Whispers of the Heart

by Stephanie Wilson

  T.J. smiled and nodded an agreement as Harry slowly shuffled back to the Lodge, leaving the two younger ones alone. Sadly, he knew they needed more than just a few days alone to even begin to have a chance at happiness. Dread sank over his sagging shoulders as he vividly remembered the love he had thrown away. A love that had crushed his soul for years. Perhaps Marie was right, he mused. Perhaps real love was more about sacrifice. He wondered if his life would be much different now if he had sacrificed a little.

  T.J. searched Erika’s troubled eyes before turning his gaze to the starry display of lights above. Digging his hands deep into the pockets of his Khakis, he expressed a soft sigh. How long, he wondered, could he keep up the charade. It was becoming very burdensome. He was always looking for that moment ... a moment of truth.

  “Spectacular, isn’t it,” he said nodding toward the midnight velvet sky above.

  “Yes,” she said, drawing herself back to the present. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  For a few moments, each let the silence envelop them, searching their own thoughts and pondering a solution to the feelings that were becoming deeply imbedded in their hearts. Suddenly, T.J. wanted to share part of himself with her. He wanted her to at least glimpse his life. He wanted her to see Bear Creek Lodge. More than that, he wanted to see her there. Perhaps then he would know what to do.

  “Come on. I have something to show you,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along the trail that let to the south side of Elkins.

  “Where are we going?” she said giggling in her attempt to keep up with his long-legged strides. Stumbling over a river rock embedded in the darkened trail, T.J. realized that she couldn’t keep up with him. To her cry of delight, T.J. quickly lifted her off her feet and ran with her to the waiting white truck.

  “Your chariot, my lady,” he said gallantly as he dropped her onto the cold, cracked vinyl seat.

  Some chariot, she said to herself as she rubbed her hip where it had sharply encountered a broken spring. She had regained her good humor, however, by the time T.J. had run to the other side of the truck and slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Wherever we’re going, it must be a very exciting place,” Erika smiled at his youthful enthusiasm.

  Giving her only a sparkling wink, he roared the deafening engine while speeding down the pebbled and rutted road toward the main two-lane highway. Erika was becoming used to the jarring rides and knew she would miss its charm. Shaking her head stiffly, she determined to throw off this irritating melancholy. Her days with Tim were precious few. She couldn’t ruin those memories by that depressing emotion.

  After a time, Erika realized that they were heading back toward Kootenai Bay. Giving T.J. a sideways glance, she wondered just where in fact he was taking her. After turning onto the dirt road that led to her bay, T.J. made a sharp turn about a half-mile from the lane that led to her cottage. Curiosity was quenched, however, when an immense log structure came into view. She knew Bear Creek Lodge from her previous journeys along side the lake. In fact, she had been so stuck by its magnificence that she had painted it into the background of her present work with the little boy fishing.

  “What ... what are we doing here?” Erika asked somewhat breathless as they pulled up to the darkened mansion. “I ... I don’t think anyone is home... Maybe we should just leave,” she said hopefully to T.J.’s rapt expression.

  Glancing quickly toward her T.J. swiftly opened the door and slid out into the night. Erika’s heart began beating in two’s and three’s. She couldn’t imagine what he had in mind. She was sure, however, that she wasn’t going to like it. Sneaking around people’s homes had never been one of her habits. She groaned inwardly as T.J. insistently pulled her from the slippery seat.

  “I ... I don’t think we should be doing this,” she whispered nervously.

  “Why are you whispering?” he asked loudly.

  “Because, maybe someone is there and they’re just asleep. Maybe they have a guard dog, or something.”

  “Trust me, Marie,” he said while pulling a set of keys from his pants pocket.

  Erika took a deep breath, trying in vain to rid herself of the insane nervousness. So instead she began to concentrate on the magnificence of the home she was now nearing after a short walk through an arborous trail.

  At the clearing, T.J. took a step back, allowing Erika his favorite view of Bear Creek Lodge.

  Her breath caught in her throat as the expanse of the lodge came into view. Her eyes darted from side to side, taking in the rustic opulence. She had only seen the lake side view. The front of the house was even more daunting. It was the epitome of a Northwest log mansion. She had never encountered anything like it before. The size was overwhelming. Erika was used to the opulent mansions of Beverly Hills and Southern California. Their gilded wonder was nothing compared to what she now gazed at. This was something that evoked strength and heritage and nature and warmth … all rolled into one magnificent dwelling.

  T.J. watched the display of emotions cross her beautiful face. The intensity of her study pleased him. Bear Creek Lodge, by anyone’s evaluation, was awe-inspiring. But to some, it was more than that. It was representative of a different set of values. By Erika’s scrutiny, T.J. knew she felt it too.

  “Let’s go inside.”

  “But, how,” she said breathlessly not daring to take her eyes from the lodge.

  “I have a key. No one is here at present.”

  Erika slowly stepped onto the porch that wrapped around the lodge’s entire length and stared at an amazing set of double carved doors. T.J. was one of the tallest men she had ever met. The doors stood many feet above him!

  Quickly T.J. opened the doors and walked around the corner to disarm the alarm system. Erika gingerly stepped across the threshold into an entryway that stood three stories tall. A spiral log stairway dominated the huge area circling its charm to a lushly carpeted platform. A spectacular rod iron chandelier spread brilliant light, illuminating the carved wood moldings and wainscoting that softened the roughness of the logs. Erika couldn’t help but notice the ancient oriental carpeting. She herself owned several the investment pieces and immediately noticed the owner’s attention to fineness.

  Somewhere in the distance a clock began to chime the late-night hour. Searching for its source, Erika held her breath as she gazed at a point across an area larger than the entirety of her penthouse apartment. It was a grandfather clock. But it wasn’t like anything she had ever seen before. Forgetting herself, she began to walk toward the mesmerizing piece. It was a carved image of a bear. The carving was so exact that if one wasn’t sure, it might be mistaken for the real thing. Gingerly she ran her fingers over the tiny lines, over the muscled arms.

  “This is exquisite,” she said turning to T.J. who silently watched her first experience of Bear Creek Lodge. “This is so perfect here. I mean, it’s like it was created to be just exactly .... here,” she finished enthusiastically.

  “It was,” he said simply. “Do you remember the carvings that you were so impressed with at the Harvest Festival?” T.J. questioned.

  “Harry?” she questioned in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” she exclaimed. “This is truly unbelievable,” she said walking around the entire piece, studying the artist’s ingenuity. “I knew he was good,” she said seemingly to herself, “but I never expected anything like this!”

  “He really is a genius at it,” T.J. commented. “Come in here, I want to show you the Great Room.”

  Erika followed at a distance. She needed to commit every detail to memory. The Lodge was much more than a display of riches. It was a display of love, of fineness. Erika had lived her entire life in a gilded paradise. She had learned of conspicuous consumption in school, knowing that many of her friends were such. Some called it the nouveau riche. But that wasn’t in her heart. She desperately wanted a home built with fineness and graciousness. Nowhere had she seen it more beautifu
lly real than at Bear Creek Lodge.

  Erika had always been attracted to the lifestyles of those families with old wealth. In her travels and associations, there had always been that distinction ... those who were newly rich, as with her family having only acquired their wealth but fifty years before ... and those who had a legacy of money, mostly from the East Coast. Their lives seemed so much simpler, so much richer. Steve Caslin had always wanted to parade around … showcasing their wealth. Erika rebelled at that. Uncle Lawrence certainly wasn’t like that. He had taught her that wealth was a gift of trust. He said those who had wealth were entrusted to help those less fortunate. She had grown up knowing that a certain portion of all their earnings would go to foundations and faith organizations that truly helped families support themselves. Steve railed against that theory. It was a constant source of irritation between them. He believed that wealth was deserved and that if those less fortunate would only work harder, they wouldn’t be a drain on society. Erika also believed in work ethics, but she also believed in feeding the hungry and clothing the poor.

  She knew the people who occupied this home believed as she did. Erika always believed that by glimpsing people’s homes, one could know their hearts. How people surrounded themselves spoke volumes. Erika passed a Norman Rockwell painting depicting elderly faces lifted in prayer. Glancing down at the signature, she immediately recognized the piece as an original. Volumes, she told herself. Everything was tasteful. How she wished she could meet the family that lived here. Erika already felt a bond.

  The Great Room was a special place for the Morgan family. Not only was it a room that was perfectly suited to entertaining because of its sheer size and magnificent view of the lake through the expansive floor to ceiling windows occupying three walls, but it was the gathering place in times of celebration and need. For every critical moment in their lives, the family would come from various points on the globe to Bear Creek Lodge. It was there they would gather around the immense rock fireplace and decide how to handle the problem or celebrate a special moment. Though the Morgan’s had far more opulent dwellings around the world, it was agreed by all that Bear Creek Lodge was truly home.

  Erika’s critical eye took in all the details of the lushly appointed room. From its honey-colored wood flooring to the jeweled colors of the oriental carpets scattered around the room. That the room had been designed for entertaining was noted. The scattered seating areas were comfortable yet exquisite. As her eyes roamed the floors, the furniture, the fixtures, and the art, her eyes suddenly alighted on a corner alcove overlooking what would be the creek that ran along the northwest side of the house. The window coverings were simple yet elegant. Nestled into that corner were two wing back chairs, an ottoman and corner table with a Williamsburg style brass lamp.

  It was the chairs that specifically drew her attention. They looked very familiar. The corner was dimly lit, not affording Erika enough light to affirm her suspicions.

  T.J. watched as she slowly made her way to the corner. Slowly she ran her hand across the fabric of the chairs, moving slightly the chenille throw covering a corner of the custom-made chair.

  “Would these chairs be new?” Erika asked tentatively.

  “I think they were placed here maybe a year ago, maybe less. Why?” T.J. asked.

  “Oh, no reason,” she mused softly hardly able to breathe as she recognized her very own design. Remembering that it was just about a year ago that her textile design had finished its production and gone into the marketplace. Erika felt her heart swell with pride as she surveyed her work. That the wonderful woman who had so lovingly decorated this home would choose her fabric to complement her priceless collections made Erika’s heart swell. It was as if she too had a connection to this home.

  T.J. wondered at her reaction to the chairs his mother had been so proud of. He remembered her shipping them from New York. To him, they were just chairs that fit nicely into that alcove. To his mother, it was as if she had uncovered a treasure.

  “How is ...” Erika was saying as if she just remembered they shouldn’t be there, “that you have a key to this place.”

  This would be a perfect opportunity, T.J. thought. I need to tell her now. I need to explain my home. I need to explain about the Anderson’s and the Morgan’s. About The Morgan family and that I am their son. T.J. starred into Erika’s molten eyes, looking for any sign that he should continue.

  “I, uh…”

  “I ... I think we should go,” she said moving back toward the hallway and the front door, partly because she didn’t want to be caught trespassing in someone else’s home but mostly because she didn’t trust herself at the moment.

  “Why?” T.J. asked reaching for her arm as she brushed past him.

  “Because…” she blustered. “Haven’t you ever heard of trespassing?”

  “I’m … I’m living here … for the time being,” he said trying to be as truthful as possible.

  Slowly she turned around to face him. Somehow aware that Tim had brought her here for a reason. It was in the way his eyes gazed into her own. It was in the jagged breath that was even now teasing the wispy curls over her ears. It was something in his heart that she could uncannily feel.

  “Why?” she asked simply, somewhat fearful of what this moment would bring.

  T.J. noticed her unease. It wasn’t the way he had planned it. Turning slowly, he sauntered toward the fireplace to gather his thoughts, giving himself another moment to back out and simply let the lies remain. Letting out a long slow sigh, T.J. knew there was no longer a choice. He had never compromised his values to such a degree. It was time that the truth be known.

  Erika watched his retreating form, troubled by his slumped shoulders and deep sigh. It was obvious that something was weighing very heavily on his soul. A moment of alarm surfaced as she wondered what he would reveal. Was he married? Was he that dreaded criminal she had originally thought him to be?

  But something else was beginning to bother her. Hadn’t T.J. just mentioned that he was staying here, she questioned herself. Then what was his connection to the Anderson family who owned Bear Creek Lodge?

  “How is it that you are staying here?” Erika voiced her confusion and growing dread.

  “Actually,” he said, trying to soften his story somewhat, “I often stay here.”

  “Really?” she questioned with a twinge of sarcasm.

  “Really.”

  “You mean, you’ve been ... here ... all the time that I’ve been at the cottage. Just a few hundred feet from me?”

  “The entire time.”

  “You mean to tell me,” she said with rising ire, “that when you were taking me from Spokane to the lake, that you knew you would be staying here ... right next to the cottage,” she said, unknowingly raising her tone of voice.

  “Yes. So, you see, you had nothing to worry about,” he said as if speaking to a child.

  Backing away from him she continued to look at him in shocked abandon. “Then you knew,” she said accusingly. “You knew I was lying ... about knowing the Anderson’s.”

  “Yes,” he said soberly. “I knew.”

  “Then why did you make me do it?”

  “Do, what?” he asked confused.

  “Lie!”

  “I didn’t make you lie,” he said sharply. “You seemed to handle that all on your own. Very nicely, I might add.”

  Erika glared at his immense form. “I wouldn’t have had to lie if you hadn’t asked me about ... about where I was staying,” she sputtered.

  “I was taking you home for goodness sake,” he returned exasperated. “Did you want me to guess?”

  “No. It’s .... It’s just that you pried the information from me. I distinctly remember you asking about ... about my friend.”

  “You offered that information,” he said pointing an accusing finger at her.

  “Only after I felt that I needed some protection.”

  “So, let me get this straight,” he said in a somewhat sof
ter tone of voice. “You invented this idea of a childhood friend named Anderson who died of leukemia ... ‘so sad’ ... you said if I correctly recall your words, to give you protection? From whom, Marie?”

  “From you,” she said softly.

  “What in the world would make you feel that you needed protection from me?”

  “Well, let’s try the obvious. You were a perfect stranger to me --- and not a very companionable one, for that matter. You were huffing and puffing around, taking my luggage. For all I knew, you could have been a thief ... or even a murderer.”

  “You’re right. I could have been one. So, why did you get in the car with me?” T.J. asked very slowly, knowing how very important her response was to him. At the time, he wondered if she had known exactly who he was. Now, he doubted it. But, one could never be so sure. He hated these thoughts!

  “I don’t know why I got in the car with you...” she said, fuming around the room. “It was probably the stupidest thing I have ever done in my life. I can tell you if my uncle knew that I had ever done such an idiotic thing, he would ground me for life ... even if I could be grounded. Or ... or he would do something worse ... he would hire a nursemaid to follow me around ...”

  T.J. knew Erika was rambling. Deciding to take the upper hand to control the situation he gently led her toward the luxurious leather covered couch in front of the fireplace. He had seen his father lead his mother there on several occasions when she was beside herself over some incident. It always worked. T.J. thought it might work on Marie as well. She reminded him so much of the women in his family.

  Finally, she stopped babbling when he sat down next to her after building a roaring fire whose heat could even now be felt. Her face began to burn with the fire of embarrassment as she turned slowly toward him, not daring to look him in the eye.

  “I really don’t believe in lying ... at all,” she said softly gazing somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. “I really hate it! I have never been brought up to lie ... about anything. When I was a child ... I never did anything bad really. So, there was never a reason to lie. Well,” she amended tilting her head slightly, “I did tell an untruth about eating all my breakfast once and then there was the time when I lied to my Sorority Mother for my roommate. I was so mad at her that I made her tell Mother the truth.”