Revenge of Cornelius (4 page)

"Benjamin, I think. Mira, you really
don't want to intrude. Some people would rather be left alone."
Sara seemed flabbergasted by the very idea.

"True, Mom, but I'm sure just going
and introducing myself will only be interpreted as my being
neighborly and nothing more."

"You're not going to mention anything;
are you?"

"I… don't think so. Don't see any need
for that right now," Mira replied.

Laughter erupted again from the
inside. "This time you lose!" Michael blurted.

Rosie was giggling even louder than
before. "I saw what you did, Pops! You cheater!"

Her words pulled Mira into a flashback
of when she and Wade did anything competitively—she always accused
him of cheating.

"Wade and I used to fry fish in this
very spot," Mira indicated with her chin. "We never told you
that."

"You didn't have to." Sara smiled. "A
mother always knows when her kids are up to something even if she
never breathes one word of it. I can only imagine some of the other
things you and your brother got into when my and your father's
backs were turned."

"I don't think you wanna know, Mom."
Mira was obviously taunting her mother with curiosity.

"So, you're going to keep the rest to
yourself, huh?"

"Mum's, the word."

"Well, you just go right ahead, sweet
pea." Sara got up. "Have to head inside now and fold some laundry,
then I'll get a little rest before it's time for us to leave. Are
you coming with us?"

"I'm not sure," Mira replied. "I may
just let you guys go and have fun without me. You usually do,
anyway, everytime Rosie and I come down."

"Aww… such a baby. It's your own fault
if your daughter thinks you're not 'fun' enough to hang with Nana
and Pops."

Sara's smile was undoubtedly
sickening. She cheerfully walked off and disappeared around the
bend.

For the longest time, Mira sat alone
thinking about the new residents of the Ferguson house. The more
she thought about the prospect of going anywhere near the place
again, the more interested she became. She soon got up, picked a
few more plums then headed back inside. Peeking into her parents'
room, she saw that her father and Rosie had quieted down and were
watching television together in bed.

"What's on?" She stood at the door
with arms folded.

"The Friendly Ghost." Rosie glanced up
at Mira. She was lying on her stomach in the opposite direction of
her grandfather with her face cupped inside her little hands.
Michael was resting on his back with fingers interlocked behind his
head.

"Don't you ever get tired of scary
pictures?" Mira asked Rosie.

Michael laughed.
"Did
you
ever get
tired of them when you were her age?"

"Dad!"

"What?" Michael looked her
way.

"I didn't want her to know I did the
same thing!" She spoke in a coarse whisper.

"I hear you, Mom," Rosie
sang.

Michael sighed. "Does she ever have
bad dreams after watching supposed scary pictures?" he asked
Mira.

"No."

"Well, leave her be! She's a tough
kid. What might give you the shakes, probably won't faze
her."

Mira walked in and sat next to Rosie.
"Wanna go for a walk?"

"Now?" Rosie inquired.

"Yeah, but I can wait until your
picture's over if you want."

Rosie looked back at her grandfather.
He could tell she was wondering if he would be disappointed if she
left.

"Go ahead. We have a full two weeks to
watch TV together," Michael assured her.

"Okay, Pops!" She scooted up and
kissed him on the cheek. Mom and I won't be long. Would we,
Mom?"

"No sweetheart. We won't be
long."

"Okay then. I'll put on my shoes and
make sure my hair is fixed nicely."

"Good girl," Mira said as Rosie
skipped out of the room. "What on earth have you done to her,
Dad?"

Michael arched his brows. "Me? I
haven't done a thing."

"That child doesn't wanna spend a good
minute apart from you when she's here. It's crazy, you
know?"

Michael only smiled.

"Nana! Mom and I are going for a
walk!" Rosie exclaimed while darting past Wade's old room. Sara had
been putting away the folded clothes.

"So, you're really going there? Aren't
you?" Sara appeared at the bedroom door, moments later. She was
looking at Mira intently.

A tad confused, Michael glanced at
them both.

"I told you I was, Mom. You thought I
was kidding?"

"Going where?" Michael had to
know.

"Mira's going over to the Ferguson
house," Sara filled him in.

"What on earth for?" Michael sat up,
grimacing from the slight pain he suddenly felt in his back. "Don't
people live there now— a politician and his family?"

"Dad, I'm only going to be neighborly
and introduce myself," Mira said.

"And you're taking Rosie with you."
Sara's voice held a tinge of disdain.

"Why not? We could both do with the
walk and Rosie loves meeting people," Mira returned.

"I still don't think you should
intrude. Don't you agree, Michael?"

Michael attempted to lie down again.
"She says she's just going to hail. I don't see any harm in that,"
he replied.

"See, Mom. There's no harm in that."
Mira smiled as her mother turned away from the door.

As Mira led the way toward the end of
the street, Rosie skipped happily along. She was wearing a pink
skirt that stopped just above the knees and a matching blouse.
Those beloved candy curls of hers bounced up and down and around
her face, glistening in the sun.

"May I have a mango?" she asked as
they approached the edge of the Ferguson property.

Mira stared up at the tall mango tree
just ahead whose branches were stretched long and wide. The tree
was stacked with fruit and as much as she wanted to please her
daughter, Mira knew she was no climber. How she wished right then
that Wade was there—the designated climber.

She scanned the ground that was
visited by a variety of multi-colored leaves and dry limbs of all
sizes which had dropped from the various trees. She was hoping to
find something long enough to reach the mangos. Then several feet
over to her left, she found the perfect branch. Though it had
withered to a noticeable degree, Mira deemed it strong enough to
propel a mango from its stem. Stretching up onto her toes, the edge
of the branch barely touched the mangos, but with one hard swing
forward in union with a slight leap, one of them fell helplessly to
the ground and Rosie hurried over to pick it up.

"Mom, you've got it!
Thanks!"

Mira dropped the branch. "You're
welcome, honey."

She looked over to the edge of the
asphalt driveway that led to the house she had deliberately avoided
over the years. The house still could not be seen from the road and
as Mira moved in that direction, it was apparent that the Benjamins
had not altered much of the yard. It looked pretty much the way it
did all those years ago except for the long, curvy driveway which
led up to the house. The house! It was magnificent! Mira held
Rosie's hand as they walked the property.

"Mom, why are we here?" Rosie
asked.

"We’re just going to pay some nice
people a visit," Mira replied, utterly entranced by the huge
makeover the house had undertaken—which once had broken windows on
every side, peeling paint all over and missing doors. It had been
delightfully transformed into a rose-colored, colonial-style
edifice with tall, white columns in front, clean, beautiful windows
and decorative window frames. Mira was convinced that the Ferguson
house was now as charmingly captivating as it probably was when
Cornelius and his wife, Marlena, lived there over a century
before.

"This house is so pretty, Mom," Rosie
commented.

"It sure is, honey."

It took a few minutes for them to get
to the front porch that was neatly covered with large, white and
beige interlocking marble tiles. Mira felt fairly strange standing
in front of the darkly-stained double doors that weren't there at
her last visit.

"Aren't you going to knock?" Rosie
looked up at her mother who was still holding her hand, but staring
quietly ahead.

"Ah…yes. I'll ring the door-bell."
Mira reached over and pressed the small button next to the
door.

They soon heard the pitter-patter of
feet.

"I'll get it!" a little voice
cried.

"Oh, no you won't!" A man's voice
quickly followed.

The door flashed open and standing on
the opposite side was a medium-framed colored man with very low
hair and a neatly-trimmed moustache. His face was smooth and clear,
and he looked 'rich' — in Mira's estimation. Behind him was a
slender lady, a few inches taller than he was, who had a narrow,
sunken face and shoulder-length, black hair. Standing next to the
man was a young boy, probably around five years old, clutching a
brown teddy bear. He was wearing a white onesie that had seen some
spills a few inches under the boy's chin.

"May I help you?" the man asked Mira
quite nobly after making brief eye-contact with Rosie.

"Hi, my name is Mira Cullen and this
is my daughter, Rosie." She paused for a moment, which was met with
utter silence. "Um, I live…I used to live just down the street
there. My parents are actually still there—the Cullens…"

Silence again and a penetrating stare
emerged from the gentleman.

"I heard that someone had moved here
and we just decided to come and introduce ourselves, and welcome
you to the neighborhood."

"Well, isn't that something," the man
glanced back at the woman with a wide smile. "This nice, young lady
and her daughter came to welcome us to the neighborhood. Isn't that
something?"

At the moment, the woman's face was
void of expression.

"Where did you say you live, young
lady?" he asked Mira, a smile still splattering his
face.

Unsure of what to make of his glee,
Mira responded: "I didn't say, but I live in California. I grew up
in this neighborhood."

"Oh, I see," the man replied. "Well,
my hat's off to you and your little daughter because you two are
the first to even bother coming this way in the six months we've
been here. Would you like to come in for a minute?" He gestured
with his hand.

Mira looked at Rosie, then back at
him. "Sure, why not?" she replied.

"Mira…you said is your
name?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mira, this is my wife, Andrea and our
son, Alex. My name is Theo and our last name is Benjamin. Kindly
have a seat."

"Nice to meet you all," Mira
said.

She and Rosie were led over to the
large living room that she remembered from before. The interior of
the house was even more grandeur and exquisite than the exterior.
Emerald-green marble tiles stretched magnanimously across the vast
floor and tall angelic figurines graced two corners of the living
room, each near a window. A rectangular, glass table, sitting
elegantly on a large-sized, oriental area-rug graced the center of
the room and darkly-stained wood that framed the couch and sofas
were intricately designed and fit for royalty.

Rosie sat quietly next to her mother
as they both felt rather out of place. The Benjamins all sat on the
long, white couch on the opposite side of the table.

"May I offer you something to drink?"
Andrea Benjamin asked them in a very soft voice.

"I'm fine; thank you," Mira replied.
She looked at Rosie. "Sweetheart, would you like
something?"

"Yes, Ma'am." She swung her tiny feet
slightly as the little boy gazed at her from his mother's
side.

"I have punch. Do you like punch?" The
woman stood up.

"Yes, ma'am," Rosie answered
shyly.

"Mama, I want punch too," the boy
inserted.

"Come in the kitchen for yours, baby.
Would you like to come too, Rosie?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," went Rosie again,
getting up off the chair and following them.

"So, you say you grew up around here,"
Theo said to Mira, his legs now crossed and he was leaning back
slightly.

"Yes I did. At eighteen, I moved away
for college."

"That's nice. Which college did you
attend?"

"Bensuren in L.A. They had a good
Pre-med program."

"So, you studied medicine. That's very
impressive. Should I be calling you Doctor Cullen?"

Mira was a little embarrassed.
"Actually, I didn't finish. I kind of got pregnant and put my
studies on hold."

Theo leaned forward. "Your daughter…
how old is she?"