| Under the Leaves
Dedicated to Nancybe and a certain American Beech Tree |
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A breeze kissed the water, rising up with a hint of coolness it passed over a broken ledge of earth onto crisp green blades of grass. This shadow of air moved along slowly until it slid underneath the plush drooping branches that surrounded a hidden tree trunk and an isolated sojourner. Continuing on, whishing across stiff material and below to the silk of the lining, another portion of the breeze laid itself again pale skin.
Julia Hoffman reached up, releasing the buttons at the top of her blouse, parting the cotton, the breeze infiltrated even further beneath. She drank fully the cool air while leaning against the knobby tree trunk. This spot was her favorite now. The tree reminded her of the weeping willows in her Grandmother's yard. This wasn't a willow rather a massive American beech tree, Fagus grandiflora but it had the same ethereal quality. Branches long falling to the ground creating an airy opening beneath the canopy in which one could rest in quiet solitude. She had avoided this particular tree for several years. It recalled too well the one at her Grandmother's and her days hiding below its branches after her parents' untimely death. But she mourned now and found this tree with its shelter helpful.
~~~~
Barnabas Collins sat on the stone bench Willie had placed near Valerie
Collins grave. He barely noted the cool winds of the day. When first back
from 1840, he sat here often. Now not as much. But today was the first
year anniversary of her death, in his experience anyway. He looked down
at the stone. It said simply Valerie Collins and the date of her death,
nothing more, nothing less. There was too much to be said why even try?
What did he truly feel about this woman? It was all a jumble. It was his
shame that kept him isolated so long after her demise. In the center of
his anger was the disgrace at so cruelly using her all those decades ago.
He could acknowledge it now. And then he saw that with the same cruelty
he had injured another. During his despair, he blathered senselessly on
about Angelique being his only love. He did this to a woman of which he
knew he was her only love. He couldn't face his own idiocy nor the veils
in Julia's eyes. He couldn't even explain his shock, the reason for his
blind confession. 'I never admitted I did her wrong. She admitted in the
end she did me great injustice.' True, Angelique's crimes seemed greater
but he now understood their birth. And he was not an innocent nor blameless
as he'd tried to convince himself for so long. That is what he would say
would anyone listen. But she'd closed herself off to him, Julia didn't
accept his kindnesses, his invitations nor his polite social touches.
She pulled away if he tried to take her arm, a right he thought long ago
given and accepted.
'What was it and what is this now?' He wondered what Julia would be doing today? She spent her weekend afternoons away but no one knew where. When asked she answered vaguely that she'd taken a walk or been reading. He knew Roger and Carolyn guessed something else was afoot, perhaps someone else? But he doubted that, knowing she did prefer being alone with her thoughts. And she must have plenty after four years amongst this family. How did it come that he knew so much about her when she'd volunteered little and he'd asked even less? By observation he reasoned. While their lives were often frantic and tumultuous, there had been those long hours alone for him. Not quite awake but not asleep either. In that place between sleep and death he'd had plenty of time to deduce many things about Julia. The abrupt change in her childhood, raised by a Grandmother whose pendant she still carried at all times. Once things were dear to Julia, they were kept close. He used to be one of those things. This last year he hovered at the edges of the family, present but not participating. Julia did not corral him in as she used to. She joined in and seldom looked up to see his whereabouts. It pained him but they needed distance after such stressful years. He passed the time reading on recent history, even going so far as to auditing classes at the University. Watching the young people was shocking but also rich. He spent several afternoons at the University library with books about the Great Depression, World War II and life during those years. It fascinated him, the desperate struggle and valiant display of heroism, saving of a continent. He realized then, this was Julia's era, her youth and that was why he was enthralled. This what was shaped her as keenly as her own family.