THE SPIGOT,
Part 3
Workers descended on the little house immediately , re-tiling the bathroom and creating a lovely shower. The tiles were colorful with a rippled texture which made them shimmer.
At the same time, in the kitchen, the old appliances were replaced, and the wooden floors sanded and returned to their original beauty.
All this within a week while she worked on restoring the overgrown garden. The house was becoming hers. One more change was necessary. She painted the front door pale blue and designed a huge floral wreath for it. No bow was necessary. All was perfect. Mel was delighted with her little house!
Flowers from Mel’s garden
watercolor by Elaine
Each day as they worked, Philippe’s gran-mere delivered a handsome meal. Mel and Philippe dined in her garden and talked.
In no time at all, it was Saturday night. Time to celebrate the summer harvest of lavender. Mel dressed carefully. She wore her hair up, dressed in an emerald green sundress, put on her mother’s earrings, also an emerald comb to catch her hair.
She remembered when her mother gave her the earrings. She had just graduated from college. “ You should always wear green with your lovely red hair,” she said. “These were my mother’s. Cherish them the way I cherish you.” Her mother smiled through tears in her eyes.
Mel’s emeralds
watercolor by Elaine
Mel studied herself in the mirror and was satisfied, knowing her mother would approve as well. Then she grabbed the basket of baked cookies she had made in her new oven and headed down to the festival. Laughter and music greeted her as she walked down the street.
As she approached, Philippe stepped forward. He raised his hand, and the music stopped. Quiet fell upon the small town square, now overflowing with people and the fragrance of lavender.
Philippe took her hand and introduced her to the townspeople. She bowed with a little pirouette as everyone clapped their hands, obviously delighted to meet their newest member.
Then the music began again. Someone took her hand
as the dancing began again. That was Gabriel, then Louis. She danced and laughed with everyone.
Let the dancing begin!
watercolor by Elaine
She dined on French delicacies made in Gran-mere’s kitchen. She drank delicious red wine, made locally. The hours passed quickly as the music sped up. Just when she thought she could take no more, Philippe grabbed her, the music slowed, and he swept her away.
Holding her tight, they danced to sultry music. After awhile they slipped away in the moonlight, just walking.
They paused beside a small church. “Is this where she is buried. Matisse?”
“Mel, this isn’t how I planned to end the evening,” he said.
“But I’d like to see where she is buried’
They wandered among the tombstones, old and leaning, like the elderly buried there. In no time at all, they came to a tiny stone. All that scribed in the stone was ‘Marissa’ and the date of her death. No last name. No angels or ornamentation. Even the lettering was plain.
“Poor girl,” Mel whispered. “No one who cared.”
Philippe added, “She died alone. Sadly, no one really knew her.”
“She can live on if we could find her artwork.” Mel replied.
“Let me walk you home. It is a shame to end the evening, lovely as it is, on such a sad note.”
“Not really sad, Philippe. Now I have a mission. I must find Marissa’s art box!”
Philippe walked her home under a bright moon and twinkling stars. Neither spoke, each immersed in thought. At the door, Philippe stepped close. Mel closed her eyes, waiting. He held her face in both hands. Pulling her face close, he planted a light kiss, first on one cheek and then the other, in the tradition of the French. She opened her eyes and smiled. “Good night, Philippe,” she whispered. But he was already gone.
Well, readers this story was supposed to be in three parts. But stories have a way of writing themselves. I am merely the pen, the instrument!
So look for more to come . Maybe four chapters, maybe five chapters. Hope you don’t mind!
etlainie 92@gmail.com