Whispers of the Heart

by Stephanie Wilson

  “I’m afraid I don’t know. She’s on vacation somewhere.”

  “Well, I’m sure it’s hard to be dumped,” he said.

  “I have to get back to my desk. If you hear from her …”

  Ellie walked slowly back to her desk outside of Erika’s large suite muttering under her breath. “If Steve doesn’t call me tonight, he is going to be very sorry! I have to know who the players are in this thing if it’s going to work.”

  At that moment, Ellie’s phone softly bleeped three times indicating an outside call. As she reached for the receiver Mr. Bancroft and his colleague approached her desk. “Ellie Cunningham, could you hold please,” she said smartly into the receiver and without waiting for a response, put the caller on hold.

  “I’m sorry, Ellie. Go ahead and take that call,” Lawrence replied.

  “Uh, oh, okay,” Ellie replied uncertainly. “Thank you for holding,” she responded into the receiver.

  “Ellie! This is Erika. I just noticed your number on my missed calls and though I would ring you back. How is everything going?”

  “Erika,” Ellie exclaimed. “I, um, needed to run over a few things with you but I have your uncle standing here with a guest. Is there another time that I can call you?” she questioned while tiny beads of perspiration began to form on her upper lip and hairline.

  “Oh, Ellie, let me speak to Erika and then we will just move along,” Lawrence interrupted.

  “Okay,” she responded handing the phone to Lawrence.

  “Honey, how are you?”

  “Uncle Lawrence,” Erika replied enthusiastically. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since I left! Every time I call the mansion, the phone is busy. Now if you had call waiting, you wouldn’t have missed my call,” she gently chided.

  “I’m so sorry. I have been worried about you and wondering how you have been.”

  “I’ve been well, Uncle Lawrence. “This is such a wonderful place, I can’t even describe it. Really, I want to bring you here some time. But, we can talk later, what are you doing on my side of the building,” Erika teased.

  “Oh, I’m introducing an old business colleague of mine to Ellie. I don’t think you are acquainted with him either, but he stopped by and I’m giving him the grand tour.”

  “I’m sorry to miss him. Who is it?” Erika questioned.

  “T.J. Morgan. His father and I had a few business dealings several years back and his son is very involved in the enterprise now. He will be here for a while, perhaps we can take him out to lunch when you return,” Lawrence said pleasantly.

  “That would be very nice,” Erika replied. “Do you remember your promise to me, Uncle,” she queried. When silence was the only response, she prompted, “The one about making sure that I’m the first to know if there are any irregularities? I’m having a wonderful time here, but I promised you that if you needed my help, I would come right back.”

  “I know you did, sweetheart … and I will keep my promise,” he said emphatically.

  “Good. Because if memory serves me correctly, I have heard that one of the members of the Morgan family was especially good at tracking down security problems within corporations. If that is what this visit is all about, I hope you will enlighten me,” she warned.

  “As promised. Listen, I’m going to let you go. If you need to reach me I will be in town for the next few days. Love you and be sure to take care of yourself.”

  “I promise, too.”

  After putting Erika on hold, Lawrence briefly introduced T.J. to Ellie. She caught her breath and her cheeks flushed a pale shade of pink. Standing before her was perhaps the most amazing looking man she had ever seen. Slowly Ellie stood and offered a hand that she prayed didn’t betray her embarrassment … or infatuation!

  “This is Morgan, he is going to be working for Capital Textiles as a consultant for a while. He is a very dear friend of mine and considered to be the finest in the world in his trade. I want you to work with him during Erika’s absence. Nothing is off limits. Accommodate him completely … Oh,” Lawrence paused as he recalled his brief conversation with his niece, “it isn’t necessary to mention this to Erika,” he concluded with a strict tone that wasn’t meant to be crossed.

  “Where is your niece?” T.J. questioned after leaving the simpering Ellie behind to run over details with her boss.

  “Oh, just on a holiday of sorts. She will be away for a few more weeks.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her the truth about my presence here,” he replied pointedly. “Do you have reason to suspect her?” T.J. questioned softly.

  “No. Absolutely not,” Lawrence responded while nodding to a passing junior executive. “Erika is true blue. She has as much or more invested in this company as do I. She just had a personal difficulty and I advised her to get a way for a few weeks. I don’t want her worrying about the company until we have solid evidence.”

  “I understand. But what if I need to reach her.”

  “Just ask me. There is nothing she knows that I don’t. As we get closer to wrapping up this problem, I will bring her into the loop.”

  “No problem,” T.J. responded politely.

  ----

  The day dawned bright and clear at Priest Lake that morning. The sky was again an azure blue and so vivid that its warmth enveloped the senses. The trees danced gently in the soft breeze. The sun was warm, the shade icy. The aroma of pine so pungent, Erika sat for an extra thirty minutes on her porch overlooking the lake while sipping a mug of steaming hot chocolate. It was too overwhelming to even move from this paradise. Her eyes misted as she felt an inner peace begin to soothe her wounded heart. Erika’s deep breaths seemed to fill her body with the calmness of the lake’s flowing water. Deep down, she knew it would be all right. The healing process had begun.

  Erika’s mind wandered to Tim and what he might be doing that day. A business trip, she mused. What kind of business? Already, she missed him. Uncannily so. Erika decided that one could only solve so many problems in a day and turned her thoughts to her scheduled activities.

  By noon that same day, Erika and Maime had indeed put up the huckleberry jam as they intended. Enough for the entire winter ... for four families she thought. Erika felt exhilarated and strangely independent. Never had she experienced success in the kitchen. She had been fortunate to have a chef her entire life. Erika had felt fortunate, that is, until this day. She now realized just how much the lack of domesticity had cost. There was something very human and self-satisfying about putting food away for the winter. It was like taking control away from circumstance. It was surviving.

  “You know, Marie, this jam has a really good ‘do’, don’t you think?” Maime asked while gazing at the now dark purple canning jar.

  “I guess so. It looks kind of like what you get at a super market,” Erika replied.

  “Oh, no, child, it’s much better,” Maime said aghast. “Here, put some of the foam on my freshly baked bread,” she exclaimed reaching for her serrated knife to slice a piece of the still warm loaf. “And then you tell me it tastes like the super market,” Maime reprimanded while pointing the knife at Erika.

  “Um, it tastes really good,” Erika responded with the brilliant smile of discovery. And then a little self consciously, “Not at all like a commercial brand. Have you ever thought of going into business?”

  “Oh, go on with you,” she exclaimed with a pleased smile and shining eyes. “How would you know if it was good. You’ve never had homemade jam before today.”

  “Well, I know when it’s good,” Erika quickly replied.

  “Actually, I have kicked the idea around in my head. Of course, Mary Neddleson believes her huckleberry jam is the best in the world. Every year at the Harvest Festival she takes home the blue ribbon,” Maime said while proudly displaying her freshly canned jam near the kitchen window. “But, I know how she does it! By tomorrow night, every judge will have a fresh loaf of pound cake and jar of huckleberry jam delivered to their doorstep … all
in neighborly thoughtfulness, of course!”

  “Have you ever entered your huckleberry jam?” Erika questioned.

  “Well, no. I don’t go in for that sort of thing much.”

  “When is the Harvest Festival?”

  “Next week.”

  “So why don’t you do it this year,” Erika pleaded.

  “Because, Mary will win and I don’t like her when she beats me at something.”

  “You know,” Erika continued. “I have never been to a Harvest Festival. It would be so much fun for us to enter something together. That way, if it doesn’t win, you can tell everyone that it was my novice attempt in the kitchen,” she concluded with a brilliant smile beginning to form at the corners of her mouth.

  “Well,” Maime wavered. “I wouldn’t do it for just anyone,” she warned. “But since it means so much to you … I suppose we could … try. The deadline for entering is today though. We’ll have to make a trip into Leonard Paul’s if your mind is really set on this thing.”

  “Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” Erika exclaimed as she clasped her hands together in joy. “Should we go right now, to Leonard Paul’s to enter?” she asked excitedly.

  “Yes,” Maime responded confidently. “Yes, we should! Now you run on up and change your clothes, you’ve got sticky juices everywhere! I’m afraid you have stained your pretty blouse. Huckleberry juice is potent ... but I’ll give you something that might work on that stain. I’ll clean up the kitchen and meet you back here in half an hour. And by the way, you’re right … this jam is pretty good,” she confided while munching on her own slice of bread topped with gleaming huckleberry jam.

  “Speaking of novice attempts,” Erika began somewhat shyly. “Tim and I have … sort of a running bet,” she said glancing at Maime from the corner of her eye. “You see, I had a little trouble choosing the right kind of groceries at Leonard Paul’s yesterday. So ... he concluded, quite aptly I might add, that I cannot cook.”

  Erika waited for Maime to comment. Instead she turned her back and began cleaning the stockpot they had used to boil the huckleberry jam. When Maime glanced back at Erika with slightly raised eyebrows, she continued.

  “I, of course, didn’t admit it to him … actually,” she chuckled, “I wouldn’t dare. I could never live it down, he’s such a tease. So … I told him that I would cook him at least one dinner before I leave the lake.”

  “Well, that’s nice,” Maime encouraged.

  “Yes, except that I can’t do it,” she exclaimed waving her hands in a circular motion. “I don’t know the first thing about … probably even boiling water, although I am confident I could boil a fair jam now,” Erika admitted somewhat appeased. “It’s not as if I never wanted to learn,” she said defensively. “I just never had anyone to teach me. You see, my mother was very accomplished in the kitchen … and all things domestic for that matter. But, she died when I was very small. Let’s just put it this way … the talent was not inherited.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, child,” Maime chided. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of! I’m sure you have talents that far outweigh anything I could ever do,” she said gently. “I’m sorry about your parents. Papa told me about your conversation last night. It must have been very difficult for you. But listen … if you want to learn to cook, I can teach you everything you will ever need to know,” Maime promised.

  “You will,” Erika exclaimed. “Truly, you will.”

  “Of course,” Maime said humorously. “I hope you’re not disappointed,” she warned. “It’s not as difficult as you are making it out to be. But I promise you this, in a couple of weeks, you will be turning out some of the finest cookin’ Tim’s ever eaten. Your ace is that I know what his favorites are.”

  “Oh, that will be wonderful,” Erika breathed looking forward to her great surprise. “When can we start?” she asked.

  “How about tomorrow? Same time as today.”

  “Thank you so much! Is there anything I can bring?” Erika questioned.

  “No, I have everything we will need.”

  Later that afternoon after returning to her lake front cottage from Coolin, Erika started out on a long-promised walk along the sandy white beach strewn with fallen logs. Rolling over in her mind the events of the last few days, Erika began to once again anticipate the evening she would practice her newly acquired culinary skills on Tim. Erika determined that after she learned to cook, really cook fine cuisine, she would do it more often. It was strangely exhilarating to explore the idea of domesticity. Erika had conquered the business world, the academic world, and the social world. This was a new frontier altogether. Erika’s friends would scoff at that desire. Most in her sorority had been jealous of her station in life and the ease to which she acquired what they so earnestly desired. Her girl friends had wanted marriage and perhaps children, but their career was foremost. Erika hadn’t been much different. And now, in a few short weeks she would become one of the youngest, if not the youngest woman to be appointed President of a major corporation. Unheard of. She felt proud that she had earned the right, not inherited the right.

  But perhaps even more important to Erika was a new deeply imbedded desire. There was a need within her soul to become self assured and independent enough in domesticity to create a home someday for a husband and children. Though Erika remembered her promise to never marry, the rebellious desire lay beneath the surface of her consciousness.

  As Erika walked along the trail leading past her cottage, her wayward thoughts had inadvertently carried her steps farther north than she had intended. She listened to a woodpecker rhythmically beating a hole in a nearby Ponderosa Pine tree, watched a squirrel quickly gather food and a wild cotton tail bunny scamper toward a group of rocks. Erika filled her lungs with the fresh Idaho air.

  The outdoors had always been a part of Erika’s life. Growing up in Southern California enabled her to spend a great deal of time outdoors; swimming, playing tennis, and jogging … once in a while. She also attended outdoor barbecues and Malibu beach parties on a regular basis. But somehow after being at the lake, Erika felt as though she was experiencing the real world for the first time. She had never smelled dirt before, or listened to the whispering trees, or felt the wind kick up off the lake and know a storm was brewing.

  With every passing day, Erika’s desire to return to her plastic world became less and less desirable. It would be very easy at the moment to give up everything. It was a moral dilemma because she valued family responsibility above all else. Uncle Lawrence needed her. The corporation needed her. It was her birthright. Yet on the other hand, she knew that her feelings toward Tim were growing. Though Erika rejected the idea, her heart felt destiny. To choose Tim, she would have to relinquish her other life. In a sense, choose between heritage and love. Tim could never survive in her world. She could never picture him apart from his pure and untouched wilderness. Los Angeles would squelch him.

  Then Erika mentally shook herself, for Tim had never even touched her or kissed her or given her any indication that he felt anything other than friendship. Realistically, Erika knew it must stay that way and she promised herself, she would do her very best to keep it simple.

  For the next few days, Erika established quite a routine. Mornings were spent in Maime’s kitchen, learning simple culinary techniques, like proper measurements and the anatomy of a good meal. Erika was a quick study and together they celebrated each accomplishment … like a rite of passage. It was the passage itself, however that inherently confused Erika.

  As the days passed Maime and Erika grew closer. Conversation that was once guarded now ran freely. Erika shared with Maime how the tragedy of her parents’ death when she was so young had affected every aspect of her life. Erika spoke of her uncle and how he had set aside his life to provide a home when she needed him. They conversed about her indebtedness to him.

  Erika made herself vulnerable when she confessed to Maime about her reason for retreating to the lake, and finally about S
teve Caslin and the humiliation. Maime’s wisdom touched a part of Erika’s heart that had never been touched before. Erika wondered if this was what most girls took for granted, a mother or grandmother who would listen and then espouse wisdom and advice passed to them by their own elders. How much she wished those moments would never cease. The steam from the ever-present whistling tea pot on the stove, the aroma of freshly baked bread and a crackling fire started each morning by Papa, all created a warm environment that helped to free Erika from the pain of her childhood and youth. Erika, did not, however, share with Maime her real identity and her real position in life. It was unneeded, for the moment.

  The afternoons … Erika spent alone. It was during these times that she explored the natural bounty of North Idaho’s most pristine jewel, Priest Lake and its tributaries. Often, Erika would carry a folding chair and a sketchpad to a very secluded bay on the other side of the great log home owned by the Anderson family. There she would sketch intricate eighteenth and nineteenth century like patterns. Inevitably, the design would be reminiscent of Maime’s antique soup tureen. At night, she would study that same tureen and become more amazed by its craftsmanship and intriguing design.

  It was on one of those evenings curled up by the fire that Papa had come to make for her every night at 7:00 p.m. that Erika made a discovery of sorts. While thinking of some way to reciprocate Maime’s kindness, Erika came upon a brilliant idea. She quickly retrieved her computer, connected it to her cell phone and prayed for a connection. In no time at all, Erika had connected to the Internet. Trying in vain, she finally found a resource for London’s Royal Academy and National Museum. After scrolling through pages and pages of notes, Erika found an obscure mention of one young Josiah Aldrich. Thrilled, she quickly posted an e-mail to the museum, inquiring after Aldrich’s work and asking for information that would lead to the whereabouts of the surviving place settings in the hollyhock and English heirloom rose pattern. She also advised them of the surviving soup tureen.