Awaken, Shadows of a Forgotten Past

by Marcia Maidana

  “It might not be as much fun as you think.” I was grateful not to be locked up in the monastery. “I’d rather be here.”

  “I can only think of one reason why you would.” Her face lit up.

  I blushed at the implication of her statement, and changed the subject. Intrigued by the things Alex had muttered last night when he had fallen asleep, I said, “Zaira, tell me about the Great War.”

  “The Great War?”

  “Yes, what was it like?”

  “Like nothing I’d want to go through again,” she sincerely said.

  “How did people deal with it?”

  “Regular folks lived one day at a time.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I was in my teen years. I will never forget those days. Two of my brothers died in the war.”

  I pressed a hand to my mouth in consternation. “That must have been horrible.”

  She nodded. “Mr. Snider fought in the war. Did you know that?”

  “No. He never says much around me.”

  “He married about the time Great Britain entered the war. His wife contracted pneumonia and passed away while he was on the front lines.”

  “Poor Mr. Snider.”

  “He’s tough. What hurts him the most is not having children, but he didn’t want to marry again.”

  “It must have been terrible to lose her like that, not being able to see her before she died.”

  “It was. He copes well with his feelings, though. He is grateful for the time he had with her. Apparently, he chased her for a long time before she said yes.” Zaira grinned.

  “What a great woman. She made him earn her love.” I smiled back.

  “Going back to your question, the war was devastating. It caused a major industrial and political turmoil. Thank goodness we didn’t have a revolution. Many other places weren’t so lucky.” She stopped, a look of shock on her face. “Oh my, I’m starting to sound like my mother.”

  “That’s a good problem to have,” I reflected. I wished I had her problem.

  She smiled. “The casualties were the worst. We lost so many—millions of soldiers. But they weren’t just soldiers—they were fathers, husbands, sons, brothers…”

  “How awful—I can’t imagine.”

  “It was absolutely horrible. The cry of death touched every family I knew.”

  “How does one survive so much suffering?”

  “We focused on the good. The women measured up to the circumstances and filled in for the men to keep their families and farms going. Work is a great helper to keep one busy and devoid of thought.”

  I nodded in agreement, although my personal experience was quite different. Oak’s Place bombarded me with things to think about.

  She went on. “Every time we saw the postman, we cried. He was the bearer of bad news.”

  “Mr. Sterling said a few things about the war,” I disclosed, carefully. “I get the impression that he hasn’t gotten over it.”

  “It’s a long process. For most it will be ingrained in their souls forever.”

  “That’s not a cheerful thought.”

  “It’s reality,” she said sadly. “Finish your tea. It’s probably cold now.”

  “Mr. Sterling retired young.” I took the last sip of tea and pushed the cup away to the center of the desk.

  “He did. He must have fought many battles, though. I don’t blame him for leaving the army as soon as he did.”

  “No. Of course not.”

  Zaira leaned forward and placed her elbows on the desk. “Once in a while, a wild idea runs through my imagination…”

  “What?”

  “Now and then I think that Mr. Sterling’s sickness is all in his head—psychological, you know,” she said softly.

  I was quick to defend him. “He doesn’t seem to have a weak mind.”

  “No, but once your mind is ill—war is very effective in getting into one’s brain—one might not even know that that’s the problem.”

  I turned her words in my mind, considering the idea. There was truth in it. “It’s possible.”

  “It might be the reason why doctors can’t cure Mr. Sterling. He is seeing the wrong type of physician.”

  “On the other hand, he could be terribly ill physically and that has an effect on his emotional and mental self.”

  “May I interrupt?” Alex entered the office with a smile on his face. At once, I noticed that he had changed his clothes and was now wearing black trousers and a brown shirt under his dark cardigan.

  I stood and smiled back, a little shaky. Had he heard us speaking so freely about his illness? “Did you get any rest?” I asked.

  “Enough.”

  Zaira reached for the teacup. “I was on my way to the kitchen. Please, excuse me.”

  “Thank you, Zaira,” I said. She withdrew from the room, her face blushing; it was clear she hoped as much as I did that our indiscretion wouldn’t get us in trouble.

  I sat back down. Alex sat where Zaira had been, and stared at me, a mischievous look in his eyes. I exhaled in relief. He didn’t act as if he had heard us.

  His eyes dwelt on me for a long while. I spoke to divert attention from the hotness growing in my face. “You look a bit rested—but not much. How long did you sleep for?”

  “Twenty minutes.”

  Was he serious? His tone implied that he was, his gaze not so much. “That’s all?”

  “There are too many things in my head which keep me awake.”

  Afraid to change his good mood I didn’t dare ask what they might be, and took the safe route instead. “Twenty minutes is barely any time for me to get comfortable in bed, let alone to fall asleep.”

  “In the army, I learned to sleep on my feet, so resting on a bed for twenty minutes is a privilege.”

  “If you say so—I believe you,” I answered, but my tone betrayed me. “After all, you know more than me.”

  Alex laughed. “Are you still sore about that?”

  “About what?” I feigned ignorance, but I didn’t fool him.

  “Monopoly.” He gave me a crooked smile.

  “Of course not. Why should I be? I get better each time we play,” I lied.

  “Does that mean you want to play?”

  “NO!”

  He laughed again. I loved to hear his laugh. “I didn’t think so,” he said.

  “You are arrogant, Mr. Sterling. Did you know that?”

  “I’d been told that before but it’s not true.”

  “Of course not.” I rolled my eyes.

  “How is Saint Overboard today?”

  “I haven’t had time to read yet.”

  “What have you been doing then?”

  “Working. I have a demanding boss.”

  “I believe your demanding boss told you not to work.”

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “You are stubborn, Miss Contini, and disobedient.”

  I was the one to laugh now. “I have to excel at something.”

  “You excel at many things.”

  “Sure I do,” I scoffed.

  “Should I name a few?” he taunted, clearly entertained.

  “No, Mr. Sterling. That’s not necessary.”

  “All right then, I better go check on the horses. They are probably still disturbed by the storm.”

  “Can I come? I would love to see them.”

  “Absolutely not.” The firmness in his voice took me aback. “You are not going out there. It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s better than yesterday.” I was disappointed.

  “Even if the rain is not pounding, the grounds are a wreck. Every step you take out there is a risk.”

  I leaned back on the chair and held his gaze. “As always you are right,” I mocked.

  The boom of thunder shook the house and the lights flickered. My body shuddered at the sound. Alex rose and drew near me. He reached for my hands bringing me to my feet. I welcomed his closeness and feared it at the same time.

/>   Still holding my hands, he softly said, “I think I won’t go out there after all.”

  I worried that he thought I was scared of the storm, and flattered that he tried to comfort me by staying in the house. “Don’t let me hold you back. I’ll be all right.”

  “Mr. Snider is out there. There is no need for me to go.” His answer confirmed my suspicions.

  Suddenly aware of the warmth in his eyes, I looked down.

  “Florence, I couldn’t sleep much because I was thinking about you. I wondered what you were doing, thinking…” He caressed my cheek and I grabbed his hand, holding it tight to my face, my eyes closed. Alex clasped me gently in his arms, bringing me into his chest. He portrayed an image of perfect calmness but his heartbeat contradicted him—loudly.

  My mind whirled. I was amazed by the man I had discovered. The impenetrable mask was hiding a most respectful and loving gentleman. During the past few days, I had seen him brooding, tormented, laughing, teasing, relaxed. Though I couldn’t explain it, he felt more and more like an integral part of my life—my feelings for him were taking root.

  Daylight touched my face, testifying that I had slept in.

  “Silence,” I murmured to myself, reality setting in. I jumped out of bed and ran to the window to confirm my fears.

  The day was still and gray, but the rain was gone.

  I dressed for the day, a little morose. My circumstances had been unusual and the outcome welcomed. Spending uninterrupted time with Alex had been like living in a wonderful dream. Waking up would be painful, but life had to get back to normal. Mrs. White would return, and I would leave at the end of each day. I would only see him occasionally.

  My footsteps were slower than ever traveling to the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Zaira. Do you know where Mr. Sterling is?”

  Zaira turned off the stove; the kettle’s hissing instantly stopped. “He has gone out with Mr. Snider to inspect the final damage.”

  She handed me a cup of tea. Absently, I took a sip, burning my lips.

  “Geneva City started the clearing off of High Banks this morning,” she informed.

  “Really? How did you find out?”

  “Mrs. White called.”

  “I see.” I felt a burning sensation running from my throat all the way down to my stomach, and it had nothing to do with the hot drink. “How long do you think it will take them to clear the road?”

  “That I don’t know. I understand that the trees on the road are enormous. It’s going to take a lot of work to get rid of them—maybe a day or two.” Zaira shrugged. “But don’t mind that. I have to tell you something a bit more exciting.” She sat across from me to refill several spice bottles. “Mr. Sterling asked me to serve dinner in the dining room tonight.”

  “He did? That’s unusual, isn’t it?”

  “Very unusual. But perhaps Mr. Sterling wants some privacy.” Zaira’s tone suggested the unthinkable—Alex and I were just good friends. He wanted it that way—he kept it that way. But to prove her point, Zaira went on to say, “Mr. Sterling made it clear when he said, ‘Place two settings in the dining room for dinner tonight,’ that no one else was invited. Not that any of us would even think about it, of course.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I’ll say. It’s the first time the dining room will be used. What are you going to wear?” Her fingers tightened around the lid of a small bottle.

  “What to wear? I haven’t even been invited yet.” I reached for one of the small bottles to read its label. “Spanish saffron?”

  “Don’t be silly.” Zaira got to her feet and walked towards the back wall. Opening a top cupboard, she retrieved a box. “You might want to wear this.” Returning to the table she placed it in front of me.

  I was curious to open the box but hesitant at the same time.

  “Well then, go on.” Zaira observed me with a look of anticipation. I raised the lid to reveal a rich burgundy fabric.

  I lifted the knee-length, long-sleeved dress and held it in front of me. “Zaira, it’s so elegant.” The golden beads forming a tight belt around its waist sparkled like the stars on a clear night. “Are you sure you want me to wear it?” The dress had obviously never been worn, for it still had the price tag on it.

  “I wouldn’t offer it to you if I didn’t want you to wear it, would I? I bought it before coming to America. I hope I’ll get to wear it to a party someday, perhaps in New York City. But I’ll have to shed some pounds first.” She giggled. “It will fit you like a glove.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of—Mr. Sterling might get the wrong idea.” I folded the dress and returned it to the box.

  “Or the right one,” said Zaira, smiling. I felt a wave of heat splashing against my cheeks. “Really, Florence, it’s better than wearing the same clothes you’ve been wearing for the past few days.”

  Instinctively, I looked down at my blouse and skirt. Suddenly, the dress became very appealing. “This is so kind of you, Zaira.”

  “Don’t mention it,” she replied, her face aglow from her generosity. “Now, let’s put it away before someone sees it.” Zaira hid the box back in the cupboard.

  We finished refilling her spices, then Zaira prepared lunch.

  Mr. Snider came in the kitchen door, and Alex followed him inside. Alex’s eyes seemed to light up when he saw me, and the smile he sent my way left me feeling pleasantly weak.

  “You were gone for a long time,” I observed. In spite of the warmth of his gaze, he looked cold and tired.

  “Longer than I wanted to be. It’s a battlefield out there.”

  “You can say that again. Just seeing the destruction in the gardens is horrifying,” commented Zaira.

  “The damage is unbelievable,” Mr. Snider agreed, shaking his head in disappointment.

  “It’ll take lots of elbow grease and some extra help, but we’ll get it back in ship-shape,” assured Alex.

  “Sir, would you like me to serve lunch?” inquired Zaira.

  “Is it really that late? Where does the time go?” Alex checked his watch. “Yes, lunch sounds good. Thank you.”

  Zaira hurried to set up the table, and Mr. Snider headed for the sink to wash up.

  “Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?” Alex asked me in a low voice.

  “I do every night, don’t I?”

  “I mean, just you and me, in the dining room.”

  “To what do I owe the honor?” I teased, still in a hushed voice. He looked at me, nervously, at a loss for an answer, and I decided to put him out of his misery. “Mr. Sterling, I’d be delighted.”

  I had hoped to have the advantage of being the one waiting in the dining room. But when I stepped out of the guest room, Alex waited for me in the corridor, leaning against the wall.

  His bright blue eyes fell on me, and he said, “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” I looked down at the dress and made a mental note to thank Zaira once more for letting me wear it. “I was afraid I’d be overdressed for the occasion. But I’m glad I followed Zaira’s suggestion.” I tried to conceal how impressed I was at the way he looked. I had never seen him wearing a suit before. The dark blue suit and tie complimented his skin and hair color perfectly. He was so handsome that our age difference seemed trivial. I wrenched my eyes away from him.

  “I guess I can say the same. Zaira left the suit out for me this afternoon. I’m ashamed to confess that otherwise, I’d probably not have thought about it.” Alex stepped closer and I felt my legs falter at his proximity.

  “Miss Contini, may I have the pleasure of escorting you to the dining room?”

  “Certainly, Mr. Sterling.” If he was going to play the formal game, so could I. I intertwined my arm in his, and we strolled down the long corridor.

  The dining room was lit by the burning fireplace and three candlesticks sitting on the table. I was flattered by this; since the electricity had been restored, the candles had been intentionally placed.

 
“I hope you’ll enjoy eating here. I know you love the room, and Zaira arranged it perfectly.” He pulled a chair back for me to sit down.

  “She sure did.” I sat down, absorbing the warmth coming from the fireplace.

  Alex unrolled the silverware from his napkin, set it by his plate, and placed the napkin on his lap. I followed suit, noticing that Zaira had set out the best china in Oak’s Place.

  “This is very fancy.” The silverware shone under the candlelight.

  “These belonged to my parents,” informed Alex, lifting the elegantly carved crystal goblet off the table.

  “They are very nice.” I shot a quick glance at him in surprise; this was the first time he had mentioned people from his past.

  “Our supper is here,” said Alex to the sound of approaching wheels.

  Zaira entered the room, wearing a black dress down to her knees, a white apron matching its collar and the small cap in her hair. She pushed a dinner cart right next to the table. With an air of dignity, as if she were serving royalty, Zaira started to serve our meal.

  “Zaira, I have to admit the presentations of your meals are no less spectacular than their flavor,” Alex praised.

  “Thank you, sir.” Zaira blushed, clearly pleased.

  When it came to preparing, cooking, and presenting exquisite dishes, Zaira was the master of deception. Every time I thought I had seen her best, she surprised me with something even more delicious—and so it was tonight. Small, cooked to perfection noodles, vegetables, and some type of meat, combined all together and mixed with the perfect spices, formed an unforgettable pasta dish.

  “I should take some cooking lessons from you,” I said to her.

  Alex laughed, choking on his water. “What? You don’t picture me in the kitchen?” I challenged his insinuation.

  “I didn’t say anything,” he defended, yet I saw a glimmer of conviction in his eyes as if for some reason only known to him, I didn’t belong in a kitchen setting.

  “Sure, I’d love to teach you a few tricks. I’m sure you’d do well,” Zaira affirmed.

  “Thank you, Zaira.” I threw a pointed look at Alex.

  Zaira filled our plates and cups, and Alex said, “Don’t worry about the dishes tonight. You can take care of them in the morning.” She raised her eyes at this comment. I had the feeling she was prepared to be around much longer. This out-of-the-ordinary night was exciting to her and made her job feel important. But Alex was determined. “Feel free to retire for the night. You have done enough already.”