M&R: Desperation

“I took the only course that desperation suggested and that of course was the wrong one.” –Casanova-

Roxanne looked up from her book, laughing silently at her “dear friend”. That’s how Jacque Casanova referred to his future readers two hundred years ago. She looked up into the handsome face of a young man returning her smile. He took that as an invitation and sat down on the bench in the airport waiting room one seat away from her.

Roxanne folded the collector-edition volume shut in her lap and scooted up a bit in her seat in anticipation of a conversation.

“Picking up or headed out?” she asked with a smile and dancing, painted eyebrows.

“I’m picking up a couple of new guys. I work on the Coast Guard Cutter “Anacapa”. You?”

“I’m picking up my sister. We’re opening our family cabin up the Stikine before everyone else gets here.”

The public address system announced that flight 65 should be landing at James A. Johnson shortly. Roxanne took the interruption to study her bench mate. The coastie struck her as a handsome young man, maybe in his early thirties. His short hair wasn’t quite the shade to be called “sandy” nor as red as as her own. The word “ginger” came to mind. He sat in profile, so she could see his tan face, light blue eyes, shortened chin and dreamy grin.

“You’ve got a smile that won’t stop, dearie. What’s up?” she asked as the announcement ended.

Chris, she’d discover later that his name was Chris, blushed, then turned his face more fully to the bright eyed, stylish, big bosomed woman he suspected was old enough to be his mother.

He leaned closer and announced, “I’ve been made an officer over in Sitka.”

Roxanne slapped her hands together as though in prayer and clapped the fingers while beaming with happiness. “Congratulations! Sitka is one of the prettiest places in the Southeast!”

Chris accepted her congratulations with a shake of his head in disbelief at his great good fortune.

“Oh!” she added hurriedly. “And congratulations on becoming an officer.”

They discussed the high cost and low availability of housing in Sitka, the attitude of his teenage children about the move and the difficulty of flying in and out of the primary town on Baranof Island. As they spoke the sun, rarely seen during the spring in the Alexander Archipelago continued his track just barely above Raven’s Roost Ridge. At this angle the sun’s rays blasted across the single runway, shot under the building’s overhang and filled the little airport waiting area with warmth and sunlight. As they spoke, Roxanne absently rubbed her chin in some subtle fascination over the fact that Chris, unlike her husband and brother-in-law, did not have a dimple in his unshaven chin.

The jet, flying low, screamed by. This was the signal for the local folks of banner-hung Petersburg to head to the airport. It would take the jet a while to taxi back to the terminal and deplane the passengers. Roxanne was confident one of them would give her and her sister a ride to where their boat was tied up.

“You are still beaming! Is this officer thing a surprise?”

“It sure is, if you know how far I’ve come.”

With a nod of her head and weep of her open upturned right hand, she ushered in his apparently oft-told tale. He told of good parents, a good family and without specifics of his rebellious youth. Roxanne nodded knowingly, thinking of her grandson Deuce. The story led to his dropping out of high school and joining the Coast Guard at seventeen.

Clutching her ample bosom Roxanne asked with a furled brow and lips pursed in woe, “How could your mother sign the papers?”

“Out of desperation, I suppose. I would've gotten in trouble. The Coast Guard was a good fit for me. I got my GED, my education and even…” here he leaned forward conspiratorially, “my masters. It’s all a miracle.” With a big smile on his face, he continued to shake his head in disbelief of his great good fortune.
Roxanne mumbled, “God be praised.” As they, both turned to watch the jet turn off the runway for the terminal. The gathering crowed moved towards the windows to watch their loved ones and neighbors disembark. Chris and Roxanne rose from their bench so their respective people could see them. With passengers lined up to board, other passengers entering the waiting area and with the hubbub of greeting and hugging; Chris and Roxanne lost track of one another. When the room eventually cleared out again, the luggage arrived. Chris and Roxanne met there and swapped name amongst the chaos around the luggage bin.

“How long till you go to Sitka?” Roxanne asked, as her sister slipped away through the throng in search of her suitcases.

“Two months; July.” Chris shouted back above the tumult as he herded his crewmen toward the exit.

She extended her right hand. He took it with his. Her left grasped his right too. “Dearie, it’s been a delight… Oh, give me a hug! Have a wonderful time in Sitka!”

They departed one another’s embrace. Roxanne’s sister wasn’t there for most of the conversation and couldn’t follow it when she was there due to the noise. Besides, Roxanne hugging perfect strangers is perfectly routine. However, as they hurried outside into the morning sunshine trying to flag down a friend for a ride, Roxanne’s sister saw tears in those emerald eyes.

“Roxanne? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I am just desperate to tell you a wonderful story, later…”

M&R: A Single Tear

“They are not going to be late.” John assured everyone in reference to the bride and matron-of-honor and then blessed them with the same benign smile Galenda used when reassuring the munchkins that the witched witch of the west was gone. “And sorry boys we can’t go up the Miraculous Staircase. We are too big; too tall, too muscular.” Both his teenage sons smiled in response and nodded in acquiesce. At which point John standing tall to get everyone‘s attention turned not to Stan’s grown daughters, nor back to his two beloved boys, but rather to his 10 year old stepson. “Puck, I need you to be in charge. When the music starts line everyone up and get them marching down the aisle as we practiced. Your Uncle Stan and I have to go up to the altar. ”

The pleasant smiling groom led his best-man along the right side of the chapel under the Stations of the Cross. The walked on their toes to lighten the stoop of John’s boots wouldn’t disturb the few worshippers. The walls stood talk and white with a sharp at the apex of the ceiling. Sort of a French style interior in sharp contrast to the Mission-style exterior done in adobe.

They came to the place before the altar and greeted the pastor. The young
man was fresh from the seminary at Strasburg. It was his first wedding.
He spoke neither of the local languages.

All the tourists buzzed excitedly about a wedding when they saw the handsome groom and best man take their places. Stan with his impossibly wide shoulders, longish black hair, dazzling green eyes, and today, saintly smile looked every bit the “radiant” groom. They wore charcoal gray pinstriped suits with tails, gray cummerbunds and white handkerchief to match their ruffled shirts. John tied both their tuxedo ties. John was just as tall as stand; 6’1” but with eyes of blue and auburn locks and a matching moustache. They wore boots for John’s sake, though both preferred to be barefoot.

John hid his cell phone in his cupped hand and cuff of his shirt. He looked at it furtively when Stan’s attention drifted to the screen behind the altar and the statue of “La Reina” who’d lead the Bloodless Re-conquest of the region.

“Nervous?” John asked out of concern and for something to say. He’d switched to English.

A knowing smile spread across Stan’s fair complexion, which he kindly didn’t let his worried friend see. “No, everything will be fine. She’s with Maeve.”

As sigh of relief escaped John, then he did a double take at his buddy. “Wish we’d invited your distant relatives?”

Stan glanced around them. The few invited guests sat on the bride’s side. Even then they were mostly John and Maeve’s relatives. “No…”

John studied the side of Stan’s face, saw him gulp as a thought crossed his furled brow. “Do you really think my mom and Nana are looking down on us.” Stan asked with hope, but no emotion.

“I am sure they are.” whispered back the church-going Lutheran at his side. Suddenly the two men stared at the floor, sheepish grins began to spread across their faces, finally John broke the silence by nudging Stan in the ribs and saying out loud what they were both thinking. “and I pray your father is not looking up at us!”

The both laughed freely, much to the delight of the tourists. It was the first time the worshippers looked up to see them standing at the altar. As Stan went back to pleasant reminiscences of his departed loved ones, John flipped open his black heavy duty cell phone, scrolled to his wife’s image and called her.

His wife, Maeve, dressed in a vintage floral evening gown disdainfully picked at the fabric flowing over her knees. she awaited the inevitable call. Floral evening gowns of any age were not her attire of choice. But it was Roxanne’s (fifth ) wedding so she got to chose the bridesmaid’s dresses. She held Roxanne’s right hand

Roxanne sat next to her fidgeting, fluffing her gown and fanning her face in hopes that she could keep her mascara from running. The red-head’s cheeks were flush and green eyes glistened with emotion.

The phone rang Maeve answered making it clear that she wouldn’t be handing it to Roxanne, spoke with her husband, reassured him and hung up.

“Dearie, is Stan worried that we’ll be late?” queried the bride with lips rounded in woe.

“No my husband says he’s perfectly confident we will arrive on cue.”

“That’s because I’m with you.” Roxanne gushed, patting her best friend on the knee affectionately. “Is he mad?”

“No.” Maeve assured, patting her right hand with her own. “You know he never gets angry. John’s never seen him get angry and Nana told my husband that she’d only seen Stan get angry once in his entire life.”

“That’s true. He‘s perfect for me. ” Roxanne giggled in relief with a nod of her piled up ringlets. Then with a laugh shook her head in disbelief that she’d finally found such a man. “Tell me a funny story.”

As though expecting such a request Maeve began. “During my first marriage…”

Roxanne started. They never discussed Maeve first marriage and the loss of her daughters. The only time she’d ever seen Maeve cry was once, the first time she’d ever confided that terrible story. She turned and looked intently at Maeve’s pleasant smile.

“My brother-in-law and his wife lived in the valley with a large back yard. One of their cats birthed a litter of kittens and they could not find homes for them. So, the man of the house announced they were going to keep them. In that family the wives didn’t have much say. (Well, at least until I came along.) So, my sister-in-law said he could keep them, but that they’d have to be outside cats. They had three small children. So each day he’d fill up a big bowl of cat food on the back porch. The neighbor cats and feral cats started joining his and I don’t think he ever had his cats fixed. I remember being there once at feeding time. He carried a big bag of food out into the middle of the back yard and dumped it on the ground. I recall cats flying over the cinderblock wall and joining the feed frenzy. There were cats of all kinds everywhere. I don’t recall if they were feeding them 50lbs of food a day or whether it was 50 cats they were feeding.” Maeve finished with a shrug of her shoulders and up turned palms.

“How awful! They must have been spending a fortune. What happen?”

“Well, you can imagine my sister-in-law was beside herself. I felt so sorry for her.”

Roxanne nodded in rampant agreement.

“One day I stopped by with a gift for the children; a full grown German Shepherd.”

Roxanne laughed so hard the limousine driver became concerned.

When John got off the phone, the pastor before the white washed, gold trimmed altar of the Chapel of Loreto asked if everything was okay. John assured him everything was fine. Out of the corner of John’s eye he say another blob of tar sticking to Stan’s jacket and discreetly tried to pick it off with his finger nails.

“You are the only person I know that can get hit in the head by a half empty 5 gallon bucket of tar and not be fazed at all.”

“If the construction workers let one slip on my bride…

“My wife will…”

Both men grimaced at what could happen in Maeve (or Roxanne) was struck with refuge from the fifth story of the neighboring hotel.

“Feeling okay?”

“Fine.”

“Let me see.” John said as he turned his best friend’s head by his dimpled chin and looked for pupil differentiation; a sure sign of concussion. He shrugged when he saw nothing. Actually, in all their adventures as bachelors he’d never seen Stan get hurt much less bleed.

The music began and they turned to watch the groomsmen and bridesmaids (their respective children ) stroll arm and arm down the aisle.

“There’s a sign of things to come.” John whispered in Latin, a language none of their children spoke.

When Puck finally arrived at his position before the altar he assured his step-father and “Uncle Stan” that’s he’d spoken to the policeman out front blocking the street. Hotel management shut down the re-tarring effort. Between the idle workmen and gawking tourists there was quite the crowd awaiting the bride before the chapel. Stan’s daughter hadn’t been party to conversation, so John whispered it to them across the aisle as Stan gazed happily upon the whole scene.

Earlier in the day, the newly ordained man from Abasace and Lorraine had witnessed the accident. When he discovered that the handsome young ladies spoke French, he asked if their father was okay. Then asked if he was happy. They assured the pastor he was physically alright and was the happiest he‘d ever been in his life. They knew because John had told them so. Now with them all standing before the altar the young pastor observed aloud that Stan must be made have a head of steel with a heart of stone to be so calm and nonplussed about the absence of his bride. An awkward silence fell upon the wedding party with the seminarians harsh words.

In self-defense Stan quoted “If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh?”

“No!” responded his daughters in unison.

John’s sons burst into laughter and John’s mouth hung open in shock that his friend could quote Shakespeare. The pastor was baffled by the whole English conversation. Before anyone could translate the bridal march began. Everyone in the pews stood.

Meanwhile Maeve had dabbed away Roxanne’s laughter generated tears. The big-bosomed bride took a deep breathe and with a sigh announced. “I really feel like I have it right this time.”

There was something otherworldly in the way she stated it. A tone of confidence and serenity that Maeve rarely heard in her best friend’s loud voice. Roxanne gazed blissfully at the earth tone buildings along the narrow winding street as they passed.

Maeve spoke softly so as not to break the spell. “We are all going to have a great future together.”

An ephemeral light still lit Roxanne’s glowing features. “And how do you know about our future, dearie?” she asked innocently.

“My husband has a little voice…”

“1 Kings 19:12” Roxanne offered in way of assurance.

“John says it is his guardian angel. Who he’s somewhat arbitrarily named “Mark”! That is how I know about the future. As to your future husband; I believe, I know only two things for sure about Stan; his friend ship for my husband and his adoration of you.”

Roxanne seemed to like the idea of adoration; she looked like she was going to burst with happiness. “And you, how do you like Stan?”

“Oh, I like Stan just fine. We have that whole orphaned at an early age in common. It’s made us tough as nails.” Maeve raised a clenched fist in emphasis.

Roxanne glanced mischievously at her best friend. Behind a gloved hand she reminded Maeve of several embarrassing moments that Maeve hadn’t been all that hard hearted. She kept playing it up until Maeve burst into giggles.

“Okay, okay. It’s made him tough as nails.”

The car pulled to a stop. Maeve pushed the door open without waiting for the chauffer. They crossed the hard-packed earth beneath he ancient cottonwood and ran up the first two of seven steps before the gathered crowd below and those waiting above noticed. That’s when the shouts of recognition began. Maeve and Roxanne stopped before the great double doors, spun in unison, curtsied to the crowd and pushed the door open. The crowd roared. Blinding afternoon summer sun burst into the chapel. Their guests gasped. The church bells began to ring. Whistling and clanging came from above. The crowd began screaming its joy. Roxanne saw only the man of her dream. Only John could hear the affect she had on Stan’s hard heart. Only Maeve could see on his cheek the single tear.

M&R; Making the Best of It

It had been a long two weeks; first the greif and anger about the death of John Sienna, then the thrilling unbelievable announcement that he hadn’t died after all and finally the controversial rumors that the family firm was hiding his death for financial reasons. The small children had wept at the news that their “Grand Daddy” was gone. Their mothers’ insisted confidently that their grandfather was not dead; much to the consternation of their husbands and older sons.

“I have wonderful news!” Roxanne announced sweetly amidst the gathered gloom of the last several weeks.

Angry teenagers and sullen men raised their blood shot eyes off their dinner plates at the far end of the big table. It had been a hard day with most of the men working in the family woodlot on the slopes above the rambling house. In honor of Aunt Roxanne’s visit they gathered at the “Family Farm”. With a mutual sigh of relief Roxanne’s granddaughters excitedly looked her way. It’s at that moment they realized that Roxanne Scamander was speaking to her great-grandchildren.

“Your Grand Daddy is coming to visit you!”

Squeals of delight answered her announcement. Chubby little hands applauded the news. The youngest, Ian couldn’t understand the excitement but his older sister Agatha, named for their mother, explained it to him. She smiled for the first time in weeks. The men (and older children) exchanged questioning glances with their smirking spouses.

“Along with my sister Maeve. Yes, the doctors say he can travel now. So he is leaving Italy tomorrow and the first people he is coming to see is his grandchildren. He has a surprise for you.”

Ian understood this time and clapped like the other small children. Roxanne poked him in the cubby belly just in case he needed a little help to encourage his excitement. Some of the men actually rose from their seats. Most of the disbelieving teenagers now burst into smiles of relief; Grand Daddy was okay! Questions arose from every quarter. Someone made a quiet reference to the similarity of the return of Uncle Orion. Roxanne would hear none of them and Agatha, her sisters and their female cousins shushed them all. Roxanne continued to tease her great-grandchildren with promises of the coming day and stories about their Grand Daddy; like the time when he and his wife Maeve renewed their vows in a fairytale wedding.

The next morning at the airport in Aud every member of the Sienna family, living in the area, awaited Grand Daddy. Most the men wore dark wool suits or their dress uniforms. A few angry teenagers still wore their black armbands. The women wore flowery summer dresses in honor of Aunt Roxanne. The first person off the family jet was Maeve Sienna, Grand Daddy’s wife. Maeve usually wore black, but since the “accident” she wore black suits with a black armband. It was a declaration of war. Her black eyelashes batted against the bright sun light. Her cheek bones blazed with color from her days in the field for the last two weeks. She flashed a determined smile to kinfolk and let her shoulders fall to ease the tension. At the moment armed bodyguards slipped by her and took their stations at the bottom of the stairs. Maeve was not the favorite member of the far-flung Sienna family, that was Roxanne. But, her resolute actions over the last few weeks earned her the respect and admiration of everyone. A roar of greeting erupted from the crowd, particularly among the teenage boys. A rare honest smile sprang to her lips and rested their uncertainly as the approbation settled.

“Is that the fairy princess?”

Agatha (actually dressed like a fairy princess) reached to cover her little brother’s mouth but Ian’s loud, squeaky question was already out. This great-grand mother gasped in surprise and then smiled again this time in delight. Her lashes fluttered this time with emotion. Someone spoke to her from inside the jet, she turned a profile to the crowd, flipping her collar-length ebony locks and returned a comment. She reached an ivory hand into the gloom. After another glance around for threats, she eased her husband into the daylight. The crowd gasped. The children screamed in delight.

Grand Daddy moved slowly beside his “fairy bride”. Clearly, he winced on occasion. Due to the heat, he wore his usual three piece dark woolen suit, without the jacket or tie. The startling thing to Roxanne was how young her brother-in-law looked. The scars and lines of a lifetime faded during the reconstructive surgery she surmised. He didn’t yet wear his wedding ring, that needed to be resized, but she noticed that the little finger next to broken in a skiing accident in his youth was now straight. Unexplainably, he was tan. Everyone kept their distance. The little children were shushed.

Grand Daddy marched forward with his wife at his side and spoke a few appreciate words to his relatives and descendants. Roxanne noticed his voice had lost the roughness of age as well has the skin at his throat. His youthfulness actually made his grandsons-in-law uncomfortable. His granddaughters smugly saw proof that he’d been okay all along.

It was several hours until Roxanne and Maeve could find a moment alone, at the family farm. Usually John Sienna was the center of attention at any family picnic anywhere, but today Maeve had great difficulty getting rid of her admirers, particularly the teenagers who’d been so impressed with her response to the crisis. Eventually, she sent them off to organized the smaller children into a game of Foxes and Cranes.

“So, how are you doing dearie?” Roxanne asks hiding her voice with a drink, while prodding Maeve in the side.

“Plenty of our competitors think John passed away. A lot of people are showing their true hand. We are cleaning up on the fallen stock prices. We can’t help what people think. Might as well make the best of it. John’s convinced this visit will help with the youngest generation. He’ll tell them the truth. ”

Roxanne laughed at the idea of anyone believing the truth when spoken by babes, before returning to her original question. “No, dearie, how are you doing?”

Distractedly responding, since Maeve was scanning the area for trouble, “John’s doing fine. He’ll be good as new in a couple more weeks. Literally.”

“No! “ Roxanne took her pale thin hands in her ruddier ones. “How are you doing?”

Maeve waves to the teenagers and encourages them with a smile. “It’s hard getting use to the idea that people actually like me.” She responded with a quizzically look on her fair brow . Before Roxanne can rebuff her and assure her of the family’s affection, Maeve asks, “Why are the little girls wearing fairy wings?”

“Your husband asked me to tell them the story about the renewing of your vows.”

“Okay, I was dressed as scouring maid earning my dowry on a Scottish estate when he came to get me. I don’t see any of them dressed in a maid’s uniform. “

“No, but the rest of us dressed as elfin lords and ladies with bells on our horses’ tackle. Hence you are the Fairy Princess.”

Maeve blushed. Agatha and Ian’s mother quickly brought her a glass of water concerned that she didn’t feel well. She thanked her granddaughter at first embarrassed, but then appreciatively. At which point Roxanne spoke up in a loud, sparkly tone of voice.

“It’s nap time for all the little fairy princesses and princes.”

“No!” came the chorus where the little children played.

“Well, Grand Daddy is going to lay down. Don’t you want to lay down with him and listen to a story.”

“Oh yes!” replied the fairy host with a few confused “no’s” from sleepy-eyed tired children.

Grand Daddy’s wife and nurse helped him to lie down for a nap, while their mothers made the little fairy folk beds of blankets and pillows on the floor. Most the children slipped to the side of their great-grandfather’s bed and kissed him good night before laying down themselves. One little girl brushed back the brown curls to reveal his pinched upper ears.

Roxanne was the designated story teller. She spoke of Lord Oberon, King of the Fairies with pangs of emotion. She spoke of Queen Mab with delight in her voice. She searched amongst those still awake for Titania; Queen of the Fairies. Finally, she told a bowdlerized version of Cinderella and her fairy god-mother, closing the tale about the same time the last of the drooping eyelids closed. The adults and teenagers gathered near the door, to listen to the stories and to peek in on Grand Daddy, hoping not to disturb the children. Maeve stood amongst them receiving their praises and reassuring them that her husband recovered nicely.

Dinner was a little low key for a gathering of the Sienna Clan. At one point Grand Daddy excused himself so as to wish the children goodnight, promising to return.
As he rose, Maeve rose too. Everyone thought she was going with him, but instead Roxanne was the one who steadied him as he walked. Maeve announced they had other children to visit and that they’d be leaving late the the following morning. Several adults attempted to flow John and Roxanne, but a shake from Maeve’s head returned them to their seat.

John slept late. The children all agreed to play quietly on the far side of the rambling house. The little ones announced they would not being going to the airport; they’d decided that with Grand Daddy the night before. There was something suddenly mature about the pre-schoolers. Grand Daddy stopped, knelt to huddle with them, saluted, then was on his way.

The Seinnan families departed the family farm and returned to their own homes. More than one couple discussed whether or not it was really “Grand Daddy”.
“It sounds a lot like the return of my grandfather Orion, only to discover later that it was my Uncle Orion.” Agatha and Ian’s father mumbled.

Their mother had no doubts. Her and the other women’s confidence seemed to reassure the teenagers and some of their husbands. More than one father asked his youngest children what Grand Daddy said to them the night before, during dinner the following evening.

“It’s a secret.” Ian answered promptly and firmly. Then sat back and waited.

“Grand Daddy says it’s an open secret Daddy. You can ask grandmother. She knows.” Little Agatha offered with her mother’s smug smile and laughing eyes.

Agatha and Ian’s mother laughed at the grimace on her husband’s face at the mention of his mother-in-law.

“Why can’t you tell me.?”

“We swore an oath.” Ian replied so seriously that his father almost laughed. It was the beginning of the distance that grew between them.

Restraining his laughter, Ian’s father said, “You swore an oath?”

Ian’s little chest puffed out and he drew air to speak. Little Agatha’s hand fell on his little shoulder quieting him. It was the first time that her father noticed that Agatha still wore her fairy wings.

M&R: March 13

Steam rose from the simmering soup. A tall dark haired young girl urged the liquid expertly around the half-full pot. When she needed to lower the flame, she did so with a practiced well-trained hand.

“Grandmother?” She asked as she poked at clumps of beef and barley with her wooden spoon.

Her grandmother Maeve Sienna warmed store-bought whole-wheat dinner rolls in the toaster oven. She looked totally out of place in her flowery ruffled apron. The traditional six-pack of Miller High Life; “The Champagne of Bottle Beers” sat nearby on the counter.

“Yes, Agatha.”

“Grandmother, why do we celebrate great, great-grandmother’s birthday?”

“It’s mostly for your grandma Roxanne. She was the favorite you know?”

“Did that bother you, grandmother? Your sister Roxanne being the favorite?”

Maeve stopped poking at the rolls. The only thing that would bother Maeve was if the other grandchildren knew Agatha was her secret favorite. She tried hard not to show. “No, dear. I was happy for her. She was … our grandmother’s namesake. I remember the last time Roxanne saw her grandmother. Grandmother had been in long-term care for a while. She shrunk, as she got older. Our mother always said that would happen.” Maeve shook her ebony locks and smiled in memory of the story about the ironing board, and then continued. “She got crankier too, but when the nurses said that we were coming to visit, Grandmother Roxanne turned into another person. She was friendly, happy and couldn’t wait until your grandma arrived. I remember that day. It was bright in her room, but not because of the light coming in the north-facing window. Rather it was the smile on grandmother’s face and the giggle in her voice, when she looked up out of her bed and saw Roxanne. It was sunset. The stuccoed white-walled, brick-topped buildings facing the hospital blazed with light. Our mother and sister-in-law stood on that side of the room, almost invisible against the glare. Grandmother positively beamed and in the radiance of that admiration Roxanne positively shown. Her hair was never so fiery. Her green eyes never shone so brightly. I swear to God, that under the warmth of our grandmother’s lovely gaze, Roxanne actually grew taller and more beautiful. She was never so charming, lovely, and witty. She was charismatic in grandmother’s presence. The little nieces stroked the old woman’s wrinkled translucent hands lovely. She smiled whenever she looked their way and said what beautiful young girls they were, but honestly, Agatha, your great, great-grandmother only had eyes for Roxanne.

The two of them spoke as though there were no other people in the room. As the aged sun continued to fail, some passing nurse must have turned on the over light, or maybe it was the mutual inter light of their love because their skin still glowed as they whispered sweet nothings to one another.
“Honey, I could have spoiled you awful.” Grandmother joked as she gazed into Roxanne’s green eyes.

“You always have grandmother.”

I looked up at your great-grandmother at that moment; middle child, forgotten as usual. Your great-uncle’s wife had the smile on her face she always wore around us; her thoughts seemed elsewhere. Roxanne seemed on fire! If I had not been standing in the glory of their affection I surely would have suffocated as the world shrunk to just the two of them. I have rarely seen Roxanne so radiant and self-confident. I swear your great, great-grandmother lost twenty years in those precious moments. Those glorious thirty minutes were an eternity!”

Agatha, eye on the soup, ear to her now silent grandmother, suspected the rolls had been in the toaster oven too long. She looked towards Grandmother Maeve. She found her grandmother looking happily off into space, with something that looked totally out of place on her fair face; tears.

M&R: The Gandydancer’s Special Night

Her husband gazed heavenward at Hesperus, the evening star. At first Maeve thought he praying. She heard him mumble, “Come darkling. Oh, majestic queen, rise from the abyss. The day is done and the darkness is falling from thy wings.” Nope, not praying, reciting poetry. Then she thought that the weary look on his face, worn expression, his pacing of the floor and the way he kept touching his forehead that her husband must still be hung over from the night before. This was silly because John was born for the night. This started her to worry.

“You know,” John started worriedly. “I know things sometimes.” He smiled weakly as his night-tressed wife as he brushes back the hair at his surprisingly not-gray temples

“Your little voice.” she admitted respectfully in that tone that all his friends and extended family used.

“Remember when our eldest graduated high school and I asked him what he was going to do about his girlfriend?”

Maeve loved her sons, but knew nothing about them for the most part. John handled the kids. She nodded for her husband to continue.

“I asked him if he was going to make some sort of commitment to her.”

“They were too young.” Maeve interjected tentatively, suddenly aware that she’d said that one too many times over the years.”

“That’s what everyone said. I told him, I believed in long engagements.” John chuckles. “Anyway, he said nothing to his girlfriend and she dropped him like a hot rock. So eventually she follows him to college. They date for two years. Your oldest son is getting ready to go off to medical school; I ask what he is going to do about his girlfriend. He says it will be okay. She drops him like a hot rock. So, right before graduation from medical school I ask him if he is going to propose to his new girlfriend of two years. She gave up her apartment and was living in her mother’s basement so that she could move at any time. She’s a beautician, so she can get work anywhere. He says, he’s too young and that it will be okay. He gets accepted into a practice and doesn’t propose. She too drops him like a hot rock. So, now he’s approaching thirty and still looking for love. And you know what my grandmother use to say; as we get older we get more and more particular and less and less desirable.” John finishes with a flourish and lift of his open upturned hands. He shakes his head. “Now his younger brother Rugen has graduated and started a career with the railroad managing a couple of crews of gandydancers. His girlfriend will graduate shortly and if he doesn’t propose… I know what is going to happen.” As he finished his presentation, he bit his plush lower lip in frustration. But something in the dawning thought showing on his wife’s lovely face reassured him and he smiled knowingly.

Maeve didn’t have a close relationship with many people beside her husband and sister, but she was close to his youngest son Rugen. She went to visit him the next evening.

“Mom!” the handsome young Rugen called in surprise as her unreigned car advanced swiftly upon his job site in the middle of nowhere. His most-fair mother exited her limousine attended only by the stars.

Being his father’s son, he gave her a big bear hug. She returned it with unnatural strength. When she thought about it, Maeve thought she loved Rugen (Bennie, as she called him.) the best of all her sons. They had a special relationship. With any of her other sons, she would have their lovey-dovey father speak to them. She admired Rugen’s broad shoulders and muscular upper arms, the produce of several summers during college swinging sledge hammers while working as a gandydancer. When she took his hands, she proudly noticed he still carried the calluses from hammer, crowbar and shovel.

She licked her blood lips predatorily before speaking after the preliminaries. “Your father and I think long engagements are alright. I think you will propose to Thyona. So the next thing I want to hear is that it happen.” Unknowingly the young man’s lungs sucked in air in order to… Maeve’s moon pale right hand went vertical, palm out, affectively stopping any unwarranted question. “Ask your older brother.” In response to the shocked look of understanding rounding his eyes and lips, her razor-sharp manicured right index finger lifted and lowered his dimpled chin; her sparkling diamonds and angular knuckles resting at his throat. She laid her velvet hand upon his weary brow and with her returning smile, his “fears decay and courage springs.“ Then she left for the airport and home.

Being more of a doer than thinker, Rugen proposed at the first opportunity; at his favorite cousin’s birthday party back at the college they all attended. Seeing a bright future for the two of them Thyona accepted. They agreed to do it (wed) once he got a job in town and wasn’t always on the rails. Though mostly college-age people attended, Rugen’s Aunt Roxanne was at the celebration and impromptu proposal.

“Dearie? Dearie, did I wake you? ” Roxanne screamed into the cell phone. “I just had to call you! It just happen. I had a feeling. I woke up this morning and told Stan, I just had a feeling and how it happen! Rugen proposed to Thyona.”

On the other end of the call Maeve laughed, not so much at the success of her plan, but rather at the delight in her sister’s voice. She could hear the great sobs rolling from her ample bosom and thought for sure big round tears accompanied them.

Roxanne literally jumped up and down waiting for Maeve’s response. Her face positively glowed with excitement, the false dawn rising over the mountains echoed back the color. Jumping about made her jewelry sparkle like the departing stars Her feminine frame shook and dangling earrings rocked in anticipation of telling how it was almost midnight, the place was really hopping, Rugen slipped the band a twenty to play their favorite song and then knelt there on the peanut shell covered floor. “He offered her a ring with a large black sapphire surrounded by diamonds. And she said yes! And then the band kept playing and playing. They took a break and this is the first time I could call you! I have a really good feeling about this. It’s wonderful!”

Roxanne’s husband Stan came out on the concrete patio with drinks and Kleenex, all quiet and solid, totally unfazed by the events of the night. He smiled bemusedly at his wife’s excitement as she chatted with her sister over the cell phone.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Roxanne asked as she accepted his offerings.

Stan just smiled back slyly.

“You aren’t surprised! Did you help our gandydancer set this up?” Roxanne gasped.

“No. John talked to me about it Rugen proposing to Thyona. I understood it would happen.” Stan could feel the heat of the risen sun on his face. “Shall we drink to their new life and the new day?”

Roxanne turned to see the dawn and burst into tears, again.

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.”