The Sibylline Oracle

by Colvin, Delia

  Coffee. She needed coffee! Valeria walked to the kitchen and, before grinding the beans, said, “I think he was just heartbroken,” she said, defended him for Weege’s benefit. Valeria poured the purified water into the pot. “By the way, I went to his plot yesterday and do you know that all of the flowers I planted last month were dead!”

  Weege popped up. “What do you pay those people for? When I’m dead, just cremate me!” She looked around. “Can I sit on your hearth, in one of our fancy urns when I’m dead?”

  “No!” Valeria had to laugh.

  Throwing herself dramatically back onto the sofa, Weege felt something under her. She reached down and pulled out the copy of Sense and Sensibility that Valeria had been reading. Weege’s face filled with utter consternation as she marched to the kitchen with the book and the box of pizza. Valeria had just started getting the first drips of coffee when Weege waved the book in the air as her evidence. “So, you were reading this instead of the books that I brought you?”

  “It’s like an old friend.” Valeria grabbed the book and sighed—busted.

  “You just need to face up to the responsibility of your wealth and take me with you on the best vacations.”

  Leaning on the kitchen counter, Valeria looked up. There was something odd about the whole business of selling her company and no longer needing to fight for a living. How could she possibly explain it to anyone without feeling…ungrateful? It was like, now that she didn’t have the shop, she felt empty. Interestingly, the money didn’t seem to fill that void. “Weege, you know, you think it will all feel great. I expected to feel great. And it did when we were signing the sales contracts, I guess. But, I keep thinking what’s next? How long can I vacation? And making more money from good investments just isn’t very interesting to me.”

  “You need a hobby.” Weege picked up another piece of pizza. “Can I have a coffee?”

  Valeria poured herself a cup and then glanced over at the framed and matted, oversized picture of David on the wall—not a loving picture of the two of them, but a corporate portrait. David’s short, brown hair was smartly parted and combed back neatly, his brown eyes and strong chin just a tad arrogant. His crisp white shirt and Windsor knot looked overly formal for a man of thirty-five. It was an 8x10 and much too big for her small home. She mumbled to herself, “I need a life.”

  “Weege?” Valeria asked quietly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you know, only a couple of his old pub buddies even came to Dad’s funeral? He deserved more.”

  “So did you. Now, are you going to meet with Ramsey?”

  Valeria sighed, but nodded yes.

  CHAPTER 4

  Savoring her last drop of coffee, Valeria grabbed the pot to pour her final cup of the day. She frowned when only a thin stream dribbled out and ended abruptly. She held tightly to her two-cup rule. Otherwise, she’d be drinking coffee all day, and all that caffeine wouldn’t do her any good at all! She sighed, and then saw Weege’s empty cup in the sink. Weege drank the second cup. Valeria’s face lit in an impish grin. She still had one more cup coming to her today!

  Then, she remembered Weege’s confession about reading the journals. Valeria wondered why it was that she felt so compelled to always keep one. But she had found that writing her troubles down seemed to diminish them, while leaving her hopeful about the future. Though, she hadn’t had many troubles of any significance in recent years─at least not troubles that others wouldn’t wish were their own.

  She reached up and grabbed her brown riding boots from the upper shelf in her closet. The weather had turned cool enough to justify wearing them. She pulled them on, enjoying their fit and feel. Fall was such a wonderful season!

  Writing in her journals during her foster care years had been interesting. Valeria had learned to keep them hidden and locked. Still, she’d frequently found someone reading her most private thoughts. Her biggest fear was that they—the courts, the counselors, the social workers, or her foster parents—would decide she was nuts and needed to be on some combination of drugs that seemed to cause more harm than good. Or, worse, that they would require regular appointments with a psychiatrist. Valeria believed that feelings were overrated. You have things that you have to do and you just do them! She didn’t need to discuss that she was alone in the world. That was just the way it was.

  So, Valeria had learned early to say the right words. A casual, “I’m good” worked well, though it was typically far from the truth.

  She had shared rooms with girls who were mostly scary and stole her possessions, rarely slept, broke most of what they touched, and were overly interested in sex…any kind of sex. When Valeria was fortunate enough to have a room to herself, she had learned to always balance a book on her door-knob to awaken her should someone come to visit during the night.

  Taking her make-up bag to the mirror above the small desk in the entryway, Valeria’s eye caught the blinking light on her answering machine. Why was it that David always left “bad news” calls on her house phone? He knew she never answered it. In fact, she had turned the ringer off since last Friday; her last day at My Secret Garden. Besides, calls on the house phone were typically solicitors. She thought about having the house phone disconnected as she hit the message button. She appraised her face in the mirror. “Valeria, it’s David,” his chalky, smooth voice relayed.

  “I know you’re cancelling again,” she said aloud, as she smoothed her dark curls away from her face. She wasn’t half-bad sometimes, she thought. She dabbed some light blush on her high cheekbones, those she got from her mother, as were most of her looks. Her eyes were long and almond-shaped. With a bit of mascara they looked all right. At least she had a good complexion!

  David’s message went on, “Sorry, dear. I’m afraid I’m flying out today. I was invited to attend a conference in Hamburg tomorrow that looks interesting. Then I’ll be headed back to Prague.”

  Valeria nodded in slight irritation. “Of course, you are!”

  The message went on, “So, obviously, dinner is off…but you could join me?” he asked, hesitantly.

  “No thanks!” Valeria said, as if David could hear her. Why would she choose to sit in a hotel room waiting for him? David was not comfortable with her wandering the streets of foreign countries without being on formal tours or accompanied by him. Then, he would insist that they join all of his new friends, who rarely spoke English.

  David’s voice continued, “I know it isn’t really your thing…Oh, don’t we have something on the calendar for next week? Hmmm...Oh, well. It’ll have to wait.”

  Valeria stared at the answering machine for an instant of almost disappointment. “Yes…my birthday! We were supposed to go away for a week for my birthday.”

  “See you next trip. Love you,” he finished.

  It was amazing to her how he managed to find every international conference with so much ease and he never, ever, missed a business dinner. Yet, he never failed to forget her birthday. Still, she wasn’t too disappointed. She smiled a half-smile, more of a grimace, and saw her dimples coming out—another gift from her mother.

  David did seem pleased with the way Valeria presented herself to his crowd. She had nice table manners—one thing she did learn from her dad—and she knew how to dress appropriately, though that had taken some learning. Pantyhose had always been her nemesis. For the life of her, she could not keep them from running. Her previous wardrobe had consisted of jeans and sweats. And, lastly, David was most pleased because she didn’t make a spectacle of herself by over-indulging in wine, even when it was pushed on her.

  Her life was so much better than what most of the kids who had come from her background would fare. David was a good man, with good intentions. He cared about her. He was kind and handsome and smart and interesting. He liked good food and an occasional show. So what if he wasn’t the most romantic person in the world, or if he occasionally forgot her birthday─the man had to have some faults! Besides, love worked better when you didn
’t expect too much, she thought. Valeria glanced at her copy of Pride and Prejudice. Passion was a fleeting emotion and she was just too common sense to have that kind of love.

  She pulled her camelhair coat from the hook near the door and slipped it on, cinching the belt around her waist. She wrapped a burgundy scarf around her neck, and pulled on her brown, leather gloves. She was all ready to sweet-talk Ramsey at the Waldorf into giving her former company another try. But if he bucked, it was Townsend’s fault. She had done her best to keep the accounts for them.

  Valeria decided to walk since it was so beautiful. It was a long way, but she would take a cab back if she got tired. Staring out from the steps of her brownstone, her tree-lined street never failed to thrill her. She had come a long way in ten years!

  Remembering her childhood, Valeria searched for the moments of light in that sea of darkness. The light overtook the darkness when she had become emancipated at sixteen and was able to move into her own apartment. Well, apartment was a bit of an overstatement. It was more of a hotel room where she could pay her rent weekly. But, it worked. She could sell her floral designs on the weekend and pay her rent the next day. Living on her own had given her a wonderful feeling of freedom.

  The drab studio hadn’t had a kitchen sink or a stove. So, she would cook up hamburger helper in an electric skillet and wash dishes in her bathroom sink. Valeria had loved it! It had been her home and no one invaded her privacy. Well, not usually. She had learned many years before to invest in a baseball bat. Though she had never had to use it, it occasionally came in handy to ward off potential trouble. Like the time when some biker had decided to hide from the police, and used her apartment. Valeria had let him stay until the cops left, keeping the bat in hand all the while. Then, she’d walked him to the door in a friendly sort of way. The biker had taken the hint.

  Walking down her street, Valeria plunged her hands into her pockets and smiled. It was a dream come true to be living on the street she had picked out all those years ago. The street was bound by a few blocks on either side by the Hudson River Greenway and Central Park. Most of the windows had flower boxes and it was always clean. Rarely did you hear someone raise their voice. During the summer, all of the local restaurants would set up tables outside.

  Valeria liked watching people in the restaurants; friends or families would meet and hug and chatter, bright-eyed, for hours, with rarely a lull in conversation. For some reason, Valeria never had those kinds of relationships, not even with Weege—or David, for that matter.

  Sometimes, it would cause her to analyze what was wrong with herself. She didn’t really know how to have that kind of deep friendship or trust—though she didn’t, for an instant, indulge in self-pity. It was merely a distracted curiosity combined with the knowledge that she was different from others.

  Walking along the crowded street, Valeria thought about what she would say to Ramsey. When she had first started dealing with him, he'd been difficult. But in no time at all, he had become one of her favorite clients. Though nothing like him, there was something about the way Ramsey looked that reminded her of her father.

  Crossing into Central Park, she admired the changing colors of the leaves. She cut over to the reservoir and enjoyed the view of the buildings above the lush trees and the calm water. She decided to weave her way through the park to the East Side, and then walk down Park Avenue.

  The sun set the colors of the leaves ablaze in brilliant shades of red and gold. She had to resist collecting them. Her favorite was the gingko leaf─there was something magical about them, she thought. She decided that, because she wouldn’t be too far away, she could enjoy her last cup of coffee at Via Quadronno, one of the best coffee bars in Manhattan. Valeria wondered why she had agreed to taking on Mr. Ramsey’s rage. But then the answer was immediately there—for Weege…and, for the honor of her word.

  She was almost to the east side of Central Park when her phone rang; it was Weege.

  “Hey! Did you already talk to Ramsey?” Weege inquired.

  Valeria glanced at her watch; it was only ten o’clock and Weege had left her place a little over an hour ago. “No, I’m heading over there now. Why?”

  “Evidently, everything is fine. Of course, we have to correct the error. But he’s not pulling the account. So, I’m saving your help for the next time I need it!” Weege commanded.

  Valeria rolled her eyes. She suspected it would be an easy fix this time. She started to turn around to walk back home, but decided to continue over to Via Quadronno for her final cup of coffee.

  CHAPTER 5

  Alex kept his watchful eye on the trail. His heart rose into his throat when he saw the camelhair coat, wrapped at the waist, and her riding boots that matched the color of her long, brown curls. From this distance, he could even see her blue-green eyes. Alex forced himself to start breathing again. She was talking on the phone and laughing, and he couldn’t turn his eyes from her graceful, easy gait.

  He was so enchanted by the sight of her that he didn't realize the crosswalk had flashed green and she had started across 5th Avenue. Then he heard Rosendo’s wolf whistle that would distract her from the danger. Alex’s heart jumped and his feet raced across the pavement, dread creeping in that he was a moment too late. The red Mustang flew around the corner toward her. Valeria saw the car coming and knew it was over, but she faced the end without regret.

  The next thing she knew, she heard what sounded like the crunching of bones and a tearing of cloth or flesh. Then, she was airborne. She found it interesting that she didn’t hurt. This must be what it feels like to be in shock. She was on the ground, but she had landed on something soft. Her knee had lightly scraped the sidewalk. She didn’t feel hurt, but she definitely felt confused!

  Rosendo rushed over. “Miss, are you all right?” As she reached for his hand, she realized someone was underneath her and was holding her with an iron grip. She tried to stand but his arms were still around her. Finally, he released his grip and she rolled off from him. Seeing the scrape on her knee, she thanked God she wasn’t wearing pantyhose. Valeria looked at the Mustang. A young boy sat behind the wheel with his eyes as big as saucers. A slight dent on his car's hood and some scuffed paint on the fender was all that had been damaged. She stared with amazement at the man still lying on the sidewalk, his body trembling slightly.

  “Are you all right?” She knelt, placing her hand on his shoulder. Alex was the one in shock. He had helped her evade death, and he had even held her in his arms for a moment. He wondered how badly she was injured from his delay. He tried to gracefully roll to his feet but failed due to the pain in his rib and knee. He looked her over, relieved that she didn’t seem injured. He saw a slight tear in his leather jacket. The driver of the Mustang continued to stare at them. Alex nodded and waved the boy on. Obviously relieved, the driver obliged.

  Alex tried to rise as if he hadn’t just thrown his whole body into a car and then onto the cement sidewalk. He attempted to ignore what he was certain was a bruised knee and elbow, and possibly a broken rib from careening off the bumper and hood. If he relaxed a moment the knee would be alright.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” His eyes narrowed. “The big question is how are you?” he asked, suddenly aware that he was staring into her eyes for too long.

  “I think I’m okay, thanks to you!” Valeria replied, pulling Rosendo’s arm from hers, while trying to be kind. She offered her hand to Alex, who took it. He winced when he stood; if he had followed his own plan, he wouldn’t be standing here like a wounded boy, moaning over his injuries. And his clothes would still be in good order, too.

  Rosendo, seeing he was no longer needed or wanted, instead saw an opportunity from the gathering onlookers and tempted them to look at his paintings.

  Valeria brushed off her coat and smiled as Alex plucked a leaf from his shoulder. “Well, thank you again. I think you saved my life.” She looked into his face and saw something…not unfamiliar.

  “No big deal.” Alex smiled
.

  Valeria stared for a moment at his dark blond hair, strong jaw line, and full lips. She noticed the build of an athlete—perhaps a runner? And then the sun hit his eyes. They were the most amazing shade, or actually shades, of blue she had ever seen. She took a deep breath and looked away as she realized she was staring. What was wrong with her? She must have hit her head. Subconsciously, she ran her hand over her hair and, feeling satisfied, laughed. Alex noticed the moment when she’d seemed to be appraising him, and had looked down before his eyes betrayed him.

  She felt torn. Valeria wanted to stare into those eyes for just a moment longer. But, she couldn’t do that! She turned away from him, glancing over her shoulder in an attempt at being casual. Then she began walking up 5th Avenue, oblivious as to where she should go.

  “Well, I guess I need to…” She paused, and Alex finished the sentence.

  “Go to breakfast with me,” he enticed.

  Stopping, she smiled. She noticed an uncomfortable feeling in her chest, or was it a glorious feeling? She couldn’t quite decide. It was rude to keep her back to him; he did just save her life.

  Alex sensed Valeria’s confusion and stepped in front of her. He felt the connection again as soon as their eyes met. “Come to breakfast with me!” he said, over anxiously.

  She bit her lip, considering his offer. She couldn’t possibly sit next to him over breakfast without practically drooling. She realized her head was shaking no while the flutter in her heart was pushing her outside of her comfort zone with an unquestionable yes.

  A slight breeze brushed by them, giving a welcome distraction. Alex, noticed her reluctance, and shook his head and mumbled, “Okay, too much! Cool down.” He forced himself to take a deep breath and ran his hands through his tousled, blond hair. His brilliant blue eyes met hers again and she realized she couldn’t look away if she wanted to.