"MELANCHOLY DREAMS" by Sarah Ryniker

STORY LAST UPDATED ON 01/03/2003

Melancholy Dreams Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Epilogue

CHAPTER FIVE: MY MOTHER'S HUSBAND

Of course my family didn't know me, so they most certainly weren't expecting me. As I got closer and closer to them, my heart race soared and I felt like a hot air balloon, the bags of safety being dropped from me, pulling me farther and farther into the unknown world of insecurity. I felt horribly sick. What would their reaction be to me? Did it really matter, though? I always had a home to go back to. That was the only comforting thought that I had, even as the plane's wheels touched down onto the runway.
    I rented a car, just as I'd planned. As I drove into the Carmel area, its beauty amazed me. The ocean was a beautiful blue and green meshed into one another, making it sparkle like a forbidden jewel. It took my breath away, knowing that I could someday live there.
    My family, my sisters and brothers from my mother's first marriage, lived on their own personal part of Carmel. It was a rather large piece of land, hardly off the beach at all. A large gate was at the entrance, to keep out people they didn't know. There was a call button off to the side and I pressed it, even though I didn't know what to say.
    "Yes? Who may I ask is here?" I heard a Scottish accent say in rather proper English.
    I thought for a second and decided to take a chance. "I'm Cry Fawrling. My mother was Colleen. I am here to see Tomas Lavigne."
    "Well, I've certainly never heard that one before. But come on in. I'm sure Master Lavigne will be interested." The gates squeaked slightly as they opened slowly. I drove through at the same pace at which the gate had opened. This was really happening and I was scared to death.
    As I drove inside, I noticed a sign off to the left that read "Welcome to Sede Bella". I wondered out loud what it meant. It was evidently Italian, and when I later on asked, I found that it meant Beautiful Home. I thought that it was a nice touch, and it also fit the glorious house that lay out before me.
    I drove past two large weeping willows that seemed to guard the very foundation. They didn't seem threatening by any means, yet they had seen and heard everything this land had produced for centuries, I was sure. Their age gave them wisdom, and gave me respect for them, trees or not.
    I drove past a giant cemetery that was surrounded by a small wrought iron fence that was no more than knee-high. It was a beautiful cemetery with freshly laid flowers on every gravestone. It was absolutely breathtaking that such a place for death could be so morbidly beautiful.
    When I got to the house I was even more amazed. The house was as beautiful as the grounds. It was the largest house I'd ever laid my eyes on. There were two towers in the fronts with the rooftops coming to a point, much like a castle. The main part of the house had a square roof with a sort of dip in the middle. There were more towers around the house with rooftops that all came to points. The roof was a pale orange red and the house itself was an immaculate white. It looked as if it had just got a new paint job, but I would soon learn that it always appeared that way.
    I parked the car in the large circular gravel driveway. When I got out, I walked up to the large oak double doors nervously. There was stained glass on both sides of the doors, and even imbedded into the top half of the doors with gold framing around it, to make it stand out.
    I didn't have to knock. Just as I reached the door, the Scottish butler opened it. He was maybe in his mid-thirties and looked too young to be a butler. I had always imagined butlers to be old, with balding heads with age spots, and always standing so ramrod straight they appeared to have a piece of iron shoved up their backs. This man had a head full of ruby red hair with a thick moustache and beard to match. He was, to my surprise, even wearing a kilt with a white shirt and flannel overcoat.
    He smiled at the look on my face, and then quickly ushered me in. "Come, dear, Master Lavigne is awaiting your arrival in the main parlour."
I followed him into the house. The foyer wasn't very large but it was beautiful. The floor sparkled like beautiful cream-coloured pearls. A staircase twirled its way up into the second storey with a dark cherry wood banister and porcelain railings and steps.
    I was led farther into the foyer and into a room just off to the left. It was cosy, but seemingly manly. There were bookcases lining the walls, all in a very dark cherry wood, just like the banister on the staircase. There wasn't much light. A small window to the far right of the room was covered with dark green curtains and there was only a single, tall lamp lighting the rest of the room. The leather furniture was brown but appeared black in the dark lighting. There was a sofa on the far wall, a loveseat to the left of it, a chaise to the right and in the corner next to the window was a large recliner that my mother's ex-husband was sitting in.
    He looked so thoughtful sitting there. Even after I was announced, he just sat there looking out the window. His face was fallen, almost as if somebody has ripped his entire world out from under his feet. His eyes were wide and deep set, I could see them from the side, and his light brown hair fell in thick waves over his head, none of it grey. I couldn't see the colour of his eyes but I had a distinct feeling that they were dark brown, like my eldest sister's. His nose was slightly too small for his face, but perfectly straight, almost pointy. His lips were his best feature. Even from the side I could see that they were thick, full.
    I was attracted to him and got angry with myself for it. I knew that part of me was so lonely that I was beginning to reach out to anybody. But Tomas Lavigne was a beautiful man. Dazzling in features that no man should ever have. I grew angry with myself for my body's reaction. It was so different than the reaction I had to David. It was more urgent, and I felt a liking for Tomas Lavigne that I had never felt for David.
    I cleared my throat after the silence became too thick and my emotions in even more of a whirlwind. "Mr Lavigne?"
    "Call me Tomas, Cry. No formalities. You are Colleen's daughter." He said it with such sadness. He sighed and then finally looked at me. As soon as his eyes came upon me fully his breath seemed to leave him. "You really are her daughter. You are even more beautiful than she was."
    I actually blushed, which wasn't very like me. "Thank you, Tomas."
    He sighed again and looked me up and down slowly. Then he turned back towards the window and leaned on his hand. "Is there any reason you've come here? In need of money or anything?"
    I shook my head. "No, I just want to be near the only family I have. Your children are my older sisters and brother, you know."
    He nodded in understanding. "They have no idea about you. Only Kassandra has any memory of her, although faint. They all believe that she died of cervical cancer not too long after the twins were born."
    "Well," I said sadly, "part of that is true. She is dead. She killed herself almost a year ago."
    "And where is your father? The man that took the only woman I'd ever loved away?" he demanded, anger burning in his dark eyes as he looked at me.
    "He left us." It was the only way to put it. I didn't truly feel like getting into the whole ordeal. It was something that had happened nearly two years before. I wasn't ever going back to that time in my life. In fact, there were a lot of times in my life that I refused to revisit.
    He nodded. "He was a lowlife like that," he muttered to himself. "And I put him through medical school."
    "You did?" I asked, shocked.
    "Did you never hear of me, then?" he asked, his eyes seeming to wait on my answer.
    "No, never," I answered honestly. "I was going through Mother's things when I came upon your letters, pictures and my sisters and brother's arts and crafts."
    "At least she kept them," he said bitterly. "I've been the fool to love her all of these years. I've stayed unmarried, praying that she'd realise what she's done and come back. And now she's never coming back."
    I could hear the tears burning behind his words, and I longed to comfort him. "Trust me, she realised it. Every day she would stare at me as if I were some reminder of something awful in her life. I was her mistake, as was my father."
    "No child is ever a mistake. She shouldn't have treated you that way." He seemed apologetic for her behaviour towards me my entire life, but it had nothing to do with him.
    "It's not your fault. And I'm not a child anymore and can understand what my mother is," I told him, confident that it was true. "I do want one thing from you, and that is to know who my mother was."
    He looked at me thoughtfully. "How old are you?"
    The question threw me off. I didn't know that it had anything to do with who and what my mother was. "I'll be twenty in August." I saw his face turn into what seemed like hurt.
    "She was pregnant with you before she even left here." He bit his knuckle to keep back the tears of betrayal. He felt it that deep for so many years. It was my first instinct to go to him and wrap my arms around him soothingly.
    "I'm sorry you've had to feel this for so long. If I could give you back your wife, I would," I swore.
    "I'm not sure I could ever love anyone the way I stupidly loved Colleen. I even loved her when we were children. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. She was just so beautiful to me. And I was only nine years old."
    I'd never known anyone who could love like that and it truly amazed me. "I'll leave if I am bringing back too many memories," I offered.
    "No, you remind me of good things. You truly have every inch of her beauty. And more."
    He was flattering me and making my heart pound. I couldn't help wondering if he was attracted to me the way I was he. "I do have another question," I said, the question just popping into my head. "If I stay, how will you explain me to your children?"
    He thought for a moment. "What kind of plans do you have for your life, Cry?" he asked me. It was a shocking question that I would soon learn the purpose to.
    "I really don't have one," I admitted. "I just live my life day to day."
    "You did say that if you could bring my beloved wife back to me you would." His eyes were pleading before he even said it. "Do just that for me, Cry. Bring back my wife. Be my wife."
    I stood there next to him, in utter shock. I didn't know what to say. "I don't know. I just met you." And you're old enough to be my father, I thought to myself.
    "That's not a problem. We can get to know each other and that's how I can explain you. Please, I am lonely, Cry. I need somebody young, vibrant, alive and oh so beautiful in my life. Please."
    I thought about it. I did need an escape. I needed a way to live my life in peace, without the baggage that Vegas was costing me. He was offering me a world that most girls only dream about. I could become a real life empress. I would own the house, the beautiful lands. It would all be mine. And what would be so bad about sharing that and a bed with this wonderfully handsome man?
    I nodded before I even really thought. His face became a burst of sunshine he smiled so wide. I was still in a shocked state as he stood up and swung me around the room as if we'd known each other for years and had decided to finally marry. It made me nervous inside. But then again, it made me feel safe and secure in the world. I finally would have a place in life, and that place would be beside my mother's ex-husband.

Melancholy Dreams Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Epilogue

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