"No one can ever fit the bill," Sara interjected. "You know what I'm talking about."
"I have no idea, Mom. I really don't."
Sara walked around the counter and sat next to Mira. "Every single fella I knew that showed the slightest interest in you, you push them away."
"You've lost me there."
"Take Rosie's father, for instance. The guy just forgot your birthday and you dumped him!"
"Mother, for your information, Cody and I had been dating for a full two years. There was no excuse for him not to remember my birthday," Mira countered. "Furthermore, it was more than just that."
"Sweet pea, you know that's all it was. Cody was a real gentleman who treated you so well the time you were together. No amount of calls or pleading on his part prompted you to take him back after you broke up with him. I never understood how you could do that."
"You weren't in the relationship with him, Mom. You couldn't see his stupid flaws. Furthermore, if he was such a nice guy and a gentleman as you say, how come after he saw that I wasn't getting back with him, he moved away and seemingly forgot he had a daughter. Such a nice guy he is!"
"You're right about that," Sara agreed. "He's so wrong and he'll regret that one day, but let's not make this about Cody…I'm talking about you. Ever since that incident with Karlen Key and Andy all those years ago, you've taken on the viewpoint that love relationships must be perfect—like theirs was."
"I really don't know what you're talking about." Mira looked away momentarily.
"Don't you remember what you said to me that very evening after Karlen and Andy were re-united?"
"No."
"I remember. You said that when you grew up, you would never fall in love with a man if he wasn't like Andy."
"The revelation instantly jogged Mira's memory."
"You said that he was the perfect man and you wanted to have a relationship just like theirs when you grew up," Sara continued.
Mira was silent.
"I think I understand now. You don’t think you've found the man that's measured up to the standards you've set based on those qualities you saw in Andy."
"That's ridiculous," Mira finally responded.
"No, it's not and you know I'm right, dear. I realize that experience you had all those years ago - witnessing the extremely passionate, undying love they had for one another made a lasting imprint in your young mind of what love between a couple should be like. But sweetheart, I'm going to be honest with you... Romantic relationships require work. When the butterflies in the stomach settle down, couples tend to come back to reality. The struggles, hardships and disagreements set in and if the love is true and pure from the beginning, it can survive. What you didn't see were the struggles, hardships and disagreements Karlen and Andy might have had with each other when they were courting. You didn't see the attitudes and personalities that clashed from time to time. You just saw the most meaningful part—which is how strong and lasting their love was that even transcended death and that's what was so beautiful and gave you the outlook on life you have today."
"I don't know, Mom. You've arrived at such a deep conclusion to a simple matter," Mira said.
Sara gently stroked her daughter's hair, then got up and walked back around the counter.
"Just think about what I said. I know when you and your brother were younger, you didn't see much affection coming my way from your father and I know that's not what you want for your life. But you know your father is a different man now and these past fifteen years have made up for all the years prior to that. He's more loving, affectionate and although he's still not much of a talker, he communicates way more than he used to. Our love may not be a fairy-tale type of romance, but it's true love and as we're growing old together, we're both grateful that we're here for each other and enjoying life. That's what I want for you—someone you can share your life with in a loving, caring way." She placed two sandwiches on a tray. "I'm going to take these to your father and Rosie."
Mira sat at the kitchen counter, surprised that her mother had even brought up the Karlen and Andy saga.
She pulled up one of the sandwiches and took a bite. Her mother was beginning to get inside her head. Maybe she's right, she thought. Then in a split second, she decided that she still felt the same way as before and nothing her mother said was going to change that.
That night…
Mira was helping Rosie with her pajama top. The little one had just finished her bubble bath.
"Why do you always do this, Mom? I'm old enough to do it myself," Rosie stated matter-of-factly.
Just then, Sara appeared at the door. "So you're ready for bed now, huh?"
"Yes, Nana," Rosie answered cheerfully. "Umm…Nana, may I watch one more program with Pops before I go to sleep?"
"Now, pumpkin…" Sara stepped further into the room, "…that's completely up to your mother." She glanced at Mira.
"Mom, can I?" Rosie made her plea.
"Honey, it's late. It's actually almost ten o'clock now." Mira glanced at the clock affixed to the wall. "You and Dad have watched television for hours already. Dad has to get some sleep and so do you. There's always tomorrow, okay?"
Sara smiled as she looked on.
"Okay, Mom." Rosie pouted a little as she climbed into bed.
Mira walked toward her mother. "Can they ever get enough of that TV?" Mira remarked. "She's not interested nearly as much when we're home."
"That's because that is their special thing," Sara responded. "Whenever your father passes on…" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "…that's most likely the thing she'll miss the most. They're creating memories that will last a lifetime. Have a good night, dear." She patted Mira's shoulder and left the room.
4
_________________
After breakfast, Rosie and her grandfather busied themselves with a game of Checkers. Mira washed the dishes, then sauntered out into the western side of the yard where her parents had placed two adjustable patio chairs side by side near the plum tree. She reached up and snatched a few plums, then stretched out in one of the tilted chairs.
As she sucked the delectable flesh of plum, the early sun met her ankles. She welcomed the warm glow that soaked through her strapped sandals.
"There you are!" Sara said. "I was wondering where you had disappeared to."
"This was really a cool idea putting these chairs in this spot." Mira spat out a seed and put another plum in her mouth.
"It's better than being on the front porch," Sara noted, sitting in the other chair. "There's no shade there, so when the sun's piping hot, you've got to get indoors unless you're looking for a tan."
There was a brief silence.
"Your father and I are taking Rosie to the theme park today. I just told her before I came out here."
"That's great. She'll love it."
"Afterwards, we're going for cake and ice-cream. I haven't told her that part yet, though," Sara giggled.
"You're trying to do all of that today?" Mira asked.
"Sure. Why not? We'll leave around noon, so we'll have plenty of time to get everything in."
"I just think it's a lot for you and Dad to do. You'll most likely be at the park for hours and after that, you'll all be tired—except maybe for Rosie. Whenever I go there, the only thing I wanna do right after is come home and go to sleep."
"That's because you young people are not as strong sometimes as us older folks. Wiser, but weaker…"
"Sure, Mom," Mira smirked.
"I took these two weeks' vacation because I wanted to spend as much time as I can with you guys and I plan to get in as much fun time as possible. I thought Rosie was excited about going to the theme park, but your father is even more excited than she is!"
A sudden burst of laughter escaped the house. "I win! I win!" They heard Rosie exclaim.
Mira and Sara laughed.
"It's like no one else on earth matters once she's with her Pops." Sara smiled.
"So true."
At that
moment, Mira's attention shifted toward the far, southern end of the street.
Sara could not help but notice the length of her daughter's stare. "Did I ever tell you that a family moved into that house?" she asked.
"What house?"
"Cornelius Ferguson's house."
Mira gaped at her mother. "Really? When?"
"A few months ago, a senator and his family moved in after fixing up the place pretty good. The house was vacant for well over a decade, so they must have had a great deal of work to get that place inhabitable. By the way, they're colored folks too," Sara noted.
Mira sat straight up—clearly stunned. "I wonder if they heard the stories."
"I have no idea. I heard the husband isn't very friendly and the wife rarely associates with anyone around here neither, so I couldn’t tell you what they know."
Mira leaned slowly back again. "Well, maybe they're doing just fine at the house since Karlen's no longer there. I would think it's nice and peaceful just like any other house would be. I'm surprised that it remained empty all those years after she moved on."
"You might be forgetting, sweet pea that only a handful of people knew that Karlen moved on. People around this town fear that once a place was haunted, it's always haunted anyway, so if they knew or not, it might not have made a difference."
"Did they save most of the bearing trees?" Mira asked. "I can still see a few from here."
"Most of the trees that were there in front of the property are still there," Sara returned. "They cleared down the entrance that leads to the house starting more at the right side of where the fence used to be. I guess they didn't have the heart to uproot all those lovely, fruit-bearing trees. They did a really nice job with the driveway. You can't see it from here."
Suddenly, Mira had an idea. "Maybe Rosie and I will pay them a visit. What's their surname?"
"Benjamin, I think. Mira, you really don't want to intrude. Some people would rather be left alone." Sara seemed flabbergasted by the very idea.
"True, Mom, but I'm sure just going and introducing myself will only be interpreted as my being neighborly and nothing more."
"You're not going to mention anything; are you?"
"I… don't think so. Don't see any need for that right now," Mira replied.
Laughter erupted again from the inside. "This time you lose!" Michael blurted.
Rosie was giggling even louder than before. "I saw what you did, Pops! You cheater!"
Her words pulled Mira into a flashback of when she and Wade did anything competitively—she always accused him of cheating.
"Wade and I used to fry fish in this very spot," Mira indicated with her chin. "We never told you that."
"You didn't have to." Sara smiled. "A mother always knows when her kids are up to something even if she never breathes one word of it. I can only imagine some of the other things you and your brother got into when my and your father's backs were turned."
"I don't think you wanna know, Mom." Mira was obviously taunting her mother with curiosity.
"So, you're going to keep the rest to yourself, huh?"
"Mum's, the word."
"Well, you just go right ahead, sweet pea." Sara got up. "Have to head inside now and fold some laundry, then I'll get a little rest before it's time for us to leave. Are you coming with us?"
"I'm not sure," Mira replied. "I may just let you guys go and have fun without me. You usually do, anyway, everytime Rosie and I come down."
"Aww… such a baby. It's your own fault if your daughter thinks you're not 'fun' enough to hang with Nana and Pops."
Sara's smile was undoubtedly sickening. She cheerfully walked off and disappeared around the bend.
For the longest time, Mira sat alone thinking about the new residents of the Ferguson house. The more she thought about the prospect of going anywhere near the place again, the more interested she became. She soon got up, picked a few more plums then headed back inside. Peeking into her parents' room, she saw that her father and Rosie had quieted down and were watching television together in bed.
"What's on?" She stood at the door with arms folded.
"The Friendly Ghost." Rosie glanced up at Mira. She was lying on her stomach in the opposite direction of her grandfather with her face cupped inside her little hands. Michael was resting on his back with fingers interlocked behind his head.
"Don't you ever get tired of scary pictures?" Mira asked Rosie.
Michael laughed. "Did you ever get tired of them when you were her age?"
"Dad!"
"What?" Michael looked her way.
"I didn't want her to know I did the same thing!" She spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"I hear you, Mom," Rosie sang.
Michael sighed. "Does she ever have bad dreams after watching supposed scary pictures?" he asked Mira.
"No."
"Well, leave her be! She's a tough kid. What might give you the shakes, probably won't faze her."
Mira walked in and sat next to Rosie. "Wanna go for a walk?"
"Now?" Rosie inquired.
"Yeah, but I can wait until your picture's over if you want."
Rosie looked back at her grandfather. He could tell she was wondering if he would be disappointed if she left.
"Go ahead. We have a full two weeks to watch TV together," Michael assured her.
"Okay, Pops!" She scooted up and kissed him on the cheek. Mom and I won't be long. Would we, Mom?"
"No sweetheart. We won't be long."
"Okay then. I'll put on my shoes and make sure my hair is fixed nicely."
"Good girl," Mira said as Rosie skipped out of the room. "What on earth have you done to her, Dad?"
Michael arched his brows. "Me? I haven't done a thing."
"That child doesn't wanna spend a good minute apart from you when she's here. It's crazy, you know?"
Michael only smiled.
"Nana! Mom and I are going for a walk!" Rosie exclaimed while darting past Wade's old room. Sara had been putting away the folded clothes.
"So, you're really going there? Aren't you?" Sara appeared at the bedroom door, moments later. She was looking at Mira intently.
A tad confused, Michael glanced at them both.
"I told you I was, Mom. You thought I was kidding?"
"Going where?" Michael had to know.
"Mira's going over to the Ferguson house," Sara filled him in.
"What on earth for?" Michael sat up, grimacing from the slight pain he suddenly felt in his back. "Don't people live there now— a politician and his family?"
"Dad, I'm only going to be neighborly and introduce myself," Mira said.
"And you're taking Rosie with you." Sara's voice held a tinge of disdain.
"Why not? We could both do with the walk and Rosie loves meeting people," Mira returned.
"I still don't think you should intrude. Don't you agree, Michael?"
Michael attempted to lie down again. "She says she's just going to hail. I don't see any harm in that," he replied.
"See, Mom. There's no harm in that." Mira smiled as her mother turned away from the door.
As Mira led the way toward the end of the street, Rosie skipped happily along. She was wearing a pink skirt that stopped just above the knees and a matching blouse. Those beloved candy curls of hers bounced up and down and around her face, glistening in the sun.
"May I have a mango?" she asked as they approached the edge of the Ferguson property.
Mira stared up at the tall mango tree just ahead whose branches were stretched long and wide. The tree was stacked with fruit and as much as she wanted to please her daughter, Mira knew she was no climber. How she wished right then that Wade was there—the designated climber.
She scanned the ground that was visited by a variety of multi-colored leaves and dry limbs of all sizes which had dropped from the various trees. She was hoping to find something long enough to reach the mangos. Then several feet over to her left, she found the perfect branch. Though it had wi
thered to a noticeable degree, Mira deemed it strong enough to propel a mango from its stem. Stretching up onto her toes, the edge of the branch barely touched the mangos, but with one hard swing forward in union with a slight leap, one of them fell helplessly to the ground and Rosie hurried over to pick it up.
"Mom, you've got it! Thanks!"
Mira dropped the branch. "You're welcome, honey."
She looked over to the edge of the asphalt driveway that led to the house she had deliberately avoided over the years. The house still could not be seen from the road and as Mira moved in that direction, it was apparent that the Benjamins had not altered much of the yard. It looked pretty much the way it did all those years ago except for the long, curvy driveway which led up to the house. The house! It was magnificent! Mira held Rosie's hand as they walked the property.
"Mom, why are we here?" Rosie asked.
"We’re just going to pay some nice people a visit," Mira replied, utterly entranced by the huge makeover the house had undertaken—which once had broken windows on every side, peeling paint all over and missing doors. It had been delightfully transformed into a rose-colored, colonial-style edifice with tall, white columns in front, clean, beautiful windows and decorative window frames. Mira was convinced that the Ferguson house was now as charmingly captivating as it probably was when Cornelius and his wife, Marlena, lived there over a century before.
"This house is so pretty, Mom," Rosie commented.
"It sure is, honey."
It took a few minutes for them to get to the front porch that was neatly covered with large, white and beige interlocking marble tiles. Mira felt fairly strange standing in front of the darkly-stained double doors that weren't there at her last visit.
"Aren't you going to knock?" Rosie looked up at her mother who was still holding her hand, but staring quietly ahead.
"Ah…yes. I'll ring the door-bell." Mira reached over and pressed the small button next to the door.
They soon heard the pitter-patter of feet.
"I'll get it!" a little voice cried.
"Oh, no you won't!" A man's voice quickly followed.
The Cornelius Saga Series (All 15 Books): The Ultimate Adventure-packed Supernatural Thriller Collection Page 11
