Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
—William Shakespeare, 1564-1616
There he was again sitting on the rock bench in the dead of night with only the bright full moon as a guiding light. He was starring ahead at the ripples on the lake, dancing to the gentle summer breeze. He seemed deep in thought. Curiosity got the better of India India
“Don’t go.”
She stood ridged with shock at the unexpected intrusion in the quiet of night that she almost stumbled in her haste to quicken her step.
He was facing her now. His eyes hooded and in shadow from the overcast moon.
“Please won’t you join me,” he asked
Her eyes darted around searching for a way out. She hadn’t intended to make her presence felt. This very spot had become her safe harbour for weeks. Her sleepless nights drove her on these long walks, where she walked and walked until she was so tired that she would drift off into a dreamless sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. On one of her sojourns, she came across this cosy inlet with a wonderous view where land meets water with beautiful trees and shrubbery scattered about, it didn’t seem too out of place having a park bench so close to the edge of the lake. She liked this time of the year, when the warm summery wind came up of the lake and blew against her long hair, cooling her heated skin and serving as a balm to her restless soul. These walks didn’t improve on her sleep much but it brought her peace and a realisation that there were things far more important and much bigger than her at work.
One day the previous week, she strolled out this way soaking up the restive atmosphere, when she felt a presence. She was standing in exactly the same spot as she was right now, and a shadow moved near the bench, until she realised a man was sitting there in the dark, starring at the lake as he was tonight. She wondered about him. Looking so lost and tormented. He paced awhile and stopped, staring into the depths of the clear water.
Night after night, her feet brought her here, just so she could get a glimpse of this man, who had become so vital to her nocturnal wanderings. Why does he have such a hold on her? What is it about him that draws her to this place, time and again.
“I promise. I mean you no harm,” he said, “Please stay awhile. I just wish for some company.”
He made no move to detain her, but she felt compelled by something stronger than both of them to remain. She wasn’t certain if this was wise, but she was sure it was the right thing because it felt right. Perching on the edge of the bench she clasped her hands together resting them on her legs and starred at nothing in particular.
“Thank you.”
She jumped at the unexpected softness in his voice. It sent shivers down her spine. It was deep and sexy, and filled with heartfelt relief at her acquiescence.
“You’ve been coming here every night.” he stated
“How----- I think I’d better go” she got up ready to leave.
“It is not my intention to harm you. Please believe me,” placing a restraining hand on her arm.
Once she was seated again he continued, “I discovered this area by accident. There is something really special about it. One of God’s Forgotten Wonders. An unspoiled by civilisation. People have lost their appreciation for what’s right here in front of them. They’d rather go in for the highly overpriced and overcrowded Aspen , or French Riveria or the Caribbean . But never to a little unknown place called Forrester’s Crib. The first time I saw it I felt as if something was drawing me here. One day I saw you standing on the edge of the pathway…that reminds me, this is no place for a woman on her own after dark. There is danger-----“
“---when a tree falls on you in the forest and nobody hears your screams”, she put in indignantly, for the first time looking into his starkly handsome face, her fear forgotten, “ it could be dangerous for anyone out on their own at this part of the night.”
“So you agree with me”
“Of course.”
“But a man can-----“
“And a woman doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together to see an oncoming danger and step out of the way of a natural conclusion” she finished, muttering something about smarty pants. “You are something, aren’t you?.”
“.All the better to keep you on your feet.”
“Smart as a whip too.”
“All the better to know you .”
“skeptical.”
“Naturally.”
“Provocative”
“Bring it on.”
When she remembered what she last said, she blushed to the roots of her hair, bending forward so that her hair curtained her face. When she ventured a peek at him, she was surprised because he was laughing . He leaned back against the backrest, his arms resting over the tops and he was laughing, genuinely amused by her predicament. Relaxed he looked so different . So young as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His chiseled features transformed into a-heart-thumping-handsome. His olive green eyes glowing with genuine warmth and mischief. She realised it was contagious, slanting her lips into a smile.
“You are so easy” he mused.
“I’ll have you know------“
He continued guffawing merrily as she began, but decided against it and kept silent instead. He was still chuckling when he held out his hand to her.
“Thank you” he repeated for the second time that night, “I really needed that. I never thought I would feel that good again. You proved me wrong.” Taking her hand he brought it against his chest, and held it there. “I’d sit here each night dreaming up ways to…” he trailed off, realising he was about to reveal much more than he intended. For the first time he gazed directly into her eyes, suddenly stunned into silence. He brought her hand to rest over his other stroking her palm with his forefinger then he placed the gentlest of kisses into it.
The moment he took her hand she was mezmerised by his touch. A sliver of excitement coursed to life as if she had just come into contact with a live wire. The gesture was so comforting yet familiar as if they had done this a thousand times before. Another time in another place, she could see him kneel before her, take her hand place a kiss in it and fold it as if to hold onto it. There was tears in his eyes, pleading with all his love not to say goodbye. Was it him saying his goodbyes or was it her? She couldn’t tell which. In that moment, she was brought back to the present and snatched her hand back. She stood declaring she was leaving. He didn’t try to stop her.
“Will you be here tommorrow?”
“I-I don’t think so.”
Quietly she began moving away from him. She could sense his hesitation, his eyes boring into her back.
“Wait!”
“Let me walk you home?”
“Look Mister! For all I know you could be a mass murderer or an escaped lunatic on holiday. I can take care of myself just fine from here on out. I’ve had plenty of practice. I want…to be…left…alone.” She punctuated.
“Alright! I won’t bother you again.” He returned.
“I-It was nice to meet you.”
“Same here.”
All the while as she walked home, she had a strange feeling that she was being followed, she looked behind her for good measure, but there was no one there. So she just put it down to paranoia through lack of sleep.
That night she slept, she dreamt about a stunning pair of olive-green eyes smiling at her. The dreams were confusing and fragmented. A man dressed in indian attire with a turban atop his head. He was strumming on a miniature guitar, and singing to a woman in a strange language about how much he adores and loves her. Amidst that was roaring flames, hands reaching for her, the words “pyaari”, “my beloved” playing over and over in her mind.
In the cold light of day, these dreams were more fragmented than ever. However, she still felt it had something to do with her. More now than ever. It’s unheard of to have a recurring dream/nightmare night after night after night. Each night she remembers something new as more and more is revealed to her about the central characters. She had decided to call the stranger of last night Mr X, as she hadn’t remembered to ask him his name. She was convinced Mr X was intertwined somehow. She needed answers. But how does one ask these questions when they sounded much to fantastical even to her own ears.
She studied herself in the mirror, she was reasonably easy on the eye. Curves where they were supposed to be, even if a little on the voluptuous side. Her short black hair framed her face, settling on her shoulders. Her skin, a medium brown, flawless and clean of makeup, almond shaped eyelids over tawny coloured eyes, blinking back at her. Her lips heart-shaped yet full. Would Mr X find her attractive, she thought.
She opened her musical box, the most precious thing she owned inherited from her grandmother, she turned the key in the back. Lifting the lid, a sweet melodic tune poured out, a melody she had grown up to, it was a song from a lover to the woman he loved. In the song he told her how much he loved and adored her. She plucked the chain from inside, a silver dove hanging from a thin silver chain. It was a gift from her grandfather on her 21st Birthday, so long ago. He had said the strangest thing at the time, he said that this was a lucky charm, with it her destiny shall unfold, it proved to be anything but lucky, it’s been almost 10 years since her grandfather made that revelation.
She spread the necklace in her palm, rubbing away at the rough surface, as if willing something to happen. Out of nowhere an image flashed in her mind, of a man brushing her hair of her neck, clipping the necklace in place, a familiar hand of the woman, running the silver charm between thumb and forefinger. She lifted it so that it sparkled in the sunlight, the eye of the dove turning blood red, a ruby. It was the identical match to hers. What did it mean? These people dressed in very strange looking costumes, it reminded her of the mini-series, the Far Pavilions. It’s impossible! I haven’t been in any place that required one to wear this attire; I don’t even know the language. How did I understand it so well? This beautiful precious necklace proved to be another clue to her hazy memories. She released the trinket into the box so fast, as if it had appeared to singe her fingers. She made a mental note to call her grandfather later on to ask him about the necklace.
First, she decided, she was refusing to mope around anymore, like a mindless zombie. She was going out, and she was going to treat herself to something good.
By she realized she had made a mistake, in trying to forget the past few weeks, and the memories that have been crowding in on her. Everywhere she went, everything she touched reminded her of something that she should remember but can’t quite get a handle on.
She made an impulse purchase of a deep red dress. Her grandmother always said that the colour red is for good luck, and that not many people can carry of the colour red, but she could. She definitely could do with some luck right now though. She had the vaguest idea that Mr. X would like it. Where did that come from? He was constantly on her mind of late. Sure, he was charming and good-looking in the old fashioned way. He would look very regal in one of those Punjab costumes. She shivered at that thought. This was too weird. He was too much of a mystery, one she was definitely not going to unravel.
She took an afternoon nap before her evening stroll through the lakeside. The memory of an astute pair of eyes drawing her into its depths, ones belonging to the stranger. There was a world of sadness in his eyes, and a heart-wrenching loneliness that stole around her heart. She wanted very much to reach out to him, and hold on until his despondent look disappeared. She was too caught up in her own misery though, to give him more than a passing thought.
Feeling refreshed from her nap, she adorned her new purchase, the spandex top fitted snuggly across the swell of her upper body ,the skirt swirled around her ankles, soft and flowing. Turning to the mirror to admire herself, she admitted she did look good.
She knew he was there, even before he arrived on the scene. It was like having built-in radar where he was concerned. She refused to admit that all this, this dress, this being here was only for him, she had just realised how much she wanted to see him again.
“Good Evening” Mr. X said, gesturing to the bench, “May I?”
“She shrugged “It’s a free country.”
He was wearing a black jeans today, accompanied with a red cotton shirt, cool and comfortable. He somehow seemed more approachable than before. He was smiling ever so slightly, but smiling nonetheless.
“You look lovely.”
“Thank You” The compliment, unexpected warmed her all the way down to her toes that she felt like curling them and purring.
“Are you well?” His hot chocolatey voice making her shiver.
“Yes. Never better.”
“I don’t think so” he said shaking his head.
“ How presumptuous!” stiffening her spine, as she said this. ‘You don’t know me. You don’t know the first thing about me!? “ tossing her head back to remove the hair falling in her eyes, “WHAT-DO-YOU-THINK-YOU-KNOW? I didn’t spend much more than 5 minutes with you? You think you know me? What do you know?” She punctuated the air with a finger to emphasise her point.
“I know that you are frustrated. Confused. You want answers to questions you never thought you had.”
:And what is the question I’m thinking about now?” she asked.
“You want me to give you a reason to leave” she tensed in fear and retaliation. “You want to know where the hell is the night guard when you needed one.”
“ Most like dozing off on duty” she laughed uneasily “or across the road at 4X4 Cafe getting donuts and coffee.”
“Aren’t you mistaking him for a policeman?”
“You watch too much TV.”
He laughed out loud. The somber face lighting up. Watch out girl, she chastised herself, you are going to fall for this handsome face big time, and what are you going to do then.
“What’s your name?”
“Joseph.”
“Like the carpenter. In the Bible. A good solid name.”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, a voice in his head said, A honest job for an honest Joe.
That should have been his comeback.
“Just like in the Bible. I build things.”
“Things?” she asked
“Furniture” he said with a growl
“Like your namesake” she said with a smile
“We only supply by special order to a select market.”
“Of course. The Rich and Famous you mean.”
“I wouldn’t have put it quite like that.”
She laughed to herself. “ In 170 years, you still haven’t changed a bit. You always did like to work with your hands.”
“WHAT-DID-YOU-SAY?” His jovial attitude dissipated like the sunset into the night sky, stars twinkling above their heads, Joseph grabbed her by the shoulders, in a punishing grip. “What did you just say?” he persisted.
Pure unadulterated terror struck her heart. “L-Liked working with y-your h-hands?” His demeanor confusing and frightening her, she tried squirming out of his hold, in vain. “Please.”
In a sudden realisation, he let her go, she stumbled backwards.” You said in 170 years I hadn’t changed.” He looked formidable yet, uncertain. “Why would you say something like that?”
“Did I say that?” surely she couldn’t have. ”I can’t remember why.”
He seemed to have lost interest in what she was saying because he was glaring at something else with such intensity. “Where did you get this from?” as he lifted the chain onto his fingers.
“It was a gift from my grandfather.”
“It’s very old…..isn’t it?”
“When my grandfather gave it to me, he said it was to remind me of where I came from. Odd, because I was born here at Forester’s Crib. It once belonged to the Pride of India, House of Mantra.”
“The Maharani of Aster.” He needed to know.
Yes. How---“ Her mind was working overtime. Questions and questions and more questions. How did a carpenter have such an intimate knowledge of jewelry , especially this necklace, let alone about a little kingdom in India that existed a long time ago far beyond the reaches of the rest of the world, if it still exists at all. When her grandfather told her the story, she put it down to a fairy tale. Her grandfather saw a story to tell in everything. The way he questioned her, and the knowledge he gained, his face registered a truth as if he was reliving something, and what she said wasn’t just a story but very real indeed. He was still staring at the necklace, floored by the reality of it.
She cupped the chain, hiding it from prying eyes. “I must go.”
He grasped her hand gently, turning her around to face him. “ I didn’t mean to scare you. Ancient pieces of jewellery is a hobby of mine. It’s my business to know.” Smiling, he searched her face reassuringly. “I own quite a few pieces of old jewellery too. Maybe I will show them to you sometime. Now I’m afraid it’s for you to return the favor.”
Wide-eyed she wanted to know . “Favor?”
“I told you who I was” He was waiting in expectation, waiting as if he was hoping for a revelation.
“India
The following day, India
She must have fell asleep because the next minute she heard, a splintering crash of glass, and the door being kicked in, by an intruder. She didn’t get very far because she was bodily hauled over a shoulder, and dumped on the green lawn out front, a blanket covered her body. India
“What happened?” she finally managed to ask.
“There was a fire. Your kitchen was burning down.” He put it simply.
“Never saw eggs cause a fire before” she smiled through the heavy soot on her face, then berated herself “Me…careless.”
“SShhh! You’re alright. The kitchen needs a paint job, maybe black if you decide to try your hand at cooking again. Thank God you are alright.” He shook her. “Don’t you dare give me a fright like that again.” He ran his hands up and down her body to reassure himself that everything was as it should be.
The car purred to life, backing out of the yard, his other arm around India, making sure she was there and alive. He thought he heard her say “Mmmmmm.” and her body fell limp against him.
She was fighting to stay alive but the flames where thicker and growing nearer and nearer, it was licking at her skin. She was shouting for Joseph to help her to make it stop. She didn’t want to die. Rivers of tears were streaming down his face, helpless to help her, he didn’t want for them to end this way but, if they were not going to be together in life, in death they will have all of eternity with each other. He drew her to him, huddling together, he cupped her face in his hands, so that she wouldn’t look at the flames burning at their clothes. “ I will love you forever, my rani. My heart will be yours once again, my beloved.” He crushed her body closer, as the heat engulfed them, and their cries were no more.
Her cries of terror brought Joseph sprinting up the stairs, he was beside her in a moment, holding her and rocking her until she quieted. He held like that all through the night, remembering his own visions of the damned. Tears rolled down his face at what she was seeing, at what she was feeling, and he was helpless to ease her pain, yet again. He vowed he would do everything in his power to make her feel whole again.
When she came to, she was in a strange room, on a strange bed with no recollection of how she got there. It seemed kitsch to ask, where she was when she was obvious not in her own house. Her last memory was of someone saying her kitchen was burning down. Joseph! Her kitchen! She bounced out of bed, her feet flying down the stairs, she crashed into a solid body on her way down.
“Whoa! What are you doing out of bed?
“My kitchen? My House. On Fire.” Trying to push past him
“It’s ok. I put out the fire with the fire extinguisher by the kitchen door.” He assured her.
She sagged against him relieved, allowing her to carry her back to the bedroom. He was just about to pull the covers over her when she bolted upright. “
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Silly Girl. I always knew from the first moment I set eyes on you.” He said with a smile.
“You followed me!” she accused
“Don’t say it like it was a crime. Aren’t you thankful that I did.” He urged.
“I guess” she muttered, looking down at the squares and triangles print of the duvet. She thought how masculine it looked. “What did you want to see me about?”
Coming Soon......
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