Raquel's Abel

by Leigh Barbour

  “Why you look as if you’ve swallowed a porcupine, bristles and all.”

  A warmth ran up my spine. Whenever Abel was around, I felt a little better.

  “What has gotten you so glum?”

  I swiveled around to see Abel standing there in a pair of navy blue plaid pants and a bright yellow shirt.

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing you can help me with.”

  He took a breath that caused his chest to puff out. “Why would you assume I cannot assist you?”

  I looked down at his bright white shoes.

  “Come now, things can’t be all that bad?” He knelt down and caught my hands up in his. “Please,” he kissed my knuckles. “Tell me what is bothering my lady love.”

  In spite of my melancholy, I felt my lips spread out into a smile. “You make me feel like I don’t have a care in the world.”

  He stroked my fingers firmly. “I know that you are a capable woman, but it appears you have a concern that is overwhelming you.”

  I blinked my eyes. Why should I tell him about my money problems since he wouldn’t be able to help me?

  His jaw drew tight. “I insist you tell me what is on your mind.”

  I pulled my hands back. “It’s money.”

  His eyes grew dim and his usually upturned mouth turned somber. “Is there something you need?”

  “No, it’s far worse than that.” I let my breath out leaving me feeling deflated. “It’s the house. I just can’t afford to maintain it any longer.”

  He looked up at the walls where the plaster was starting to chip away. “Yes, this is a grand house full of wonderful memories, but it is such a waste to have all this for only a few people.”

  “But parting with the home my great grandfather built…”

  “Parting with it no, but it could be put to other uses.” His lips curled up at the ends again.

  “Other uses? You mean like a very large bed and breakfast?”

  “I mean, this old house was always meant to be an orphanage.”

  “Orphanage?” I rolled the word across my tongue. “I’d never considered anything like that.”

  “This place is so grand, you could house the children, a small clinic, and have plenty of room for you and your family.”

  I imagined the house full of people again and I also thought about children coming to live here—forlorn children that had no other home. Turning this house into an orphanage was a real solution. Something my father and grandfather would have approved of.

  I stood up. His eyes twinkled. He’d love to have all those children around. I hugged him.

  He wrapped his arm around me. “I take it you like my idea.”

  “Like it?” I pulled away and waved my hands in the air. “I love it. Children should be living here. The kitchen should be bustling with cooks and people should be eating in that big dining room every night.” I walked around my office. I pointed out the window. “We’ll expand the driveway for buses to come in and take the children to school in the morning and fix up the pool area and get a swimming instructor. Imagine.”

  Abel’s cheeks were a bright pink as he beamed at me. “I’m proud my humble idea has made you so cheery.”

  “Humble idea?” I laughed. “It’s a brilliant idea.”

  Sheepishly, he crossed the room to where I stood. “I would like to be a part of your world, too.”

  “Of course.” I brought my finger to my mouth. “Oh, I need to research this out. How can I make this happen? There are funds for things like this that come from the State. I just have to find out how to get it set up.” I sat back down at my desk and brought up a browser. I’d forgotten Abel was still in the room. “Please forgive me, but I need to make some phone calls.” I turned around, but he had vanished.

  A week later, I felt like a peacock with its tail feathers caught in a meat grinder. The great idea of turning this house into an orphanage had been met with a wonderful reception. Unfortunately, social services assumed that because I could afford to donate the thirty-bedroom mansion, I could also afford to transform the structure into the orphanage. They practically laughed when I asked if the costs could be covered by public funds.

  I pondered all of this as I got dressed for my next big dance competition. I pulled a new pair of sequined stretch leggings and let the bright red top fall over me. In order to keep my skin from hanging down to my knees, I wore two leotards under all my clothes. That was another thing I needed money for. I’d have to think about that later.

  This evening, Owen and I were dancing against some couples that were rated very high in the world of ballroom dancing. I shivered as I put my dangly earrings on and tied my hair up in a high ponytail. As we got higher up in the competitions, the fact that Owen was a better dancer than I was really showed. He denied it, but the truth was that dancing wasn’t my goal in life. Writing was, and now maybe running an orphanage was another focus I’d like to pursue. Somehow, I had to convince Owen that he needed to find another partner. Someone who could devote more time and energy to dancing.

  A few hours later we were dancing the Hustle, a fun disco step from the ’70s. I could tell we’d really wowed the judges by the way people were watching us with their mouths wide open. Owen wasn’t just a good dancer; he really knew how to arrange routines that could wow an audience. Next, we did a very sexy Brazilian Samba that had caused me to lose at least ten pounds while rehearsing it. Owen led me around in tiny circles as my hips swiveled. As an encore, we did a very slow waltz with grand majestic steps.

  As we stood waiting for the judges to give us their scores, I watched Owen talking to a very petite dark-haired woman. I closed my eyes right before they read the numbers off. I prayed that I hadn’t held Owen back. If we didn’t qualify for the next round, it would be all my fault. How many times had I turned Owen down for rehearsals? How many times had he asked me for help choreographing routines and I’d been too busy?

  I felt Owen grab me and spin me around. “We did it, girl!”

  Relief flooded me. “We did?”

  “Of course we did.”

  “Thank God,” I breathed.

  “‘Thank God.’ No thank God. We deserved that. We’re better than those mamby-pamby dancers. Girl, we’re gonna win this whole competition.”

  As we drove down the road, Owen’s eyes twinkled and his lips were trembling as if he could imagine hugging that trophy as he slept at night. “We are going to win the whole thing. Aren’t we?” Owen asked.

  I didn’t answer him as he pulled into the same old greasy spoon we always dined in.

  We ordered the usual. I looked at Owen who was wiggling with excitement and felt a pang of guilt that I wasn’t as happy as he was.

  “Who was that you were talking to right after we danced?” I asked.

  The waitress put the greasy burger in front of him. I wondered how many calories the hamburger had. When I used to eat like that, I bloated up like a Goodyear blimp, but Owen stayed svelte no matter what he put in his mouth.

  I gave him a look like I really wanted an answer.

  “Nobody,” he said as he gnawed on the burger, a small piece of lettuce doused in mayonnaise clung to his cheek. I reached over to wipe it off with my napkin.

  “Nobody, huh?” There was something he didn’t want me to know.

  “Loraine Morrison,” he said without looking at me.

  “Loraine?” She won the competition two years ago and then her partner had been hurt in a traffic accident. Was she interested in Owen?

  “Don’t fret. I told her no.” His dark blue eyes looked right at me as he stuffed French fries slathered with ketchup into his mouth. He let his elbows rest on the table. “Don’t worry. I ain’t interested in dancing with her.”

  I took another small bite of my grilled chicken. “She asked you to be her partner?” That was an incredible honor.

  “Aaah, she’s probably a bitch on wheels.”

  “I’ve never heard anything like that about her. She must not be too
hard to work with since she has won a lot of competitions.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m a loyal partner.” He gave me a toothy smile. “And, I like dancing with you.”

  When Owen first started dancing ballroom, no one wanted to dance with him because they considered him an effeminate gangly hillbilly. But now he‘d proven himself.

  “You should consider taking Loraine up on her offer.”

  “No way. We got a good thing going, and once you finish that book you’re working on, you’ll have more time to rehearse.”

  I looked down at the table unable to meet his eager stare.

  “But there’s something else bothering you?” He grinned and eyed me suspiciously. “Is it your ghostly man?” He giggled.

  “No.” I felt myself blush.

  “You have fallen for that haint.” Owen leaned over, almost dipping his shirt in ketchup. “Tell me, does he have a brother?”

  “Sorry, he was an only child.”

  “Just my luck.” He deposited the rest of the hamburger in his mouth and licked his fingers. His eyes narrowed at me. “I think something else is bothering you, though.”

  I told him about how much money it would take to fix up the house and then I told him about the orphanage idea.

  Owen had been sipping on a Coke and he practically spit. “An orphanage?” He shook his head. “What a fabulous idea. Hey, I could cater your meals for the kids.”

  “The way you eat, they’d be in seventh heaven. But I haven’t told you the other part. I can’t get any funds from social services for the renovations.” He shook his head. “No funds.” He leaned back in his seat. “There’s never enough money for the things that matter.”

  I pressed my lips together thinking how much this was beginning to mean to me. “There has to be a way.”

  Owen pointed at me. “Raquel, you’re a resourceful woman. If there’s a way to do this, you’ll do it.”

  Owen and I were quiet on the way home. After we said goodbye, I walked into the house thinking of how I could resolve this issue. Owen was right. I’d had the weight problem, and I’d been able to overcome that. Now I had to figure out a way not to lose my house. That was much more difficult, though. I’d need at least a million dollars to do all the work that was needed.

  I heard a clank from up above me and looked up to see Maria Elena carrying a tray down the steps.

  “Your grandmother feeling tired, so I taking food to her.”

  I smiled at her and thought how lucky I was that Elena took care of her like she would her own grandmother.

  “Forgiving me, Señorita, but you looking sad.” She had gotten to the bottom of the stairs and stopped and looked at me. “You having problems with your ghost?”

  The tension I’d been feeling flowed out of me as I laughed at her question. “No, my ghost is fine.” I stopped and stared at her chest. The locket my grandmother had given her was in plain view since her blouse was buttoned low in the front.

  “You looking at gift.” She blinked her eyes. “I know really belonging to you or Señora Regina, but it mean so much to me.” I knew she was nervous because the tray of dishes began to chatter.

  Could the jewelry really be from Russia? “Maria Elena, can I borrow the necklace?”

  She looked down at the tray. “Si, you can borrowing it.”

  I knew she believed she’d never see it again.

  “I liking because it from your grandmother.” Her eyes refused to look at me.

  “I promise I’ll return it if possible.”

  She nodded keeping her eyes away from mine.

  I stepped behind her and undid the clasp.

  As Maria Elena continued toward the kitchen silently I inspected the necklace more closely. The writing on it was so badly damaged it was hard to make out what it was. When I’d first seen it, I’d thought it might be Cyrillic, but now I wasn’t sure. It appeared to be some sort of emblem and the colors were incredibly vivid in spite of it being very worn.

  What if Grandmother were Anastasia Romanov as she claimed? Was there a possibility the jewelry my grandmother referred to was really valuable? If so, could it be the solution to my problem?

  Chapter Fourteen

  The man at the jeweler my family had used for decades had said it would take over a week to get the appraisal. He’d looked at it, but said he couldn’t even guess the necklace’s apparent value or origins. I’d just have to wait and be patient. That was hard to do when I felt like wolves were at the door.

  I lay in bed wondering if I’d be able to keep this old house. I thought of Abel and how he liked roaming the grand halls. The two of us belonged here. I still hadn’t given up on the idea of the orphanage. Abel and I should work together helping the children everyone else had given up on. A tingle ran up my spine. Writing gave me a wonderful outlet, but giving back to society was something I had never done; mainly because I’d been too much of a recluse. Maybe my father kept me so close because he was afraid I’d do the same thing as my mother. He damaged my sister and me with his fears.

  I pulled the covers back and felt a twinge in my belly button. I pulled myself out of bed and looked into the full-length mirror. Raising my arms, I looked at the droops under my arms that looked like gigantic earlobes. Then I raised the skin that hung from my waistline like yards and yards of extra fabric. Above my triangle was a gigantic red rash and from the area around my belly-button, a horrible green-looking blob oozed. It was happening, just what I’d read about. I had so much excess skin it was getting infected.

  I needed this surgery to cut away the skin that dangerously hung over my tummy. The skin on my thighs hung so loosely it bagged around my knees. The surgery was expensive and I’d miss a lot of time from writing. If something didn’t happen, I would lose this house.

  I made an appointment with the doctor. In the meantime, I’d have to take antibiotics and use creams to keep my skin from getting infected.

  Finally a week had passed and I drove over to the jewelers. The man handed me the necklace in a tiny plastic bag with a large manila envelope. I opened it and began to read the appraisal. The value of the necklace was right around $200.

  I looked at the man standing behind the counter. “Did the jeweler tell you if the necklace could be a Faberge?”

  He raised his eyebrows as if he felt sorry for me. “I’m sorry, but the jeweler thought it was a rather run of the mill piece of gold jewelry.”

  I walked out of the jewelry store like a puppy with its tail between its legs. I wanted to kick myself for being so gullible. What had I been thinking? That I was royalty or something? That I could just go and claim the Russian throne and kick out Putin and his cronies? I needed my head examined.

  Now I had to come up with a real solution. Then I began to worry. If I lost the house, what would happen to Grandmother? I couldn’t envision her being happy in a condo. Then I began to wonder what would become of the house. Who would buy it? And, would Abel come with me wherever I went?

  When I got back home, Abel was standing in the foyer as if he’d been waiting for me. He wore a thick gray sweater a turtleneck and baggy slacks.

  As I opened the door and beheld him, my eyes began to gush and I bent over into a shivering heap.

  “What on earth is wrong?” He ran to me and pulled me to him.

  I sobbed on his shoulder, feeling the coarseness of the wool.

  “Whatever is bothering you, I’m sure we can fix it.” I felt his voice tremble as if he feared the worst.

  “If I lose this place, I’ll be letting my family down.”

  He pulled my head up and looked into my eyes. “No, we’re not going to lose it. We’re going to find a way to keep this house.”

  “But if I lost it, would I…” I trailed off. Maybe I didn’t want to know. I had come to live for my interludes with Abel.

  “Would what?” His lips began to trail across my cheek giving me tiny kisses. “Don’t be so upset. Tell me.” He looked at me with his big, dark eyes.

&nbs
p; I felt like I’d melt. “It’s just that if I had to leave this house…”

  His forehead wrinkled. “What?”

  “Would I lose you too?”

  He took a step back. “What do you take me for? A rake? A man that would leave the woman he loves just when she needs him most?”

  Cheeriness filled me, dissolving my tears. “You wouldn’t abandon me, then?”

  “Abandon you?” His eyes become round and his jaw dropped open. He looked at the floor. “Clearly I haven’t been forthright in stating my intentions.”

  “But I didn’t know if…”

  “Raquel Annalisa Blankenship, I have loved you ever since your mother brought you home from the hospital.” He reached for my hands and brought them to his lips. “I couldn’t abandon you any more than the sunshine can abandon the sun or the man in the moon can abandon the moon itself.”

  Again I felt tears run down my cheeks. “You would actually be able to come with me if I left here?” My breath felt jagged in my lungs.

  “I would live with you whether it were in a tent on a mountain top or in a hovel beside a garbage dump.”

  “Sometimes I wonder how I ever existed without you.” Relief unburdened me and suddenly I could relax.

  The next morning Regina showed up. She’d finally gotten over her latest fling and she had on part of her ‘get a new man’ wardrobe. Her heels were high and her burgundy tights clung to her showing every curve. Against the cold, she wore a black cape draped over one shoulder. Her face, however, didn’t match her outfit.

  “What’s the matter?” I had to be the one to initiate the conversation. If I waited for her to inquire about my well-being, I’d die of old age in the meantime.

  “It’s been at least three months now since I’ve had a date.”

  “I’ve gone many months without dates.” Didn’t she realize who she was talking to?