Through the Rose Gate...Chapters One and Two
Page 1
THROUGH THE ROSE GATE
Chapters One and Two
of
Book One
of
The Genus Rosa Society
Series
By
Janette Payton
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Through the Rose Gate
Copyright © 2010
by
Janette Payton
Thank you for reading this eBook. You are welcome to download it for personal use. This book may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for any other purposes.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, to places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are fictitious and from the author’s imagination.
*****
"Only a life lived in the service to others is worth living.”
Albert Einstein (1879-1955
Prologue
Diane had never run so fast in her life—but she had never been so afraid in her life. It was dark outside, except for the old streetlights, which did not produce much light. All the businesses downtown were closed—there were no cars moving on the street. The sweat running down her forehead, mixed with the tears in her eyes, made it even more difficult to see.
She was hoping to find somebody who could help her. But she was completely alone…..except for them…..
Chapter One
Home Base
While some teenagers hate being around their parents, Diane Eldreth was just the opposite and loved spending time with hers. And now her parents were going away for a very long time. Alan, her father, often described by others as tall, dark, and handsome, was her greatest hero—Daddy with a capital D.
Diane cried softly as she clung to him.
“Now Diane…..” Alan chided as he gave her a big hug. “Try not to be sad. You’re going to have a wonderful time here. Besides, you’ll have all of us crying. Then I won’t be able to see to drive the car.”
“Oh Daddy,” she whimpered. But as she looked up into Alan’s tender face, Diane relented somewhat, although tears continued to stream down her face. “OK. I know what you’re going to say. And you’re right. We did talk about this.”
“That’s my girl,” said Alan, as he released Diane from the hug.
As she turned to her mother, Diane could see the tears in Selene’s eyes—eyes that looked so much like her own. In fact, Selene looked like an older version of her daughter. Alan sometimes teased Diane by calling her his “Selene Clone.” Diane, at fourteen, was already five feet seven—only an inch shorter than Selene. Mother and daughter had athletic physiques and the long, slender legs of runners. Their hair was naturally blonde and curly—cut just below the jaw line, and their piercing blue eyes seemed even more so because of their flawless tanned complexions. Adding to their charm was the fact that they seemed to be unaware of their beauty.
“Mom, I’m going to miss you like crazy, but please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. You and Daddy just make sure you take care of each other and come back safely when your job is finished.”
“We will, darling. And you take care of yourself too,” her Mom said as she gently pushed the hair off Diane’s forehead. “Try not to give your grandparents any trouble,” she joked as she managed a feeble smile. “We’ll call you and email you as often as we can. We’ll also send you some snail mail when we can. We know how much you love real letters.” The two hugged for several seconds and kissed each other on the cheek. “Sweetie, your Dad and I are so proud of you.”
“We’ll call you when we arrive at the airport in Charleston,” promised Alan as he walked toward the driver’s side of the car. “We’ll call again when we get to Brazil. Remember that we love you, honey. Now say good-bye to your Mom. We really have to leave now. If we miss this flight, we’ll miss the connection for Brazil.”
Diane reluctantly let her parents get into the car and joined her grandparents, Cybele and Philip Sidney, on the porch. They had already said their goodbyes and had given Diane and her parents some space to make their farewells. They knew from experience that this separation would be difficult for them.
With Cybele and Philip flanking her, Diane watched with apprehension as her parents’ rental car backed out of the driveway and headed down Main Street toward the airport. She was used to being separated from one or the other parent for brief periods of time as they went on short trips as part of their work, but this time she would not see either of them for at least a year. Diane knew the importance of their work, but also knew she would miss them desperately.
Her parents were members of a team that would travel deep into the jungles of Brazil to work with a recently discovered indigenous tribe. During their family meeting the decision had been made for Diane’s parents to go without her this time, since they did not know what difficulties they might encounter. They further agreed that Diane should stay in their home town, Rosemont, with Cybele and Philip. Diane liked the idea, since she had always thought of Rosemont as her personal home base. As much as she loved it here, she still dreaded being away from her parents.
Usually Diane saw her grandparents two or three times a year for short visits—either when they had visited out in the field or when Diane and her parents were in Rosemont on furlough. She was happy with the prospect of spending more time with Cybele and Philip—time they would not normally have together. She felt very comfortable with them. In fact, she loved and admired her grandparents as much as she loved and admired her parents.
Cybele and Philip were bon vivants—with the same love for life and the same religious and philosophical beliefs. They were the same age—born only months apart—members of the greatest generation. They had never been separated for more than a few days at a time, except for the time of the last great war—World War II. Philip had joined the Army as soon as he turned eighteen in 1945—the last year of the war—and was assigned to a medical battalion as a medic. Although Philip had been gone not quite a year, the separation was torture for both of them. Cybele had waited for Philip at home, in Rosemont with her parents, and had written to him at least once each day. Philip had written just as often and also mailed home photographs and other war memorabilia. As soon as Philip returned, they had married and had gone away together—as planned—to undergraduate and graduate school. Since their separation during the war they tried not to be apart any more than absolutely necessary.
They were both professional artists and owned Sidney Gallery which they had designed and built next to their house—after many years of dreaming about it and planning exactly how it should be. The studio had two stories—the lower level for larger sculptures and paintings—the upper level for smaller sculptures and smaller drawings, paintings, and Giclee’ prints.
For her painting studio, Cybele had redesigned a large upstairs room in the house. Philip’s sculpture studio, designed and built by him, was a separate twenty-five hundred square foot building behind the house. There he produced artwork in all types of metal, wood, clay, and mixed media.
The Sidney estate, Cybele’s ancestral home, sat on ninety-two acres on the edge of Rosemont in the oldest section of town—The Oaks. Cybele had been an only child and had inherited the property. The largest estate in the area, there was ample acreage for the gallery, plenty of parking for visitors, Philip’s studio, an indoor lap pool connected to a large greenhouse, plus several outdoor gardens and orchards. In keeping with their philosophy of environmental preservation, some of the acreage had been left in its natural state, with fields of wildflowers, woods, and streams.
There were walking and biking paths throughout the estate with sculptures, benches, and tables placed in interesting and scenic locations throughout the estate.
Named Magnolia by Cybele’s ancestors, the estate had numerous magnolia trees on the grounds, some of which were quite old. Most were the magnificent Magnolia Grandiflora evergreens native to the area, also called Southern Magnolia or bull bay, which begin blooming in late spring. After the dogwood trees dropped their petals, the stately flowers of the magnolias soon followed. Prominently and proudly displayed at the gated entrance was a sign that read Sidney Gallery and Magnolia at The Oaks—1709.
The Oaks was named for its famous trees—Southern Live Oaks that had grown there for over two hundred years—some for three to five hundred years. Most of the oak trees were draped with graceful Spanish moss, which gave the area even more ambience. Everyone who lived in The Oaks—sometimes called the landed gentry by the locals—had been born in Rosemont and owned all of the businesses in town. Their ancestors had founded the town in 1709—long before the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
Large three-and-four-story houses, each of which was on a parcel of land of two to four acres, lined both sides of Main Street in the main section of The Oaks closest to downtown. Each estate was fenced and gated with a sign