The story continues...
Slivers of moonlight shone through the lace threads that fluttered over the bedroom window in the night breeze. The world was still except for the distant crash of ocean waves against the cliffs and Dylan's soft snore. Lily propped her head against a palm and admired her husband's profile. She drew a hand along the strong, muscled curve of his back and smiled when he stirred slightly.
Still warm and satisfied from their earlier lovemaking, she briefly wondered why there was no child from their unions yet; they were taking no precautions. But the thought was fleeting as there were other matters weighing on her mind such as the young man who had come searching for Annie earlier that day.
As Lily mused, she recalled a bathtub conversation with Annie the evening before her friend had left for New Orleans.
"Why do you love Dylan?"
"Because Mister Dylan and I compliment each other. Where I lack, he excels. We fill each other's empty spaces until it feels almost as if we are one entity. My heart beats strongly for him."
"Farrell treated me good. But, I think I needed him more than I loved him."
Lily believed that sometimes two souls were fated for each other despite all obstacles. She felt that fate for Annie and the Sahib and it rested in her hands. Could she deny Annie the same happiness as what she had with Dylan? Could she remain silent and continute to let Annie run away from things that caused her pain. Or, would she follow her own burning intuition; that the look on the Sahib's face and the pleading in his voice had shown her what she'd needed to know.
Slipping from the warmth of their bed, Lily padded out to the main room of the cottage. She lit a lamp at the tiny desk and sat to pen a letter to Annie.
Lily lingered in deep contemplation for the longest of times, not quite sure what she would say. The cottage had become chilly in the night. With a shiver she finally decided that simplicity was the best route and that a bit of mystery couldn't hurt. The letter simply said:
It's time to come home.
***
When the letter arrived, Annie immediately recognized the distinctive handwriting with it's loops, curls, and circle-dotted "i"s. She anxiously tore into the envelope looking for the usual rambling accounts of what was happening back in Riversend. The simple plea to return home baffled her. Then she began to worry that someone was ill or dying.
"Philippe! Pack my bag. I'm going on a little trip."
Philippe's pretty doe-eyes blinked and turned liquid. "But where are you going?"
Annie stroked Philippe's cheek with the pads of her fingers, then leaned in and gave him a peck on the forehead. "I just have some matters to attend to with the millinery.
Philippe's jaw set with determination. "I'll go with you."
"No, your Mère needs you here. Besides, if you come with me who will feed all those stray cats you've adopted? Who will tease the whores in the Quarter?"
Philippe flashed a quick, white grin.
Annie playfully swatted the youth on his behind to send him on his way. "I'll be back before ya know it."
(Created by the writer behind Annie Beemer)
***
Not far from the Fall's cottage by the bay lay the sleepy village of Chelsa. It was a small, quiet town living off fishing and the few city folk who fled the city's summer heat.
Not far off its main street and close to the docks stood the old boarding house of Miss Gilly's. Once it had been grand and stately as its owner had been young and beautiful, but the years and the elements had taken its toll on both. Still, while the manse and Miss Gilly had seen better days, they continued to survive in their own way. The house had become a home for those without their own and Miss Gilly was mother hen to the brood.
'Twas there that Gef boarded as he waited and pondered what next to do. His days passed slowly. He wandered the town, haunted the docks and oft stared for hours out to sea. Occasionally, he'd see Dylan or Lily when they came to town on errand. They would smile or wave but that was all, they brought no news of Annie to him.
Nearly a week had passed since he'd been turned around down the road, yet his hope had not diminished. Vordak had faith that he was doing the right thing, that he was in the right place. He had no other choice but to stick it out for the alternative was unacceptable.
That sixth night as he sat upon the verandah and watched the sun's light seep from the western sky, a single stooped figure joined him in the twilight.
"Mr. Gef?"
Vordak rose quickly, surprised that Miss Gilly would join his quiet reverie. She stopped at a rocking chair and motioned with her cane. "Could you give me a hand, young man. My balance isn't what it used to be."
When Gef moved to her side, Miss Gilly gently grasped his arm and carefully lowered herself down. Once situated she paused until he'd settled then she spoke, "You don't belong here. Why have you come?"
He turned and found her piercing gaze in the fading light. "I have no where else to go."
"That's not true and not an answer," she challenged. "Shall I tell you what I see?"
He said for her to go on.
"I see a young man with no plan. I see unrest and worry. I also see someone out of place."
Gef nodded in the deepening darkness. "Are you a fortune teller, Miss Gilly?"
"No, don't be silly," she replied with a snort. "I'm just a nosey old bat and I've spoken with Mrs. Fall, that's all." She lifted her cane and poked him in the side. "Now spill it and tell me your tale."
Vordak perked up at the mention of Lily, his interest piqued that they'd spoken. Yet, the jab in his ribs stopped him from asking and instead he voiced the obvious. "I'm trying to find someone ... someone dear to me and I don't know where to go nor where to look. She disappeared. They say she's dead. The only clue I have is that Mrs. Fall and she were ... are friends. That and a note Annie wrote me, letting me know she still lived."
The elderly spinster sighed for that was not the first time she'd heard love's lament. "I know how it can be," she said quietly. "But sometimes what we want is, Mr. Gef, is not what we can have."
(Created by the writer behind Vordak Gef; copyright 2003)
Still warm and satisfied from their earlier lovemaking, she briefly wondered why there was no child from their unions yet; they were taking no precautions. But the thought was fleeting as there were other matters weighing on her mind such as the young man who had come searching for Annie earlier that day.
As Lily mused, she recalled a bathtub conversation with Annie the evening before her friend had left for New Orleans.
"Why do you love Dylan?"
"Because Mister Dylan and I compliment each other. Where I lack, he excels. We fill each other's empty spaces until it feels almost as if we are one entity. My heart beats strongly for him."
"Farrell treated me good. But, I think I needed him more than I loved him."
Lily believed that sometimes two souls were fated for each other despite all obstacles. She felt that fate for Annie and the Sahib and it rested in her hands. Could she deny Annie the same happiness as what she had with Dylan? Could she remain silent and continute to let Annie run away from things that caused her pain. Or, would she follow her own burning intuition; that the look on the Sahib's face and the pleading in his voice had shown her what she'd needed to know.
Slipping from the warmth of their bed, Lily padded out to the main room of the cottage. She lit a lamp at the tiny desk and sat to pen a letter to Annie.
Lily lingered in deep contemplation for the longest of times, not quite sure what she would say. The cottage had become chilly in the night. With a shiver she finally decided that simplicity was the best route and that a bit of mystery couldn't hurt. The letter simply said:
It's time to come home.
***
When the letter arrived, Annie immediately recognized the distinctive handwriting with it's loops, curls, and circle-dotted "i"s. She anxiously tore into the envelope looking for the usual rambling accounts of what was happening back in Riversend. The simple plea to return home baffled her. Then she began to worry that someone was ill or dying.
"Philippe! Pack my bag. I'm going on a little trip."
Philippe's pretty doe-eyes blinked and turned liquid. "But where are you going?"
Annie stroked Philippe's cheek with the pads of her fingers, then leaned in and gave him a peck on the forehead. "I just have some matters to attend to with the millinery.
Philippe's jaw set with determination. "I'll go with you."
"No, your Mère needs you here. Besides, if you come with me who will feed all those stray cats you've adopted? Who will tease the whores in the Quarter?"
Philippe flashed a quick, white grin.
Annie playfully swatted the youth on his behind to send him on his way. "I'll be back before ya know it."
(Created by the writer behind Annie Beemer)
***
Not far from the Fall's cottage by the bay lay the sleepy village of Chelsa. It was a small, quiet town living off fishing and the few city folk who fled the city's summer heat.
Not far off its main street and close to the docks stood the old boarding house of Miss Gilly's. Once it had been grand and stately as its owner had been young and beautiful, but the years and the elements had taken its toll on both. Still, while the manse and Miss Gilly had seen better days, they continued to survive in their own way. The house had become a home for those without their own and Miss Gilly was mother hen to the brood.
'Twas there that Gef boarded as he waited and pondered what next to do. His days passed slowly. He wandered the town, haunted the docks and oft stared for hours out to sea. Occasionally, he'd see Dylan or Lily when they came to town on errand. They would smile or wave but that was all, they brought no news of Annie to him.
Nearly a week had passed since he'd been turned around down the road, yet his hope had not diminished. Vordak had faith that he was doing the right thing, that he was in the right place. He had no other choice but to stick it out for the alternative was unacceptable.
That sixth night as he sat upon the verandah and watched the sun's light seep from the western sky, a single stooped figure joined him in the twilight.
"Mr. Gef?"
Vordak rose quickly, surprised that Miss Gilly would join his quiet reverie. She stopped at a rocking chair and motioned with her cane. "Could you give me a hand, young man. My balance isn't what it used to be."
When Gef moved to her side, Miss Gilly gently grasped his arm and carefully lowered herself down. Once situated she paused until he'd settled then she spoke, "You don't belong here. Why have you come?"
He turned and found her piercing gaze in the fading light. "I have no where else to go."
"That's not true and not an answer," she challenged. "Shall I tell you what I see?"
He said for her to go on.
"I see a young man with no plan. I see unrest and worry. I also see someone out of place."
Gef nodded in the deepening darkness. "Are you a fortune teller, Miss Gilly?"
"No, don't be silly," she replied with a snort. "I'm just a nosey old bat and I've spoken with Mrs. Fall, that's all." She lifted her cane and poked him in the side. "Now spill it and tell me your tale."
Vordak perked up at the mention of Lily, his interest piqued that they'd spoken. Yet, the jab in his ribs stopped him from asking and instead he voiced the obvious. "I'm trying to find someone ... someone dear to me and I don't know where to go nor where to look. She disappeared. They say she's dead. The only clue I have is that Mrs. Fall and she were ... are friends. That and a note Annie wrote me, letting me know she still lived."
The elderly spinster sighed for that was not the first time she'd heard love's lament. "I know how it can be," she said quietly. "But sometimes what we want is, Mr. Gef, is not what we can have."
(Created by the writer behind Vordak Gef; copyright 2003)