Chapter 3
Logan
I drove around for about an hour trying to quell my panic and anger, before making my way to Judy’s. She took one look at my face and let me in without a word. I gave her a hug and made my way to her guest bedroom. There’d be plenty of time to talk later.
The next morning, I was still angry at Greg. I was even angrier at myself after finally admitting I had become an inconsequential servant to his needs. Judy had already left for work, so I hit the road again wanting to get away and think.
I didn’t know where I was going and didn’t care. Despite the cool spring morning, I opened the window hoping the wind rushing through would freshen my attitude. Sunlight streamed through the windshield, and I let it wash over me, softening the anger, but not the cold, hard lump remaining firmly planted in the pit of my stomach.
I felt like I’d been living in a vacuum for the past twenty years, taking care of everyone else’s needs but my own. Oh, it was easy to absorb myself in my son Colin’s needs when he was younger; after all, that’s what one does when they have children. Every minute I didn’t spend caring for him, I spent helping Greg finish law school and build his practice.
I could blame Greg for everything, but that would be too easy. Yes, he was the reason I was speeding down an empty highway, but I’d allowed it to happen. I should have confronted him and the reality of our lives a long time ago, but wishing it so didn’t change anything. Now, here I was aimlessly heading to nowhere. What am I doing? Running away from home? Oh yeah, a good plan if you were a teenager.
Was this a dream or in truth a nightmare? Then I could pinch myself, wake up, and be someone else. Somebody with a life she was not running from. Is that so selfish? Is that asking too much?
The sign said, “Turn Here Blackstone Manor,” so I did. Maybe it would be one of those historical monuments I loved that Greg always refused to stop and see. It wasn’t much more than a dirt lane, and the forest of ancient trees lining the road blocked out the sun. I slowed down blending in with the tranquility surrounding me. A quiet calm enveloped me, reminding me I wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere. I had nowhere to go, which seemed appropriate as I was in the middle of nowhere.
The lane was little more than two tire tracks. The trees were so close they formed a canopy of branches over everything. The leaves on the branches gave the impression of a tunnel leading to…well, I didn’t know where. Realizing the foolishness of this move, I looked for a gap that would allow me to turn around. It suddenly occurred to me that a sign saying “Turn Here” was just a wee bit strange.
Maybe it was for people like me who didn’t care where they were going, but this was the way to get there. I slowed down to a crawl for a bend in the lane only to come upon another sign hanging from a tree. “Almost There.” Here we go again—almost where?
The tree-shrouded road suddenly opened up to a sunlit expanse of manicured lawn; a large open circle cut out in the middle of the forest. Except for the lane, trees surrounded the oasis like the walls of a castle. At the back of the clearing stood a beautiful old two-story house with fieldstone walls, gables, and white pillars forming a wraparound porch. Warm light reflected off huge windows flanked with shutters. The narrow lane continued around the house and seemed like the only way I could get back to the highway. I was invading someone’s privacy, but could see no other way out.
The driveway led me close to the house revealing its unique qualities normally attributed to the lost skills of tradesmen from the turn of the twentieth century. The place was stunning to the point that it seemed unreal. Why it was hidden away in the middle of a forest in small-town America added to the mystery. Curiosity got the better of me. I parked and got out of the car for a closer look. I fully expected someone to come out and greet me, or, at the very least, ask me what I was doing. No one did. I tipped my head and listened to the stillness, inhaling the scents of dew-damp foliage, rich soil, and exotic flowers. I threw my arms out and twirled, face turned to the sun, letting the serenity wash over me.
The place was well maintained, immaculate even. Four inlaid stone steps led up to a double front door with opaque beveled glass that was probably lead crystal. Wicker chairs scattered invitingly around the wraparound porch.
Something about this house made me feel super charged. Full of static electricity. Like an impending storm, ready to burst forth at any second. I hadn’t felt this alive since cliff diving in Athens.
“Hello, is anyone here?”
Feeling self-conscious, I turned to leave when I noticed the door knocker. At first sight, it was what one would expect to find adorning an old house—a solid brass plate with a hinged ring overlay. Upon closer inspection, the right half of the ring was a life-sized phallus, curving down to meet the pouting lips of inviting labia. Unusual to say the least, definitely very odd. Elaborate scrollwork etched into the door above the knocker said, Please knock. I smiled for the first time that day. These words were more of an invitation or perhaps a polite request than a welcome. Instead of freaking me out as it should have, the knocker beckoned, almost drew me in.
The door opened as I lifted my hand to grasp the knocker, and an elderly gentleman, resplendent in a beautifully tailored suit, stood silently before me. He wore a navy suit cut in a style from some bygone era; my guess was the early thirties based on the elevated waistline and the wide peaked corners of the lapels.
His age was an enigma I could only guess at. His gray hair and the lines on his face conflicted with the erect posture indicating a hidden strength only found in younger men. He had a warm smile and gave the impression he was meeting an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. His voice reinforced the sentiment.
“Welcome to my home. I’m so pleased you found your way, Logan.”
I took a step back and looked into sparkling dark-chocolate brown eyes.
“I’m sorry. Have we met before?”
He stood there smiling at me knowingly. In an attempt to cover the awkward silence, I added, “I apologize. You seem to know my name, but for the life of me I can’t remember yours.” Or ever meeting you for that matter.
“Oh, no, no, my dear. It is I who should be apologizing. I hope you can forgive an old man for his less-than-acceptable manners with such a charming visitor to his home. Let me introduce myself. My name is Raphael, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Who talks like that anymore?
“The pleasure is all mine, sir.”
We both laughed at the formality of it all.
“Seriously, though, how did you know my name?”
He paused, looking at me with a definite spark of mischief in his eyes. I took another step back. He held his hands out, palms open, and bowed, ever so slightly, in what I could only think of as an act of contrition.
“Once again I hope you can forgive a silly old man who should know better than to indulge himself in a little fun at the expense of another, especially one so beautiful. No, I can’t read minds, and I’m not a crazy eccentric. I don’t get visitors often. I must be losing the good graces expected in polite society. Your personalized license plate holds the secret to my powers.”
I burst out laughing. “Of course, my license plates. I should have known.”
“I truly hope that absolves any concerns you may have had. It would be quite upsetting to think I frightened such a charming young woman.” Raphael gestured to the chairs on the veranda. “Perhaps you would be kind enough to join me for some tea?”
“I’d love to.”
“Wonderful.” He walked over and touched the back of a white wicker chair with large colorful cushions. “This one is the most comfortable.”
I accepted his old-world charm and settled into a chair that felt made for me.
“I’ll get us that tea. There’s nothing quite as soothing as hot tea made with spring water and just a hint of lemon and honey.”
He disappeared into the house while I surveyed my surroundings. A slight breeze took the edge off an o
therwise humid spring day. I let the peace and tranquility wash over me, a welcome elixir to my life. This was exactly the kind of break I needed to escape the day-to-day minutia. Even thoughts of Greg’s infidelity dissipated with the caress of the warm breeze on my face.
Raphael returned carrying a tray that held an ornate teapot with matching cups and saucers. He carefully placed the tray on a small table between us and filled two delicate china cups. He held one out to me. I scooted forward and took a sip while he looked on in anticipation.
“Wow, so good. There must be a touch of magic in the water from your spring.”
He looked at me intently. “Oh, I’ve always believed a hint of magic blesses this whole estate. Not too sweet?”
“It’s perfect.” I sat back in the chair. “You have such a beautiful place. Have you been here long? Do you live alone? It’s almost like a retreat to get away from it all. I suppose it might get lonely sometimes.”
I don’t know what possessed me, but there I sat babbling away as if I were some junior reporter on a quest to get my first big scoop. The house intrigued me; it was the perfect setting for one of my romance novels. Book research. Exactly…that.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. I’m talking too much.”
“Not at all, my dear. It’s refreshing to have someone to talk to. But to answer your questions, yes, it is beautiful here, and I do live alone. I would imagine many would think it lonely, but I have never found it so. This house requires a lot of loving care that fills my days. It’s almost like we’ve become one and couldn’t exist without the other. This magic place gives my life purpose and joy while I ensure it never deteriorates into meaningless obscurity. Does that sound crazy to you?”
Just a little bit. “Oh no, quite the contrary. In fact, I’m envious. How long have you lived here?”
Raphael gazed up at the stars as if counting the years.
“Well, it seems like forever, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I reached over to pick up my cup and saucer and froze, staring at the tray. I shut my eyes tight, certain I was having a hallucination. I couldn’t possibly be seeing what I thought I saw. I opened them and sure enough, there it was sketched in perfect graphic and very explicit detail—a naked woman, groping herself, her head thrown back in the throes of orgasm. She obviously didn’t find sex humiliating, degrading, or just plain boring. She made me imagine maybe it could be a thing of pleasure and joy.
I looked up to find Raphael’s calm eyes studying me as if measuring my response.
“It’s quite remarkable, isn’t it? I hope I didn’t shock you.”
No, of course not, because it’s everyday folks serve me a side of naked woman along with my tea.
“No, no. Just unexpected,” I said. “It’s so lifelike and what a beautiful woman. It’s quite surreal.”
Surreal, now that was an understatement. Nothing about this place seemed real, yet something made it all seem so permissible, so natural.
“Oh, she’s quite real, and her beauty was legendary. Her name was Anais Blackstone. She is the reason this house exists. It was her sanctuary to spiritual enlightenment and immortality.”
It sounds like immortality didn’t work out too well for her.
“Forgive me, Raphael, but her picture doesn’t exactly remind me of a religious woman.”
“On the contrary. It represents everything that was sacred to Anais’s beliefs, but I won’t bore you with ancient history.”
“Oh please do. You’ve piqued my interest and have my attention.”
“Very well, my dear. You have found your way here for a reason. Perhaps Anais has decided you might be one of the chosen.”
Okay, now this is getting a little too weird.
“But I’m getting way ahead of myself.” Raphael settled back into his chair, rubbing his chin. “In the early 1900s, an orphaned Anais wandered into the religious colony of Reverend Isaiah Griffin. He was a religious zealot with an ironclad belief everyone came into this world bearing the sins of the world. I’m told the man condemned his mother for some petty indiscretion just to make an example of her. It’s safe to say that no one was safe from his wrath.” He gave me a wry smile. “Let’s just say the Crusades may have been a success if led by Reverend Griffin.”
Raphael paused and examined me with that thoughtful gaze I was beginning to recognize. I stared back, unsure of where he was going with all this.
“That was supposed to be a joke, Logan. You know, the Crusades part.”
It wasn’t what he said so much as the way he said it. I burst into laughter.
“That’s a relief.” This whole visit is a relief. Any concerns in my life receded into a distant memory.
“You certainly have a flair for the dramatic. You had me believing the whole time,” I said.
An enigmatic smile making me think of rapture spread over Raphael’s face. “I suppose I am too serious to be thought of as a jokester. But, rest assured, everything was true with the exception of my attempt at Crusade humor.” He chuckled. “Now, where was I?”
“With the good reverend and the woman on the tray.”
“Oh yes, Anais. Reverend Griffin took her in and raised her with a firm and righteous hand. She grew into a beautiful woman. When I say beautiful, I mean exceptionally so.”
I gazed at the radiant face staring back at me from the tray. This Anais was stunning. She looked familiar, yet I couldn’t put my finger on why. That’s impossible, Logan. She’s dead.
Raphael went on to say, “For some, just looking at her took their breath away, but it was more than her looks. She possessed a vibrancy for life so strong some swore there was a light that surrounded her. She drew people to her like metal to a magnet. If they inadvertently found themselves near her, they couldn’t think of a reason to leave.”
“So how did she fit in at the religious colony?”
“As you rightly surmise, the colony was a very chaste society, but Anais, through no fault of her own, carried an extraordinary aura of sexuality that couldn’t be denied. Some believed her beauty and power to influence those around her was a divine gift. Unfortunately, the majority labeled her a temptress or siren who lured men into sexual congress so she could possess their souls in a quest for immortality.”
“That obviously wasn’t the case.” I relaxed back in my chair, fascinated by this strange old man and his story.
“Legend has it one woman in the colony was convinced she had witnessed Anais levitating while praying. It didn’t help that this allegedly occurred during what was universally known as the witching hour. You can well imagine which side of the proverbial fence the good reverend fell on.”
“So how did she end up here?”
“One of the faithful happened upon Anais having unlawful carnal knowledge with two young men named Dominic and James. In addition to being a religious zealot, the good reverend was more than a bit of a misogynist. He gave her fifty lashes in the public square and left her hanging for all to see. Her young men rescued her, and they fled the compound.
“Anais descended from the Watchung Indians, and this forest was part of their sacred land. I imagine she felt this was the only safe place for her to go. Anais and her lovers cleared the land of trees and stone they used to build this beautiful house. When Reverend Griffin got wind of her exploits, he labeled the place “The Temple of Temptation.” The locals took great pleasure in perpetuating stories that fed this proclivity for the inane and bizarre.”
“It’s human nature, I suppose, to fear what you don’t understand. What happened next?” I leaned forward and took another sip of my tea. The air was still except for a slight breeze rustling through the leaves, disturbing the silence.
“No one dared seek out her domain for fear they would lose their soul. Stories flourished about Anais using her powers to lure young men and the occasional woman to her house of iniquity. Of course, they were never seen again or found quite mad wandering in the forest. Anais and the two young
men who became known as her disciples did little to discourage such thought as it perpetuated their desire to be left alone. In fact, every possible access point to the house seemed magically disguised to thwart any trespass.”
Raphael gazed off into a thought only he could see as he took a sip of his tea. I clamped down on my impatience.
“I wonder if you realize how remarkable it is you found your way through the magical disguises that shelter this place from outsiders. There have been others, but very few. All were at a crossroad in their lives wondering which direction to follow. Anais believed that only those truly lost would find the way here.”
That would be me. For a quick moment, I thought Raphael might be crazy enough to believe all this mystic stuff. His wink reminded me it was the age-old technique storytellers use for dramatic effect to pull in the audience. The part about which direction my life was taking hit home, but I wasn’t about to get into that.
Raphael took another long pull on his tea.
“Ah, that’s better. I haven’t talked this much in years. I hope I’m not keeping you from something or boring you to tears, my dear.”
“Not at all.” I couldn’t wait to hear more about this fascinating woman and her two lovers. I shivered as the image of them locked in a passionate embrace sprang into my mind. “How do you know all this?”
“Anais left a set of journals. In fact, the house is much the same as it was one hundred years ago.”
“I’m surprised the good Reverend, as you call him, didn’t put a stop to it all.”
“Ah, now, that’s the best part of the story.”
Chapter 4
Daniel
“I’ll always be your mother, Danny. Take whatever time you need to think about it, and you’ll realize it doesn’t change anything.”
Ticket to Temptation Page 3