A Brilliant Ride (5 page)

“I’m home,” I yelled loudly, as to be heard over the booming hymn. “Any calls?”

“Oh, there you are. Yes, your Mother called.” Blossom’s eyebrow lifted. I knew that meant I should think twice about returning that particular call. “And the bakery called; they have those little cakes ready for the children’s classroom party, and someone from Save the Whales called.”

I sat down at the kitchen table and slipped my feet out of my shoes.

“Ugh; I’m exhausted.” I
put my head down on the table.

Blossom looked up from her ironing. “Well, at least you got out for a while, Ms. Penelope. You need to have a little fun. You can’t just stay buried in this house all the time, babydoll. You need to get out and put your face in the sunlight.”

She had a point, for the past few months I had been holed up. Except for the occasional girls’ outing, charity function, or run to the market, I had been curled up with a book, trying to distract my mind from the sinking realization that my life - my marriage - was not exactly picture perfect.

“You see, Miss Penelope, the way I see it…if you change just one thing a day, after a while, when you look around …everything will be different.” She shook her head and offered me her broad white grin. “No change, no gain.”

I propped my feet up and took in her musical voice.

“Blossom, you’re a gem.
” I smiled.

She poured me a cup of steaming tea and placed a dish of warm chocolate cookies in front of me. They were fresh from the oven and too hard to resist.

“Miss Penelope, how do you think I got to be here with you?” Her eyes searched me. “I changed things. I made a decision and didn’t let it leave my mind. Aha, if I stayed where I was, I’d surely be in the ground by now. I dreamed big, though. I got myself to save a little grocery money here and there and set my mind on coming to the U.S. I had this big desire to be independent.”

I watched as Blossom’s large hands took command of her task with precision and speed, directing the hot iron and taming the wrinkled mound before her. Ever
y item was ironed perfectly, folded and then stacked on the table beside her. Occasionally she’d place her hand on the pile, as if to say, “that’s right, behave now.”

“When I think back, it seems like a miracle that I got here, alright,” she continued. “But, here I am with you, and I am happy, happy, happy. You just need a little faith, sometimes.”

Her smile lit up the kitchen, and I could smell the mixture of coconut oil and lavender wafting from her skin, a magical scent that instantly calmed me and made me smile.

“Why don’t you put that pretty sweater on…you know…that kooky one.”

“
Kabooki
,” I corrected.

“Yes. Put something warm on; go for a nice walk. Breathe in the fresh air, and wake your body up. I know it’s not my place, Ms. Penelope, but you keep running in circles, jumping through hoops…I think you kinda forgot how special you are.” Her eyes twinkled.

Maybe Blossom was right. I should get out and fill my lungs with fresh air. Still, at the moment, all I wanted was to stay tucked away in the big white house on Avery Lane with its wraparound porch and potted flowers, the gardens, and the hustle and bustle of the children with their beautiful laughter - my cocoon of protection from the madness outside its strong walls. Every inch of the grand lady holds a memory and a tale to tell. It isn’t just a house; it’s a part of us, an extension of our family. It’s our nest of comfort and familiarity. Its walls breathe us in and out, and each layer of paint holds stories of who we are in the privacy of its embrace.

The living room, painted a lemony color, has silk drapes in the same color that billow into the room when the French doors are open. Sometimes, when I stand in the center of that large room, I can hear laughter echoing from its walls of times gone by - Christmas parties, birthday celebrations, and romantic evenings when candles flickered
, and the room glowed with love and protection around us.

The room boasts a massive stone fireplace. Above the mantel, a cherished oil painting purchased during a trip to Italy. A painting of Tuscany in summer, I often feel it draw me in like a warm Italian greeting. The furniture is oversized and comfy, upholstered in pale shades. Behind one couch, sits my favorite piece, a large marble-topped buffet on which many silver frames hold pictures of us all, smiling and hopeful. Just outside the living room, through large French doors, is a stone terrace complete with outdoor dining set and lounge chairs. Beyond the terrace
, there’s a lovely pool and cabana. There’s also a guest cottage and an apartment over the garage.

There are six bedrooms at 38 Avery Lane. Blossom has the yellow room with the big window seat overlooking the rose garden, and the girls each have their own room. Jill’s bedroom is decorated in a fairy tale theme, complete with a hand painted mural featuring unicorns and fairies. Sarah’s is all about animals, jam packed with every sort of stuffed bear, dog, and kitty. Down from them, is a pale blue guest room with attached powder room, and down from that, another bedroom that’s used as an office.

At the end of the hall, our beautiful master suite looks out over the terrace and pool. It’s my sanctuary, decorated in soft colors with satin bedding. Beside the king-sized bed are end tables purchased in Paris at a small shop Sam and I found on our last trip. They’re romantic little tables, whitewashed with golden knobs, so elegant in their simplicity. On top are placed items for easy reach such as telephone, lamp, reading glasses, book of the week and more photos of the children. This room is where I do my best dreaming…and hiding.

The kitchen is the hub of the house and command station for Blossom.

“I’m gonna fix something special tonight. After a healthy meal and some rest, you’ll feel good as new,” Blossom smiled.

The light overhead started to flicker, and I told her it was probably a good idea to call the electrician.

“Sarah said the one in her bedroom has been going on and off too. That electrician better take a look at all thes
e lights.” Blossom shook her head. “Some strange things going on in this house, but never mind that. I have to start cooking. A lot to do,” she sang and slammed pots and pans around at record-breaking speed. The smells in the kitchen were enticing - exotic spices and warm bread in the oven. Watching Blossom cook was a treat in itself.

“Tonight, I’m making my famous Blossom’s Jerky Chicken,” she
proudly announced. “It has magic stirred into it, so it puts a little extra sparkle in your soul.” Her eyes danced.

The girls and I watch
ed with keen interest as she began preparing her charmed recipe, hoping to catch the part when the magic was slipped in. “Where’s the magic, Blossom. Where is it?” the girls squealed with delight.

“Ha,
ha, ha!” her laugh rang out. “You two sugarplums put your finger in that bowl for a second. There ya go. That be the magic ingredient alright.” She laughed hard, holding her belly, as they each dipped a pinky into her bright green bowl. “That’s right, there ya go…that’s magic alright. This is gonna be an extra special batch,” she sang. The girls and I giggled, as we sat glued to her every move, watching the magic unfold.

l/3 cup olive oil

l/3 cup vinegar

l/2 cup orange juice

l/2 cup lime juice

l/2 cup brown sugar

Two splashes of soy sauce

5 green onions

3 cloves of garlic

2 cloves

2 bay leaves

Two peeled mangoes

One tablespoon allspice

One pinch of cinnamon

One pinch ginger

One teaspoon ground black pepper

One teaspoon nutmeg

4 pounds chicken pieces

4 slices of pineapple

Blossom carefully placed the oil and vinegar in her favorite green enamel bowl and pour
ed in the orange and lime juice. Then she added the brown sugar, soy sauce, green onions, garlic, bay leaves and pepper. She swirled it all around with her strong hands and added the rest of her
special
ingredients. Next came the chicken pieces. When the chicken was carefully coated, she covered it with foil and placed it in the refrigerator for three hours so it could “soak up the goodness.”

After three hours the mixture was placed in a skillet and browned, then transferred to a covered baking dish and placed in the oven at 375 degrees to bake for one hour, until it was cooked through. The smell was intoxicating, and when served with a crisp salad and brown rice, it was a heavenly meal.

Watching Blossom, I wondered if her magical Jerky Chicken really could put the sparkle back in my soul. It was gone, and I wasn’t sure I could find it on my own.

The kitchen window was open and the evening air was blowing, bringing the smell of autumn. I looked at the curtains and decided I might change the fabric to a livelier pattern. Lately, I had been feeling that the house needed to be lighter, filled with more sunshine. Maybe it was the changing season and the thought of shorter days, or maybe it was just my state of mind.

I sat at the long country table and looked at the folded clothing previously ironed into crisp obedience under Blossom’s strong command. Her world was so orderly and simple. “Everything in its place; the re
st God will look after.” Her broad smile seemed to promise hope, and hope was something I really needed. I wish I could be more like Blossom, I thought to myself dreamily. She is our strong ship steadfastly anchored in our choppy sea.

Sometimes I would fanta
size about running off to Jamaica with her and the girls. All of us barefoot, our hair braided with colorful beads, living on the beach and basking in the brilliant tropical sunshine with no cares - just mangoes, seashells, and sand between our toes. The thought always made me laugh. I wonder how the girls and I would sound with sing-songy Island accents.

The phone rang, jarring me back from
my island daydream. It was Sam.

“Hi Pen…listen, something’s come up. I have to take a couple of clients to Vegas for the weekend.” My head started to throb, and I rubbed my forehead. “Gotta keep the clients happy, right Pen?”

I looked at the phone in disbelief. Is he kidding me? After lunch with the girls, I didn’t have much left. “I really don’t want to leave the kids right now, Sam. They have their play at school this weekend and there’s the craft fair…it’s just not a good time for me.” I fumbled for the calendar. The whole idea of a trip with Sam’s clients gave me a sharp pain in my head, like someone stuck a pin in my crown. “I really don’t feel up to…”

A
deafening silence on the other end told me I was being a fool, again.

“Um, sorry…I don’t think you understa
nd. Wives aren’t going. Just the guys, you know…a man’s weekend. You understand, right?” He cleared his throat.

I understood only too well.

“You wouldn’t have any fun anyway. These guys are rough and ready, and I won’t have any time for you. You know the drill; meetings all day, drinks, dinner, and probably more drinks. I’ll be home on Monday night.”

I twirled my eternity band around my finger, as if to remind myself of the vows we took and the role of a good wife… stand by yo
ur man. A vision of Mother, her one eyebrow in that funny triangle, flooded my mind.

“Oh,
yes, of course; I understand. Well, don’t you have to come home to pack?”

I could hear Blossom
behind me, mumbling something about salvation, but I refused to turn around.

“Nope, I threw some stuff in a bag this morning, and I’ll just buy what I need when I get there. No worries, ma cherie. Give the kids a kiss for me, and wish me luck. This could be big for me. I have to
get going; au revoir.” I felt my body ebb and flow like the tide and reached for the counter to steady myself.

“Wait.
Where can I reach you? Where are you staying? Sam? Hello?” My heart sank.

There was a pause, and I heard some papers shuffling around as Sam stuttered, “The Peak. It’s that resort we stayed at two years ago, remember?” I remembered it as being loud, gaudy, and definitely not my cup of tea. After that trip, I decided to cut back on accompanying Sam on his business trips.

“Okay. Well take care of yourself and call us. Don’t break the bank. Love you Sam.”

The phone clicked, and I hesitated before meeting Blossom’s stare. She saved me the embarrassment by turning on her heel and heading for the staircase. As soon as her foot hit the first step, she belted out, “Go call it from the mountain...”

That night, after
the girls and I ate the magical Jerk Chicken, we played some board games and talked about school. I looked at the clock and wondered when Sam was going to call, knowing in my heart he probably wouldn’t. I tried calling his cell, but all I got was voice mail. I didn’t bother leaving a message.

Later, the phone finally did ring, but it was Claudia.