Chapter 13
The next week was tough on all of us. Annie worked diligently, catching up on her thesis as well as looking up information on Stanford and Rachel, all the while experiencing her first bouts of morning sickness. Rich worked on putting Sullivan’s factory out of business and getting my apartment back in order, while still in itching pain from the healing. Jonathan worked at courting me, sending flowers and sweet notes, while trying to open his bookstore.
I worked on getting the café stocked with an assortment of offerings and making the calls to the Sullivan people, thinking of Stanford and his mistress and craving Jonathan like I’d never craved anything before in my life. Alas, he held out on me, keeping to his word about us getting to know one another in this lifetime before succumbing to our urges. Needless to say, we were all a little on edge.
When Rich took Annie for her first prenatal visit, he stood next to her in the room as the doctor made sure everything was progressing as it should, holding her hand and accepting congratulations from the staff for becoming a parent.
Annie said I’d have laughed my head off at how he glowed with pride. “He’s more radiant than me,” she’d said. “I just felt like throwing up.” Already the perks of pregnancy had started. She said nothing about the baby’s paternity, so I didn’t ask. I was sure they’d get to that when they were ready.
Jonathan poked his head into the kitchen at least three times a day, bringing me some little something or sharing some tidbit of personal information, so I’d get to know him better. It was comforting, and I missed him when he wasn’t there. So far, I really liked what I was learning about him.
Nathan even came by a few times and asked me when I’d be returning for a visit. “Maybe, Jonathan could make us a nice meal?” he said to me, but directed his words to his openmouthed son.
“So, you cook, too?” I asked, loving the embarrassment on his face.
“Well, a little.”
“A little? Jonathan, you really have been holding out on this fine young lady. Of course, he can cook. He’s a fabulous chef.” His father waved his arms in the air, and suddenly I could see what Jonathan had meant by his father’s flair for the dramatic.
“See what I mean?” Jonathan asked me, pointing.
“I would love to sample some of your cooking.”
Jonathan shifted from one foot to the other, a thing he did when he was nervous, then finally said, “It would be my honor to cook for you, Miss Clemmons. Perhaps, this Saturday night? Are you free?”
“I’ll have to check my calendar.” I laughed, knowing no other engagement on earth could keep me from this dinner.
“Perhaps, Annie and Rich would like to join us?” Nathan was full of ideas.
Jonathan didn’t even look at his father then, though I knew he could’ve killed him. “Yes indeed, let’s invite them as well. The more the merrier.”
“I know they’d love to come,” I said with a laugh in my voice.
After Nathan caused all this commotion, he left the kitchen, smiling at me from behind his son’s back, winking and thrilled with his success.
Jonathan pulled me into him, getting flour all over the front of his navy blue linen trousers. “You really enjoyed that, didn’t you?” He kissed my smiling lips gently, first the top one and then the bottom, holding each in turn between his warm lips and running his tongue along the tender, pinched flesh.
I ran my hands down his back, over the delicate fibers covering his rear end, squeezing him to me, and feeling him grow hard against my stomach.
“Ah hum,” he cleared his throat. “Don’t do that to me, I’m not wearing any underwear.”
“Oh my,” I almost slurred the words. “Now that’s what I call a nice surprise.” I moved my hand around to the front, and sure enough, there was nothing but one thin layer of linen between him and me. I groaned, feeling him and needing him.
He took my hands away quickly, holding them to his mouth and kissing them. “I thought we were gonna get to know one another better before we—” He left it there as I pulled him into the freezer and closed the door behind us.
The cold fog filtered in front of my eyes, causing me to see only glimpses of his hungry eyes before I pulled him to me. Our lips were chilled when they met but heated quickly as we kissed. He felt so good against my skin, his scent mixing with the cold air around me. When he pulled up my apron and released the five silver buttons on my pants, I melted into the hand that caressed me so skillfully, taking in two, maybe three fingers before I realized I was already over the top.
He held me against his body, freeing his hand and suckling his fingertips to taste me. It was easily the most sensuous thing I’d ever seen a man do. At that moment I felt I knew everything I needed to know about Mr. Jonathan Parker. I loved him—everything about him.
He knelt in front of me, my body shivering from the orgasm and from the increasing cold. He buttoned my pants, then laid the apron just as it had been before, picking up a couple of rolls of pie dough as a decoy and pulling me unwillingly out of the freezer. As we reentered the world, I watched him place the dough down on the turning table, smiling at Candy as though nothing at all had happened except for our retrieving supplies for baking. “Here’s your dough, Becka. Need anything else before I leave?”
I just shook my head, grinning a goofy grin and thanking him for his assistance in the freezer. Candy just smiled her toothy grin and continued her juicing, while Jonathan kissed my lips in the most sensual way, reminding me to ask Annie and Rich to dinner. “Oh, and Candy,” he said, “I’d love for you to join us for dinner on Saturday as well. Bring a date. Becka will give you all the details.” With that he left, escaping the scene of the crime and leaving me there to deal with the aftermath of her knowing grin.
“He’s a cutie-pie, Becka,” she said, never missing a beat. “But, who does he think he’s kidding with that flour all over his ass?” I stood up quickly and looked as he retreated back to the bookstore. Sure enough, two smudged handprints danced on each cheek as he walked away.
“What can I say?” I held up my hands—busted.
“You can say hallelujah! I sure as hell would if I were you.” She sliced some more oranges and kept on juicing, her lips the shade of the nectar draining down into the clear plastic pitcher below.
~ ~ ~
Just as I checked the last batch of scones in the oven, Annie ran through the front door screaming for me, obviously anxious to share. “Becka, where are you?” The two midmorning regulars sitting at the counter lurched to attention at her loudness.
I stuck my head through the swinging door and shushed her, “I’m back here. You don’t have to yell.” I swept around with the coffee pots, refilled the customers’ cups, apologizing for her rude entrance, and then followed her back into the kitchen.
“Are-you-ready-for-this?” She was so excited the sentence came out as one long word.
“Calm down, Annie. You’re gonna upset the baby.” I knew this would work. “Did you find a copy of the book?”
She took two deep breaths then started again. “No luck on the book yet. It’s something better, though,” she said, shaking her hands. “I found someone. Rachel Stewart has a niece living in Venice Beach. Her name is Victoria Wells. She’s seventy-three, spunky as hell, and Becka, she actually knew her. She says they were very close.”
“You’ve talked to her?”
“Yeah, I called her and told her I wanted to include Rachel Stewart and her work as part of my master’s thesis, and she perked right up. She invited me there for tea!”
“Tea? You’re kidding me, right?”
“Can you believe it? Let’s go!” She was as elated as I was stunned.
“When is she expecting you?”
“I told her I’d call her to set up a time just as soon as I could get my friends together. I told her I was bringing you guys along. She sounded excited. Maybe she’s lonely. She should be a great source of information. She actually knew her! I am good, my friend. Hurry up! I’ll call Rich and see if he can go.” She reached for the phone on the wall and started punching in his number. “Jonathan has to come, too.”
I walked around to the oven, put on a mitt, and pulled the perfectly browned scones from the heat, stalling for time as I worked this all out in my head.
“Rich,” she said impatiently. “Hold on a second.” She put her hand to the phone and looked at me. “Becka, go ask him. Let’s go!”
She started talking to my brother, and I walked in a daze through the café, standing for a moment in front of the bookstore, preparing to ask Jonathan if he would like to come along for a grand adventure.
A tiny jingle rang out when I finally passed through the door. Jonathan was shelving books at the far end of the store, looking the other way.
“Can I help you?” his voice was so sexy I’d have purchased a three-hundred-dollar book just to hear it again. “Well, well, I think I can help you.” He came in close and brought my chin up with his fingers. I just looked at him for the longest time, falling into his eyes and searching for words.
“Becka, what is it? Is everything all right?” His expression went from playful to concerned in those few seconds, and I felt bad for making him worry.
“Annie found Rachel Stewart’s niece living down in Venice Beach.”
His voice caught before saying, “You’re kidding!” Joy spread over him, starting with an intoxicating smile. “That’s wonderful. What did she say? Will she talk to us?”
“Annie told her she’s doing some research on Rachel Stewart.”
“Clever,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“Clever enough to get an invitation to tea.”
“So, when do we leave?”
“I guess as soon as we can.”
He turned away and grabbed his keys from the desk, guiding me by the elbow toward the door. He flipped the sign on the door to Closed, dimmed the lights, and locked the door behind us. “I’ll drop you at your place, go home and pack a few things, and ask my father to cover the store. I’ll then come back by and pick you guys up.”
“Whoa, whoa, wait a second. I’m not sure—” I started to say. I wasn’t sure we could all be ready that fast when Annie flew out of the café door and said his plan sounded perfect to her. She also said Rich wasn’t coming in a very matter-of-fact tone.
“He said he was on to something he needed to stick with. He wished us luck! I’ll be at your place as soon as I can.” She jumped into her car and drove away without waiting for a reply.
“Let me just go talk to Candy and get my things.” I started untying the apron from my waist when he pulled me in.
“Becka, don’t worry. It’ll be fun.” He must have seen the fear of the unknown written on my face. “It won’t matter what we find out. I’ll still love you.” He kissed my lips lightly, and then he swatted my butt. “Now go. I’ll pull the car around.” He turned away and trotted to the side parking lot as I walked back into The Health Nut.
Candy stood with my purse and coat in hand, ready to take the apron in return. “You go find out what you need to know, honey. Everything here will be just fine while you’re gone.”
For the first time ever, I initiated a hug with this odd, wonderful woman. In the strangest way, she made me miss Silvy just a little less.
~ ~ ~
I packed an outfit for every occasion: a simple black skirt and a cream silk blouse with tall strappy sandals, the almost new bathing suit and sarong I’d bought for Hawaii, and my ten-year-old jeans and sweatshirt with my favorite pair of Birkenstocks. I figured this should be all I’d need for Southern California in May. Once I’d thrown in a few toiletries and zipped the bag, I was ready to go.
I plucked a Mountain Dew from the refrigerator and walked around the room, re-inspecting it for any errant blood splatters that the cleaning crew may have missed. If I hadn’t been told what had happened in the room, I sure wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at it now. It was spotless. I’d have to find out who Rich had used. This place had never looked this clean before.
“Rich,” I said out loud, remembering what Annie had said about his getting close to something. I got worried. I dialed his cell number and sipped.
“Richie, it’s me.”
“Hi, you. I heard you got a lead. That’s so cool.”
“I hear you have a lead as well. What’s up?”
I could tell he moved into a closed, echoing space before answering my question. “I gathered some more information on Sullivan’s. I also got together with those people you contacted, and they seemed willing to testify as long as they all stick together.”
“Strength in numbers, huh? Did you talk to Paulo’s mother?”
“Yeah, you must’ve pulled out all the stops with her. She’s ready.”
“Rich, when all of this is done, I want to give Paulo and his mother some of that money. Is that okay with you?”
A muffled laugh came out before his words, “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”
“Good, I’m glad. They really need the help.”
“Listen,” he said, “you take care of Annie and my baby. You know how she gets when she’s on a mission.” His voice changed from Mr. Attorney to mush at the mention of Annie and her delicate condition.
“I’ll take care of them, brother dear. Don’t worry.”
“Them . . . that sounds so cool.”
“Cool? Where did you pick up the word cool?”
He cleared his throat first. “Paulo. I spent some time with him yesterday. He kept telling me how cool everything was. I took him to Rosa’s for pizza.”
“Do you ever eat anything besides pizza?”
“What?”
“Never mind. Hey, that reminds me. Jonathan invited you and Annie over to his house for dinner on Saturday night. He’s gonna cook!”
“Man, where did this guy come from?”
“I don’t know, but maybe I’m about to find out.”
A knock at the door told me that either Annie or Jonathan was outside, ready to roll. “Listen, Rich, I’ve gotta go. They’re here. Please promise me you’ll stay out of harm’s way while I’m gone. If these Sullivans really did run down Silvy, they sure as hell won’t mind killing a gay attorney.” I tried to joke, but I was deadly serious with my concern.
“I’ll lay low. I’ve got too much work to do to get into too much trouble.”
The knock came again just as I opened the door to Jonathan’s anxious face. He rubbed his hand across my stomach as he walked past me, sending the usual shivers over my body and causing me to inhale quickly.
I watched the way his back and arm flexed as he picked up my bag and took it to his car. I had to turn away and take another deep breath to shake the want. When he came back for me, he saw it on me and smiled knowingly, waving for me to hurry.
“I’ve gotta go. They’re waiting for me in the car. I love you.” I realized I’d been silent too long when my annoying brother laughed in his knowing way.
“Becka, I promise you, everything will be fine. Soon! Call me when you get there, so I know you guys made it okay. And Becka”—he paused for a second before continuing—“Silvy and Dad would be proud of what you’re doing.”
“They’d be proud of what you’re doing too, Richie. Call you later.”
I hung up and locked the door behind me, carrying a warming soda and a smile with me. I was a lucky woman to have such wonderful, loving people in my life. I just couldn’t help but pray that all of them would stay safe.
~ ~ ~
We had to stop three times on the trip to the land of the beautiful people: once for a mid-afternoon snack, and twice for Annie to throw up on the side of the freeway. Each time the poor little thing crawled back into Jonathan’s car, she apologized profusely for the bother and then fell right to sleep on my lap, smelling of pear blossom shampoo and fresh vomit. I cracked a window to keep from getting sick myself, stroking her soft hair away from her pale face until her chest raised with the telltale signs of a deep, much-needed sleep.
“You’re a good friend, Becka,” Jonathan’s voice held a quiet compliment. His loving eyes found mine in the rearview mirror as they crinkled in a smile.
“She’s pushing it.” I returned his smile, plugging my nose playfully with my free hand.
We didn’t speak again until we hit rush hour traffic in the Los Angeles basin. The last time I was this far south, I was eight, and we were headed to Disneyland. Things had definitely changed since then. I couldn’t figure out what all these people saw in this area. I knew the sun was warm and the ocean was near, but surely, they couldn’t all be actors waiting for their big break—the waiters, I meant.
Annie stirred with the constant stop and start motion of traffic, groaning again and pleading for Jonathan to once again pull over, so she could let her body do its necessary maternal deed. Knowing getting safely out of traffic was not an easy option with cars blocking our freedom on each side, I handed Annie the spent McDonald’s bag left from our quick stop lunch on the road.
I held the greasy bag to her face, hoping she would have decent aim. The French fry smell alone brought on the first heave which yielded nothing; the second brought up such a minuscule amount, Annie fell back against the leather seat and sighed in frustration, breathing a little bit of hell out for all to share.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say Steven was bewitching me.”
I said nothing, not knowing what to say to such a remark. Did that mean Steven was the father, or did it mean Rich was the father, and Steven was making her regret it? Instead of voicing my questions, I took great care with sealing the vomit bag, disposing of it in such a way as to shield both the floorboard and our sensitive noses from its vile contents.
“Santa Monica—five miles,” Jonathan read from the roadway sign, winking to me in the mirror, giving me a much needed segue out of this conversation.
“Already? Good!” Annie spoke as I dug in my purse for a roll of Certs.
“Already? We’ve been driving forever,” I said, handing her the mint. “Here, suck on this.”
Annie held her hand over her mouth, apologizing, obviously feeling spryer at the prospect of getting out of the car.
“We need to find a hotel and freshen up. Some of us need it worse than others.” I caught Annie’s hand just before she swatted me.
“I said I was sorry. This baby better be worth all this.”
I watched her shift against the leather, uncomfortable but glowing from the life blossoming inside of her. I was envious of that glow.
“Babies are always worth it.” I spoke to her without thinking how Jonathan might interpret my words. I looked out the window to the over-occupied landscape, avoiding his gaze when he tried to catch mine.
“So,” he said, veering to the outside lane in anticipation of the Venice Beach turnoff. “Does that mean you want babies, Becka?”
He asked it straight out, and I had no place to hide. This was way ahead of our just getting to know each other. For some odd reason, it made me tense inside. He just watched me, glimpsing every few seconds back to the road and the cars surrounding us and waiting patiently for an answer to his question.
“I, ummm,” I cleared my throat.
“Of course, she wants babies. Lots of them.” Annie felt well enough to steam up this hot topic so much that I rolled my window all the way down in order to catch my breath. It felt unreasonable to have such a reaction to this subject, but I couldn’t stop the quiver in my gut.
“I really like the name, Thomas, don’t you?” he asked, coaxing me into giving him the information he required.
“Thomas is a great name. It was my father’s name.” I spoke then, but it was more from the shock of his picking the exact boy’s name I would have chosen for my son.
“Really. Thomas Clemmons was your dad’s name? That’s a strong, sophisticated name. Thomas Parker would be a strong, sophisticated name as well. Don’t you think?”
Again, I was silent, leaving the air noticeably blank where my reply should have gone.
Annie jumped in to save what she probably considered an important conversation from falling on the rocks and perishing. I would’ve kicked her if she wasn’t in a family way. “What about a girl’s name?” she asked him, nudging me with her knee, rattling the fruit-flavored mint against her teeth.
“I think”—he lifted his finger to his lip, tapping—“I think Rebecca is a beautiful name. Rebecca Parker . . . yeah, that has a nice ring to it.” He kept his gaze on me.
“You’re about to miss the exit!” I pointed toward the Venice Beach exit, figuring he’d have driven right past it if I hadn’t forced his attention back to the road.
Thankfully, the subject of babies was dropped as the three of us searched the thousands of colorful buildings for the hotel name. From the looks of this particular area, if a person didn’t speak Korean or Chinese, she’d be out of luck understanding where she was or how to purchase anything.
In the distance, nearer the shore and above the tallest bank building, I saw a Holiday Inn Select sign and immediately felt relief. It was a name I recognized in an ocean of the unknown. Thank goodness for small favors. I needed out of this damn car.
We settled into two rooms: one with a king bed and a mini-bar, the other with two doubles and a Jacuzzi tub. I didn’t know which I’d be sharing until Jonathan, the now-getting-on-my-nerves gentleman, placed my bag in Annie’s room, deciding with that gesture to carry on with the life of a celibate. He must have seen my displeasure in the reflection of the mirror because he laughed then said, “Becka Marie, it was your big idea for us to get to know one another better.” He patted my back then pulled away quickly when I reached for him.
“But . . .” I started to plead, but when I looked around, he was out the door, down the corridor, and heading to his lonely king-size bed at the end of the hall.
I dialed Rich’s number and then fell back on the bed with the receiver in my hand, ready to tell my darling brother I was staying at a nice hotel with Jonathan, but I’d be sleeping with my barfing buddy, Annabelle.
As I spoke to Rich, Annie sang “It’s a Small World” at the top of her lungs as she sunk into the Jacuzzi tub, stopping the daring rendition only once to yell out she was starving.
Before we made our way to Akira’s Sushi Bar across the street, the best seafood restaurant within walking distance according to the desk clerk, Annie called Victoria Wells and set up a tea for nine the next morning.
I was so nervous, I ate less than I wanted for fear it would revisit me in the middle of the night. Annie and Jonathan made up for my loss of appetite, Annie downing five slices of tiger roll along with the miso soup and cabbage salad, while Jonathan set to driving me crazy, seductively sucking the meat from at least a dozen crab legs. Too many emotions, and too little time. I was tired.
~ ~ ~
I crept out of the room just before dawn the next morning, feeling an undeniable need to witness the splendor of a Southern California sunrise and to escape Annie’s soft, obnoxious snoring. Already there were people on the streets, mostly the homeless searching around in dumpsters and perfectly-proportioned power walkers trotting along specially marked paths.
The shoreline was a short walk from our hotel. Around me the wet, morning air swirled with the scent of saltwater, jasmine, fish, urine, and garbage. I slipped out of my shoes before walking out further onto the tide-swept sand, and then leaned against a Dogs on Leash Only sign that sprouted from the ground. Sandals in hand and breathing deeply, I witnessed the sun spike yellow and orange across the water. It peeked out from behind the million-dollar, beach-front homes like it wanted to play hide-and-go-seek.
“How was your night?” Jonathan asked quietly, having obviously followed me from the hotel.
“It was lonely. Yours?” I didn’t take my eyes from the sunrise, feeling his arms guide me from where I leaned, steadying my body against his instead. He felt warm to my chilled skin. At his touch, the anxiety of meeting Victoria Wells and finding Rachel Stewart slid down my legs, out of my toes and into the sand.
He pulled my hair back from my neck and nuzzled against my ear, gently kissing the lobe. “Isn’t it beautiful?” We watched a flock of gulls dive toward a school of fish.
“I wonder if there’s any place open to get a decent cup of coffee. I really need some caffeine.”
“We’ll find someplace.” He took my hand. “Feel like exploring?” We walked along a winding sidewalk that ran in front of the peach-and-white beach homes. As the sun showed more and more of itself, warmth spread over me. Suddenly, I knew why so many people lived here.
After finding a good ole country breakfast place with only straight black coffee to offer, we walked a couple of hours, searching and finding little bits of what Venice Beach must have looked like back when Rachel and Stanford had strolled these streets. The columned buildings that were erected during that time were layered in years of paint and seasonal disruptions. With every beautifully preserved relic, I saw a hundred boring modern structures crammed in around it, cheapening the uniqueness. It was sad to see all the boardwalk stores that had once held interesting little shops and ice cream parlors, now selling touristy T-shirts and leather goods made in Taiwan.
Once we entered what remained of the original Venice Canal District, I felt redeemed. Four or five streets of interesting homes lined man-made canals built to mirror the canals in Venice, Italy. We walked along each: Sherman Canal, Howland Canal, Carroll Canal, and Linnie Canal, each butting into Grand at one end and Eastern Canal at the other.
Most of the smallish homes had been kept up or brought back to their original glory. Of course, there were a few lots that had been leveled of their history and built over to appease the greed for luxury of modern times, but most remained true and bright with spring flowers and rich, green ivy. I wished I’d thought to bring a camera.
Jonathan held my hand still, pointing at the arch of the wooden overpass which connected each line of houses to the others across the canal. We sat down and watched the ducks swim around in their perfect heaven and a cat perched threateningly behind a bush, patiently waiting and hoping for them to pass. Jonathan promised me he’d intervene if he saw a chance that the cat would succeed.
~ ~ ~
Victoria Wells lived in a gray and white architectural wonder at the intersection of Sherman and Eastern Canals. When we pulled in the alley behind the home, Annie jumped out quickly and made her way through the side gate, knocking at the front door before Jonathan and I had even stepped out of the car. He looked at me, and we both blew out a long, measured breath before following Annie.
“This is it,” I said when he grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“Annie said she seems really great. Let’s give this a chance. Maybe it’ll help.”
We arrived at the entry to find an open door and Billie Holiday playing on a record player somewhere inside the house. Annie and Ms. Wells were nowhere in sight.
“Should we knock?”
“Why don’t we just go back and wait in the car?” I turned around, relieved, heading back down the steps toward the comfort of my life without the knowing.
“Nah, nah, nah.” He grabbed my arm and stuck his head in the door. “Hello,” he yelled.
I felt panic flushing over my skin. “Annie can find out everything I need to know,” I tried to reason with him.
Jonathan was having none of it. “Hello,” he repeated, this time louder, so he could be heard over the familiar seductive styling of Lady Day. “You asked her to find someone, and she has. You can at least talk to this woman.”
A slow, dragging step drew nearer and nearer to the open door, and I gulped back the bad coffee rising in my throat.
“I thought you kids would just come right on in. That’s why I left the door open.” Victoria Wells stood a squat four and a half feet tall, at best. Her bluish-gray hair was straight to her shoulders and thinning on top. The round, dark-rimmed glasses perched on her sun-damaged face drooped down her thick nose from the weight of the lenses. She never once looked up as she invited us in, shutting the door behind us with a bang, and then shuffling off to where she, no doubt, had stashed Annie.
At first, I hesitated to follow, wanting instead to explore and take in the energy of the house before diving headlong into the life and times of Rachel Stewart. The living room around me was full of light which reflected off the aging rose color wallpaper.
Yellowing lace curtains filtered the view of the canal, making what could be a luxuriant open space feel stuffy and small. On the deck leading out to the private dock, I recognized the predator cat that had stalked the unwitting ducks a few hours before. So, I thought to myself, that cat belongs to Victoria Wells? That couldn’t be a good sign.
“Come along,” Victoria said in a smoker’s voice, growing impatient with my snooping. “Your little friend is back here in the sitting room.”
I couldn’t understand why anyone in their right mind would choose to spend their time in the back of this house when the view was so amazing from the front. But, of course, we were talking about someone in her right mind, and that had yet to be determined of Victoria Wells.
Walking through a short, narrow hallway leading to the rear of the house, the smell of dust and smoke, mixed with chamomile tea and old lady perfume, nearly made me gag. I held my breath as long as I could and then decided to take air into my mouth instead of my nose to avoid the distasteful odor as much as possible.
Annie sat at the far end of a rectangular, glass table in what appeared to be a poorly designed sun room addition. Pots of red and yellow tulips lined the floor to ceiling glassed enclosure, bringing light and springtime into an otherwise drab, cobwebbed space.
Ms. Wells came in from a small kitchen carrying a serving tray with a hot pitcher of tea and four bone china cups clanking loudly against their saucers as she limped. Crystallized sugar on wooden stir sticks and a small container of cream surrounded a large plate of cinnamon covered sugar cookies, obviously homemade. She set the tray in front of Annie and waved Jonathan and I over to a pair of chairs, still looking down as Annie introduced us.
“Ms. Wells,” she started.
“Victoria, please,” she interrupted.
“Victoria,” Annie nodded with appreciation, “I’d like you to meet my friends Jonathan Parker and Becka Clemmons. They’ve come to keep me . . .” Annie stopped speaking when Ms. Wells swayed, dropping one of her priceless china cups to the floor, shattering it.
Jonathan helped her into a chair, asking her if she was okay. From the flush of her skin, it could have been a heart attack or anything. I prayed our coming hadn’t brought this on.
She breathed deeply for a moment, sending loud wheezing coughs out now and again to clear her throat. “So,” she finally spoke, removing the glasses from her face and rubbing her eyes clear as she looked straight at me. “You’ve finally come. I didn’t think you’d ever figure it out.” I stood stunned, looking to Jonathan and Annie for help, getting nothing but shrugs in return.
Victoria Wells reached up to where I stood, taking my hand in hers and holding it to her wrinkled cheek before allowing me to pull it away. “What took you so damn long?” She looked me square in the eye, sending sweat and chills over my skin.
“You aren’t sure about all this, are you, sweetheart? You’ve received the ultimate blessing, and you’re still afraid. You’ve been allowed to remember, my dear. It’s a gift.”
I backed away, staring into those familiar eyes, bumping one of the tulip pots with my foot and spilling damp soil onto the floor. I needed air, and I needed it now. Jonathan came behind and steadied me, fearing I would faint if he didn’t hold me up.
“Becka, don’t be afraid. Do you recognize Ms. Wells?” He brought my eyes to his, and I saw safety and love there. I stood still against Jonathan when Victoria approached me, reaching beneath her hair to unfasten something from around her neck.
“Maybe this will help.” She gathered the chain in her hand and placed it into mine. “Your Dr. Reed gave this to you for your fortieth birthday. It was your most cherished possession up until the day you died. I had it restored just in case you ever came back.”
I opened my hand, still leaning against Jonathan for support, and lifted the heirloom by its clasp. The beautiful gold linked chain fell a good sixteen inches with the most stunning emerald and ruby butterfly dangling at the end. My fingers traced the wings and the tiny diamond antennae, in awe of the comfort it gave me. I knew I’d loved this necklace.
“A butterfly. Annie, it’s a butterfly!”
Annie winked at me from where she stood, wiping a tear from her own cheek, witnessing my enlightenment. I started shaking with the kind of joy I’d never before experienced. It was the kind of joy believers must feel every day.
Jonathan’s arms came in around me from behind, taking the necklace from my hands and fastening it around my neck, straightening it between my breasts with a gentle hand. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that, and I knew it. I could feel it. He held me then and whispered something into my ear, but my focus had gone back to Victoria Wells. She watched me with her hands folded in front of her mouth, waiting.
“Vicky?” My voice was a whisper. “Is that really you?” The words and recognition came from some secret place deep inside of me. I walked the three steps that separated us and looked again into her gentle eyes, “Oh my God, Vicky. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Rachel always told me that if something ever happened to her, she’d be back,” Vicky said. “She told me to watch for her. And here you are. I was beginning to worry I’d die before you made it.”
I didn’t remember taking her in my arms. All I remembered was holding her and the two of us crying, realizing in that instant that this woman was indeed my favorite niece, Victoria, my little Vicky. There was no doubt in my mind. I had once been Rachel Stewart, and finally, it was okay to completely believe.