In a darkened cloak room stood a lady with her back to noise and feminine chatter of the conference’s primary meeting room. She wore the Society’s eponymous hat trimmed with a shortened black and white ostrich plume, a boa of purple peafowl feathers and a beaded gown shimmering with black and the Society’s eponymous color across the shoulders cascading into lighter and lighter shades of each until it at length reached the sparkling white beads at the gold trimmed hem. She quietly fanned herself with the day’s program. She tried to control the occasional sob that shook her stout frame. She’d taken a cell phone out of matching beaded handbag, but seemed to think better of it.
“Are you all alright, honey?” a southern voice drawled.
Roxanne Scamander turned to find “Molly” (that’s what her name tag said) holding out half a glass of water and a box of tissues to her. Molly in her dark “maid” outfit looked at the slightly taller woman with sad, sympathetic brown eyes and a disbelieving shake of her head. The two women exchanged greetings as Molly was distributing coffee to the tables early in the morning. Roxanne was as fair as Molly was dark. Roxanne’s usually carefree expression contrasted just as sharply with Molly’s features worn by hard years.
“Oh, thank you, Molly” Roxanne gushed, with another stream of tears.
“It’s no problems missus. Us red heads have to stick together.” (Roxanne’s smiled at the redbone’s reference to their hair color.) “Now what game is that uppity blond playing?”
“Well, I don’t know.” gasped Roxanne, and then took a drink to calm herself. When she spoke again her voice no longer waivered. “But apparently, I’m playing the part of a guest invited here to be made a fool.” She took another sip of water as Molly nodded for her to continue.
“I’m the new provincial president back home. We are doing real well on our membership drives. So, the National Vice President for Membership invited me down to represent my province and to help with the some presentations.” Here, Roxanne pointed out the blond. Molly was already staring at her distastefully. “The vice president and the president sat at the first long table. I thought I’d best not sit with them because all the national office staff people would crowd around her. If I want to get better at my job, I’d best get to know the other provincial presidents.
“So you were sitting there in the midst of them, when she came over and acted like she was somebody?”
“Yes. She asks me if I am staying all week. The question dumbfounded me, since she invited me to the meeting and it lasts all week. I admitted that I intended to stay. Well, she says, ‘I don’t what to blind side you but-‘”
“Honey,” Molly interrupts “When you are sitting with a group of people and she uses that phrase it means that she’s about to blindside you. “
Roxanne nodded in agreement. “Anyway, she says, “-people have asked why you are attending. I’m going to explain that you are only a guest, that you don’t vote and that you are just here for the discussion on membership.’ ”
In the main room, the meeting was being called together by the facilitator.
Molly patted Roxanne on the arm and said, “I’ll pray that Lord Jesus send you some angels today, missus.”
“He already has, dearie.” Roxanne assured Molly with a wink and a smile.
For those who knew her, it would have been obvious that Roxanne was biting her lip and was sitting on my hands as the meeting began. She recited her practiced lines for the membership presentations that morning and otherwise kept her mouth shut. She introduced herself briefly when it was her turn. The provincial president next to her was a negress whom Roxanne assumed was another southerner. She was delighted that the woman was from Quebec. She and Madam Cote whispered conspiratorially in French during the rest of the conference.
Later in the morning Roxanne discussed with the vice president that the last two days had nothing on the agenda about membership, so she’d head home. Roxanne informed the hosting provincial president of this and hence would not be part of the planned local tour. When the local president asked why, Roxanne repeated the company line. This didn’t please her hostess.
Yes, Roxanne was hurt, offended, disappointed and embarrassed that half the provincial presidents witnessed her humiliation. She could fuss, fume and conspire with her sister Maeve. Instead, she did something more affective; she prayed. Prayer calmed her and prepared her for the role the good Lord intended her to play. Late in the morning session, the conference broken into small committees to work on various issues. In the process, they dragged their chairs hither and yon. Roxanne had a great time with a group of provincial presidents, with whom she went off to lunch.
When they returned from lunch, Molly caught Roxanne’s eye. With a wink and a nod she indicated Roxanne’s seat at the second long table. During lunch some “angel” brought all the chairs back to the conference table. Roxanne’s had lost her seat at the provincial presidents table! With a knowing smile she sat at a couch behind them.
“You don’t have to sit over there Roxanne.” the vice president called from across the room.
“Oh, I lost my chair and I don’t want to take someone else’s place.”
The provincial presidents promptly found her a place at the end of their table. While the provincial presidents were shuffling chairs around for Roxanne, one of their number sitting at the third table moved to the seat vacated by the National President, hence next to the blonde. Everyone commented. At this point “the uppity blond” made the announcement about Roxanne’s attendance and defended her presence at the meeting. She also mentioned Roxanne would only be attending one meeting a year.
When they discussed cost cutting measures, one of the staffers suggested they cut part-time employees to minimum hours. One of the provincial presidents at the far end of the table responded. The staffers returned fire; a double barreled volley launched from the provincial presidents.
Roxanne literally ran for the table of fruit, bagels and muffins, which Molly was tending.
“What is this all about?” whispered Molly.
Roxanne was almost chocking in shock. “It didn’t occur to me at first that only provincial presidents supervise part-employees, all the employees working for the staffer are permanent full time.”
“You have part-time employees? What do they do?” Molly asked as the debate raged louder
“Oh, for things that folks usually don’t volunteer to do. I’m our one and only part-time employee. I vacuum, and set up chairs for meetings.” Roxanne raised a knowing eyebrow. After wagging a finger at Molly she glanced admiringly at the job Molly had done at cleaning the area while they were all at lunch.
From this safe position they discovered that all the staffers had indeed gathered around the vice president. During the chair shuffle Roxanne had been turned into a buffer state between the two factions. In fact the long table where Roxanne sat was occupied by no one but provincial presidents. (One interesting exception; the union representative, Mrs. Moore sat there so as to be as far from the president and vice president as possible. She made the comment at one point that “Madam” Scamander and she were the only union members at the conference.) The remaining provincial presidents spilled on to the third table. Roxanne returned to the table when it was safe.
Towards the end of the day, Madam Cote, pulled her aside. She’d been sitting next to Roxanne when the vice president had “not” blindsided her. Madam Cote felt Roxanne should be on the leadership team. With Roxanne’s permission she wanted to pursue that. Roxanne said how flattered she felt and encouraged Madam Cote to speak with the vice president.
The final presentation Roxanne and the vice president sponsored. It was well received and exactly what Roxanne had hoped. While the leadership team got their picture taken. Roxanne stood with the union representative.
While distributing congratulatory glasses of champagne to the group, Molly noticed the lengthy conversation the two had. “What was that about, missus?” she asked worriedly.
“Dearie! Mrs. Moore mentioned that she couldn't attend all the meetings and occasionally needed a union member to cover for him. She asked me to join the union since I was now officially not on the leadership team!”
Both women shared a big toothy grin and silent laugh.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
M&R; An Old Chestnut
Roxanne fidgeted before her best friend. She’d sat down with a plop on the couch and slapped widespread fingers on her thighs. She started to speak, then drew breathe, smiled weakly at the woman to whom she told everything and began to speak.
“You know Maeve; I just love your husband to death. He introduced me to my husband and eventually you. He’s responsible for all the happiness in my life. I’ll never have a bad word to say about him. Now, we aren’t the kind of people who cares what everyone else thinks…“
“Actually, I think it’s me who doesn’t care. “ Maeve whispered back softly. “I remember once a party we hosted. One of the guests commented to me within hearing of your husband, that all the guests seemed to be your friends and hardly any of them were mine. Your husband responded for me. Moved in close and stood over the person who was sitting on the couch next to me. “Yeah, my wife knows everyone and loves everyone. My sister-in-law and I only love a few people and spit on everyone else.””
Roxanne blushed with surprised embarrassment, holding her manicured right hand over her mouth. Maeve started snickering at the thought of the spittle flying in the direction of the offensive guest as Stan said the word “spit”. Maeve finally admitted why she giggled. Roxanne roared again! Roxanne laughed so hard she bent in half and the blush ran all the way down her chest. She laughed so hard she couldn‘t breath. The effort to restrain herself forced tears into to Maeve ever-somber dark eyes and made her bosom heave with hiccup-like breathes.
When they recovered, Roxanne let out a lyrical sigh, saying, “Well, gossip is that your husband flirts with every woman he meets.”
Maeve smiles a sly smile, one corner of her mouth rising higher than the other. “He just tells them the truth. He just tells them they are good, beautiful, smart and a gift from God.”
“But, dearie; not all women are good and beautiful.”
That cocky smile again; “But, Roxanne he never talks to the evil, ugly one.”
Roxanne’s jaw drops. Her eyes, red with recent laughter grow wide. Her tear-stained checks begin to crack into her ever-ready smile. She roars again. Maeve is clearly enjoying the moment. An outside observer might have noted she was bidding her time. Roxanne regains her composure for a second time. Maeve licks her lower blood red lip with the tip of her little pink tongue and then asks. “You didn’t hear this from some green-eyed, horse-faced, flat-chested munchkin we both know, did you?”
This time Maeve actually was concerned about her sister’s well-being, that she laughed so without self-restraint. She thought about telling Roxanne so, but thought better of it.
“We’re awful!” Roxanne gasped. “You know everything!”
“No!” Maeve insisted with a wave of her hand. “You and my husband know everyone, hear everything and share with me. I see a few things and just put two and two together.” She glanced Heavenward, rolling her eyes that way as though giving all the glory to God. Then a thought visibly struck her and her black eyes veered away from her best friend. “You know the one thing I can’t see?”
Roxanne looked Maeve’s way hopefully.
“I can’t see either of our husbands ever cheating on us. Particularly yours.” Maeve stated firmly and quietly.
Roxanne took a deep breathe and for the first time today, rather than laugh, she blushed with pride.
“You know Maeve; I just love your husband to death. He introduced me to my husband and eventually you. He’s responsible for all the happiness in my life. I’ll never have a bad word to say about him. Now, we aren’t the kind of people who cares what everyone else thinks…“
“Actually, I think it’s me who doesn’t care. “ Maeve whispered back softly. “I remember once a party we hosted. One of the guests commented to me within hearing of your husband, that all the guests seemed to be your friends and hardly any of them were mine. Your husband responded for me. Moved in close and stood over the person who was sitting on the couch next to me. “Yeah, my wife knows everyone and loves everyone. My sister-in-law and I only love a few people and spit on everyone else.””
Roxanne blushed with surprised embarrassment, holding her manicured right hand over her mouth. Maeve started snickering at the thought of the spittle flying in the direction of the offensive guest as Stan said the word “spit”. Maeve finally admitted why she giggled. Roxanne roared again! Roxanne laughed so hard she bent in half and the blush ran all the way down her chest. She laughed so hard she couldn‘t breath. The effort to restrain herself forced tears into to Maeve ever-somber dark eyes and made her bosom heave with hiccup-like breathes.
When they recovered, Roxanne let out a lyrical sigh, saying, “Well, gossip is that your husband flirts with every woman he meets.”
Maeve smiles a sly smile, one corner of her mouth rising higher than the other. “He just tells them the truth. He just tells them they are good, beautiful, smart and a gift from God.”
“But, dearie; not all women are good and beautiful.”
That cocky smile again; “But, Roxanne he never talks to the evil, ugly one.”
Roxanne’s jaw drops. Her eyes, red with recent laughter grow wide. Her tear-stained checks begin to crack into her ever-ready smile. She roars again. Maeve is clearly enjoying the moment. An outside observer might have noted she was bidding her time. Roxanne regains her composure for a second time. Maeve licks her lower blood red lip with the tip of her little pink tongue and then asks. “You didn’t hear this from some green-eyed, horse-faced, flat-chested munchkin we both know, did you?”
This time Maeve actually was concerned about her sister’s well-being, that she laughed so without self-restraint. She thought about telling Roxanne so, but thought better of it.
“We’re awful!” Roxanne gasped. “You know everything!”
“No!” Maeve insisted with a wave of her hand. “You and my husband know everyone, hear everything and share with me. I see a few things and just put two and two together.” She glanced Heavenward, rolling her eyes that way as though giving all the glory to God. Then a thought visibly struck her and her black eyes veered away from her best friend. “You know the one thing I can’t see?”
Roxanne looked Maeve’s way hopefully.
“I can’t see either of our husbands ever cheating on us. Particularly yours.” Maeve stated firmly and quietly.
Roxanne took a deep breathe and for the first time today, rather than laugh, she blushed with pride.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
M&R: Aegir’s Door
Roxanne gazed away pensively at a pair of bald eagles high up, flapping their wings towards the gray waters of Prince Frederick Sound and the land of “The Strangest Story ever Told.”
Maeve asked, “Do we know any atheists?”
“I don’t think so, but in college I knew a man with five spleens.” Green eyes still gazing into the blue sky overhead Roxanne continued, “Wasn’t the pilot on the corporate jet an atheist? Mitch?”
“Oh that’s right. Totally didn’t believe in anything he couldn’t see. I remember one time, he’d just called “Sukoi, inbound.” We were making our approach from the mouth of the Narrows still over the white–caps on Prince Frederick Sound. He asks, if the engine went out, would I prefer to be high in the sky or low to the water.” Roxanne gasped and prepared to comment. A raised immaculate hand from her sister accompanied by the nod of her ivory brow stopped the red head from speaking. “I said high in the sky, so we’d have time to discuss him accepting Christ as his personal savior.”
Roxanne laughed to Heaven. Maeve burst into a grin of delight in response. As Roxanne’s laughter faded, she gave Maeve a mischievous glance. “Remember that time at the company party when I asked to be introduced to the handsome young man you were talking with?”
Maeve’s ivory brow now crunched in confusion as her dark eyes squinted in concentration.
“You said, “Roxanne! It’s Mitch!” “Mitch, who?” “Mitch, our pilot!” I’d only ever seen the back of his head!”
Their laughter erupted again. A passing trawler left ripples on the otherwise placid jade green waters of Wrangell Narrows. The river like body of water rises from Sumner Strait to the south, flows between Mitkof and Wowodeski northward to Beecher Pass and the tidal flats and muskegs of Blind Slough then beyond northwards some more between Mitkof and the long peninsula of Kupreanof in a sluggish, winding course to the gray waters of windswept Prince Frederick Sound. Alaska’s Little Norway, otherwise known as Petersburg stands at the head of the Narrows. Opposite lay the ice fields and fjords that reminded its founder Peters Buschmann of his home in Norway far across the gray Atlantic.
The afternoon sun still high over Kupreanof Island laughed upon the summer scene. Maeve and Roxanne sat, like the locals, on the deck overlooking the water at The Beachcomber. It was too cold for the tourists, who sat inside. Maeve and Roxanne’s husbands went to the bar to fetch a round of margarita with a touch of cilantro in them. Roxanne knew without mentioning it that the boys would down a couple of shots of Jose Cuervo Gold while awaiting the blending of their drinks.
“Dearie, Mrs. Green’s husband was an atheist.” She remembered.
“Oh that’s right! Poor man!” Maeve said without explaining whether she meant; how unfortunate that he went to his grave unsaved or how unfortunate he ever married Mrs. Green. “And he was the saddest kind of atheist.” She noted with a shake of her head and rolling of her black eyes to the right.
“Whatever do you mean dearie?”
“Well, it wasn’t that Mr. Green didn’t believe; I think he just resented God. You know the usual, “How could God let such awful things happen?” blamed Him for a rotten childhood and unloving, certifiable mother.” Maeve ended by shaking her head sadly, eyes slightly downcast, the beginning of a frown upon her fair features. “Let’s talk about your friend with the five spleens.”
“What?” came their husbands’ deep voices almost in unison.
They landed the margarita glasses on the table and straddling the restaurant’s low backed chair joined their wives.
“Well, actually…” Roxanne confided, leaning closer to the center of the small table. “She was a friend of my friend Kathy Blair. Kathy was one of those big blonde smiling girls that should have been named “Sunshine”.
“Was she the one that came up here during the pipeline and had five job offers in one day?”
“Yes, dearie. There was a man involved of course, but who wouldn’t want a full-figured friendly blonde-haired woman greeting their customers. Anyway this is years before. I think she was a freshman. We were at party with a bunch of forestry majors and we met him; Joseph Einer. He looked like a Viking; sky blue eyes and blonde curls. He had a ready grin and deep lingering laugh. “ Her men folk made no effort to hide the glance they exchanged. “Of course, sort of a skinny Viking.” She commented with a lift of her shoulders. “He was a foreign exchange student. That’s sort of a leap of faith isn’t it? Coming across the gray waters far from home. He was from Schleswig-Holstein.”
Blank looks from Maeve and their husbands.
“Yeah, I know. I was never sure whether it is Denmark or Germany. But, he made it clear he was German. He had that sort of idealized Aryan v-shaped torso; broad in the shoulders tapering to a skinny waist. Anyway, Kathy was smitten. She didn’t speak too much German and his English wasn’t very good. However, they had something in common, they both loved Tuborg; The Beer of Danish Kings. It was very popular then!” Roxanne said with a wave of her hands. “Ends up that drunken English is very much like drunken German. They got along famously. A couple of weeks later the three of us were headed out for the weekend. As we were leaving campus, we hit a speed bump and Joseph groaned. He assured us he’d be fine, but Kathy and I were not too assured. On the next speed bump, he buckled over. He wanted to go to the health clinic on campus, we took him straight to the emergency room. After we checked him in, all we could do was pray. We went to a nearby Catholic church and lit candles for him.”
Several eyebrows raised around the table.
“Yeah, yeah I know! About then is when his swollen spleen actually ruptured. Teach me to go to a catholic church! Anyway, we go to see him the next day. He’s on the phone to his mother. Kathy’s sober of course, so she doesn’t understand a word, but the nurse tells us, he has four more spleens. He’ll be fine.
“I’m guessing he wasn’t an atheist.” Maeve mumbled.
“No, Lutheran like us.”
Maeve asked, “Do we know any atheists?”
“I don’t think so, but in college I knew a man with five spleens.” Green eyes still gazing into the blue sky overhead Roxanne continued, “Wasn’t the pilot on the corporate jet an atheist? Mitch?”
“Oh that’s right. Totally didn’t believe in anything he couldn’t see. I remember one time, he’d just called “Sukoi, inbound.” We were making our approach from the mouth of the Narrows still over the white–caps on Prince Frederick Sound. He asks, if the engine went out, would I prefer to be high in the sky or low to the water.” Roxanne gasped and prepared to comment. A raised immaculate hand from her sister accompanied by the nod of her ivory brow stopped the red head from speaking. “I said high in the sky, so we’d have time to discuss him accepting Christ as his personal savior.”
Roxanne laughed to Heaven. Maeve burst into a grin of delight in response. As Roxanne’s laughter faded, she gave Maeve a mischievous glance. “Remember that time at the company party when I asked to be introduced to the handsome young man you were talking with?”
Maeve’s ivory brow now crunched in confusion as her dark eyes squinted in concentration.
“You said, “Roxanne! It’s Mitch!” “Mitch, who?” “Mitch, our pilot!” I’d only ever seen the back of his head!”
Their laughter erupted again. A passing trawler left ripples on the otherwise placid jade green waters of Wrangell Narrows. The river like body of water rises from Sumner Strait to the south, flows between Mitkof and Wowodeski northward to Beecher Pass and the tidal flats and muskegs of Blind Slough then beyond northwards some more between Mitkof and the long peninsula of Kupreanof in a sluggish, winding course to the gray waters of windswept Prince Frederick Sound. Alaska’s Little Norway, otherwise known as Petersburg stands at the head of the Narrows. Opposite lay the ice fields and fjords that reminded its founder Peters Buschmann of his home in Norway far across the gray Atlantic.
The afternoon sun still high over Kupreanof Island laughed upon the summer scene. Maeve and Roxanne sat, like the locals, on the deck overlooking the water at The Beachcomber. It was too cold for the tourists, who sat inside. Maeve and Roxanne’s husbands went to the bar to fetch a round of margarita with a touch of cilantro in them. Roxanne knew without mentioning it that the boys would down a couple of shots of Jose Cuervo Gold while awaiting the blending of their drinks.
“Dearie, Mrs. Green’s husband was an atheist.” She remembered.
“Oh that’s right! Poor man!” Maeve said without explaining whether she meant; how unfortunate that he went to his grave unsaved or how unfortunate he ever married Mrs. Green. “And he was the saddest kind of atheist.” She noted with a shake of her head and rolling of her black eyes to the right.
“Whatever do you mean dearie?”
“Well, it wasn’t that Mr. Green didn’t believe; I think he just resented God. You know the usual, “How could God let such awful things happen?” blamed Him for a rotten childhood and unloving, certifiable mother.” Maeve ended by shaking her head sadly, eyes slightly downcast, the beginning of a frown upon her fair features. “Let’s talk about your friend with the five spleens.”
“What?” came their husbands’ deep voices almost in unison.
They landed the margarita glasses on the table and straddling the restaurant’s low backed chair joined their wives.
“Well, actually…” Roxanne confided, leaning closer to the center of the small table. “She was a friend of my friend Kathy Blair. Kathy was one of those big blonde smiling girls that should have been named “Sunshine”.
“Was she the one that came up here during the pipeline and had five job offers in one day?”
“Yes, dearie. There was a man involved of course, but who wouldn’t want a full-figured friendly blonde-haired woman greeting their customers. Anyway this is years before. I think she was a freshman. We were at party with a bunch of forestry majors and we met him; Joseph Einer. He looked like a Viking; sky blue eyes and blonde curls. He had a ready grin and deep lingering laugh. “ Her men folk made no effort to hide the glance they exchanged. “Of course, sort of a skinny Viking.” She commented with a lift of her shoulders. “He was a foreign exchange student. That’s sort of a leap of faith isn’t it? Coming across the gray waters far from home. He was from Schleswig-Holstein.”
Blank looks from Maeve and their husbands.
“Yeah, I know. I was never sure whether it is Denmark or Germany. But, he made it clear he was German. He had that sort of idealized Aryan v-shaped torso; broad in the shoulders tapering to a skinny waist. Anyway, Kathy was smitten. She didn’t speak too much German and his English wasn’t very good. However, they had something in common, they both loved Tuborg; The Beer of Danish Kings. It was very popular then!” Roxanne said with a wave of her hands. “Ends up that drunken English is very much like drunken German. They got along famously. A couple of weeks later the three of us were headed out for the weekend. As we were leaving campus, we hit a speed bump and Joseph groaned. He assured us he’d be fine, but Kathy and I were not too assured. On the next speed bump, he buckled over. He wanted to go to the health clinic on campus, we took him straight to the emergency room. After we checked him in, all we could do was pray. We went to a nearby Catholic church and lit candles for him.”
Several eyebrows raised around the table.
“Yeah, yeah I know! About then is when his swollen spleen actually ruptured. Teach me to go to a catholic church! Anyway, we go to see him the next day. He’s on the phone to his mother. Kathy’s sober of course, so she doesn’t understand a word, but the nurse tells us, he has four more spleens. He’ll be fine.
“I’m guessing he wasn’t an atheist.” Maeve mumbled.
“No, Lutheran like us.”
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
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…”
Sunday, May 8, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
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.
“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.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
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.
“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.
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