Late that evening, the Morgan children were tucked away in bed but were, to their parents’ chagrin, hardly sleeping. Giggles and whispers to cousins housed in neighboring bedrooms were so loud the parents could only shrug their shoulders and laugh themselves. T.J. slipped out onto the massive deck overlooking the bay. It was so peaceful with the water rippling softly against the shore. The chilled air penetrated his cotton sweater, reminding him of winter’s soon approach. It was funny, seasons, he mused. Regardless of the world’s state of affairs, the seasons ushered in, and ushered out; year after year, without fail. Some years, a little late; some years, a little early. But they were dependable all the same.
Glancing over his shoulder through the windows and into the living room of the Morgan family compound, T.J. silently watched his parents interact with his sisters … and each other. Turning back to study the sea, he again was thankful that his parents were somewhat like the seasons. Always steady. Always dependable. It’s what he wanted for himself. Very rare in his social set of friends. Parents stayed together for nothing less than contractual bindings and family alliances. It was purely economic in most cases. Rarely a couple found love. Even more rare, longevity. He was a product of a rare breed.
Time stood still on the Cape that night. T.J. couldn’t bring himself to go back into the house. The Morgan clan were now all in bed, and all asleep. A blessed quietness had descended on the compound. Yet, he waited. For what, he didn’t know. An epiphany? A revelation? A shooting star? Amused at the turn of his thoughts T.J. relaxed and stretched his long legs on a chase that hadn’t yet been put away for winter. Gazing up into the stars he wondered not for the first time whom Erika Crawford had spent her Thanksgiving with.
Thanksgiving morning and Erika had the usual plans; to dine with her Uncle Lawrence at the Club. Inevitably, friends would join them. It was hardly ever a family affair for it seemed a bit lonely for just the two of them to dine alone. She was melancholy that morning. Like something was missing. Maime’s presence had been like a balm to the loneliness. When she had returned home the previous week, Erika had sorely missed her.
Curling up in front of the television with a fresh brew of hot coffee, Erika participated in her own private tradition and watched with half-hearted interest the Macy’s Day Parade as she had done since childhood. What used to bring childish delight, now brought emptiness. How she would love to curl up on the couch with children of her own, a family of her very own, and delight in that parade. She let her dream ramble on … they would have a wonderful and cozy dinner, perhaps a large and elegant dinner with extended family and friends. Everyone would bring their special dish. The women would busy themselves in the kitchen and the men around the television watching football. Children underfoot, squealing with delight at the antics of their cousins, all the while mothers would gently reprimand, sending the little culprits out of the kitchen.
Foolishness, Erika declared suddenly. In this day and age, utter foolishness. And then, unheeded, an image materialized in her mind of a family, T.J.’s family, sitting around a table together, holding hands, and asking a special blessing over their family in the coming year. She felt loneliness like she had never known before, for she knew how impossible her dream had become. Her apartment, luxurious as it was, was like a cave, a dwelling with no life … no humanness. It was perfect in every way … except all the ways that mattered. And it was even more so because it was a holiday … and she was alone.
Why this holiday was any different from the others, she didn’t know. Erika had been alone since her parents’ death. Uncle Lawrence always joined in the holiday meal, or gift opening; had tried to make such times … special. But as much as she adored Lawrence, it hadn’t been much of a family life. Perhaps it was just that she had allowed herself to dream … dream of a family and how different holidays could be.
Suddenly, an idea niggled. Erika chewed the corner of her lip as she considered its merit. The idea took hold, encouraging and invigorating action in its wake. Never one to feed discontentment, Erika knew exactly how she could make this holiday, and all the others to come, different! Without even a thought for the particulars of holiday planning, Erika was on the phone to her Uncle Lawrence informing him that they would not be dining at the Club. She was hosting their family Thanksgiving at the Penthouse. Lawrence was amused but promised to be there and to bring a guest.
Erika smiled with deep satisfaction. A family holiday. And it was only now when she watched Santa Claus make his way up the Avenue in New York that it finally dawned on her … she had no turkey … or stuffing … or pumpkin pie. What was worse … she wasn’t even sure where to get one, let alone … make one!
Adjusting her ponytail, Erika ran to the garage housing her Mercedes and raced to the store where by phone, she had reserved the last fresh turkey and all the other accoutrements she would need for a successful Thanksgiving dinner.
By that evening and after four calls to Maime, Erika prided herself on a perfect feast. Uncle Lawrence had come with his secretary, Earlene. Erika wasn’t really all that surprised for she knew that Earlene had loved Lawrence for so very long. Deep within her soul, Erika hoped her uncle could find happiness with her. They could perhaps be a family … unconventional as it seemed.
In a moment of inspiration at the market, Erika had purchased a cart full of autumn gourds and sunflowers, as well as bare twigs and artificially colored fall leaves intended for the dining room table. She had chosen to serve their dinner on her very favorite Spode china depicting woodland animals like duck and pheasant. She wanted this dinner to be unlike any other. When her guests walked through the front door she wanted her apartment to look and smell like the Thanksgiving dinners of her dreams.
When Lawrence and Earlene arrived, Erika served a mushroom tartlet appetizer with hot-spiced cider. Frozen tartlets, but no one would be the wiser. Then, she led them to the dining room and thoroughly enjoyed the praise and delight her table inspired. But the moment she would never forget was when she brought to the table a beautifully garnished turkey, perfectly done and basted in its own juices, along with a delectable stuffing that no one would believe came out of a box, boiled and seasoned baby new potatoes, a heavenly field green salad and sweet potato muffins. How she had enjoyed convincing her uncle that she truly had made the dinner, herself … not catered. She followed the meal with a delectable pumpkin pie purchased from a fine bakery that also stocked items in her market. Maime promised her that if she transferred the pie to a serving platter, no one would be the wiser.
A chill was in the air as Erika tightly wrapped herself in a cashmere throw and curled up on the cushioned chase lounge on her patio high above the city. She gazed at the city lights and searched for stars in the brightened sky. She was exhausted from the dinner preparations, but so contented … so fulfilled. A star caught her attention. It was brighter than the rest, twinkling even. And in that second, she couldn’t help but wish … for a miracle. On that Thanksgiving night, she wished that T.J. could be watching that very same star. She wondered if he ever thought about her.
After Thanksgiving, the days turned into each other and blessedly took on a semblance of normalcy for Erika. She was training a new assistant who was refreshingly too preoccupied with her own family to notice much about Erika’s personal life. She was splendidly accurate and efficient … and she went home on time.
One day, Sam Bernstein, President of Capital Textiles, paid her a visit. She had always respected Sam. He was honest and forthright in all his dealings. Really, a product of the old school, her uncle had always said about him. Sam had a wife that he adored and about ten children, all who were successful in their own professions. It spoke volumes about the man.
“How you doing, Erika?” he asked in his friendly manner.
“I am really fine, Sam, thanks for asking,” she smiled.
“Feel good to be back at work?” he again discretely inquired.
“It does,” she said simply, knowing that Sam was doing his b
est to turn the conversation to her future. “And you?” she asked.
“It does,” he too admitted. “I’ve never taken two months off in my life. The first month and a half was great. Couldn’t have been better. The last two weeks …”
“Let me guess,” Erika sweetly inquired, “you became lonesome for some of us at Capital?”
“How’d you know?” he inquired gratefully.
“Sam, you’ve been with the company my whole life,” she teased. “How could you not miss this place?”
“How do you feel about your promotion?” he asked more seriously.
“Frankly, Sam. I’m not ready,” she smilingly admitted. It wasn’t something she had even verbalized to herself. But when it was said … she knew peace.
“Would you be saying that because …”
“Because, Sam, I am not ready,” she finished slowly and confidently. “I … I have lots of time to be President, if that’s what I want. What I want right now …” she paused and looked down at the busy courtyard below her office window, “is to find some new things I’m good at. You know how I love the design process, the creative side of the business. I want to develop that further … and you know, I’m a really good Executive Vice President.”
Sam smiled a toothy grin. “I was hoping you would say that!”
“I’ve meant to, Sam. I guess … I just hadn’t put it all in perspective yet. I think I need to thank you.”
It was half past December when Maime caught up with T.J. in his private jet high above Wales. She wanted to talk about the visit Erika had with the curators of the London museum. It seemed incredible that they would be interested in her soup tureen. Flattering … but unnerving at the same time. She had gone around and round in her mind about the whole situation. Finally talking to Papa about it. Of course, it had only taken him but a few seconds to have an opinion. And that opinion was that she go to London and see what the men had to say. Down deep in her heart, she agreed. But she was also a little timid about making such a trip … about what she would learn of the origins of the piece she had owned since childhood. What could it all possibly mean?
“T.J.,” she began. “I’ve been givin’ a lot of thought to our conversation about the soup kettle. I haven’t yet decided what to do,” she admitted.
“That’s not the Maime I know,” T.J. answered kindly.
“Well … this is jus’ different. I don’t quite know what to make of it all. Papa thinks, of course, that I should go and hear what they ‘ave to say … but honestly, T.J., I’m not sure I want to go.”
“I can understand that, Maime. There is so much you don’t know about what happened to you and your parents as a child. But let me ask you this?” he questioned softly, “These men claim they know the story surrounding the tureen you have had since childhood … can you walk away and never find out the circumstances? Possibly even a link to your heritage?”
“That’s the trouble, Timmy,” she answered with care. “I want to … but I don’t.”
“Do you wish that Erika had never opened this Pandora’s Box?” he questioned.
“No. I’m grateful to her, T.J. She is like a daughter … or granddaughter to me. I know she had my best interests at heart when she contacted that museum. Her heart was right and you know, T.J.,” she said suddenly, “you know that I believe things happen for a reason, God’s divine plan. And … for some reason He has brought this all about. I guess … I guess that means I must walk through this open door! Thanks, honey. You helped me make up my mind,” Maime finished exuberantly.
“Maime, I think you made up your mind all on your own,” he teased. “Are you ready for me to call them?”
“Yes … I’m still nervous … but, I’m ready. Not until after the holidays though!”
“I’ll arrange everything.”
“Oh, and T.J. I would very much like for Erika to accompany us to London. Do you think you could arrange that?”
A long silence followed her final request. T.J. battled long and hard before he acquiesced.
“I … I know, T.J. I know that was not an easy thing for you to agree to. But, the whole ordeal isn’t gonna be any easier for me than for either of you. Kind of like, leave the bones buried with the dead,” she said nervously.
“Sometimes wounds don’t heal unless you confront them,” he gently prodded.
“True. True. You’re wise, T.J. Who might have taught you that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A pretty special woman that I know,” he said charmingly.
“So,” Maime said when his laughter had died down. “The question is … are you going to take your own advice to heart … you know, about the wounds and all?”
“I … uh. I’m not sure.”
“I’m talkin’ bout Erika, T.J.”
“I know, Maime. It’s just different.”
“T.J.,” she exclaimed. “How can you say that what happened to me when I was a child could be in any way less hurtful than what you are goin’ through with Erika?”
Ashamed at his thoughtlessness, T.J. apologized.
“The family will be here in a couple of weeks for Christmas,” Maime reminded. “You’ll be there won’t you, Tim?”
T.J. paused. He hated thinking about the Lake. There were too many … memories. “I’m … I’m not sure I can get away this year, Maime.”
“You’ll be there, T.J. You mark my words, young man, you’ll be there!”
T.J. clicked off his cell phone. It was dark and his flight crew had all withdrawn to their own quarters for the night. The compartment was relatively quiet … and very, very private. The drone of the jet engine lulled his defenses. The privacy invited deeper reflection on his conversation with Maime. It seemed that Erika wasn’t so easily eradicated from his life. If he was honest with himself, he never believed she could be. The time had come to decide.
Maime had shamed him for his weakness in dealing with his feelings for Erika Crawford. Time had crawled on and on and still he had procrastinated. Largely because he knew he was fighting an internal battle of ego against passion. How petty it seemed now. T.J. was embarrassed to admit that he had hoped that by ignoring his feelings for Erika, they would simply … vanish. Only, the opposite was true. It had grown and grown and grown until his passion had simply overtaken his senses. Lying hadn’t worked. He had tried to believe that this passion he had for Erika was a passionate hatred for her deception, when in fact, it wasn’t a passionate hatred at all … it was a deeply passionate love. A love that he knew would never go away. The kind of love that … he had looked for all his life.
Memories flooded as T.J. remembered in crystal detail how he had treated Erika on that day high above Kaniksu Cliff. How he had literally thrown her away. Treated her like the scourge of the earth. Shame filled the cabin as he bowed his head and ran frustrated fingers through black waves of thick hair. In his hurt and disappointment, he had unleashed his fury directly at her. When in fact, he had been guilty of the same mistrust and deceit he accused her of.
Could Erika ever forgive him for his actions? Could he bridge their ever-widening gap? Make up for the deceit … and the lies … and the hurt? The gut-wrenching questions weren’t easily answered. The easy road would be to … just forget the whole experience … go on with his life. Chalk it up as an unfortunate chance meeting? But Maime’s views had been morally imprinted on his own. He too felt circumstances often reflected a higher plan. The world wasn’t just a cosmic collision of happenstance and fate. But … if he truly believed that … his feelings for Erika were not something to lightly shrug away. It was something he must deal with. He didn’t know how, but he knew he had to try.
It was a beautiful day in Los Angeles. The palm trees swayed in the light breeze and everywhere one went, holiday cheer abounded. The colorful tinsel in the store windows, the row after row of scarlet poinsettias lining the boulevards of Beverly Hills. Christmas cards and invitations to galas were pouring through her mail slot. Erika reveled in the music, the decorations
… the spirit. She had spent her Saturday afternoon shopping in some very unusual places for the perfect gift for Maime. And she had been successful. How pleased Maime would be with her find!
Erika was humming carols softly to herself as she collected her mail and rode the elevator to the top of the building. Her penthouse apartment was appropriately decorated for Erika’s tastes. She had purchased a whole assortment of collectible German ornaments for her tree this year and delighted in the warmth it gave her space. Then, Uncle Lawrence had produced another several boxes of German Christmas ornaments that had been in their family for many generations. How delighted she had been with his surprise. Lawrence had stored them away years prior and had only remembered they existed after visiting her apartment and viewing her charming Christmas tree. A real legacy. Another family connection.
She slipped off her sweater and slid into the crème colored leather couch to read through her mail. Another ten mail order catalogs had come that day. She set them aside for later perusal. A few bills, another several Christmas party invitations … and then a plain white envelope with a Crest insignia in its corner. Her heart stopped beating. Her world stopped turning as she recognized T.J. Morgan’s personal stationery with her name and address scratched in fine ink across the front.
She held the envelope close to her heart. Erika could almost feel him in that moment. So precious that she almost declined to open it. She didn’t want to shatter her dreams … again. And then, practical as she was, she slowly slit open the top. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the contents into her lap. A single note scratched on finely woven linen paper;
Whispers of the Heart Page 35