The Legacy (2 page)

Hearing the taxi honking outside, I refold the letter and
slip it back in my purse. After touching up my makeup, I place
the key to the apartment on the counter for the landlord. Sadly,
there are no more goodbyes to be said. My mother doesn’t
seem to care that I'm leaving. Neither does anyone else for that
matter, but I have received various opinions on how they think
my life will turn out. “
You’ll be back
,” my so-called friends told
me. “
You’re going to be right back here partying with the rest of us. You
can never escape where you’ve been or who you are
.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head to dislodge the
negative thoughts. Looking around the half empty room one
last time, I grab my bags and leave.

Cutting up the last of the fruit, I arrange it in the crystal
dish on the counter. I have been in Salt Lake for two weeks
now, and I finally feel comfortable and and settled in Jessica’s
large and stately home. It reminds me of one of the mansions
in Biltmore Forrest, an old and very prominent section of
Asheville.

Jessica’s home is beautiful. It boasts a large wraparound
porch with a swing. There are three levels with hardwood
floors and cherry wood doors and molding throughout the
house. The kitchen is large and airy with windows stretching to
the ceiling.

I love the kitchen. It is one of my favorite places in the
house, next to the bedroom I sleep in. If I didn’t know any
better, I would swear Jessica gave me the largest room in the
house. My whole apartment could easily fit into the one room,
and that's not including the connecting bathroom.

But the place I love best in the house is the living room,
because in its center sits a beautiful, black baby grand piano. I
learned to play the piano in the first grade and had stuck with it
through the years. Having developed my singing voice in high
school, I fell in love with playing and singing. Later in life, the
talent lay dormant for a long time, and now that I have access
to a piano, I've picked it up again. It is like reconnecting with a
lost love, and I am giddy every time I play.

Everything in Jessica's home is so elegant, it's like I am
living in a palace. I have never stayed in a place so lovely, not
even close. Still, with all the material things Jessica possesses,
she is the kindest, most loving and down to earth person I have
ever known, and I feel blessed to be in her home.

“I think that’s it,” Jessica says, taking the plate of muffins
over to the small breakfast nook by the corner windows.
“I think you’re spoiling me too much,” I tell her as we sit
down to eat. Since the day I arrived, Jessica has made every
meal special. In the mornings the table is set with everything
from fruit, cheeses and muffins, to bacon and Belgium waffles.
Lunches are finger sandwiches, meats, and luscious pastries.
And dinner is always so full of variety, three meals can easily be
made from the one. Having grown up poor and standing in
government food lines with my mother, and then always having
to budget for even cookies as an adult, I am continually
overwhelmed with the wealth of food I am now receiving.
“You deserve to be spoiled, my dear.”
My smile is guarded. If only I could see the facade of
myself no one seems to be able to look past, and I can’t stop
the negative thoughts from intruding.
If you really knew me and everything I’ve done, you wouldn’t feel
that way about me.
As if Jessica can read my thoughts, she places a hand over
mine. “You deserve everything that’s good in this life, Cisely.
Truly you do.” She pauses, her voice growing softer. “I don’t
know the full extent of what you have lived through, but you
are truly more special than you could possibly know, and I
know with all my heart that there are some marvelous things in
store for you.”
I smile, refusing to let the tears come. I have never felt so
much love from someone. I can’t count the many hours and
agonizing moments I spent as a child, wishing for and needing
a mother’s love–for someone to hug me and tell me everything
would be okay. I squeeze Jessica’s hand.
“Thank you for being so good to me,” I say softly,
swallowing hard at the lump pressing in my throat.
“No need to thank me, dear. That is what this life is all
about.”
We
enjoy
a
leisurely
breakfast,
talking
about
various
things. I love the time I've spent with Jessica and have come to
learn so much more about her life.
Jessica was born and raised in Melbourne, Australia.
When she turned twenty-five, she moved to Salt Lake City to
go to school. Her younger sister and two brothers still live in
Australia with their families. Though her family comes to the
United States every now and then to visit her, the visits she
enjoys most are the ones from her favorite nephew, Ingo. At
least three or four times a year he pops in for a week long visit.
She cherishes those times.
I noticed several pictures of him in Jessica’s bedroom
when I first arrived and was surprised by how handsome he is.
To Jessica, Ingo is the son she never had, and she loves him
very much. I can’t help thinking of how fortunate he is to have
Jessica as an aunt. However, I am also reaping the blessings of
having this loving woman as my friend.
Having finished eating, we clean up and put everything
away. Then I quickly touch up my makeup and check my outfit
once more before leaving to catch the bus to work. Taking in
my reflection, a shy smile curves my lips. A couple of days after
I arrived, Jessica took me to the boutique and introduced me to
two of the women I would be working with. They were
friendly and very welcoming. They gave me a tour of the shop,
helped me to get familiar with the place, and went over what
my job would entail.
While we were there, Jessica had me try on about a dozen
of the outfits she sold there and bought them all for me despite
my strong protest. I told her they were too expensive and I
didn’t want her to spend money on me. I have never been
accustomed to people giving me things and didn’t know how to
accept Jessica’s gifts. She simply replied, “My dear, I have more
money than I could possibly spend in this lifetime and it makes
me very happy to spend it on the people I care about.” Then
she promptly ended the discussion.
So whenever I go to work, I'm a walking billboard for
Jessica’s boutique, but the clothes are so beautiful, I don’t mind
one bit. Today the springtime weather is comfortably warm, so
I've chosen to wear a tan, knee-length, crocheted sundress with
a matching shrug and gladiator sandals. The outfit actually
looks nice on me. My hair is pulled up in a bun and wispy
bangs lay lightly against my forehead. The sunlight always
brings out the highlights in my auburn hair, and each time I
leave the house, Jessica calls out after me, “You look just like a
fashion
model,
only
healthier.”
I always
laugh
and wave,
figuring I will humor her. I am nowhere near being model
material.
Jessica continually urges me to drive her car to work, but
I insist on taking the bus, just in case something should come
up and she needs the car. I have a North Carolina driver
license, but I have never owned a car and am used to taking the
bus. And the part of the Avenues in which we live isn’t too far
from downtown, so sometimes I even walk part of the way.
Gazing up at the beautiful, elegant old homes is one of my
favorite past-times because they remind me of Asheville. Only
now I am actually living in one instead of dreaming about it.
The fact that I am living in Utah is a dream in itself and I still
pinch myself sometimes.
Today I am the first to arrive at the shop. Lifting my eyes
to the clear blue sky, I silently thank God for blessing me with
this new job and life. I absolutely love working at the boutique.
Fashion is still kind of new to me, but it truly feels good to not
only sell beautiful clothes, but to wear them as well. I have
never owned so many lovely things or worked in a nicer place.
Pulling the key from my purse, I quickly unlock the door.
Having opened the store for business before, I know what to
do to prepare for the day. I still can’t believe Jessica put so
much trust in me. When I talked to April, one of my coworkers, about it a few days before, she told me that Jessica is
just that way. She loves and trusts many people. To be included
in that group is an honor, and I am determined to never let her
down.
About an hour after opening the shop, the phone rings. I
am always hesitant about answering the phone, but it is an
unavoidable part of the job.
“Jessica’s Boutique. This is Cisely.”
“Hi, it’s Wendy.”
“Hey. You don’t sound good.”
“I know. I think I’ve caught the flu. I was going to try
and come in, but I can’t even stand up.”
She really does sound miserable, and having had the flu
myself a couple of times, I can definitely empathize. “You just
rest and don’t worry. I can handle things here.”
“Are you sure? You won’t even be able to take a lunch
break if you’re there alone.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can always have something
delivered and eat when I get a chance. You just get some rest
and get better. Okay?”
“Okay. I’m really sorry about this.”
“It's totally fine. I'll be okay.”
“Thanks, Cisely.”
“You're welcome.” Hanging up the phone, I sigh deeply
and gear up to go solo. I actually do feel pretty confident about
handling things. Wednesdays are usually slow and I've only had
a couple of customers since opening anyway. Besides, if it gets
too busy, I can always call Jessica.

I have a sandwich and a drink delivered from the deli
down the street. I am able to take a bite or two in between
customers. It feels great being responsible for the boutique.
And after finishing the final paperwork, I am truly happy about
the way the day went. I call Jessica before leaving to let her
know how business was and tell her when I will be leaving. She
always makes me promise to do this so she will know when to
expect me. It helps her to not worry, though I actually love the
fact that for the first time in my life, someone cares enough
about me to worry. It's nice to know I matter to someone.

“Wendy called in sick today,” I tell her. “She has the flu.”
“Yes, I know.”
“She call you?”
“Yes. She called me this morning after talking with you

Her confident words make me smile. “Well I appreciate
your faith in me. I would have been worried if I were you.” I
almost laugh at the thought of actually owning a business.

Jessica chuckles. “I knew you would do well, my dear. I
have complete faith in you.”
“I’ll be home in a bit.”
“You have your cell with you?”
“I do.”
“Remember to call me when you are on your way.”
“Yes, Mother.”
I can hear her laughing as I hang up the phone.

A short while after ending the call, my jolt of confidence
slowly fades as the haunting feelings that have become my
unwanted companion begin to resurface. I hate not being able
to keep my thoughts in the present, and I wish I could leave the
negativity behind.

If I could truly believe it doesn’t matter, that none of it
matters. Hanging my head, I squeeze my eyes shut.
I have to get over my past. Otherwise, how can I ever look to the
future?

Ingo smiles contentedly as he parks the rented gray
BMW in front of his aunt’s home. He hasn’t seen Jessica in
about five months and has missed her terribly. He didn't call to
tell her he was coming because he loves surprising her, and she
is always overjoyed to see him. Turning off the engine, he gets
out and hauls his luggage up the front steps.

When Jessica opens the door, she releases a delighted
squeal.
“Ingo, my boy! It’s so good to see you!” She immediately
throws
her
arms
around him and he
leans
down
to
accommodate her short frame, soaking in her warm embrace.
“It’s good to see you too, Aunt Jessica. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” she says, patting his face. “Well,
come on in. Let’s get you settled. Then you can fill me in on
what’s been going on with you and the family.”
Ingo follows his aunt up to the top floor, then back to the
bedroom that has become his second home. Looking around
the cozy room, he smiles.
Nothing has changed. It’s still home sweet
home
. Deciding to wait and unpack later, he places his luggage
on the bed, anxious to visit with his favorite aunt. He has
always felt a special closeness to Jessica. Not only is she the
most down to earth person he knows, she is also one of the
few people who never judges him or tries to interfere in his life
in any way.
Being thirty years old, a successful photographer and very
wealthy, Ingo’s family has determined it is time for him to settle
down. Everyone he knows seems to be in cahoots with his
family in search of a bride for him, with the exception of his
best friend who lives in Italy, and they have all done their fair
share of matchmaking.
But not Jessica. She understands him better than anyone.
She truly knows his heart and the kind of woman it will take to
claim it. Sometimes he thinks Jessica knows him better than he
knows himself. Still, she never interferes or tries to push her
opinion
on
him,
and because
of
this,
Ingo
respects
her
tremendously.
Jessica carries two glasses of lemonade over to the table.
“Now, tell me what’s been going on with you.”
Ingo smiles. “Oh, nothing new really. Same old things.
I’m still peddling my photos and dodging matchmakers.”
“I don’t doubt you are doing wonderfully with your
photography. You do well at everything you set out to do, and
I’m sure the family wouldn’t know what to do if they couldn’t
play multiple Yentas.”
He laughs. “Aunt Jessica, I don't know what would I do
without you. You always know exactly what to say to make me
feel better about life.”
She pats his hand gently. “That’s what I’m here for. Now,
I noticed you brought an extra bag with you this time. Does
that mean I’m going to have a longer visit with you?”
“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” He
pauses, pushing hand back through his wavy hair. “I guess I’m
in need of a change.”
There is no way Ingo can explain the restlessness he is
feeling, and has been feeling for some time now. He needs to
do something, but he has no clue what exactly. He has a
beautiful home in Australia and life is good, but for some
reason he still doesn’t feel settled. “I was wondering if I could
stay with you for a while, just until I decide what I want to do.”
Jessica
smiles
but
doesn’t
answer
right
away.
Ingo
watches her close her eyes, remaining quiet for a few seconds,
and wonders if there is going to be a problem with him staying.
Then she opens them and again smiles at him, and he wonders
at the sudden twinkle in them.
“I think you staying is a marvelous idea. It would make
me very happy.”
He heaves a small sigh of relief. At the moment there is
truly no place else he would rather be. Jessica’s home
is
home
to him, even more so than his own. “Thank you, Aunt Jessica.
I’ll keep from under foot and try not to be too much of an
inconvenience.”
“Nonsense,” she says, waving a hand. Walking over to
the cupboard, she takes down some dishes to set the table for
dinner. “You could never be an inconvenience, love. I’m just
glad you’re staying.”
“So am I. It will just be until . . .” Ingo stops speaking as
his attention shifts to the woman entering the kitchen.