Dragon’s Head Village: Hermonia and the Dragon part 4

Hermonia was suddenly wide awake and staring expectantly at her grandparents. 

“I can only imagine how exciting and scary it must have been for Norman to talk to Buttercup for the first time.” Roland said, still in awe of the fact all these years later.

“He said that it was thrilling like the first time you do something you desperately want to do but are scared to do all at the same time.  Do you want to hear about that first conversation?”

Hermonia was bobbing her head so vigorously it would easy to believe that her head would fall off.  Her face was upturned and all of her attention was focused on Rachel.

“Norman stood there, warming from the sun and trying very hard not to stare at Buttercup.  She was beautiful and dangerous but Norman knew no fear, only a sense of contentment that he had never felt before in his life.”

Buttercup decide to break the ice and her deep rumble was warm and filled the meadow with the sound of her voice, “What made you decide to stand on that cliff today Norm and why are you so different than the other two-legged creatures like you?”

Norm looked at Buttercup and thoughtfully answered, “I have never been scared of dragons but I’m not sure why that is.  Today when all my family and the villagers went to hide in their homes I decided I was tired of hiding and so I went to the cliff.  I don’t think my family or the villagers would even notice if I had fallen off the cliff.”

Norm saw Buttercup arch an eyebrow when he said this, “Why would the people in your village not miss you?”

“Because they do not understand me, they call me Norman the Strange.  I plan on leaving the village as soon as I can.  I want to explore the world and learn all that I can.  I want to live my life not hide because others don’t understand me.”

And with those words Norman started to cry, great big heavy sobs filled with raw emotion.  Buttercup, for the first time she could remember, felt helpless.  The tiny creature was in great pain and all she wanted to do was ease his pain.  She waited until his tears were spent and then she spoke, “Would you like to fly away with me and together we can explore the world?”

Norman heard her softly spoke question rumble through the trees and he nodded his head in agreement without a second thought.  “No one will miss me.  I will miss my family but they don’t understand me and don’t know what to do with me.”

Buttercup listened and waited patiently.  Time and experience had taught her that dragons needed to work problems out for themselves and she assumed that same principle applied to tiny two-legged creatures too. 

“I would love to go with you Buttercup for as long as you would have my company.”  Norman said with all the sincerity and earnestness that comes with being seven years old.  As he said this, the tears disappeared and a lightness and joy entered his eyes and heart.  He knew that he had just made the right decision.

Norman ran to Buttercup and flung himself around her neck.  His small arms not even coming close to encircling her neck but he hugged her with all the love and longing in his body.  Buttercup let him hug her and she too knew a measure of peace and contentment she had never experienced herself.

“Whenever you want, climb up and we’ll be off.” Buttercup said softly.  And before she had finished speaking, Norman was climbing up and snuggled into his spot on her long beautiful neck.

Hermonia stared up at Rachel, a far way look in her eyes.  “Grammy then what happened?”

“That my darling girl, is for another day.  It is lunch time and you need a nap.  I promise we will share more stories about Great Grandaddy Norman as you grow up.  Now climb up onto Grandaddy’s shoulders, and lets go home.”

Hermonia scrambled up onto Roland’s shoulders and the three of them walked back to the house.  Roland felt Hermonia squirm on his shoulders and twist her little body as she waved goodbye to the skeleton of Buttercup.

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Dragon’s Head Village: Hermonia & the Dragon, part 3

“Grammy are you pulling my leg?  Did Buttercup really fly to Great Grandaddy Norman?  What did she say? Wait is Buttercup a she? What did he say?”  Hermonia was squirming in excitement and eagerness.  Her emerald green eyes flashing with unanswered questions.

“Hold on, I’m getting to that.  All in good time my sweet.” replied Rachel ruffling the blonde hair of her only grandchild.

Hermonia sat back on her heels and tried to wait patiently for the story to continue.  Rachel and Roland could feel her interest and excitement rolling off her in waves. 

Roland resumed telling the story and Hermonia focused all her attention on him.  “Norman simply stared in stunned silence as Buttercup approached.  As you can imagine, the size of the dragon was many times larger than that of a seven year old.  He waved and couldn’t help but smile in return when Buttercup dipped her head in return of the gesture, being sure to keep her movements to a minimum to prevent harming the tiny creature in front of her.”

“And then like all intelligent, exuberant, excitable, and eager youngsters all the questions Norman had for the beautiful creature in front of him started to spill out all at once.  Buttercup, being a dragon after all, didn’t speak the same language and she simply let the questions and words flow over her like air rushing over her head when she was flying around.  Norman didn’t seem to know that there was a language problem nor did he stop to consider how odd the situation was a seven year old talking to a dragon over looking the sea.”

“Grandaddy, how did Buttercup understand Norman?” Hermonia’s tone was serious, completely baffled by the language barrier.

“It seems that Buttercup was amazing at learning new languages and after listening to your great grandaddy speak non-stop for a couple of minutes she could understand him.  When Norman paused to take a deep breath he got the shock of his life when he heard Buttercup speak to him.”

“Buttercup,” spoke the dragon.  Her voice was deep and rumbled.

Her breath washed over Norman like a warm summer breeze, instantly warming him.  This was the best day of his entire life.  If nothing else ever happened to him, Norman knew that today was going to be the greatest day he ever experienced.  “My name is Norman, you can call me Norm.  I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.  I have so many questions but I have watched you all my life and I think you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hermonia’s eyes were quickly sneaking glances at the skeleton just behind her.  The large skull looked terrifying to her, although she was never scared when she looked at it.  Hermonia wondered what she had looked like when she was alive and flying around.

Roland looked at Hermonia and knew the time had come to describe the dragon.  “By this time, the villagers had begun to come out of their houses and looked around the village.  One of the children suddenly screamed and pointed and all the eyes of the village followed the trembling finger of the child.  The eyes of the village were all shocked at what they saw, Norman the Strange was having a conversation with a dragon!”

”Norman the Strange?  Grandaddy that is mean.”  Hermonia’s voice was filled with hurt and outraged at long forgotten hurts.

“I know precious but that’s what the villagers called him.  He said it never bothered him and I believed him.  He knew he was different than the people around him and so their cruel words didn’t hurt him.”

“You knew Great Grandaddy Norman?”  she shrieked.  She sprang to her feet and began dancing about before flinging herself at Roland.

“I meet him several times before Grammy and I were married.  In fact, he danced at our wedding all those years ago.”  Roland’s voice was peaceful and fond.

“He was a wonderful man Hermonia.  We will tell you all about him later.  This story is about Buttercup and Norman’s first meeting remember?” 

Hermonia nodded her head in acknowledgement and settled into Rachel’s lap to continue listening to the story.  Rachel resumed the story, her voice low and rhythmic.

“The villagers just stared at the site before them, the huge dragon and the strange boy from the village that none of them understood.  The pair on the cliff seemed oblivious to the pointing and terror of the villagers, and truth be told, neither of them cared.”

“Beautiful?” Buttercup rumbled in response, confusion evident in her voice.

“It means I think you are lovely to look at and are incredibly majestic in flight.”  Norman said sincerely and almost reverently.

“It is difficult for me to talk to you here without knocking you into the sea.  Would you like to go for a ride and we can talk someplace else?”  Buttercup quizzed.

“Norman vigorously shook his head in agreement and when Buttercup lowered her head he eagerly climbed on and settled down behind her neck.  He hung on for dear life and was overjoyed when he felt the wind begin to rush past his face.  The large wings of Buttercup easily soared through the air climbing ever higher into the sky until she reached gliding height.  But as soon as Buttercup started to glide, high above the clouds our of reach and sight of any villages below, she felt the tiny creature clinging to her neck begin to shiver uncontrollably.”

Hermonia shivered in sympathy and tried to burrow deeper into Rachel’s lap.  Rachel wrapped her arms around her and Hermonia instantly settled and resumed listening.

“Buttercup aimed her large head at the speck of land far below the clouds.  Her large wings made quick work of the vast distance and soon she was coming in for a landing in a large sun drenched meadow.  Buttercup lowered her head and Norm climbed down and stretched his limbs.  He was chilly but flying had been so exciting.  Looking down on clouds, knowing he was far above the villagers that didn’t understand him was peaceful. Norm sat down and looked at Buttercup.  She had laid down curled into a ball, much like Norm’s cat back in the village, with her head on her front legs looking up at Norm expectantly.”

“Grammy, what did Buttercup look like?”

“Well, Grandaddy said that she was the color of a pale yellow sunrise with eyes the color of the sea.  Her wings were streaked with orange and rose making it look like her wings were streaks of fire staining the sky when she flew.  Her face was a beautiful yellow and cream color.  Grandaddy said that Buttercup was the single most beautiful creature he had ever seen, with the exception of your Great Grammy and his children and grandchildren.”

“Grammy,” Hermonia’ voice was slightly reverent with awe and slightly sleepy, “Buttercup sounds like a princess.”

“Well, my sleepy sweet, she was in fact the oldest of the dragon’s so I guess that is a kind of princess isn’t it?’

Hermonia sprang from Rachel’s lap, “I will not go to sleep until I know what Buttercup and Great Grandaddy Norm talked about.  Imagine Grammy, talking to a dragon!”

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Dragon’s Head Village: Hermonia & the Dragon part 2

Hermonia raced ahead, forgetting all sense of caution in her eagerness for the story behind the village.  Her grandparents followed at a more sedate pace, knowing that her exuberance wouldn’t cause her any harm and would burn off some of excited energy coursing through her small frame.

“Well Rachel, did you think we would be sharing this story with Hermonia so soon?” Roland asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“To be honest, given Hermonia’s intelligence and curiosity I am only surprised it has taken this long because they haven’t lived here until now.  There is something very special about that child Roland, over time it will reveal itself I’m sure.”

Roland slipped his hand into his wife’s and smiled his acknowledgment and agreement at her.  They had been married for over forty years, words were not always necessary between them. 

They stepped out the front door and found Hermonia sitting on the front step having a very earnest conversation with a daisy.  Unwilling to interrupt and knowing she would follow almost immediately, they set off for the head of the dragon. 

Hermonia watched her grandparents stroll off and resumed her conversation with the daisy.  “I’m very sorry Daisy fairy but I have to go hear about the dragon.  I’ve waited ever so long and I must know how the dragon came to be here.”

Hermonia’s head was bent low over the daisy clutched in her hand and any passerby would have sworn the child was listening to the flower talk to her and bobbing her head in response to what the daisy told her.  Hermonia carefully set the daisy down and waved goodbye to the flower before skipping ahead to catch her grandparents.

Rachel and Roland had come to a stop at the base of the dragon’s jaw.  The immense size of the skeleton dwarfing the couple in comparison.  The blue sky and clouds above and the shadows of flying birds danced on the skeletal remains of the dragon. 

“Grammy will you please tell me the story of the dragon now?”  Hermonia asked politely as she skipped into her grandfather’s legs and promptly landed on her rear.

Roland scooped her up and placed her on his shoulders in one easy and fluid motion.  “Hermonia, please meet Buttercup.”

“Grandaddy, Buttercup isn’t the proper name for a dragon!”  The outrage in her voice was sincere.  “Dragon’s have properly terrifying names like Flammel or Anger.  Who ever heard of a sweet dragon named Buttercup?”

“I assure you Hermonia, that Buttercup was the name of this dragon.  Now do you want to hear the story or are you going to pick on the dragon because of her name?”  Roland sounded terse but the smile on his face belied the tone of his voice.

“I’m sorry, please tell me the story of Buttercup.”  There was a sense of awe and wonder in her voice.

“Very well then,” began Rachel still holding Roland’s hand.  “Buttercup was very old dragon when she first met your great grandfather when he was a little boy, not much older than you.  He would see her flying above the village where he lived and unlike the rest of the villagers he never ran away in fear.  He was fascinated with the dragon that came, flew about but never did any harm.”

Rachel’s voice was strong as she retold the story as it had been passed on through the family.  “Your great grandfather,”

”What was his name?” interrupted Hermonia.

“Norman and he lived in a village by the sea.  Norman grew up knowing only fear of those in his village.  There were other dragons about in those days and these dragons were not kind creatures.  In fact, they did not like people much at all and routinely set about destroying villages.   Norman was never afraid of dragons though and for this reason he wasn’t much liked by the people in his village.”

“But what about his family?  Surely they loved great grandaddy Norman!”  her voice was filled with indignation at the very idea that someone could not love a member of her family.

“I’m sad to tell you Hermonia the Fair that even his family didn’t care for him overly much.  Thus, Norman grew up quite alone surrounded by the village but that never seemed to bother him.  One day, it was quite a cloudy and cold day, Norman heard the villagers screaming and fleeing into their houses.  He went outside to see what he could see.”

“What did he see?  I bet it was Buttercup wasn’t it?”

Roland smiled and squeezed Rachel’s hand.  “Well, young lady I guess since you are going to guess the whole story maybe Grammy and I should just let you tell it?”

“Oh Grandaddy don’t be a silly goose, I can’t tell it yet.  I don’t know all of it.”  Her reply was serious and her face alight with the possibilities awaiting Norman and Buttercup.

Rachel, squeezing Roland’s hand in return, continued, “Norman decided he was going to go talk to the dragon and thus he ran for the highest point in the village a cliff overlooking the ocean.  He ran as fast as his legs would go and scrambled up the hillside to the top.  Out of breath he stood there very still, waiting.  He could hear the sea crashing against the rocks below him and the sound of the dragon’s wings.  He was afraid but he was more curious than scared and so he remained.”

“Buttercup had never understood why the creatures on two legs ran from her every time she flew near one of their villages.  She knew other dragon’s hated the two legged creatures that hunted her kind but she was interested to know more about them.  She was an old dragon, shunned by her own kind because of her gentle and curious nature.  The other dragons would go on raiding parties and destroy whole villages for sport but Buttercup never participated.  Now, there were fewer dragons and more two legged creatures in the world and Buttercup could no longer contain her thirst for knowledge.  She had always been drawn to the village by the sea and so she returned once again and then she spotted the young child high on the cliff overlooking the sea waving to her.”

“He waved to her?  How did he know the dragon would be friendly?”  Hermonia had a lot of questions and Roland slipped her from his shoulders and sat her down on the grass.  He and Rachel sat down too.

“Well, what is the one thing you do when you want to talk to someone you don’t know for the first time and are a little bit scared to talk to them?”  Roland asked.

Hermonia thought about this quite a long time before answering, “I wave to them hoping they wave back.  So, you think Great Grandaddy Norman wanted the dragon to wave back to him?”

“Wouldn’t you?”  Roland responded watching the emotions dance across her face.  She was thinking about the question quite seriously.  “Never mind, you can answer later.  How about Grammy continues to tell you about Buttercup.?”

Hermonia shook her head yes, turning her dancing emerald green eyes to Rachel.  “Buttercup saw the wave and immediately flew over to the cliff, being careful to approach the cliff from the sea so that the power of her wings didn’t knock the tiny creature from the cliff into the sea.”

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Tales from Dragon’s Head Village: Hermonia & the Dragon

The smells of her mother baking wafted into Cathaliana’s bedroom, gently waking her from a sound sleep.  The combined smells of baking pastry and brewing tea was inviting and Catha roused herself from her warm bed.  She slipped into her slippers and a robe and made her way into the kitchen, where she found her mother sipping a cup of tea while watching the various pots and pans bubbling and steam on the stove.

Catha kissed her mother’s check and poured herself a cup of tea, quickly adding sugar and cream to the cup before sitting down across from her mother.  Rachel MacTavish was a small slip of a woman who’s fragile looks belied the strength of character and the unbendable will she possessed.  Her hair was pale gold flecked with white, braided into two tails that where pinned up on her head.  Her pale green eyes twinkled and danced, reflecting the light of the room. 

“So Mom, what’s the plan for the day?”  Catha inquired as she slipped into a chair next to her mother.

“Well, I am assuming that you and your family are going to find some place in the village to live today.  While you are out looking with Jonas, I’m going to entertain my delightful grandchild with tales of the village.”

Catha smiled, her mother’s face was alight with joy now that they had shared the news they were moving back into the village.  Catha missed her family and friends here in Dragon’s Head and knew that her connection to the village could not be replaced elsewhere. Jonas had assured he that he didn’t care what village they lived in, so long as Catha was content and happy then he was over the moon with joy.

Catha sipped her tea and watched the lights dance over the surfaces of her mother’s kitchen.  The yellows, oranges and roses of the growing light of dawn bathed the kitchen in warm, inviting hues reminding Catha of her mother’s ever flourishing rose garden out back.  A small smile flickered across her face recalling fond memories of her mother trying to find places in the house for the mass of roses every summer. 

Rachel caught the smile and knew what memory Catha was recalling, oh how she missed having her daughter close and she was so very happy that they had decided to settled her in Dragon’s Head.

“Well, I hear the rest of the house stirring so I guess this lovely interlude is over for today Mom.”  Catha said, as Rachel slipped from her chair to slid the freshly baked cinnamon rolls from the oven.  “Those smell amazing!  I had almost forgotten how magical your cinnamon rolls were.”

Rachel laughed, “Once a week, every week you know that and you are always welcome to be here when they come out of the oven.”

The early morning sounds of a full house permeated the house for the next hour.  Laughter, the clatter of silverware, and the giggling sounds of Hermonia passed between her adoring grandparents.  Emerging from their guest room, Catha and Jonas were dressed for a day of trying to secure their future homestead. 

Hermonia exploded from the bedroom dressed in pink from head to toe and toddling over and throwing herself into her grandmother’s open arms.  “Dragon!” she demanded.  Rachel laughed, ruffled the blonde hair of her first grandchild and seemed to contemplate the idea of a dragon.

Hermonia, a precocious three year old with emerald green eyes, blonde hair that naturally fell into ringlets framing her chubby face, knew that there was something special about her grandparents.  She hadn’t figured it out yet but she had already determined to learn those secrets today.

“Grammy please can we go see the Dragon’s head now?  I want to hear all about it and about the dragon.  Mummy said that our family has a special connection to the dragon.  What is it?  She said you would tell me?”  Hermonia’s questions were rapid fire and asked with the intensity that can only come from an inquisitive, intelligent, and exuberant three year old. 

Rachel smiled over Hermonia’s head at her husband Roland.  “What do you think Roland?  Should we indulge Hermonia’s curiosity or should we go for boat ride instead and picnic somewhere?”

Roland looked up and meet his wife’s eyes, “I think a boat ride sounds like a find idea.  Let me go get…”

Roland was interrupted by the insistent tugging of his pants leg by Hermonia’s small hand.  “Grandaddy, please no tell Grammy we have to go learn about the dragon today.  I have to know.”  Her voice was pleading, her three year old impatience for knowledge exceeding her ability to discern when the adults were teasing her.

“Alright, Princess Hermonia the Fair today we shall learn all about the dragon while your parents are out and about.”

Hermonia’s smile was beaming and she eagerly ran for her coat and shoes.  Her impatience was catching and her indulgent grandparents followed. “Are you sure she won’t be too much of a handful?” Jonas asked.

Roland answered, “Not at all, she is a handful but in the best possible way.  Now go, good luck and try and enjoy yourselves.”

 

(*Stories from Dragon’s Head Village inspired by this artwork by Chris Ostrowski.)

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Jane and the Letter, Part 3

Curious now, Jane picked up the letter and unfolded it with some delicacy.  She knew it wasn’t fragile but somehow Jane instinctively treated the letter as if it were a newly blossomed rose.  As the letter opened, Jane smiled at the familiar handwriting.  Jane often received letters and postcards from Eliza on her travels and gardening accomplishments.

Jane signed and took a sip of her Merlot.  Eliza was Fred’s great aunt and one of Jane’s favorite family members.  Eliza and Jane were frequent pen pals, Eliza never having grown comfortable with the laptop or email account.

My dearest Jane,

I hope this letter arrives to find you, Fred, and the children healthy and flourishing.  Please give them my love. 

I know this letter and the news of my passing has caught you unawares.  I have every faith that my passing was on an adventure and not the result of sitting on my bum at home twiddling my thumbs.

Jane sighed and made a mental note to phone the erstwhile Mr. James Beardsley in the morning and inquire into the details of Eliza’s passing.  A sip of her wine and Jane resumed reading.

I have instructed the very competent Mr. Beardsley to handle the details of my Estate with this bequest being the last to be handled.  I am certain that he handled everything efficiently and properly.  The bulk of the Estate has been sold off and all debts settled.  Any remaining funds were to be evenly distributed between Kew Gardens and my local parish Saint Anne’s.

Mr. Beardsley has arranged for the shipment of the family desk you have always loved on your visits.  There should be several smaller boxes enclosed with the shipment.  I will not spoil the surprises that await your discovery.

I trust you will find endless hours of enjoyment and discovery over the coming years.  I will admit to harboring the secret hope that the surprises and discoveries you uncover kindle a love of history in those amazing children you and Fred have raised.

I shall miss your sense of humor, your passion for life, and the stories of the family.  They have been comforting over the years.  I have cherished our friendship and the best thing that ever happened to Fred was meeting and falling in love with his desert rose as he always called you. 

Jane felt the letter flutter to her lap as the tears silently slipped onto her lap.  Subconsciously, Jane reached for a tissue to dry the tears.  George wandered back into the room and weaved himself between Jane’s legs and the legs of the chair.  He seemed to know that she needed comfort but that her lap was otherwise occupied.  Jane resolved to finish reading the letter before Fred arrived home.

I shall be the family’s guardian angel, watching from above and delighting in the scraps and discoveries of you all.  I love you all and knowing all of you made my life richer and more interesting.

Please don’t mourn my passing but rather celebrate my life.  Celebrate life in always, follow your hearts and indulge your flights of fancy.  Love one another and remember the life is but a fleeting adventure to be shared by those you love.

All my love always,

Auntie Liza

Jane was openly sobbing now.  Eliza was a the very picture of living life to the fullest and enjoying every minute of that journey.  Jane know her life was fuller and richer because of Eliza.  Through her tears and grief Jane made a silent promise to Auntie Liza to celebrate her life and cherish each day with her family. 

Jane heard the back door open and the solid, comforting footsteps of Fred enter the kitchen.  Jane set the letter aside and flew into the kitchen and her husband’s arms.  Fred instinctively grabbed and hugged Jane and let her cry.

 

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Future Postings

After a couple of comments from readers about blog organization lacking and confusion, I’ve been exploring options for future postings.  Rather than moving the blog and inconveniencing current readers and restricting my audience, I’m going to double post between two blogs with slightly different names.

The blog at Wordpress will continue on in it’s current form uninterrupted.  The new blog is located at Blogger and will be organized into board headers for stories by themes. 

I’m going to leave it up to the reader which format they prefer. 

Jane and the Letter, part 2

Dinner completed and George pacified with the roast beef Jane slipped him, Jane set her dishes in the dishwasher and refilled her wine glass.  “Come along George, might as well go see what secrets the hand addressed letter from England holds.”  Jane remarked on her way out of the kitchen.  George listened but decided that he would much rather take a nap and sauntered into the bedroom and promptly curled himself into a plump black ball and began deep but gentle snoring on Jane’s pillow.

Jane flicked on a couple of reading lamps as she moved into the living room and then closed the drapes.  The room was cast in a nice mellow warm white glow, perfectly illuminating the soft blue walls and forest green drapes.  Jane returned to her favorite chair and tucked her feet up under her, an old habit from childhood she never outgrow despite her mother’s valiant attempts to dissuade the behavior all of these years.  Jane set her glass of Merlot down on the table next to her without glancing down as she did so, somehow missing the stack of books and the letter.  Jane settled into her comfortable position and was content.

Any stranger peaking through the window might get the impression that Jane was an old spinster more comfortable with her books than other people based solely on appearances.  The first thing they would notice is the comfortable, somewhat worn furnishings of the room.  Jane’s favorite chair was an imposing wing back chair covered in a floral print.  There was a much loved writing desk tucked into the corner of the room, with an uncomfortable looking chair.  The desk itself was cluttered with books and papers sticking out of books.  The various tables scattered about the room all had books on them in addition to lamps and flower vases.  The walls were lined with bookcases as well.  Overall, from the outside the room looked antiquated. 

Jane loved this room however, the smell of roses that bloomed year round in her garden and the smell of books.  A visitor to Jane’s home who took the time to look at the extensive book collection would immediately notice how eccentric the collection was.  There were fantasy books, romance novels, biographies, histories, beloved children’s books,  livestock books, and home repair self-help books.  There was an extensive section devoted to mystery novels that had all been well read over the years.  And scattered amongst all these books and roses were the photos of Jane and her family.  Her husband Fred, their dogs, the three kids, and the many adventures they had taken over the years.

Jane took a sip of her Merlot and picked up the letter.  Unfolding it carefully, the first thing to grab her attention was the letter than tumbled into her lap.  This letter was on a lesser quality paper, and clearly not handwritten.  Jane decided to read the intruding letter first.

From the Office of James Beardsley, Esq.

Canterbury, England

Dear Mrs. Jane Perkin,

As you may or may not be aware, the last surviving cousin of your husband’s family in England, Miss Eliza Perkin, has passed away.  Her Estate has been handled according to the terms of her will.  Her last bequest is this letter to you.

As requested by the Miss Perkin and the letter enclosed, the referenced item is being sent to your residence in Arizona.  Please have someone available to sign for delivery on 3 February 2013 barring any delays from clearing customs and winter related weather. 

There will be no further contact from my office.  Should there be a problem with delivery as specified please work out the details with the agent.  He contact information is contained on the enclosed business card.

Sincerely,

Mr. James Beardsley, Esq.

Jane set the letter aside and looked at the business card in her lap.

Carollton Custom Couriers

Over Land or Over Seas – we handle the intricacies of moving for you

 

James Carollton, Owner

jc@carolltoncouriers.com

“Well, what a rude and abrupt man Mr. James Beardsley, Esq. is!” Jane exclaimed to herself.  But if Fred or the children had been around, they would have clearly heard the twinge of excitement and wonder in her voice. 

Jane picked up the letter from cousin Eliza with a strong twinge of sadness.  The old gal had passed and the only notification to her remaining family had been the brusque missive from the solicitor.  “Fred and I will just have to find some way to honor her memory more appropriately,” Jane muttered to herself as she slipped on her reading glasses and began to read the letter.

 

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Jane and the Letter, Part 1

Jane heard the kettle singing in the kitchen and turning off the stove, she set about absent mindedly making a cup of tea.  It was early afternoon and the weather was frightful.  The view from the living room window was deceptively beautiful.  The sky was crystal blue, clear with marshmallow white clouds dotting the sky.  The landscape was awash in the gentle beiges of winter grass that fill the high deserts this time of year.  There were still patches of dark green visible from the juniper trees and Ponderosa pines that dotted the landscape.  The temperature outside though was a might be too chilly for Jane who was used to the eighty degree range that persisted for much of the year. 

Tea made, Jane wandered into the living room and curled up in her favorite chair.  The smell of sweet mint tea filled the room.  Jane set the mug of tea down and picked up the book she had been intending to read and the intriguing letter she had received in the mail this afternoon.  It was from a law firm in England.  She was curious about what the contents of the letter could possibly be but that curiosity did not outweigh the desire to finish her book.  She still had a couple of hundred pages to go and she was too involved in the lives of the characters to stop reading now just for the sake of some letter.

Several hours later, in the fading afternoon sunlight, Jane slowly closed her book.  She absently set the book aside, holding her old and well read bookmark in her hand.  The tears were slowly drying, clearly the book had moved Jane.  After a couple of minutes, Jane peered down and spied the letter peaking out from underneath the now completed book.

“Might as well see what’s in the letter,” she thought to herself.

Taking the letter, Jane was once again bemused by the heavy weight of the paper and the hand addressed envelope.  It was so rare these days to receive mail addressed by hand that Jane took extra care in opening the letter.  Removing the tri-folded cream letter, Jane’s interest was definitely increasing.

Jane’s solid black cat, George, picked that precise moment to jump into her lap.  The letter went tumbling to the floor and Jane laughed.  “I get it George.  You feel neglected.  You do realize that cats are supposedly independent creatures that never beg for attention, don’t you?”

In response, George purred loudly and continued to butt his head against Jane’s hand demanding to be petted.  For ten minutes, the only sound that could be heard in the living room was George’s contented purring.  And just as suddenly as he had appeared, George jumped down and disappeared from view.  Jane shook her head as she smiled at his retreating form.

Bending over, she picked up the letter from where it had fallen on the floor.  As she did so, her stomach grumbled loudly in protest clearly it was later than she thought.  Jane set the letter down once again and retreated to the kitchen.  Upon entering the kitchen, the first thing Jane noticed was that George had been busy.  Somehow the mischievous cat had gotten into the cabinet and located the paper liners for muffins and cupcakes.  George was quite the athlete when it came to hunting down and killing his favorite nemesis, paper liners.  Jane laughed out loud, it was the only logical thing to do as she cleaned up the mess.

“Be careful George, someday I’ll stop buying them and switch to silicone pans instead.”   George growled at Jane and promptly stalked from the kitchen.  Jane shook her head, “It’s like he understands what I’m saying.”

Order was restored fairly quickly and Jane set about throwing together dinner for herself.  Roast beef sandwich with crumbled blue cheese would go nicely with a glass of wine.

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