The Spigot, the finale. November 15, 2024

The Spigot

the finale

A week passed, and the construction ceased. The sudden silence was broken only by the steady sound of the running spigot.

Mel realized that depression would soon consume her. She also knew from experience that her only salvation was to get moving and to get busy.

“Happiness is a choice,” her mother’s words echoed in her head, after she had stumbled over a breakup. Mel longed for that comfort now.

So, she dragged herself out of bed and made coffee. She pulled off a stale crust of bread. Philippe.

She smothered it with Granmere’s jam.

Pushing tears away, she breathed deeply, in and out, until she felt life return to her body.

Then to the shower. Ahh, how refreshing the feel of hot water and lavender soap!

Mel dressed slowly, trying to decide whether to take the journey out to her new art studio and patio.

Is Philippe at the front door?
watercolor by Elaine

She unlocked the door. But just as she went to open it, there was a loud knock. She turned her back to the door. Was it Philippe? What should she do? Her heart stirred. He knocked again. She stood motionless.

“Mel, are you there?” he said.

She turned and opened the door.

“Mel, honey, what’s with this garden of dead roses? Are you okay? You look so tired,” he said as he pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

Her heart sank briefly when she realized it wasn’t Philippe. But that smiling face …

“Oh, goodness, it’s you, Daddy!”

He hugged her more. She began to cry. He murmured, “Let it all out, my little girl.”

Three cups of coffee later, Mel’s father understood what had happened, and he was angry. He needed to see Philippe man to man! But not today.

Today was about listening, comforting, and healing.

He was very glad he had arrived in time to catch her. He knew Mel was in trouble when she had not answered his calls in a week. That’s when he decided to book a flight.

Now Mel was asleep on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mel, “we’ll take care of Philippe tomorrow.”

When Mel awoke in the morning to the smell of coffee and bacon, her heart leapt, thinking Philippe was in the kitchen!

Then she remembered.

Her dad was in the kitchen, looking ridiculous in her apron. Lee Carson was a lean man, yet vigorous for a man of 51. The only tell was a slight graying at his temples. Mel smiled, glad he was there to catch her.

“Mel, honey, as an amateur builder myself, I’d like to see your new studio.” He paused to read her expression. If her eyes were downcast, it’s a no go.

Mel sipped her coffee. She returned her dad’s gaze.

“Okay, then!” He smiled broadly.

Mel had only seen the drawings, but now the project was finished. She had to admit she was eager to see the real thing. So, hand in hand, she walked her dad to the back of the house.

They rounded the corner.

Mel dropped to her knees. She stared in utter disbelief “Oh,my,” she gasped. “Can this be real?” Her dad pulled her up.

Part of Mel’s patio
By Elaine

“Mel, this is remarkable craftsmanship!”

“Dad, Philippe did this for me … much more than I expected!” She tried to speak but the words failed …

“Exquisite, that’s the word you are looking for!” he said, running his hand over every detail of the art cabinets, the worktable.

Together they sat on the garden bench, stunned by the gleaming marble, pergola, canopy of bright colors, gleaming brass hardware, benches for guests, dining table and chairs.

She jumped up. Taking her dad’s hand, she said, “We must go. Now!”

the legend of Marissa, graveside discovery
watercolor by Elaine

As she dragged him through the streets, Mel’s first stop was the grave where Marissa was buried. She told him the story of the spurned young artist who killed herself when her love abandoned her.

Her dad listened intently, his frown deepening. He grabbed his daughter’s arm, almost hurting her. “Mel, honey, don’t you see?” There was an urgency in his voice that frightened her.

“See what, Daddy?”

“You! You, Mel! Marissa’s story is your story!” he exclaimed.

Mel slumped against the stone wall, silent for a moment. “Can it be so?” her voice broke …

“Even your names are the same,” he realized.

“What?” Mel looked at her father, confused.

“No one told you?” his voice was soft now. “Marissa is French for Melissa. I know because you were given the name of your mother’s beloved great aunt Marissa whom you never met.”

Mel stood tall and took her father’s hand. “Daddy,” she spoke quietly, “Surely you know that I would never have killed myself.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s go. We are not yet done this little journey of discovery.”

A few minutes later they arrived at Granmere’s bistro. “What is this place?” he queried. “Something wonderful is cooking!” his nose wrinkled in appreciation.

“This place belongs to Philippe’s grandmother. It is the rage of … “ She saw Philippe at the door, but as soon as she saw him, he was gone.

“What were you saying, Mel?”

“Oh, just that everyone loves this place.”

As if on cue, Granmere came out and gave Mel a huge hug. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered in Mel’s ear, knowingly.

Turning, she said in quite good English, “And who is this young man?”

Mel laughed aloud. “Let me introduce you to this fine gentleman,” she paused, “This is Lee Carson.” A strange look flickered briefly across Granmere’s face. “He’s my dad,” Mel explained.

Granmere beamed as she wrapped her arms around him, too. “Call me Louisa. I’m Philippe’s grandmother. He will be out in a moment.”

“He will?” Mel and her father said simultaneously.

They sat down as Granmere disappeared briefly, returning with 4 glasses and a bottle of Bordeaux. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said. Lee stood to pull out her chair.

At that moment, Philippe arrived. He extended his hand to Lee, but Lee did not reciprocate.

Concern rippled across the table as Philippe poured the wine. “It is an honor, Sir, to meet Mel’s father,” he paused. “But before you speak, Mr Carson, I must explain something to you …”

“I am in love with your daughter!” he blurted.

Mel stood to leave. Her eyes were like hot embers, burning into his back. How dare he say that after what he had done!

He turned to her, “Mel, don’t go, please. Not until you hear what I have to say.” He was pleading.

“I wasn’t stealing from you the night I took the chest. I know you think I was. I swear to you. I had a reason. Let me show you.”

Mel’s dad went to grab Philippe’s arm, but Philippe put his hand up. “Wait … just wait.”

He went to the door, leaned in and picked up something heavy. He set it on the ground between Mel and her father. “Is this what you think I stole? The buried treasure we joked about?” He went on. “That night, we struck something in the dirt when we were excavating in the back yard. We left, and I returned later to retrieve it.”

Mel was shocked to hear him tell his version of what she had seen that moonlit night. The burning embers in her eyes began to cool as she gazed into his.

The box was no longer dirt covered. The gilding gleamed and the wood was polished to a fine sheen.

“Open it,” she demanded, still untrusting. She glanced at her father who was totally perplexed. But Granmere was beaming.

Philippe unlocked the box and raised the lid.

“It’s Marissa’s lost chest!” Mel exclaimed, grabbing Philippe’s arm, as she stared into the box of Marissa’s things.

“Dad, these are the paintings I told you about! Philippe rescued them!”

“I needed a week to have them restored. They were damp and molding. I will have to introduce you to the …”

She put her fingers to his lips. “Shh. Just kiss me!”

As they raised their glasses, he said, “I have two things left to say … how did you not know that I was the one leaving you roses from the day you arrived?” He took her hand and slid to one knee. “ And Mel Carson, with your father’s permission, will you marry me, please?”

“Well,” Lee said, I guess I need a different kind of man-to-man conversation with Philippe than I’d planned!”

More toasting and fine dining. Later, Mel and Philippe took a long moonlit walk into the hills. They had much to discuss about their future… together.

Hours later, Mel retired to her home and readied for bed, her head spinning. She had a wedding to plan. She put her hand to her heart to slow the beating.

Her dad returned and gave her a familiar bear hug. “You know,” he said, “I have a feeling that Louisa is a very interesting woman!”

“Dad!” They laughed.