after all, as they have existed in our past lives
and only momentarily forgotten.
― Lorin Morgan-Richards
After my upsetting visit to the historical house, I tried to distract myself by reading before the fire while listening to the rain pelting against the windows.
I felt warm and sheltered, safe within the walls of Sunnyside, as I broiled a steak and fried up some leftover potatoes and corn. It was comfort food and helped calm my jangled nerves.
After supper, I tried to lose myself in Jack Finney’s novel, Time and Again, but every time I took a break and closed my eyes for a moment, I saw the tour guide’s malevolent face.
Finally, exhausted from the stress of the day, I turned off the lights and climbed the stairs to bed.
As I changed into my pyjamas, blue waves of lightning lit the windows and thunder grumbled softly in the distance.
I hoped the static of rain and faint rumbling of thunder would calm my inner distractions.
Maybe my mind on the storm would help keep me from thinking about the hostile forces about me.
Sure enough, almost as soon as I slid beneath the flannel sheets my body began to relax and within minutes I fell into a deep sleep.
Bu the problem was I dwelt in two worlds, the everyday life of West Harbour and the familiar inner landscape of my dream world with the girl I could never meet.
In this night’s dream we were at Whitehern and the atmosphere was dark and gloomy.
People were clustered in small groups inside the house and outside in the gardens, and everyone seemed somber and subdued.
I felt excluded as if the family were privy to a secret that was being withheld from me and this caused me great agitation.
Nobody seemed to acknowledge my presence and I felt shunned.
I decided to leave but as I approached the front door the voice of my dream girl cried out to me. “Paul, please don’t leave. I need you to stay with me.”
“He should go,” an angry female voice parried. “He’s not one of us.”
“Don’t say that, Edna—Paul is my guest and I need him right now.”
“You’ve always been an outlier in this house, Lillian—I don’t see why father wanted you here in the first place, and now he’s gone.”
Lillian flared with anger. “That is not your place to question Isaac’s motives, You are being horrid and owe both Paul and me an apology.”
“An apology? Surely you’re not serious. You're too free with your talk, Lillian, and the more outsiders know about us, the more they gossip. I won’t apologize for avoiding a scandal. You need to do your duty.”
Edna turned on her heel and stomped upstairs to her room
Lillian turned back to me, subdued but resolute. “Don’t pay any attention to her spiteful ways, Paul. You’re my guest and are always welcome here.”
“But what is she afraid I will tell?”
“She’s embarrassed about Isaac’s dealings with the Hull’s and their crimes. Perhaps, Isaac should have been more circumspect despite close ties with their family. It’s led to this tragedy but Isaac was guilty of nothing more than trying to support a friend.”
“Still, there’s enough upset here. Maybe I should avoid coming to the house and creating a row.”
“No, my love, that won’t change Edna’s heart—she’s obsessed about appearances and reputation. It’s a sickness inside her you can’t appease and she’s jealous of me and my family because the Yardley’s have a distinguished history her family can’t claim.”
“But if my visiting causes such turmoil…”
"Shush, my dearest," she said, placing two fingers upon my lips, “she’s not only jealous of my family but us. I care nothing about how others see me and want nothing more than for you and me to make our own history.”
She leaned over and softly kissed me. The soft powdery scent of her perfume filled my nostrils and her embrace warmed me within. As always, she overwhelmed all my defences and I willingly gave in.
I awoke the next morning still tasting her lipstick and the silken touch of her skin.