by Londyn Skye
William simply nodded.
“And I promise you, I’ll do my best to honor her memory,” Lily sniffled. “And do my best to make you proud.”
William finally turned his eyes away from Emma’s old seat and let them fall on Lily. “I’m afraid it’s much too late for that, my dear.” He reached up and caressed her face. “You’ve done that many moons ago.”
Lily embraced William after his kind words. The heartfelt affection finally helped to subdue their emotions. When they had calmed one another, they turned to gaze out into the empty seats of Winter Garden, both quietly staring at the area that would soon be filled by the fortunate patrons who were able to secure a ticket to watch an indentured woman emotionally free herself for two hours in the most enchanting way.
After appreciating the view for a moment, everyone returned to the carriage and carried on another fifteen minutes to their final destination. The time passed like seconds to Lily as she sat in her seat with her eyes closed, still enamored with William’s story, the exquisiteness of Winter Garden, and the sentiment behind how much it was going to mean to play with William there. Before she had a chance to let it all sink in, the carriage came to a halt in front of another pristine building with tall columns leading from the top of stone steps up to the crest of the roof. The design of the elegant establishment could have easily blended in with the beauty of unique Roman architecture.
A convoy of carriages soon halted behind Lily’s as well. Anna Mae, Ben, their children, and the student orchestra all began filing out, every one of them dressed in their finest. Out of the lead carriage, Landon and James assisted Lily as she exited in another one of Anna Mae’s carefully crafted gowns, but it was covered in the warmth of a stylish full-length winter coat with a matching shawl and gloves. After Lily stepped down, James immediately extended his elbow for her to grasp onto to help guide her up the stone steps. The crisp, cold winter air instinctively made her huddle closer to him. Their breath was easily visible as they climbed the stone stairway together. At the top awaiting them near the massive double door entrance stood two men, both dressed as exquisitely as everyone else who had just arrived. As Lily approached and got a better look something about their demeanor, their dark brown hair, their glasses, and their green eyes seemed familiar to her. The man to her right spoke first after she made her way to the top. “The brilliant Lily Adams, I presume,” he complimented, gingerly taking her by the hand and kissing it.
Lily nodded with a smile.
“I’m Wilson,” he then told her with a slight bow.
“Pleased to meet you,” Lily replied.
“And I’m Emerson,” the man standing next to him announced, also taking her by the hand and greeting her similarly. “By all my father has written to us about you, I’d swear you were not a stranger…”
“But rather our long-lost sister,” Wilson finished, in a very proper dialect similar to Emerson’s.
With their comments and the mention of their names, the familiarity of their identical faces finally made sense to Lily. “Well now, I couldn’t forget those names if I tried. I’ve heard so much about the both of you! You must be William’s twins!” she smiled. “I should’ve known! You both look shockingly similar,” she said, looking from one to the other like her eyes were playing tricks on her. “And just like your fatha’ for that matta’.”
“Except we’re a younger more attractive version,” Wilson replied sarcastically, pulling at the lapels on his suit.
“Less wrinkled, stronger, better hair,” Emerson added, lifting his hat and a single eyebrow, with a wink that followed.
“And more of it!” Wilson laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you buffoons! She gets it!” William interjected after finally making the long ascent up the steps. “Laugh while you can,” he continued while pointing to himself. “This thinning gray hair and this face of mine are what you both have to look forward to in thirty years.”
Lily laughed, already loving the playful banter between the three of them.
“How are you, father?” Wilson finally asked, stepping forward and embracing him in that special way that fathers and sons did when they truly missed each other but were too manly to verbally admit. Emerson followed suit and hugged his father as well. The twins were just as happy to see and embrace the other people they considered as family: Anna Mae, Isabel, Ben, and Elijah. They then introduced themselves to Landon and James afterward.
After the formalities, Wilson and Emerson extended their elbows toward Lily. “May we steal her from you for a while?” Emerson asked James.
He simply nodded in response.
Lily looked at the twins closely again. “I ask your forgiveness in advance if I confuse the two of you. It’s gonna take an act of God for me to tell you both apart,” she admitted, as she slid her arm into the crook of Emerson’s elbow.
“No worries, soon your eyes will adjust, and you’ll realize that I’m the slightly younger, but much better looking one of the two of us,” Emerson joked, as he and his brother escorted Lily into the building.
Lily laughed at his remark as they entered and then immediately paused after her eyes fell on the interior of the building. She turned her head slowly from side to side to appreciate all the fine pieces of art that clung to the walls and the sculptures placed strategically about the floor.
“Beautiful place, isn’t it?” Wilson asked.
“Utterly breathtakin’,” Lily whispered. “I’ve neva’ seen anything like this.” The awe in her voice and the look on her face immediately made William smile.
“Well, you’ve yet to see the best. Come along, we’ll personally give you a tour before the festivities begin in The Grand Hall,” Emerson said, using words in which Lily finally heard a hint of the British accent that he had naturally adopted from his father.
“Thank you. I’d like that.”
“As you can see, Lily, my boys never took after my love of music. They couldn’t care less. They took after their mother with their love of art instead,” William complained, after they had walked along for several minutes, and he had listened to his sons explain every intricate detail of the pieces they had shown her.
“Oh, father’s always one to exaggerate,” Wilson replied to Lily. “He’s always felt that we loved our mother more than him and cherished all the things she loved more than the things he does.”
“He’s a delusional, nutty old man, I’m tellin’ ya’,” Emerson joked, pretending to whisper in her ear, but speaking loud enough for his father to hear.
Emerson and Wilson’s lighthearted comedy put Lily in the most cheerful mood. She was thoroughly enjoying the way they strolled along with her on their arms, rambling on about the pieces they were passing and infusing bits and pieces of knowledge about their childhood and their parents. Their interaction indeed made Lily feel like their sister.
“So, if I rememba’ correctly, William tells me both ‘a you are professors, right?” Lily asked when she finally had a chance to speak.
“I see that memory of yours is just as grand as my father has eluded to. You are correct!”
“Well, maybe my memory is startin’ to fail, ’cause I can’t seem to rememba’ which one of you teaches philosophy and which one teaches English.”
“The great and wise English professor would be me,” Emerson boasted, continuing his comical arrogant facade, making Lily smile again.
“Leaving me as the much greater and much wiser head of the philosophy department,” Wilson said, smirking at his brother.
“But you’re here to raise money for the arts department?” Lily asked, looking confused by that notion.
“Yes, well, you see, our mother always loved raising money to give to the charities and causes most dear to her. Our mother loved art, but she was a selfless woman and spent a good deal of her time raising money for the Ohio University music department for my father. So much time, in fact, that she rarely had the time to help the organizations that really meant so much to her. So now, in honor of h
er, my brother and I help to raise money every year for the arts department at our school and to help keep this place up and running,” Emerson explained.
“Yes, she loved this place,” Wilson added. “She’d spend hours here with my brother and me, fawning over every detail of the paintings and sculptures.”
“Sounds to me like your motha’s selflessness rubbed off on the two of you, right along with her love of art,” Lily replied, truly empathizing with the power that a mother’s love could often have on her children.
“Such a lovely compliment,” Emerson replied, kissing the back of Lily’s hand again.
“Yes,” Wilson interrupted, stealing her hand from his brother. “From a very lovely lady,” he added, determined not to be outdone by his slightly younger brother.
“Watch it you two! She’s taken!” William warned playfully. “This one here is bound to turn into a rabid dog over her,” he said, motioning his head toward James.
The twins and James laughed, all knowing that no harm was meant in their silly charms, but Elijah stood behind them with his blood simmering over the memory of once facing the rabid dog that had now “taken” Lily. Elijah did not appreciate William’s reminder of their relationship. Over the last few months, he had already been nauseated enough by the sight of James and Lily together on a regular basis. And now, witnessing such an insignificant scene had significantly ruined Elijah’s evening, yet again. Fortunately, the curator of the museum approached, finally giving cause for Elijah to stop trying to murder James with his eyes.
“William! Good to see you again old friend!” the curator said, shaking William’s hand. He then turned toward Lily. “And you must be Ms. Adams.” He extended his hand, gently shaking hers as well.
“I am.”
“I’m Preston Mills, curator of the museum.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Lily replied with a smile.
“It’s certainly an honor to have you here this evening. I was one of the fortunate few who was able to secure a pair of tickets for your show. My wife and I are very much looking forward to it, as is the rest of this city, it seems. Everyone is buzzing about it!”
“Thank you, Mr. Mills. You’re too kind.”
“Please, by all means, call me Preston.”
“Well then Preston, I must say, your facility is incredibly beautiful. I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from all the fine artwork. I see why William’s wife used to spend hours here.”
“Oh, well now, you are too kind.”
As they spoke, another man approached. He had intentionally messy hair and was dressed in bright red flamboyant attire with white ruffles protruding from the collar and wrist areas of his outfit. Lily’s eyes were instantly drawn to him.
“William, you remember Piers LeRoux, I’m sure?” Preston said, referring to the colorfully dressed man who now stood by his side.
“Of course. How could I forget?” William replied, grasping onto Piers’s hand. “He’s done most of the art in my home, including the magnificent portrait of my wife. He’s one hell of an artist.”
“Thank you, Mr. Werthington,” Piers replied.
“Yes, I certainly agree,” Preston said. “And fortunately for us, your sons have convinced him to display some of his most precious pieces for the auction tonight.”
“Well, when your sons told me how fond your wife was of my work and of this facility, there was no way I was going to turn down an opportunity to honor her in such a way,” Piers responded, in a French accent so thick that he was difficult to understand.
“You are too gracious, Piers. I can assure you that this would have meant the world to my wife,” William said appreciatively.
Piers then turned and homed in on Lily. Unaware at that point that she was “taken,” a devilish smile emerged on his face as his eyes glided up and down her body, absorbing what he felt were extraordinarily incredible features. One would have guessed by his flamboyant attire that he enjoyed the company of his own gender, but the way Piers looked at Lily, like she was an exotic dish that he was dying to taste, proved otherwise. “Ms. Adams,” Piers announced, taking her by the hand and bowing slightly. “Pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, his eyes still roaming her body.
“So wonderful to meet you too, Mr. LeRoux,” Lily replied, a little surprised that he already knew who she was. “I can’t wait to see your pieces this evenin’.”
Piers raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes … I certainly hope to please you,” he said, in a way that left no secret about the fact that he was alluding to much more than art.
“Well, Ms. Adams, fortunately, you won’t have to wait too long then, the festivities are set to begin in The Grand Hall momentarily,” Preston interrupted. “So sorry to cut your tour short.”
“It’s quite alright. Lead the way.”
* * * *
After the bidding had gone better than expected in The Grand Hall, an orchestra began playing elegant music. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres were served, as an array of people glided around the dance floor to the classical melodies. The atmosphere was happy and light but judging by Elijah’s face one would never have guessed that. He stood next to a table of drinks, holding on to a glass of liquor with a scowl on his face, guzzling it from time to time, too annoyed to pay any mind to the burn that erupted in his chest afterward. Isabel pranced over to him with a joyous grin on her face, thoroughly enjoying the festive spirit, completely oblivious to her brother’s foul mood, as she typically was to all things. “Dance with me, brotha’,” she smiled, taking him by the hand and trying to pull him toward the dance floor.
“Not now, Isabel!” Elijah fired back, snatching his hand away, finally making his rotten attitude blatantly obvious, even to her.
Isabel followed her brother’s eyes, looked over her shoulder, and saw what had darkened his evening: Lily smiling and laughing, arm in arm with James as they waltzed happily around the dance floor.
“Sore losa’,” Isabel teased, after turning back and seeing the nasty expression still plastered on her brother’s face. “Everybody in they right mind knows those two belong togetha’. And I think they make a lovely couple.”
Elijah furrowed his eyebrows and tightened his lips. “I’ve neva’ struck a woman before.” He lifted a finger from his glass and pointed it at his sister. “Anotha’ word and I promise you’ll be the first!”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Isabel replied confidently, sticking her tongue out at Elijah like they were kids all over again. “You know I’m Daddy’s favorite. He’d beat you senseless!” She threw her hands on her hips. “Hmph, I didn’t really wanna dance with you anyway! I just felt sorry for you, standin’ ova’ here lookin’ like a lonely lost puppy that nobody wants! But now I’d ratha’ dance with one ‘a the twins, instead of a sore losa’. They’s always betta’ dancers than you were anyway,” she scoffed, sticking her tongue out at him again. “Sore losa’, sore losa’, sore losa’!” she chanted as she pranced off and danced her way into Emerson’s arms and out onto the dance floor.
Elijah watched his sister float away and then went back to trying to kill James with his eyes while drowning his jealousy with whiskey.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?!” Preston announced, after taking to the stage again. The music silenced, and everyone turned in his direction. “I hope you are all enjoying yourselves this evening. We will get back to the music and festivities momentarily, but if you would please find your seats once again.” He waited for everyone to do so before continuing. “First and foremost, I would like to say thank you to Mr. Piers LeRoux for the lovely pieces he has provided here tonight.” He motioned his arm toward Piers who stood just to the right of him with his posture perfect and his hands clasped behind his back. “His work is simply extraordinary, wouldn’t you agree?” Everyone applauded in unison and Piers bowed slightly to acknowledge their warm reception. “That is why it gives me great delight to let you all know that there is one final piece that he has yet to show this eveni
ng.”
Preston stepped away and let Piers have the floor. He stepped forward with his unique mannerisms and pierced the brief silence with his thick French accent. “This piece was inspired by something I saw not long ago, something that was so poetically picturesque, it awakened every one of my senses. The imagery stayed with me for so long that I dreamt of it several times afterward. Every vivid detail was engrained into my memory so vibrantly that I wanted to savor it in my mind for a lifetime. Before it had a chance to fade away from my mind, I etched it in permanence so that I may revisit the precious memory whenever I so desire. It is a memory so inspirational and precious to me that I wish to revisit it here with you all tonight.” Piers then turned and dropped a black satin cover from the expansive canvas behind him to unveil his painting.
When it was revealed, Lily inhaled sharply and leaned forward in her seat. William followed suit, pushing his spectacles up higher on his nose to see with more clarity the picture that neither he nor Lily were ever made privy to.
At the very top of the portrait, the apparition of an angel with expansive wings was stretched across it. It was floating high above shadowed figures dancing in unison amidst a dragon, an oak tree, and a sword-wielding knight, all of which depicted various scenes that had been infused into the sheer tapestry during The Dream Symphony. In front of the shadows, an array of musicians with various instruments were scattered about the stage, all being directed by William Werthington, who stood in front of them with his baton high in the air and his signature split coattails trailing behind him. Every aspect of the portrait was in black and white except for the image in the very center. In the midst of all the orchestra bodies, sitting perched at an extravagant grand piano with her eyes closed and her fingers delicately tickling the keys, Lily Adams was painted in vivid colors, dressed in a satin gown that flowed glamorously behind her. Her illustrious spiral curled hair, her multicolor eyes, the red in her gown, her matching make-up, her piano, and even the tinted hue of her skin, were all meticulously detailed with such painstaking accuracy and colors so vivacious that every bidder in the room threw up their paddles in hopes of becoming the artwork’s owner.
