Moondance (18 page)

Althea had deliberately tried to sabotage the interview.

“But I have absolutely no experience in publishing and my previous position, with bonuses, paid into the six figures.”

Two days after they met, Vince had called her.

“I’m interested in making you an offer, Althea. We can’t afford six figures. What would get us in the ball-park?”

Althea had named a figure, less than six figures, but which she still thought would be too high for them.

Vince made an offer, less than she wanted, but with a bonus structure that was appealing. As she considered, she called Sophie to let her know what was going on and Sophie offered Althea the third-floor apartment. If she’d cover her heat and utilities, she could stay rent-free.

That cinched the deal. She called Vince and over the next week,
they finalized the bonus structure. Her final salary was a quarter of what
she was used to but she would have six weeks holidays and flexible work hours.

For the first time in her post-MBA working life, she’d have a home base.

“I think this move will be good for you, Al. Really. Maybe you’ll meet a nice Canadian boy to settle down with.”

Althea said nothing. The words stung. She couldn’t imagine herself with anyone again. She couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. That’s not true, she
could
imagine that kind of pain. She
couldn’t
imagine coming out of it in one piece.

Tori and Kevin had ripped her heart out, removed all hope. Her submission to George had been like a toxic salve, testing her own limits of self-punishment. Daniel’s betrayal had been worse than Kevin and Tori, simply because she thought she had put it all behind her. With Daniel, she had been consumed by a tidal wave of emotion totally out of proportion.
It was escalating each time, that’s what scared her
. After Daniel, she had never been so close to wanting to die.

Celia asked for the check. In silence, they walked to the King Edward
Hotel where Celia would catch her limo to the airport.

• • •

WHEN ALTHEA RETURNED TO her condo, she had two messages. The first was from her real estate agent. Her condo had sold. There had been a bidding war — she got more than she asked for. In three days. The second call was from George. In a moment of scotch-induced weakness weeks earlier, Althea had emailed him to let him know she was back in town, then that she was interviewing with McKinsey. They had been playing telephone tag ever since.

She had two weeks to get set up at Sophie’s. She’d made money on her condo, and she had enough savings in the bank to make Sophie’s apartment a home. The bathroom and kitchen were old, but in decent shape. The rest was up for grabs. She would be moving very little. She kept her kitchen stuff. Both bedrooms had windows. One bedroom, Althea would use as an office. She ordered two window air conditioning units, ripped up the old carpeting, and had the wood floors underneath re-finished. She painted the interior herself.

Scouring eBay and the papers for antique dealers and estate sales, she found a tall, elaborately carved dresser, which had been painted. She stripped the piece in three days, finished it a warm honey color. It barely fit up the stairs, but did fit perfectly on the south wall of her bedroom. She also found an antique iron bed for fifty dollars, painted it, and spent a thousand on a good box spring and mattress.

The Chinese rug that had been in the living room since she was a child, she cleaned, and was pleasantly surprised by the results. She used it to pick her colors for the living room. Her favorite find was from a newspaper ad — two hundred and fifty dollars for an antique set of plushly stuffed chairs, with a carved walnut frame, which she re-covered in faded silk.

• • •

THE DAY SHE MOVED, she hooked up her stereo first. She put on Alhambra, The Tea Party’s acoustic album, and began to unpack. The lead singer’s rich voice filled the room, the drums and acoustic instruments creating a feeling within her, like soul magic. This is the way step inside, he sang, and she danced, spinning faster as the drums heated up into a visceral, stirring solo. The song ended. She stopped twirling, out of breath, her cheeks flushed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had danced.

The apartment smelled of fresh paint, despite the pan of potpourri simmering in the kitchen and despite the open windows. After the stereo, Althea set up her bed, putting on her new Egyptian cotton sheets and a down duvet. Sophie helped her hang pictures — three signed prints and one original oil painting she had shipped home while traveling that had never been displayed. The signed etching
Versuchung
, by Jurgen Gorg, was her favorite. She had bought it when she worked at Continuum. With surreal, sensuous elements, it depicted a woman, naked, her head thrown back, a dark form curled behind her, his lips on her neck. It gave Althea chills.

Late that afternoon, Sophie went downstairs to prepare dinner, and Althea tackled the last few boxes. Inside one, were winter ski sweaters and fleece that she removed and placed in the antique blanket box at the foot of her bed. In another was a pile of sealed envelopes. Letters. Stamped and addressed and mailed to herself, letters she’d written to those who were no longer in her life: Kevin, Tori, George and more recently, Daniel. She remembered how she felt writing them, the hurt, the anger, the catharsis, wanting to send them, holding back — why?
Tell me a story
. Kevin’s face, his eyes bright, so far away.
Another life
. Since she and George split, she hadn’t writ
ten anything. She had never shared with Daniel her love of writing at all.

She looked at the letters, the different sized envelopes, her small, even handwriting, the colorful stamps, her words carefully crafted, now sealed. Nostalgia, was that what she felt? Something weighty, low, silent.
Still here
. Carefully, one by one, Althea placed each letter into her blanket box, closing the lid.

• • •

SOPHIE MIXED A PITCHER
of vodka martinis and they sat in the solarium, warmed by the wood stove.

“A celebration!” Sophie said as she served Althea a martini. She had marinated strip loin steaks waiting, and Althea’s favorite salad: hearts of palm with red onion, Boston lettuce and lime dressing. Sophie had been outside earlier, cleaning the snow off her barbeque, which operated all year round. Althea was famished. She dug into some creamy paté, scooping it up with a cracker. Althea felt the day washing over her — exhausting and good. They talked about the apartment, decorating, the types of pieces that Althea should keep her eye out for. Sophie asked about her new job. She didn’t ask about Daniel. Althea was thankful for that.

Sophie left to re-fill their drinks, returning with Althea’s camera.

“I can’t believe it’s been here all this time. I thought I lost it.”

“There’s still some film in it. Don’t move.” Sophie took a picture of Althea, tired and grinning, martini glass raised.

“I think I blinked,” Althea said and laughed. It was good to be here.

“You have one left,” Sophie handed the camera to Althea. “Your choice.”

Althea had an idea. She grabbed her coat.

“I’ll be back.”

• • •

ALTHEA TRUDGED THROUGH THE snow in Sophie’s sloping back yard, slipping as she made her way down the gentle incline, and onto the path. The air was crisp and dry, and she could smell smoke from neighboring chimneys. Ten minutes later, she entered a small opening in the brush, which widened onto the lake. There were fewer footprints here. The lake was frozen on its circumference, its center open and shimmering. She walked carefully, taking one step at a time, testing the area before putting her weight on it. She needed to get the right angle.

To her left was a fallen tree, its roots unearthed and high in the air, a natural sculpture. The sky was pale orange, close to sunset. She stood on the ice, lining up the shot, the cool wind whistling in her ears, blowing her hair over her face. She zoomed in and out, liking the gnarled tree roots framed by the glowing sky, the grey-green line of trees, witnesses on the far shore, the liquid center of the lake rippling.

You’re close, wee one. Don’t stop now
. Albert’s voice. Shivering, she took another step, and the ice held her weight. She looked up at the sky. She only had one shot left, she wanted to get it right.
What did she want? What did she most desire? Images flashed: Tori and Kevin holding hands. George leading a brunette up the stairs. Daniel at the airport
. Her heart flipped, the fear sucking at her.
Not that. Anything but that.

If not that, then what?

She concentrated on the present. The past, like the gracefully setting sun. Yes. The future, unknown, but with promise.
The greenest eyes and a soft amber scent
. Yes. Her heart filled with longing.

Show me.

The wind blew. The sky streaked with red.
Almost
. She framed the shot, looking through the lens, balancing in the wind. A hawk rose in front of her, its wings extended, floating in the moving air, perfectly suspended.

Althea took the shot.

chapter 27

AS ALTHEA FELL INTO a dreamless sleep in her new home, Sophie sat on the wooden floor next to her four-poster bed, burning incense. The incense had absolutely no power, but she liked its smoky perfume, and it helped her concentrate. In, she breathed, and she felt her body puff up like a bed sheet outdoors in spring, a stationary sail, and Out, collapsing into her body again.

For months, Sophie had known what would happen. Daniel. Althea moving in. All of it. In fact, she had chosen it. Well, maybe not chosen. That was a bit arrogant.

Sophie didn’t believe in God but she did believe in a dynamic universe,
which with persistence she could influence. Sometimes, confirmation of her desire came in dreams, other times, in intuitive flashes. More recently, confirmation came in visions while she was in meditation.

Sophie was not an impulsive woman. The decision to ask Althea to move in with her had been anything but impulsive. Before she asked, she had exerted a great deal of energy to fully understand the implications. Tapping in. Asking for guidance. Weighing the probabilities. Imagining the multitude of outcomes. Finally deciding in which area of life Althea needed a push.

Sophie’s desire was as pure as love. She had her first insight just before she got pregnant with her daughter. Ever since she gave birth to Althea, every insight confirmed the truth of the path she had chosen. For example, Althea would never have left Kevin on her own, Sophie knew. She would have done her MBA, but instead of choosing inter-national consulting, she would have stayed close to Kevin. She had known for a long time that Kevin was not the one for her daughter.

Although Sophie had not yet been shown his face, she had known of his presence on this earth since Althea was a child. Now, she knew he was getting closer. The day after Althea agreed to move in, Sophie had a dream. She had seen a blue picture in a beige frame. Extending from the glowing blue, was a rope with a white creature at the end — a mouse struggling inside what looked like a clear plastic bag. It wasn’t alarmed or in pain, just wanting to get out. The next day, Sophie went out and bought her first computer.

Sophie inhaled and rose, higher this time, and out, like a sticky rubber band on the edge of snapping, and she felt it

thuck
, the soft rubber suction of her body releasing her.

From two feet above, she saw herself sitting rigidly, leaning against her bed, her eyes closed, her mouth lax. Freedom.

Sophie rose over her elongated yard. The snow gleamed white in the moon glow and she saw the black shimmer of the small lake and the twinkling white of the snow surrounding it. She felt protective of her home, of her daughter, though feelings were different here, mellower, less urgent. She rose up. Now all below her was white, and
above her was black. She opened herself up, her body taught with desire.
Show me
.

This was where images, if they were going to come, would come. Answers, solutions. Tonight, maybe a face. She had experienced two visions so far. Her second vision was Daniel. She knew it was him, though she had never met him. She had seen him in an airport, talking with a well-dressed Asian woman.

It was inspiring. Like the first time, with Kevin and Tori.

She searched into the white, probing.
Show me
. She stared until it morphed into a rectangle. Now, a blue border.
Closer
. A pic
ture screen.
Closer
. A figure sitting in front of it, hunched forward. In front of the figure, a face she recognized. Perfect.

Sophie knew it was him. She could feel it.

She wanted to see his face, and instead he moved further away.
Show me
. She hungered for more, she concentrated her will, her power, and sent it out in waves
My love
willing him to her. Nothing more came.

As she fell from the white back into the weight of her body, her heart was filled with joy. Her infinite patience had been rewarded. The only man she had ever loved, the man who she was meant to be with, had finally been delivered to her.