M&R; Come Hither, Sweet Puck

The Contessa Piccolomini entered the narthex of the Guardian Angel cathedral, escorted as usual on formal family occasions by the patriarch of the family Orion Sienna.   Her great-granddaughter followed effortlessly behind as though pulled along in the wake of the powerful duo’s passage.  The contessa, even at this great age, continued to be a stunning ethereal beauty.  Her long silver hair had a curl and bounce to it that could be the envy of a younger woman, if anything like a negative opinion could be held of the family matriarch.  Harmonia (that was the contessa’s name) was simply elegant in appearance and style, simply charming, simply “august” with not pretension.  She stopped their progress before entering the nave proper.

Turning to her namesake great-granddaughter she said, “Harmonia, I realize that Orion is old enough to be your grandfather,” here her left eye winked just for her escort, “but would mind escorting him to our pew?  I have to meet Maeve...”

“I would love to grand-mama.” came the soft, emotionless reply from the down-turned face.  As the younger Harmonia looked up, her translucent soft hands, enfolded Orion’s upper arm and the stiff, coarse fabric of his jacket.  A Mona-Lisa smile grew on her lips as she gazed into his eyes.

“The pleasure will be all mind.” Orion assured her.  His features were not so emotionless, but rather painted with pleasure.

The older woman smiled kindly upon the young couple and continued  “…we  are escorting your cousin, I mean, your nephew Balder and his wife to their seats on the distaff side of the aisle.”

With a double take Orion’s face turned to the contessa, the younger Harmonia’s gaze placidly followed his and her smile redouble on her “grand-mama”.

“Why?  Why aren’t the ushers escorting him?”

“Because, sweet man, no one messes with Maeve and because I know where all the bodies are buried, which babies arrived early, whose ancestral claims are a little shaky and all the embarrassing little family anecdotes that everyone else has forgotten about.  We will make sure they are received politely by the rest of the family.”

The explanation seemed to please the younger man; he smiled when he entered the nave with Harmonia on his arm.  Just before moving into view, he had waved a little too enthusiastically to the grooms who were his 10^th ex-wife’s sons.  The brightness of the space enclosed by the whale-boned arched roof forced their eyelids to bat away the light.  Maeve requested that all the stained glass windows be removed to accommodate the overflow crowd.  Most of the men of the Sienna family stood outside the church.  Several of them studied his features closely.  There had been odd rumors and quiet murmurings about the head of the family business. His business partner John Sienna, the father of the grooms, had refereed to Orion as “son” at a recent meeting.     Inside  were the well-heeled women of the family, Maeve’s old-money friends and diplomats from Aethiopia, Italy, France, India, Siam and most of the “ –stan’s”.  The pews were sleek and blondish in keeping with the modern theme. The pews were tightly spaced and tightly packed.  . The building was an enormous A-frame built in 1963, with an exterior mosaic depicting a guardian angel. Dramatic triangular recesses framed the absent stained glass windows, which also served as the Stations of the Cross. The mural above the altar seems to depict three men flying through the air. During the rehearsal, the father of the brides referred to them as “Eros, Pothos and Himeros” deities quite appropriate for a wedding. . A “closed” gift shop stood to the right and a line of confessionals to the left.  

The family rose at Orion’s entrance.  At this point in his life Orion seemed almost a caricature of the role he played as patriarch of the family.  The perfect touch of gray at his temples accessorized his short-kept curly black hair.  His traditional slim hard-muscled frame seemed beefier now and filled his smart military dress jacket. His russet uniform tinted with brown emphasized the fairness of his (still) youthful complexion.  The erectness of his frame and grace of step indicated what his charming features shone with; power and charisma.  There was something about Orion that made men what to follow and women adore.  Several beauties curtsied as he passed in hopes of catching his proverbially wandering eye.  Orion would whisper endearments that stole the hearts away from the even the most thoughtful and intelligent of women.  There seemed still a chance they might be his eleventh wife, although everyone noted the younger Harmonia seemed to be the companion of choice lately.   

Mohammed might not be able to move mountains.  Orion could and like Joshua, he could to dictate to the sun.   Because, in addition to the twin blessings of charisma and personal appearance, Orion was blessed with endless wealth and unimaginable influence.  As Kissinger said, “Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.”  Orion had power.  Being in his presence was a heady event.  The younger Harmonia had him in arm as they sauntered down the aisle to the first pew on the right.

The brides’ maids were in their place lead by the brides’ sister, like the goddess Artemis a head taller than the rest of the nymphs.  The grooms, Shep and Nom though actually a year apart looked more like twin than ever with the hair sun streaked from their recent tour of duty.  They beamed their famous smiles as they watched the couple come in.  Whispering to themselves and their groomsmen about what a fine couple Orion and Harmonia made.  They were accompanied by a childhood friend and de facto foster-brother Diodatus, who newly naturalized and newly enlisted, also wore a dress uniform.  

The second time in moments, Orion did a double take when he saw the gentleman standing next to the grooms’ friend.   His skin was dark.  His lips were as plush as Orion’s, but darker.  His eyes were large and wide set in contrast to Orion’s narrow judgmental gaze.  His cheeks bordered on jowls, there was a scar on one check, a tattoo on the opposite side of his forehead, his ears largish and mismatched, his nose clearly broken on several occasions, his forehead “lumpy” and there seemed something wrong about the shape of his skull.  People with less self-control than Orion would gape open-mouthed or advert their eyes.  On the other hand, the man had long handsome black hair and a muscular frame.  He had just enlisted also and uncomfortably wore the uniform.   Orion noticed that the man could not keep his eyes off the maid of honor across the aisle.  And vice versa.

 “Is that someone from Cousin Balder’s side of the family?” he whispered to Harmonia after nodding curtly to the foursome.

“No, that’s Diodatus’ buddy, Todd.  His family is from American Samoa.  You’ve been gone a lot haven’t you?  Everyone just loves him.” She responded sweetly soto voce while gazing upon the grooms’ party in front of them.

Orion noted the distance between the grooms and their first groomsman; “It looks like their missing their best man.”

Harmonia turned in order to catch Orion’s eye, before reporting that they were saving that spot for their half-brother Puck.  Orion was suddenly aware of the people in the pew behind them listening to the conversation.

“I’ve spent the better part of the last six years looking for my prodigal son.  I’ve found no sign of him and no one has heard from him.” Orion replied with a practiced shake of the head and a soft sad tone he'd perfected. 

Harmonia waited to respond as though waiting for a cue.  Her left hand rose to the streak of silver at his right temple.  With sylph-like grace, her lips slipped to his left ear, opposite the eavesdroppers.  She explained that the boys’ mother Maeve, “who knows things sometimes” was quite confident of his appearance. Orion’s super-confident and rather stoic features began to crumb before her eyes.  To hide his confusion she kissed his right cheek and turned her right ear to his thick lips as though listening to some whispered response.  “Orion” has spent the last six years in preparation for this day.  He’d skillfully filled key positions in the family business with men obligated to him and his mother and stepfather for their positions.  Once the master of the Siennan financial empire regained his composure, he responded with praises to her beauty.

A murmuring arose behind them, followed by gasps and a few exclamations of “Oh, my God!”  The expression on Shep and Nom’s faces could only be described as dumbstruck!  Orion and Harmonia acknowledged to one another that “Nephew” Balder must have arrived, but neighed not to notice. Orion better spent the time whispering sweet nothing to his fair companion.  But at the touch of Maeve’s hand on his epaulets, the sound of his name and her words of introduction he rose to shake the hand of his long estranged kinsmen.  Balder hugged him.  Orion seemed embarrassed, the crowd delighted.  When released, Orion discovered why the look of shock on his kinsmen’s faces.  Balder looked like a Greek god carved in ebony.  His midnight locks spiraled down to his broad shoulders in perfect imitation of Zeus’.  His face was that of Adonis.  His features as smooth and clean as some sort of polished black marble.  His under torso herculean, narrowing to his waist and long legs.  He was shockingly beautiful.  His wife was even darker, with a voluptuousness that Orion found moving.  The slim-waisted, full-figured, wide-hipped woman had skin of midnight black. A constellations of star sapphires hung at her ear lobes.  Beauty and innocence defined her features. There was a warmth about her, an aura of friendliness; a wave of sexuality.  The sheerness of her simmering charcoal gray gown trimmed in sable   revealed a womanly figure so abysmally black skinned as to appear featureless beneath.  A shock of aromatic curly charcoal gray hair surrounded her fair face like a halo.  After a few quite words of introduction and promises to meet at the reception, Balder and his wife were escorted to their place on the front row of the bride’s side and Maeve and the contessa joined Harmonia and Orion. 

“Grand-mama?” Harmonia began.  She leaned across the front of Orion to see her great-grandmother.  In the process her right hand landed gently upon his left thigh, her slim shoulder nudged his firm chest; the aroma of perfume filled his nostrils.  “Cousin Balder seemed quite charming.  Why do people say they will never forgive him?”

Contessa Piccolomini unlike her namesake could laugh after decades of practice.  She smiled indulgently before answering, “Oh, that was all ages ago.  Plus, it wasn’t Balder who cooperated with the fascists.  It was his father and other uncles.  Much to the enrichment of everyone that makes that comment.”

The church bells began to peal.  As though that was her cue, the contessa commented on how much Todd looked like someone from Balder’s side of the family.  “I should say hi, to the boys.” 

She rose.  Everyone took that as a signal and noisily followed suit.  She exchanged quiet words with Shep and Nom.  At a nod from them, she turned to Orion and Harmonia indicating the empty groomsman’s position before the altar beckoning with her right index finger.   The octogenarian spoke loud enough for those in the pew behind “Orion” to hear, “Come hither, sweet Puck.”

Meanwhile, the congregation excitedly turned towards the back of the church.  They stood and turned noisily.  The organist struck up “Here Comes the Bride”.  The eavesdroppers weren’t sure what they heard.  Stan Scamander escorted his daughters down the aisle with the assistance of John Sienna.  While everyone looked at the blushing brides, Maeve and Harmonia gave several influential member of the family a nod and knowing look.  When the congregation sat, everyone knew what they saw.   They saw Puck, the long lost heir of the Siennan fortune, standing with his brothers.

The ceremony went off without a hitch.  All in French, course.  The beaming brides and grinning grooms departed the church side by side by side.   Men began climbing in over the windowsills.  The bridesmaids and groomsmen paired up as the filed out followed hurriedly by Cousin Balder and his wife.  (Todd somehow was paired up with the brides’ maid).  Parents of the bridal party rose from their pews and were swarmed by well-wishers, engaged by enraged cousins wanting to know how long Puck had been covering for his father and the fawning nods of those aware.

Digital image thanks to NYPL

M&R: You Don't Have to Tell Deliberate Lies

The ornate silver fork fell from Maeve’s hand into her porcelain dinner plate and rattled to a stop on the gold-trimmed edge. Sir Mark Roofer, their self-possessed host continued glibly protesting his innocence to his guests and the young women who accompanied them. He appeared tall and long faced. At first appearing blonde, but on second glance his white hair proved bleached in places by the South African sun. He might once have been handsome. But he surely always had that touch of “goofiness” in his features. He certainly didn’t look like a criminal mastermind. His practiced, polished performance contained just the right amount of pathos with all the innate charm that an English accent can bring to these moments. He never noticed Maeve and Roxanne’s response. However, his mother , the former prime minister of the world’s largest commonwealth did.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Sienna?”

Maeve, was still too dumbstruck by the realization to respond.

“Oh, I was just telling her a joke.” Her sister Roxanne Scamander explained. “Are you familiar with Halloween?” The elderly stateswoman sitting on the other side of Maeve nodded pleasantly and waited for the red-head to continue. “In the United States the children dress up on the eve of All Saints Day, as demons, hobgoblins and … fairy princess…” That finally provoked a response from Maeve; a smile and a smirk. “and go door to door begging for treats.”

“It's more like exhortation.” Maeve corrected. “It’s called, trick or treat.” She explained while glancing pointed at the tines of her upturned fallen fork.

The former prime minister chuckled. She’d shrunk since her hay-days. Her hair was still robust but now white. She wore a matronly outfit and seemed overdressed for the weather. She seemed quick, lively and as sharp mentally as ever. Her laughter proved an honest, deep, hollow noise. Roxanne liked Baroness Roofer, but that was a given they both being red-heads once upon a time.

“Anyway,” she continued, “ one boy came to my friend’s door. He carried a knife, was covered in blood and was collecting his treats in a large “Rice Crispies” box. ‘Do you know what I am?’ he says to my friend. She said, no. ‘I’m a serial killer.”

Baroness Margaret Roofer did just exactly what everyone else does when Roxanne tells the joke; she grinned widely with a blush and laughed loudly. Roxanne was delighted, as the triumph shake of her cascading coppery locks revealed.

“I’m so glad your girls sat with me!” Margaret hooted.

Actually it was Margaret who insisted “the girls” sit with her. The Scamanders and Siennans had been invited to a “barbeque in the country” by some friends. They’d driven into the country with their friends to a rambling home at the foot of a forested mountain overlooking a vast plain. Their husbands arrived at the party in their swim suits, Hawaiian shirts and barefoot. Worse yet, Maeve and Roxanne wore Mumu’s matching their husband’s shirts. Instead of steaks on the grill, they arrived at a catered formal dinner where the men wore linen jackets and their “girlfriends” wore short sequined cocktail dresses. They quickly reassured their host that they’d be changing before dinner. Mr. Sienna’s valet fetched wraps and jewels for the Maeve and Roxanne and suits for their husbands. Margaret later told them tongue in cheek that they “cleaned up real good.” However, changing clothes in the pool house (and donning shoes) made them last to sit down for dinner. There were two seats at one table and two at another. Margaret had called “Please sit here ladies.” While patting the empty seat nearness. Maeve and Roxanne accepted her invitation and their husband’s sat at the adjoining table. Margaret introduced her husband Dennis on her right and the ladies were chatting when their host began pontificating.

“So tell us about your children?” Roxanne suggested.

“My son, the baronet, of course.” The baroness began. He raised a water glass before her mouth to cover the conversation, but her subject was oblivious to everything but what he said. “As you can tell he has a charming little bracelet on his ankle and hasn’t been off the property for a few months; an investment in an oil exploration company that went bad. This is his crowd. I can usually make up my mind about a man in ten seconds, and I very rarely change it.” Roxanne nodded vigorously, until she realized they were talking about a different kind of “sizing up.” Margaret’s eyes lead the gaze of the sisters’ around the room from right to left, naming a few as they went. The threesome exchanged looks at several of the more notorious names. “All of whom, including my son, the papers described at one time or another as “nefarious.” In response Maeve and Roxanne could only smile and go back to eating. “Oh, and I have a daughter of course.”

“A journalist…” Maeve said with an approving nod of encouragement.

“Well, if being a journalist is writing books and filming documentaries about your parents, she is one. I think she’s used up all her childhood memories and family connections. She makes her living now as a celebrity in reality television. No man, no children. Of course, Mark has two darling little tikes. And you ladies?”

Roxanne had already pulled out her “Grandma’s Brag Book”. The Baroness was engulfed by a photographs of dark-haired tan children, most of whom had bewilderingly similar names and features. Sir Roofer or “Surfer” as his cronies called him nodded to his majordomo. Sherry and cigars were passed around as the chatter’s people cleared the dinner dishes. All his coarse acquaintances happily accepted a Cuban or two. Their dates did not. When the box passed by Sir Dennis and Baroness Roofer, they both took one. Maeve and Roxanne shook their heads and whispered, no thanks.

“Oh goodness. My manners. Would you ladies mind if we smoke?”

“Not at all.” Maeve responded with a sad smile. “My first husband smoked. I’ve always loved the smell of tobacco smoke.”

This comment got a surprised look from her sister but Roxanne had no chance to speak as “Surfer” rose from is chair, sherry in hand. “Before our guest of honor enlightens us with a few words about the future of this continent.” Roxanne and Maeve leaned forward to follow their hosts gaze and on the other side of Sir Dennis spotted the octogenarian prime minister and gasped. “I would like us to raise our glasses in honor of absent friends. In particular to Simon Black whose been unbelievable accused of leading a coup d’état in Buranda. Here’s hoping our friends…” here is shifty eyes returned to his parents and guest of honor. “…can use their influence for his speedy release.” He put on a gracious smile and then added confidentially, “ You don't have to tell deliberate lies, but sometimes you have to be evasive. To Simon!”

Margaret groaned in recognition of the quote. It was from her political days. Sir Dennis grunted quietly in disgust at his son, but all raised their glasses politely. As the crowded returned to their sherry and conspiratorial whispers. Margaret turned to find, the two sisters wide-eyed and preparing to vacant their seats.

“We didn’t realize this was the main table.” Maeve apologized as she prepared to leave.

“Maeve! Roxanne! Please don’t leave.” Margaret exuded. “They always put such bores next to me at theses thinks. If you leave one of Mark’s parasitic thugs will move over here with his moll. Plus I was so excited when I discovered that Ralf and Jenny had invited you. While in the government I’d heard so much about your family’s import/export business and I so wanted to meet you both.”

Roxanne and Maeve promptly and proudly sat back down. For all the trappings of a far-flung commercial empire and their vast influence in society, the sisters were generally so preoccupied with grandchildren, family and planning birthdays, graduations and weddings that they little knew nor actually cared what other’s thought of their family.

“Really?”

“Ladies, I happen to know that “Forbes” actually estimates your family’s wealth as “endless” rather than the smaller number they list annually. And from personal experience I know your influence is unimaginable. Trust me. Governments all over the world talk about your family business all the time. Now, to what does South Africa and I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Roxanne’s ruby cheeks glowed in response. “My oldest daughter is getting married this weekend at Crystal Mountains National Park. She and her fiancée visited there a few years ago and fell in love with the place. Have you been there?”

Margaret shook her head and Roxanne went on to describe, a high-altitude forest rich in orchids and begonias, with the highest species count of butterflies in the world. She spoke of crystalline pinnacles rising sporadically above the oasis of fog shrouded juggle below. And high in the stratosphere; the “Elfin Forests”; The pygmy bonsai trees growing between the thin air and the mossy carpet.

“Isn’t that on the Buranda border?” the baroness asked absently. Easing closer to her new friends . “That wouldn’t have been too good if there had been a coup d’état in Buranda.” She winked and then glanced about the room to see if anyone paid attention. “I’ve heard…” she whispered “…that the Siennans have the best private intelligence network since the Rothschilds. I’ve heard how you handled the kidnapping of your youngest son’s fiancée. No one will ever touch any of your grandchildren after that. I also happen to know that an anonymous tip alerted the Rhodesian authorities to the 737 full of heavily armed “oil workers” stopping to refuel at their capital. “

Maeve and Roxanne exchanged knowing looks with the former prime minister, but said nothing until the guest of honor rose to speak. At which point Maeve whispered, “All I can say is you don't have to tell deliberate lies, but sometimes you have to be evasive”

M&R; Puck’s Gap Year

“Mother.” Harmonia begins. She says the word awkwardly to her mother-in-law as though inexperienced at its use, which she is. “Before I can explain where your son was during his “gap year”, I must tell a tale of his youth. Maybe you can explain parts of it to me.”

Her mother-in-law’s dark eyebrows lift quizzically, while her Aunt Roxanne encourages Harmonia to continue with a silent nod and settles into her seat in anticipation.

“The first thing my husband remembers in life is you putting your wedding ring on a chain around his neck.”

Roxanne almost giggles aloud, thinking of the time they dyed Easter eggs while the kids drank pop. Puck accidently drinks out of one of the mugs with dye. He immediate burst into tears, crying, “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.” And then there was the time… but a gentle touch from Maeve cool right hand stills the breath the red head is about to take.

Harmonia continues. “You say, Puck, I can no longer wear this, but your wife will.” The two older women blush with pride at the memory of young Orion (Puck) Sienna Junior with his ornate sparkling ring around his neck. “He is always the captain of his equippiers, of course. Always so straight backed and serious. One day around ten years of age, he leads his brothers Shep and Nom on a fishing trip to the Merse.”

Her mother-in-law and aunt nod knowingly at fond memories of fishing and swimming trips to the green oval pools beneath the overhanging live oak trees in the ox-boughs of the Merse River, And of the family picnics on the short grass above the pebbly gravel bars they enjoy year, after year.

 

“And one other boy.”

“That would be Agatha and Deuce’s father. The four of them were inseparable.” Her mother-in-law adds quietly. “They use to make a small fire and cook their brown trout for lunch. The boys were out in the sun all summer. They were all blonde back then, even Puck with his black curly hair. They were all tan too, particularly Puck with that coloring he got from his father’s family.”

“According to Puck, returning from the river one day, their path meanders through that perfectly ordered Tuscan countryside dotted with tall cypress trees-“

Roxanne nudges her sister Maeve “Leave to Puck to notice at ten that the landscape is orderly!”

“-they pass through one of those cute little villages in the valley on the day of the Great Fair.” Roxanne and Maeve exchange questioning looks until they realize Puck’s story starts with one of the monthly fairs put on to entertain the tourists. “An aged brega sits alongside the road beneath an orange tree with branches almost as gnarled as the old hag’s dark, wrinkled hands. The afternoon heat settles on to the single lane road as the breeze dies. The boys tuck their shirts into the back of their pants. Puck leads the way, your ruby and diamond wedding ring bounces on his smooth, narrow dark chest. When he tells this story the stone is always the size of a goose egg.”

Harmonia peers at his18-carat ring there on her left hand. All three women laugh aloud. Maeve in amazement shakes her short dark hair in disbelief at her most serious sons telling a tale.

It is Roxanne who says, “Isn’t it amazing how different men act around the women who love them? I always wonder who Puck lets his hair down with.”

“As if he ever has long hair!” his mother blurts out.

 

Harmonia’s ice blue eyes return to her mother-in-law as she mumbles, “I always wonder about his hair.” Then she continues with the tale. “The witch offers to tell them who they will marry in exchange for the ring on Puck’s chest. He laughs and offers whatever change he and their friend can scrounge together. Apparently, his friend is Deuce and Agatha’s father.” Harmonia pauses here and gathers her thoughts. “Why do Nom and Shep never carry money?”

 

“They never need money. Puck always handles it for them.”

Harmonia nods her head softly and continues. “She shuffles the cards, mumbling some incantation as she does, asks Puck prying questions, then flips over the five of cups. All the boys stare. Shep even wonders aloud if they know the person. The character on the cards wears a long dark traveling cloak, her dark locks tied down by a pair of braids forming at her brow and running to the back of her head. She stares in the pooling water of a river. The boys recognize it as the Merse. They even recognized the high arc bridge in the scene. But, the woman’s coloring is off. The witch explains the moment in the picture is twilight. The girl’s hair is actually blonde and the cloak pale blue.”

Roxanne jumps back in her chair, her right hand coming to her breast. She looks at Harmonia’s long flaxen hair. “I remember those traveling cloaks you and your great-grandmother always wore!”

Harmonia smiles demurely and continues. “The next card was for Shep, the three of cups; a dancing girl holds each cup.

Roxanne smiles with pride, “My girls.” She murmurs

“Shep likens them to the three Graces in the painting by Rubens. He picks a girl in the card to his liking and gives the witch the nod to continue. She shuffles as she quizzes Nom, then flips over the exact came card. Nom approves of the idea of them marrying sisters, but the crowd who has gathered thinks the crone is ripping the boys off. Their buddy steps up; same routine, the witch hesitates, but flips the card. Again the Graces. The crowd boos her and demands she give the boys their money back. Of course, she was right, but... Instead, she offers to tell their futures. She flips up the Magician for Puck. It is easy for anyone to see he is the leader and will be a leader in his future. Puck points out the infinity symbol like a sideways “8” over his character’s head.

Shep steps up and get the “Strength” card. He points out that Kratos has an infinity sign over her head too. He turns and shares one serious look with Nom. They burst out laughing, take their friend in their arms and say they had heard enough. They run off, yelling for Puck to follow.“

Here Harmonia pauses. Maeve and Roxanne share a nervous glance.

“Puck knows from that moment that the bond his step-brothers share with one another he will never share with them.”

“People use to call them twins! And, yes, they are their father’s son, as Puck is his father’s son.”

No emotion moves Harmonia’s feature during this interlude in her narrative. “So, that brings us to the time he has to go away. He tells of camping out in a distant forest for some time. At night, the great pines creak and sway in the biting wind. The oaks stratch at his tent. His rations run thin now and again-“

“Oh, my poor boy! All alone.” Maeve wails.

Roxanne turns with a broad smile thinking her best friend jokes. Beginning with a jesting tone, she points out. “He wasn’t exactly a boy.” But quickly sees her mistake and softly adds, “He was a grown man dearie.” She pats Maeve’s right hand in a consoling manner.“Plus, he wasn’t exactly alone. Jake was with him.”

“Jake was with him? My 120-pound mongrel? Jake scares off grizzly bears in Alaska. I wish I’d known that!”

“Dearie, “Roxanne reminds here, “I heard you say a hundred times before today, that you didn’t want to know.”

“Oh, you are right!” Maeve admits waving away her worry with a flap of her hand and a smile on her face.

“Plus, either your husband, Shep or Nom spent the night with him when he hid in the our wodded property above Siena.”

“What? My boys were in on it?”

“From the beginning.” Harmonia assures here. “After that they move him to a bed&breakfast along the Merse.

“My boy with strangers.”

“Not really dearie. It was Senora Sumito from il Colombaio. You know her.” Roxanne assures her absently while encouraging Harmonia to continue.

“You knew too! My best friend! Okay, okay I know; I didn’t want to know. Go ahead Harmonia.”

“He was there for a while. There he met his giant. It bursts through the thickly wooded hills overlooking the swimming holes on Merse, pushing up wildly into the sky. Black, gap-toothed and covered in hair. “

“Actually, Puck bursts through a patch of green cat-tails surprising Hank sunning himself beside an opaque pool by the river. I think it was just up from where we usually lay out the picnic. ” Roxanne corrects.

Maeve visibly restrains herself from glancing accusatively at her sister.

“And he’s handsome; nice teeth too as I recall.” Harmonia continues. “Hank is a recently retired footballer, American style. He is “mulatto”, tall, dark, muscular, with startling blue eyes and sun streaked dark curly hair. At that time, he’s old enough to be Puck’s father. Of course, Senora Sumito and her guests notice the similarity between the two men. Although fair-skinned and blessed with his biological father’s regal features, Puck’s negroid features stand out in Hank’s company. “

Harmonia pauses again. She gazes at neither her mother-in-law nor her aunt. Her interlaced fingers lay comfortable in her lap. She sits stiff and erect as usual. “Mother, you know Puck loves your husband. His real father was always so distant. Your husband is the only father he’s ever known. He always felt that “Granddaddy” loved his brothers more than he.”

She reaches out and touches Maeve’s arm in sympathy. Maeve’s dark eyes begin to water. Roxanne’s hand joins theirs.

“Dearie, the truth is the other way around. Shep and Nom love their father to distraction. They have adored him since the moment of their births.” Roxanne whispers as though everyone doesn’t already know that, with Maeve nodding in tearful silence.

“Puck knows that now.” Harmonia assures them as she squeezes Maeve’s pale hand. “But, with Hank’s looks and age he could be Puck’s biological father. And Hank bonds with him instantly. Everyone sees it and encourages it. “ Harmonia send an appreciative glance towards Roxanne. “ They delight in one another’s conversation at il Colombai’s dinner table. They lunch at the “The Drunken Maid”. They soak in the natural thermal baths at Petriolo fed by hot springs trickling down a rock formation, steam rising around them.” Harmonia pauses her tale and turns stiffly to Maeve. “I’ve always thought it fortuitous that you insisted the boys learned English and German along with their native French. But, why Chinese?”

Maeve clears her throat and glances conspiratorially at her sister before replying simple, “We anticipate business opportunities in the rapidly expanding Chinese market.”

Harmonia nods appreciatively and continues, “But, beyond what they say to one another, it is what they don’t say to one another. Puck can’t reveal his real name. Hank doesn’t talk much about his retirement at the top of his game.” Harmonia begins to say more on the topic but instead takes a sip from the bedewed glass of ice tea in front of her.

“Then what happens?”

Harmonia finishes her sip, swallows and says, “They sail off to explore the world. Ends up that in a few days Hank intends to join “The World” in Marseille.”

Maeve’s shoulders relax and a smile comes to her face. Roxanne notices the expression, relief flushes her face and raises the corners or her lips.

“That cruise ship you took to Alaska?” Harmonia asked

“Luxury ocean residence travelling around the world.” Maeve corrects laughingly.

“Only this leg of the cruise intends to visit and dawdle at each of the great beaches of the Ligurian Sea. Granddaddy arranges passage for Puck.”

“My son in one of those tiny rooms, all alone?”

“Well, Donald was with him.” Harmonia confesses

“My husband’s valet was with Puck?”

“Well, dearie, how would it look for a young man to board without a servant. Everyone would think he was a gigolo or a gold digger. Moreover, we took a large suite what with his family coming and going secretly. Plus there was cooking to do and clothes to attend to ”

Maeve’s jaw hangs open. Her black eyes swell with surprise. “And why didn’t I notice Donald absence? Why didn’t any of my friends on “The World” recognize Puck?”

“You don’t remember Donald's absence because you are distraught over Puck’s disappearance. And no one recognizes Puck with red hair and green contact lens.” Roxanne explains cupping her own hair. It’s more coppery than usual due to the summer sun.

“Still the crowd on “The World” is older than Puck and probably this Hank.”

“Yes, but their daughters aren’t.” replies Roxane with a knowing arch of her right eyebrow. Her face flushes again as she learily turns to see Harmonia’s reaction.

Harmonia sits up right and calm as always. “And the girls particularly in their ports of call are all over Puck and Hank. With Hank’s fame as a footballer and notoriety over his sudden departure from the National Football League and our family connections the two men get invited to all the best homes, wildest parties and always have the best seats in the house. The World stops at discrete Nikki Beach in St. Tropez, arrives in Cannes for the latter part of the festival, ties up outside the artificial breakwaters of Antibes to visit the silky sandy beaches, and enjoyable old town, allows the passengers time to enjoy the nightlife of Nice, makes the Grand Prix in Monaco-“

“That’s who I got an invitation to the palace?” Maeve gasps

Nodding Harmonia continues, “And finally The World sails the Riviera di Ponente to Genoa. Everywhere they go Hank clears the way with a woman on each arm. Puck likewise accessorized. Hank is known as a bit of a playboy; a millionare athelete with no family connections. Hank thoroughly enjoys himself with the ladies, but Puck never avails himself of his opportunities. When Hank asks why not. Puck tells him of a periodic dream. His future wife appears to him. She appears thin with a feminine frame, with pale complexion, ice blue eyes, long shear blond hair, always calm and always sweet.” She pauses and a little color rises on her modest expression. Maeve and Roxanne sit speechless “He waits for her. Hank seems to take a moment when Puck tells him this story. He seems to recall meeting a girl of that description, recently. He promises to think on it.

Hank rarely sleeps alone, but always breakfasts with Puck. On the odd occasion he sleeps alone, he’d settle for the evening in his room at Puck and Donald’s suite. You know how Donald is; he insisted on doing both men’s laundry, polishing their boots, helping them dress for the evening. One morning Hank arrives for breakfast, and drops a bundle of clothes on his closet floor. The laundry knocks over the walking stick Hank left there the night before. It is a diamond-studded walking stick that causes quiet the stir when the two men would go out. In reaching to pick it up, Hank bangs his head on the door jam, which he has to laugh at. Then lifting the cane he realizes it caught under the French door. He exclaims at the impossibility of it all, manages to get it free only to knock down some clothes hung there. Laughing aloud he hangs them up only to discover he derailed the French doors. Puck and Donald hearing the commotion come to see and find Hank seating on the floor laughing so hard that he is crying and short of breathe. They lift the giant man to his feet and head out for today’s marvelous adventure.

Even with the frenzied fans and chaos of celebrity, the two men grow every closer. Whether crammed into a private box with friends at Cannes or sunning themselves on the sunny beaches of the Côte d'Azur surrounded by bathing beauties they grow closer. Everyone takes them for father and son. His natural reserve and aloofness which Puck inherited from his father fades before the taller man’s charm.

The morning they arrive in Nice; Hank arrives for breakfast to find the ship hairdresser working on Puck. Donald packing. Puck’s naturally black wavy hair returned gray at his temples to make him look more like his biological father. Puck explains he has business to attend to and will rejoin Hank on the imported sands of Monaco. The news so shocks Hank that it takes breath away. Puck doesn’t know what to do. But, he knows who would. In a flash he asks himself the proverbial question “What would Grand-daddy do?” That is what would your husband do, mother? What would your brother-in-law do, Aunt Roxanne? What would his father do? Puck hurries to Hank, hugs him, kisses him and promises to return in a few days.

“That’s clearly one of my nephews!” Touchy-feely Roxanne cheers with a slap of her hand on the table.

All three women smile. Reserve and aloof Maeve pats her sister approvingly on the shoulder.

“While their lips are still close Hank whispers that he doesn’t even know Puck’s real name. So, once his hairdresser departs Puck explains that he is Orion Sienna. Hank seems a little taken back, but the American says the name means nothing to him. Puck explains that his family has him poised to take over the import/export business and that he is meeting with a co-operative of French grape growers in Provence. Hank seems somewhat relieved by his explanation. Donald nudges Puck; he will stay on board and tend to Hank. This seems to relieve the older man’s concerns totally. When they part at the gangway, Hank tells Puck that he remembers meeting Puck’s dream girl in Italy, that she is younger than Puck and that he’s sure he’ll remember where they met.”

Harmonia takes a sip of iced tea again. Roxanne even pours her some more. Maeve and Roxanne then lean in closer.

“This is where Puck meets his one true love.”

“What!” “No!”

“His driver gets lost in the alluring landscape, stunning rock formations and rich colored dazzling soils. Between the rugged hills and mountains, lie deep gorges and fertile valleys filled with carpets of lavender, almond groves and ancient olive trees. You can everywhere smell the aromas of lemon verbena, rosemary, thyme and basil. And on the slopes stand vineyards. They find their way to his host’s property late at night and Puck is shone his room without ceremony.

The morning after his arrival at the vineyard, at the very moment he wakes, his eyes delight at the charming creature who brings him coffee. She was a very young girl, but as well formed as a person of seventeen. The snow of her complexion, her hair as light as sunshine, her blue eyes beaming with light, the innocence he mistakes for serenity, and the prettiest tiny feet, every detail presents the perfect beauty Hank had spoken of the previous morning. Puck looks at her with the greatest pleasure. Her eyes rest upon him as if on an old acquaintance.

She asks how he finds his bed. He says very comfortable and prays to know her name. She is Lucy, his host’s daughter. She has neither brothers nor sisters, and is fourteen years old.

He sits up in his bed and she helps put on his robe, saying a hundred things, which he does not understand. He still sips his coffee, when Lucy's parents come into his room.. The moment she leaves her father and mother begin to praise their daughter as their only child, darling pet, the hope of our old age. She loves and obeys them and fears God; and has but one fault. She is too young. Puck assures them it is a charming fault which time will mend. Puck ascertains that they are living specimens of; honesty, truth, homely virtues, and real happiness. Just people we enjoy doing business with. Lucy returns gay as a lark, prettily dressed and her hair done in her own peculiar way . Not in twin braids tied back. She gives a hearty kisses to both her parents, and sits on her father knees. When the honest family leaves his room, Puck dresses and goes to breakfast with his host to meet the other growers. The day passes off very pleasantly, as is generally the case in the country, when amongst agreeable people.

 

The next morning, the conversation Puck and Lucy share proves without the shadow of a doubt that her parents had every reason to idolize her. Her vivacity, her eager curiosity, and the bashful blushes, which spread over her face whenever her jesting remarks causes him to laugh, everything, in fact, convinces Puck that she is the angel destined to be his wife. He even laughs when she comments how youthful he looks for a man with gray hair, probably old enough to be her grandfather. As he enjoys her conversation, he tells her that she would afford him great pleasure if she could come earlier in the morning, and even wake him up if he happened to be asleep, adding that the less he slept the better he felt in health.”

 

Maeve and Roxanne swap worried glances, which Harmonia dispels with a wave of her hand.

 

“That day they meet with the lawyers and make a ceremony of signing the contract. A big dinner follows for all the involved families. Lucy sits as near as ceremony will allow and they talk all through dinner. A small band entertains after dinner and they all dance in the moonlight. Lucy is clearly smitten with a man old enough to be her father. Of course, in truth they are only eight years apart. But, Puck begins to have doubts. Lucy seems stouter than the woman of his dreams, more robust, more outgoing and her hair is coarser.

 

That night he dreams of his wedding. It is at our family home outside of Siena. The sun fills the cloudless sky with light. His brothers and Uncle Stan hold the staffs of his wedding canopy. Above him and the pastor floats an arbor of grape bearing vines on orange boughs from the orchards. Granddaddy escorts his bride to him.”

 

Maeve and Roxanne sigh in relief. Harmonia blushes in memory of the day.

 

“ The society of this angelic child affords Puck the sweetest delight, but she is not the woman he loves. The third day he promises to return during the harvest; their farewell is tender and very sad.  In route to Monaco, Puck stops to get his hair re-colored in red. His eyes grow green again. He rejoins Hank on the imported sand on the beach at Monte Carlo. The big man is sunning himself as usual with a bevy of beauties (and Donald) in attendance. He’s made plans for them for the race and for events in the evening. As Donald helps him dress, Puck asks how Hank has been. In his usual simple words, Donald says that Hank’s heart beats more steadily in Puck’s presence. Puck smiles at the poetry in Donald's words forgetting that he’d formerly been an emergency trauma technician. The two men have a wonderful time during the Grand Prix, finally The World lifts anchor for Genoa. “

 

Another sip of ice tea.

 

“It is along the Riviera di Ponente that Hank dies.”

 

“What!” Maeve says with a disbelieving shake of her head.

Roxanne nods her coppery crowned head sadly.

 

“It was heart failure, a common effect of gigantism.” Harmonia whispers. “Puck wants to fly Hank to his specialists in the United States, but the doctors in Genoa knew the flight would kill him.

Puck never leaves Hank’s side, except when the nurses force him out. Then he waits outside the intensive care unit. His worry and sorry overwhelm Puck, not just for Hank but for Donald too, who’d been left behind on the boat to care for his luggage. Be that as it may he can’t help noticing the Italian family waiting there also, tearfully and prayerfully.

 

He joins in their prayers. They all console one another. They are an older couple of modest-means and their grown daughter. The man is ex-military, coarse, but kindly. His wife and daughter are witty even in grief and empathetic. This son had gone for a motorcycle ride after a short summer rain. The water lifted all the oil out of the asphalt. He lost control at the first stop sign, laid the bike over on its side and slapped into a passing car. When night falls, knowing that Puck has no place to stay, the gentleman invites Puck to their home. The daughter returns to her own home and husband.

 

That night alone for one of the few days in his life, a sleepless Puck sits up in bed, head in his hands, in despair. His new friends gave him their son’s room. A quilt of roses lay across his lap. The skirting on the bed pictures two swordsmen fighting in a glade, the one on the left had fallen back and although his opponent lunges, they are too far apart to harm one another. As his sobs ease he hears his host and hostess sobbing. Although Puck poorly understands Italian, he understands that their son will recover; something else worries them.

 

They leave for the hospital as early as possible planning to grab breakfast there. Puck eats with Hank, though more accurately, Hank watchs Puck eat. The Serrafinis eat in the cafeteria. Puck joined them there when Hank goes for treatments. For the first time, Puck notices how good looking they all are. Sergente Serrafini is a ruggedly handsome man and his womenfolk are beautiful. Their son will recover, but he will never be the good-looking young man they’d always know. They all go in together to visit their loved ones. Puck introduces the Serrafinis to the American football hero. When they all part, Hank with heavy breathe expresses his concern for the lovely family. Money can easily solve the problem. The Serrafini’s can’t reject a dying man’s generosity. Puck explains that Hank is flying in plastic surgeons in from the United States to care for their son. Granddaddy arranges everything.

 

Even out of intensive care, on-oxygen, sunning himself in the solarium, Hank is in too frail to be removed from the hospital. The appreciative elder Serrafinis take turns visiting with him and Puck. Their daughter stops by each day to see Hank and her brother. Puck isn’t surprised when she doesn’t arrive one day, her brother is out of danger and the surgeons have faith in their abilities to put his face back together again properly. However, her parents worry about her absence. The following day she returns with a black eye. Her father pushes up out his drab green chair, color rushes to his features. His fists clench and he begins to curse his son-in-law in language so loud, dark, and obscene that Puck can’t follow it nor the rapid argument that follows in their native dialect. She returns to her parent’s home that night.

There is more sobbing and arguing in the night. In the morning, Sergente Serrafini explains that he is taking his daughter to her husband’s house to gather some things. Puck accompanies them. The husband makes trouble, but between Sergente Serrafini’s sledge like fists and Pucks training in the martial arts, there is no trouble.

Hank dies that night in Puck’s arms. With his dying breathe he admits all along he’s known Puck’s true love. He explains that he’d collapsed while touring Siena before they met. He’d taken to the hospital. He meets me there when I visiting my great-grandmother. She and Hank were in a ward together. Donald had taken me. We saw Hank there all alone. Donald stops to visit. Apparently, I mention my name, our family business and my distant relations to Orion Sienna. Hank was released from the hospital in Siena on the promise than he’s rest in a nearby bed&breakfast for a week. That’s where Puck and he met, when Hank was recuperating. The rest you know.

 

By then, word of Hank’s stay at the hospital and death has leaked out. Donald will soon disembark with their luggage. The paparazzi pant and sniff in a frenzy outside the hospital spinning after their tails, trying to discover the name of Hank’s traveling companion. Puck can’t be seen in public with the Serrafinis. “The World” won’t reveal his identity. There is no chance that Puck can attend Hank’s funeral in America without being found out, no chance to travel with his huge body. He leaves Hank’s affairs to Sergente Serrafini to arrange. He arranges things so that the son-in-law won’t be bother any more. He inherits Hank’s fortune. He is the son Hank never had. He assumes Orion Senior’s coloring and indentity again. The father he never had. He slips away, a changed man. A new man coming home to kiss his mother, to hug the father he’s always had, to embrace his new life and to make me his wife.”