― Katherine Anne Porter
Tess Woods
I was up bright and early the next morning having slept the sleep of the dead with no dreams to worry me and no ghosts at the foot of my bed to disturb me.
So, this is what normal feels like, I mused as I sat sipping coffee at my kitchen table enjoying the morning light and watching shadows play on the wall.
A grinding, burring sound interrupted my mellow mood. What was that?
I stood up to investigate and heard the whirring sound was coming from the foyer. It took me a moment to realize it was the antique door ringer and I could just make out the outline of a woman through the frosted glass.
My heart stopped. Could it be Clare dropping by so early in the morning?
I hurriedly opened the door and was surprised to see Tess' beautiful face smiling back at me.
"That coffee smells good even from here," she laughed. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"Tess! Of course, you can come in and have coffee. You can have breakfast too―I made enough."
"Sounds good, City Boy, but first I need you to help me with something."
"Sure," I said quizzically, not sure what she had in mind.
She pointed out to the curb where a small, blue pick-up truck was parked and I could see in the back bed Lillian's cedar chest.
"We can both carry it in―it's not too heavy. Just tell me where you want it."
"Would it be too much trouble to carry it upstairs to my bedroom?"
She smirked cynically as if expecting that answer. "Like I said, you're a player."
The chest was heavier than I thought and Tess stronger than she looked. I was huffing and puffing but she effortlessly navigated me up the stairs and along the hallway into my bedroom and set it down at the foot of my bed.
"How did you know where to place it?" I asked, still trying to catch my breath.
"I dunno―it sort of looked like it belonged there."
She gazed around the room. "Nice view. You must see some great lightning storms from here over the harbour."
"I do", I smiled, thinking what else I saw when lightning flashed.
We tramped back downstairs into the kitchen and i motioned her to a place at the table while I poured her a mug of coffee.
"I didn't figure you for a kitchen table type guy," she said, eyeing the unused dining room.
"More a bedroom type, eh?" I replied cynically, though I immediately regretted the allusion.
"Yeah, well I figure you'll ultimately try to steer things in that direction. You see, I got your number."
It was no use trying to parry her jibes―she made up her mind about me and defending would only dig me in deeper.
"Is this going to be the first of many visits?" I asked, "seeing as I bought all of Lillian's estate."
"Don't get your hopes up, Boy―I'm not in the moving business and I can see you're a mover."
Then, a thought crossed her mind. "Oh, I almost forgot. Wait here, I'll be right back."
She went out to the truck and I used the time to put out a plate of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon for her.
She came back in carrying a long white cardboard box. "Open it," she said, putting it on a side counter.
I went over and pried the lid. Inside was Lillian's white dress, beautifully laid out and folded and wrapped in tissue paper.
I could feel my eyes burning and a lump in my throat. "This is really beautiful, Tess," I managed to croak.
She sensed my emotion and pretended not to notice. "I hope you don't play dolls," she deadpanned, and the remark surprised me and caused me to laugh.
"You're a strange guy, Marcus...and a good cook." She bit a piece of bacon and smiled.
I melted, the way I aways did around her...but then it hit me, I had just met her only a week before, but knew her from some where back in the past.
And that's what troubled me―these unfinished relationships coming back from long ago. The only question was, how far back?
No comment - I do not recognise the spanner
Ahh, you may have missed the part about Tess Woods, the owner of Afterlife Antiques, who also seems to share a past with Marcus. These people with ties back to the Twenties seem like ghosts returned from the past. As Salman Rushdie says,“Now I know what a ghost is. Unfinished business, that's what.” Well, there's a lot of unfinished business in Marcus' life and it doesn't just simply link back to the parts of his own life affected by memory loss - there's an element of Jung's psychology here about the Collective Unconscious of mankind and the way we carry around our ancestors inside us - why? To fulfill their lives? I don't know.
It is why I made the comment about the spanner (throwing a spanner into the works). While it was one ghost-spirit from his past, I could see him recreating his life. Now with two parts of his past...it gets complicated. What makes it more confusing is that he kept on seeing the one, but never saw/shared from Tess (your freckled baby). Easy solution, he converts and takes two wives. :) ... or else, he could agree with Tess for her to wait for his next life.
Ha ha ...you sure it's not a Spaniard in the works? lol . Yes, this is a convoluted and multi-layered conundrum but the various facets are interconnected yet still may be a bit challenging to follow in a serialized format . Posting in shorter parts rather than whole chapters creates its own problems-- hence, the shorter post today simply because of plot exigencies - I had to end it here rather than have Clare show up which would have complicated everything. I have some experience with this type of thing - I'm talking real life now, so I keep to what I know and what has worked in my own life and as I said before may seem implausible but is in fact possible. You always have such interesting insights, Alex - I can imagine us in an outdoor cafe losing track of the day challenging and inspiring the other. I read about Sartre and Camus having these types of conversations, though perhaps not with each other. Yeah, I envy them that...but they're dead..hmm, enough said:)
I've also imagined us having a bottle of wine and and something simple to eat, like a thick steak and a coffee to finish it off while we get to know each other....hmmm, as dessert a pavlova with raspberries or chestnut would be nice (if none available, then a delicate double-thick cream brule will do).
These writers....you never know where reality ends and fiction begins, lol. That meal sounds great, particularly since I just finished a supper consisting of a toasted chicken sandwich with a side of fries--as for dessert, that would be tea and ginger snaps. Yep, humble fare :)
You're a gourmand, Alex - this gives me ideas for dining scenes in the story. Mind you, Marcus, Nat et al are petite borgeois like me - Actually, I'm more peasant, ha ha