Prologue
The breeze gently blew through the tree, prompting the leaves to dance around, highlighting their autumn brilliance. Sirenity gazed up noticing that one leaf was cascading to the ground ever so slowly, pausing for a brief moment before it continued on its inevitable descent. The leaf gently came to rest next to her feet. Picking it up, she examined the variation of color this fallen shape was displaying.
Blanketing the ground was a colorful patchwork of autumn. Sirenity could not stop herself from spinning around, kicking up the leaves and watching them settle back down. Smiling, she realized that she too was in a transformation that time could not stop. Feeling as pretty as the beauty of the season's changing colors, she experienced exhilaration upon returning to her hometown, even if no one else cared.
Kneeling down, Sirenity gathered as many leaves as her purse could hold. She needed to decorate her new apartment, and what better way than with these transitioning leaves. Her life was about to begin again.
Act 1
The coffee was percolating, as Mabel Jean stood focused on the sound of the gurgling pot. She shut her eyes for a moment to hold back the tears. It had been eighteen years since she saw her child, and each day that passed did not lessen the pain.
Mabel Jean’s hands started to tremble as they always did when she thought of the day her child was out of her life. She carefully poured the coffee, trying not to spill any. However, her hand would not stop shaking, and she dripped a little on the counter. Reaching for the sponge to wipe up her mess, she managed to knock her entire cup of coffee over. “Damn!” The scolding coffee hit her bare feet. Ignoring the burning sensation, she continued to soak up the coffee. Nothing was more painful than her lost child. She refilled her cup, and then she sauntered over to her kitchen table.
That initial sip of coffee always tasted the best, Mabel Jean thought, as she swished the hot liquid around her mouth. Staring out the window, she could see the first flower of fall had opened on her Camellia bush. Although it should not get a bloom until the end of autumn, it always bloomed early. It was bittersweet to observe the beautiful pink flower, which served as a solemn reminder that yet another year had slipped away.
“Oh, Pierce, what am I supposed to do?” Mabel Jean looked to the heavens waiting for the answer. She closed her eyes trying to envision her husband’s face. Instead, all her mind could muster was a black cloud of grief. The regrets about what had transpired overtook her as she lowered her head in shame.
Ring, ring, the phone jolted Mabel Jean back to reality. She sat there with her arms tightly crossed over her chest, and her eyes fixed on the blinking light. Her answering machine clicked on, “Hello, I’m not able to answer my phone, so leave your name and call back number.” Mabel Jean kept listening to the recorder.
“Hi Aunt Mabel, it’s Trent. Just wondering if I can stop by later this morning to clean out your gutters? The weatherman says a big storm will be arriving by early evening. Hit me back on my cell.”
It struck Mabel Jean that every year on the day she lost her child, it rained. Guess the heavens are crying with me, she contemplated as she made her way to a bookshelf in the hallway. Mabel Jean stood frozen in front of the rows of books until finally she broke the ice and allowed her right hand to slowly glide across the spine of each book. Abruptly her hand stopped on the hardback she was searching for. Grasping the novel and retrieving it from its hiding spot, Mabel Jean clung onto the book as she hobbled to the oversized rocking recliner. She relaxed her legs and plopped heavily into the chair. The book rested on her lap because Mabel Jean found herself unable to open it. Before speaking, she shut her eyes tightly, finally able to conjure up her late husband’s face.
“What have we done Pierce? My child is missing, you are dead, and I’m all alone now. You stubborn man!” Mabel Jean yelled at the spirit she felt in her house. Inhaling deeply and then exhaling slowly, Mabel Jean tried to release her resentment.
Sitting motionless with her eyes still closed, Mabel Jean reviewed all the memories inundating her mind. She took notice of each vision as they individually began illuminating the dark corners of her psyche. Ever so slowly, she opened her eyes, revealing to her a ray of sunshine finally breaking through the gloomy rain clouds that were accumulating, ready to release their fury. Dancing within the streak of light were dust particles resembling little fairies in an enchanted forest. Mabel Jean let her imagination take flight when suddenly the room darkened, and the thunder began to roar, rattling the windows.
Briefly, she listened to the rhythm of the rain before opening the book resting on her lap. This was not your ordinary book as there was no story to read. Years ago, she had carefully transformed the book into a hiding place for her precious photos. She meticulously hollowed out the center pages creating a chamber for the pictures that she kept tucked away in this secret sanctuary. She lifted out the neatly tied portraits then pulled on the bow to release them from their bondage, causing them to spill onto her lap. She gazed into the face of the young adult in the photos, a person she would never be able to erase from her mind.
A knock on her front door sent the photos tumbling onto the carpet as Mabel Jean jumped out of her seat. She tried to push them under her chair with her foot as she heard the key turning to unlock the door.
“Good morning, Auntie,” her nephew Trent, cheerfully called out, as he walked through the foyer.
Mabel Jean glanced at the clock. An hour had slipped away. She did not know how the time had passed so quickly.
“Oh Trent, I’m sorry I did not return your call. And, I do appreciate you coming over. Would you like a cup of coffee? I think it’s still pretty fresh.”
“Yes, hot coffee would be nice. Guess the weatherman was wrong, the weather front moved in quicker than he predicted. There’s a break in the storm right now, so I’ll try to get those gutters cleared before the next downpour hits.” Trent really did not want to be out in the rainstorm clearing the muck out of the old gutters, but there was no one else that could do it for her.
One of the pictures was still peeking out from under the chair, so Mabel Jean covered it with her foot.
“Trent dear, can you go check the toilet; I think I hear it running. Jiggle the handle for me.”
The diversion worked, Trent was heading down the hall as Mabel Jean quickly gave the snapshot a shove under the chair.
“The toilet was not running,” Trent said, approaching the living room.
“Must be these old ears of mine. I do hear odd sounds from time to time. I think they call it tinnitus or something.” Mabel Jean was thinking as quickly as her brain would allow. “I’ll go get that coffee now.” She turned, confident the pictures were no longer visible.
Aware that his aunt had used her foot to cover something, Trent knelt down and peered under the chair. He could see a pile of scattered pictures. Reaching under the chair, he pulled one out, carefully examining the person in the photograph. Although he knew he had never seen her before, the uncanny resemblance to his aunt stunned him. The woman in the picture was a younger version of Mabel Jean. Trent heard his aunt making her way back toward the living room and quickly shoved the photo back under the chair.
“Here you go. Hope the coffee is just the way you like it.” Mabel Jean handed Trent the steaming cup of java.
“Oh, this is delicious. Did you use those beans I brought over last time?” Trent was trying to make small talk, aware that today was the anniversary of his cousin’s disappearance.
“Well, actually I blended a few different roasts. I do like to experiment.”
Trent and Mabel Jean stood in the now uncomfortably quiet room. He was unable to think of anything other than the photo and thus could muster nothing to break the silence. His mind was reeling with questions, understanding he should not ask, especially today. He could see in his aunt’s eyes, the despair of the haunting past.
“Well,” Trent said, finally breaking the silence, “let me get to work on those gutters.”
“I’ll get you the keys to the shed.” Turning to walk away, Mabel Jean now knew the photos were not hidden as she had previously thought. She prayed that Trent would not notice them, as she made the sign of the cross.
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