opposite direction, crouching and crawling along the floor.

  His niece proved to be a determined worker, not tempted by Benedict’s suggestions to stop for a cup of tea or a trip to Bake My Day for a chocolate éclair. “We’re doing really well,” she said firmly. “We’ll eat later.”

  It was past two o’clock when they took their first break. Benedict handed Gemma some money. “I’d like something more substantial than salad.”

  “You’ve earned a nice ham sandwich today,” she said.

  As she headed toward the door, Benedict glimpsed a flash of white on her face. “Come back here a min
ute.”

  Gemma let go of the door handle. “What?”

  “You have paint on your cheek.”

  She reached up and touched both sides of her face. “Where?”

  He took a clean tissue from his pocket, stepped over a can of paint then dabbed gently at her face.

  She closed her eyes. “Is it gone?”

  “Yes. You’ll do fine.” He smiled.

  They ate their sandwiches sitting on the floor on a paint-specked sheet, with their legs outstretched and their backs against the counter. Gemma bought a chocolate éclair and broke it in half to share. “You’ve earned this,” she said. And Benedict felt that, actually, he had done.

  After eating, they both gave the walls a second coat of paint and, within a few hours, the dolphin gray of the showroom had gone, and it shone wet with a coat of brilliant white.

  * * *

  As Benedict and Gemma made their way home, Nicholas Ledbetter hurried along the canal towpath toward them. The chef wore his white apron and had a bundle of leaflets under his arm. When he saw Benedict, he peeled one off and thrust it into his hand. “Here,” he said gruffly. “Take one of these.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s my new pub menu. I’ve been planning to do it for ages.” He glanced quickly at Gemma and looked away again before their eyes could meet. “And before you say anything, it’s nothing to do with that carnelian stone thing you gave me.”

  “Of course not.” Benedict tried not to smile.

  “I mean, as if a bloody stone could have that effect on anything or anyone...” Nicholas grunted and walked away, muttering to himself.

  “Look at this.” Benedict handed the menu to Gemma. “Plain old cheese-and-onion pie, chips and peas is now farmhouse cheddar, red onion and ale pie with thrice-cooked chips and pea puree. I wonder what the villagers will think of that.”

  “He’s found new motivation from somewhere,” Gemma said. “Whether that’s shaped by the stone or not.”

  “Hmm.” Benedict folded the menu and put it in his pocket. “Have you ever thought that perhaps it’s you, Gemma, who influences people, rather than the gemstones?”