Of Bees and Mist (17 page)

Up in her room, eyes swollen from crying, Meridia let the curtain fall from her fingers. How long would it take until his name was erased from her lips, his face reduced to a shimmer of a dream?

T
he impasse continued for weeks. Despite threats made on both sides, neither house was willing to back down. When Eva declared to Monarch Street that she had engaged the services of a renowned attorney, Gabriel gave her three days to produce the divorce papers. When Eva shot back that Meridia’s transgressions required more than three days to tabulate, Gabriel laughed in her face and said that he could have the marriage annulled in half the time. More arguments followed, more vituperative exchanges, during which no one noticed that the newlyweds themselves were silent.

Immersed in the task of forgetting, Meridia paid little attention to the stalemate. She nodded carelessly to Ravenna’s plan of sending her abroad, ready to sign whatever document was put under her nose. She had no desire to eat, speak, or do anything that might make her remember. At times she was without emotion, almost without consciousness; at others she could not stand up without trembling. In the loneliest hours she folded her knees to her chest and rocked without sound. The wound was deep, immeasurable. The pain of knowing he had not come to her rescue.

Despite her attempt to foil memory, she started remembering
how they met. The Festival of the Spirits. The Cave of Enchantment. His reckless and fatal disregard—she knew it now—of the seer’s warning. She remembered their first dance in Independence Plaza, their clandestine meetings around town, the kiss on the beach when his touch had allayed the horror of the gutted fawn. She remembered that glorious day in spring when Eva’s laughter had seduced her, wrapped her so tightly like a quilt that she traded the cold of Monarch Street for its warmth. How could she have expected happiness when every room in the house reeked of deceit?

She found comfort in shadows. In foundering doggedly into gloom. Nothing mattered then, not the recollection of his smile or his hot breath on her nape. And she would have been content to sink, for fifty or a hundred years perhaps, had she not been roused by a melody from another time. It happened one night when visions of him burned like live coal in her eyes. Part humming, part singing, the lush and vibrant song that had lured her into the Cave of Enchantment now drew her toward the window. “Nothing but a cheap trick,” Daniel had scoffed at the seer. But just as she did not feel swindled then, she did not refrain from lifting the curtain now.

It was nothing short of a siege. There he stood, just outside the reach of the mist, shamelessly appealing to her sentiment. Despite the wind, he wore neither hat nor coat, his pose plaintive, hair tousled, face handsome and penitent. There was no drizzle that night, yet he appeared wet to the skin. Torn by a hundred feelings, Meridia pulled the curtain shut.

The next evening he was back. No sodden clothes, no music, only flowers in his hand. The banality of the gesture made her grit her teeth, yet tears stubbornly sprang to her eyes. How many nights had he spent out there? How many more was he prepared to stay?

Twenty-seven, she counted. Perhaps twenty-eight. He stood there waiting in fog and heat, taking his post after the yellow mist departed and deserting it before the blue arrived. It was too late, she thought. She did not know how to trust him again. What did he
think he might accomplish, wooing her with songs and flowers? When she needed him most, he had not been there for her. And yet, as he continued to disrupt her sleep with phantom kisses, she began to crave the weight of him, the sun-and-sea smell of his skin. In league with cicadas and moonlight, he assailed her with a mood so rapturous she began to feel his touch across the distance. His gaze never wavered from her window. She knew this, too, without having to lift the curtain.

On the last night of his watch, the wind pounded the window like an angry hound. Just when it dawned on her that this might be the same wind that years ago had knocked Ravenna to the ground, the window blew open with a great force. A cold gust punched Meridia flat on the bed, penetrated her stomach, hardened inside into a knot. The blow stilled her for an instant, not painful but vital enough for her to understand. The next second she was flying out of the room, racing down the hallway, thumping the banister, reaching the front door in six steps. The massive oak swung without being touched. The ivory mist whisked to the side. Daniel was running with his arms out.

“Please forgive me,” he said. “I’ll do anything to win you back.”

She gasped hard for air, filling her lungs to the brim. It was too much, his arms around her, his heart in her ear, pounding along to her own intractable rhythm. She lifted her head quickly and kissed him.

“Why did you stay away?” he said. “It was winter here without you.”

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, looked at him sternly through her tears.

“To put back what you broke. Did you think it was easy to do?”

His pale eyes gleamed with remorse. “I swear I’ll never hurt you again. Will you take me back? Will you give me another chance?”

She did not answer but allowed him to hold her. By degrees the howling died to a soft moan. Telling herself it was not the same wind, she guided his hand to her belly.

WHEN RAVENNA DISCOVERED THAT
Meridia was with child, she broke her vow of decades and marched straight into Gabriel’s study.

“The child’s still in love and she’s carrying his baby.”

Sitting behind the desk, Gabriel suspended his pen midsentence. It was impossible to tell if he was more alarmed by his wife’s words or her sudden materialization.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Did you not hear me the first time? You’re going to be a grandfather.”

Gabriel let go of the pen and leaned back against the chair. Without betraying his surprise, he tried to match her blank tone word for word.

“She told you this herself?”

Ravenna nodded. She seemed then a creature born of water or ether, marvelously unaffected by human trials. In spite of himself, he felt her unflappable attitude begin to irk him.

“What does she propose to do?”

“Go back to that boy. On her terms, of course.”

“And you’ll let her go—‘return to hell,’ as you said?”

His mocking tone hit a nerve. He took pleasure in watching her jaw clench, in disarranging her, and for a moment she seemed to retreat behind her veil of forgetfulness. But then a tremendous change swept over her face. At once she righted herself, so cold and soldierly he could not imagine a single capillary of warmth to exist inside her.

“I won’t stand in her way. But neither will I allow that larcenous woman to lay a hand on her.”

Gabriel sat still. Even as it dawned on him that this was the most she had spoken to him in months, their eyes clashed like daggers, scourging the deep in each other. It was Gabriel who looked away first, aware that neither of them would emerge a victor.

“Let me hear it from her mouth,” he said.

A moment later, Ravenna left Meridia in front of his desk without a word. His daughter’s face, in contrast to his wife’s, was ennobled not by frost but by love.

“Is it true what your mother said? You wish to return to your husband?”

Meridia nodded. It did not escape Gabriel that her cheeks had the wild flush of berries.

“You want to go back to that house?”

“I want to be with Daniel.”

“Even when you know his family can toss you whenever they feel like it?”

“Daniel won’t let it happen again. He swore.”

Gabriel’s scoff was something she had more than expected.

“If you believe him, then your brain is far more addled than your mother’s.”

Meridia bowed her head. She realized they had been here before, hurling the same arguments, the day the matchmaker came to the house. And once again, just as on that day, she found herself dueling the onset of invisibility as his glare raked her. Whatever made her think she could sway him to her side?

And then she felt the kick in her belly. The knowledge that she was no longer fighting for herself lifted her chin and made her inspect the man who had never loved her. There was no doubt he looked older, grayer, but every line of his majestic face still retained its cruel and scrupulous hardness. Meridia decided she had nothing to lose.

“I have to believe him, Papa. He’s the man I love, the father of my baby. Please don’t sneer at me. Say what you want, but he’s the only person who ever cared for me, who comforted and held me when the rest of the world was determined not to see me. Before I met him, I didn’t know what it was like to be happy. I’ve forgiven him, Papa. That’s also something you and Mama never taught me.”

She said this with tears in her eyes. To her absolute shock, Gabriel winced and raised a hand to his shoulder. His stoop, courtesy
of Ravenna, now inflamed with pain. After what seemed an eternity, he replied in a voice gentler than she had ever known.

“I’ll let you go back to him. But you won’t live in that house again.”

Meridia drew up in surprise. “Then where will we live? You can’t mean—here?”

His contempt returned to blast her. “And let his family wash their hands of him? Don’t be stupid. He’s still their responsibility. I won’t have him live off my bounty.”

“Then where do you want us to live?”

Gabriel sharpened his stare cruelly.

“I want you to understand that if you return to him, you’ll be on your own. I won’t give you money, you’ll have to suffice on what you make. Should you find yourself out in the street again, do not expect me to provide you with shelter. Give me your word, and I’ll settle the rest.”

Meridia turned very pale. In the long pause that followed she came to grasp the full extent of his condition.

“Why don’t you want me in your life, Papa?”

His gaze, for once, was wistful and full of pity. His answer, however, was not.

“Because your mother destroyed all the space I had for you.”

Biting her tears, Meridia nodded. He did not have to ask her a second time.

“If I find myself in the street again,” she said, “you’ll be the last to hear of it.”

GABRIEL FULFILLED HIS PROMISE.
Without leaving any room for negotiation, he declared to Elias the following:

“My daughter will no longer live under your roof. Neither will she abide by your wife’s rules. If you want your grandchild, you will provide your son with a separate house and sufficient capital for a business. You are to give him your unflagging support, but never orders. Your wife will limit her interactions with my daughter, and
she will cease interfering in their household affairs. Should you fail to comply with my demands, I will adopt the baby myself and wash your name off its blood forever.”

Gabriel did not stop here. After grilling Meridia with the relentlessness of a prosecuting attorney, he discovered Eva’s deception with regard to the dowry and the wedding presents.

“What a stupid, stupid girl you are,” he berated her sharply. “Didn’t your mother teach you anything? It’s too late to reclaim the gifts, but I’ll get the money even if I have to pry it from her teeth.”

Thus, he added a final clause to his list of demands: the dowry money must at once be returned to Meridia in its full amount, plus interest.

Overjoyed upon learning he was to become a grandfather, Elias would have accepted all of Gabriel’s terms in the blink of an eye. Nonetheless, anticipating his wife’s reaction, he kept his happiness to himself and acted up an indignant storm in her presence. He cursed Gabriel with a perfectly livid face, calling the man “presumptuous, ridiculous, unconscionable, toxic, and predatory.” For days he made a big show of going to Monarch Street in a huff and coming back hours later claiming he had at last beaten some sense into his in-law’s skull. In truth, he spent those hours conferring with his business partners and scouring the town for a suitable place to house his grandchild.

Eva’s resistance was nothing less than epic. Day and night her bees needled Elias, demanding that Gabriel put up the money for the house and provide half the capital for the business. But the jeweler, for once in their marriage, found the words to thwart her. “That man won’t yield—you know how stubborn that family is. If we don’t do as he demands, he might drag us through the mud and say all kinds of filth about us. People will talk. People will say we’re mean and heartless and stingy. There will be a scandal. Are you ready to have the town gossip about you around the clock?”

Eva, always in dread of losing face, grumbled some more before relenting.

“Fine, we’ll do as he said. But rest assured I won’t let that impudent upstart cheat us out of a single penny!”

And so in the first brilliant day of winter, while the sky sparkled and the bees went into retreat, the newlyweds moved into a tiny house on Willow Lane, ten blocks south of Orchard Road. Unbeknown to Eva, Elias had secretly furnished the rooms with secondhand furniture, hung clean cotton sheets for curtains, and spread a new rug in the hallway. A small unit connected to the house had been turned into a modest jewelry shop. It was agreed that the young couple would manage without a servant.

T
he house at 175 Willow Lane wheezed with an old man’s lungs. The rafters sniffled in cold, the floors in heat, and the walls never stopped coughing from their blistered paint. There were leaks in the roof, holes on the floorboards; opening a door triggered an avalanche of dust. The air, trapped by the low ceilings and narrow rooms without an outlet, smelled as if the asthmatic old man had been bricked alive in his own bed.

Yet nothing made Meridia happier. She flung the windows open, beat the air with perfumed sheets, squashed giant spiders with a broom, poured vinegar over cockroaches, scrubbed the bathroom floor until every tile gleamed. Refusing help from Monarch Street, she swept and washed and dusted for three days, polishing even Elias’s threadbare furniture with a care befitting an heirloom. The house was hers. Hers. She was mistress of it as much as she was wife to her husband.

While she cleaned the house, Daniel set up the store. He painted the walls a bright yellow, sanded the floor, fitted in a window, coated the battered display cases with a brilliant varnish. He spent an entire day consulting a manual on how to arrange the space to bring the
most luck, factoring into consideration the flow of air and the position of the sun at every hour. For wall decoration, Meridia pieced together an embroidery of mermaids and elf kings, magical creatures she had retained from her days with Hannah and Permony. Her work was at best elementary, yet Daniel praised it to the sky, saying it would bring them more fortune than a holy charm.

Their first dinner was both a delight and a tragedy. Without Patina’s supervision, Meridia burned the rice and overcooked the pork. The mushroom soup tasted strongly of lead, and the fried bananas she had planned for dessert emerged limp and defeated from the skillet. While she contemplated her failure at the dinner table, Daniel cut out a large piece of the pork. He chewed it thoughtfully before declaring, “I’ve never tasted anything better in my life.” Bursting into laughter, Meridia threw her napkin at him and shouted, “And I’ve never met a worse liar in mine!”

A few days later, Ravenna made a surprise visit to the house. Resentful, Daniel removed himself to the shop. Ravenna did not seem to mind, and began putting the lilies she brought into a vase. Refusing Meridia’s offer of tea, she walked through the three rooms in the house with her absentminded grace, fluffed a pillow here, straightened a chair there, and made a lone comment on how Meridia should cook the chicken and not the fish. In five minutes Ravenna was gone, but instantly the house felt brighter, the air no longer smelling of dead flesh. An hour later, dressing a catfish for dinner, Meridia noticed that it had indeed gone bad. She scratched her head, looked around the kitchen, and sighted a chicken she had not bought sitting on the counter.

That night Meridia received another surprise. Opening the back door after dinner, she found a large, cloth-wrapped parcel lying on the doormat. The night was crowded with stars, yet the tiny yard was deserted. Meridia bent to lift the parcel and, finding it heavy, dragged it with some difficulty into the kitchen. No sooner had she untied the cloth than the sweet scent of verbena escaped into the air.

“Daniel! What on earth are these?”

Daniel quickly joined her on the floor. “Gold bars,” he declared in amazement, lifting one and then the other. “They look solid, at least a kilo each.”

“Gold bars? Are you sure?”

“I’m a jeweler, dearest. Who do you think put them there?”

“Smell the cloth,” Meridia said without hesitation. “Who else can it be?”

He said nothing but helped her carry them to the bedroom. A day earlier, she had discovered a loose floorboard under the bed while cleaning, and had hidden the dowry money and the gold jewelry set there. To these she now added the two bars. “How did she—” Overwhelmed with gratitude, Meridia let the question drift unfinished.

When the first batch of jewels arrived from Lotus Blossom Lane, she pestered Daniel to tell her what they were. Aquamarine pendants, he said. Jade bracelets, tanzanite rings, garnet necklaces. She rolled their names off her tongue like a prayer, committing each one not just to memory but to heart. The next day she had Daniel instruct her on how to spot defects in diamonds, how to appraise gold by taste and spot genuine pearls from the counterfeit. Keeping a chart of precious stones by her bed, she recited nightly the properties of ruby and topaz, agate, amethyst, opal, and others. The thirst for knowledge lit her face like a fire in the sky. No one stopped her this time. No one took away the gems she studied with such rhapsodic fascination. After lovemaking one night, Daniel teased her that the moonstone was making her passion more unbridled. “Don’t be silly,” she retorted, pinching his buttocks savagely. But in her blood she knew that their future lay in the hands of those jewels.

Three days later, the shop opened with little fanfare. A few loyal customers from Lotus Blossom Lane, along with friends of family. Ravenna sent a gold-lettered banner and a basket of oranges for good luck. Elias beamed with pride, Eva found fault in everything. However, wary of Gabriel’s conditions, she directed her criticisms
only to Daniel. Meridia pretended not to hear. From Gabriel she received no acknowledgment.

Despite their high hopes, the next two weeks went by without a sale. The number of people who stopped in to browse could be counted on two hands.

“What are we doing wrong?” Meridia asked Daniel one night after closing.

“Patience,” he answered serenely. “Our luck will turn when the time is right.”

When another week went by and still nothing was sold, Meridia decided she had to do something. That afternoon she left the store early and went for a walk. How long would the drought continue? Even then Eva was already crowing to see profits. The idea that the shop would fail was unthinkable. She could not go back to Orchard Road, and Gabriel had made it clear she was not welcome on Monarch Street. They still had the dowry money to live on, but how long would it support them if things went on in this fashion? Rambling from one alley to another, Meridia battered her brains for a way out. There must be something she could do. Something to stand the business on its feet.

The answer came to her less than a minute later.

“Look up. You won’t solve anything by staring at your toes.”

Meridia looked up. A woman no more than twenty, fitted in boots and bangles and a revealing carmine dress from overseas, was speaking to her. Stouter, slower in movement, but with the same flowing red hair Meridia would recognize anywhere.

“Hannah!”

Her mouth fell open. Before she recovered, her old friend had enfolded her in a kiss. Time stopped then, or rather unwound to the day they had last seen each other.

“What are you doing here?” she shouted with joy.

“Keeping my husband on his toes,” said Hannah with a grin. “My father retired a year ago, and out of sheer perversity, I pledged my life to another traveling merchant. So here I am, on the road once again.”

Meridia laughed. “You haven’t changed. How long will you stay this time?”

“Months. Years. But let’s eat first. All this talking is making me hungry.”

Their feet tacitly agreed on the same place: the bookshop café next to the courthouse. They walked with their arms twined, recalling nonstop the adventures of their girlhood days. Hannah told her the many countries she had visited, the strange spectacles seen and stranger characters befriended. She had just returned to town last week, she said, and had been searching high and low for her dearest friend ever since.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Hannah said as soon as they sat down. “Does your husband treat you right? I’ll skin him alive if he doesn’t.”

Snacking on grape soda and strawberry sandwiches, Meridia acquainted Hannah with her married life. “Daniel’s a good man,” she said. “He will make a wonderful father.” She painted her in-laws in broad strokes, never once alluding to Eva’s behavior or her own ousting, and became specific only when she talked about the difficulty the store was facing. Shoppers, she said, did not seem to notice it when they walked by.

“Make them see it then,” said Hannah simply.

“What do you mean?”

The spirited redhead gave a broad wink, followed by a vigorous shaking of her bangles. “Meet me here in the morning and I’ll show you.” Then, more seriously, she added, “You haven’t always been happy, have you? Yet prettier than I remember.”

For the rest of the day, Meridia was walking on air. Daniel, watching her break into smiles for no reason, finally asked, “Why are you so excited?”

“I ran into an old friend,” she said coyly. “We haven’t seen each other in ages.”

“But you’re blushing,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “If you aren’t careful, people might think you’re in love.”

When Meridia returned to the bookshop café the next morning, Hannah was waiting for her. A simple white dress this time, no boots, no bangles, her wild hair neatly framed with a schoolgirl’s headband.

“Take a deep breath,” she told Meridia. “I’ll show you how to get people into your shop.”

So for the second time in their friendship, Hannah introduced the town to her. With her old self-confidence, the imperturbable woman made Meridia approach complete strangers in the streets, made her compliment them and then tell them about the magnificent new shop on Willow Lane. Meridia, shy at first, quickly learned her lesson. That day she covered Majestic Avenue from end to end, shaking hands with so many people whose names Hannah insisted she memorize. “Young or old, each one is special. Next time you see them, make sure you greet them.”

The next day they repeated their rounds in the commercial neighborhoods surrounding the market square. “We’ll focus on the retailers and the servicepeople,” explained Hannah. “You need customers, they have plenty of them.” Meridia purchased two dozen tins of cinnamon toffee and wrote down her address on elegant business cards. That day she made the acquaintances of three hairdressers, seven dressmakers, two teahouse owners, a florist, four milliners, six storekeepers, and one proprietress of a beauty parlor. Thanks to the toffee and Hannah’s instructions, many of them happily agreed to mention the shop to their customers.

On the third day, Hannah met her at the most curious of places—around the corner from the jewelry shop.

“Why here?” Meridia was baffled. “Hardly anybody walks this way.”

“Know your own turf,” replied Hannah coolly. “Don’t expect your business to take off before you shake hands with every one of your neighbors.”

Without waiting for an answer, the redhead marched straight to the nearest door and began knocking. For the next four hours they
visited every home in the area. From these conversations, Meridia learned that Willow Lane was a developing neighborhood, comprised mainly of hardworking tradesmen and their young wives, most of whom sewed or took in laundry for extra income. Only a handful of businesses serviced them—a smoke shop, a newsstand, a fabric shop, and a little café with a light blue awning. The young wives expressed hope that the jewelry shop would inject new life into the neighborhood.

Finished with their rounds, the two friends walked over to 175 in great spirits. One arm fastened around the other’s waist, they talked animatedly about how kind the neighbors were and how welcoming.

“I can’t thank you enough,” said a beaming Meridia when they reached the shop. “Please stay for dinner. Daniel would love to meet you.”

She had opened the shop door partway, but Hannah pushed it shut again.

“Stay a minute. There’ll be time for that.” Hannah’s voice had changed, low and feverish. Without a warning she pulled Meridia in an embrace. When they drew apart there were tears gleaming in her eyes.

“I behaved shamefully last time,” said Hannah. “All these years I wanted to explain why I left without telling you.”

“There’s no need,” said Meridia quickly. “I understand.”

“But I want you to know—”

“There’s no need,” Meridia firmly repeated. “I know.” Against her will, a single tear tore its way down her cheek. The door was opening from inside.

“Are you coming in?” asked Daniel. Meridia wiped her cheek and turned.

“Yes, Daniel. This is—”

She felt Hannah’s hand pressing hers with urgency. When she turned, her friend was nowhere to be seen.

“Why are you standing here all alone?” said Daniel. “I swear you were talking to yourself just now. Where is this mythical friend
of yours? I must have a word with her for hogging you these three days.”

“I was—didn’t you see—” She could not speak. “It’s nothing. Are you hungry? I’ll get dinner ready in a minute.”

The next morning, when Meridia saw a letter from Hannah waiting for her on the kitchen table, she did not open it. Neither did she toss it into the wastebasket. Instead, she hid it carefully in a pile of dresses, a memento of need and loss, along with the part of her that had once again shut.