Raquel’s Abel

By

Leigh Barbour

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Raquel’s Abel by Leigh Barbour

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Copyright© 2009 Leigh Barbour

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Raquel’s Abel

By

Leigh Barbour

Chapter One

I looked up to see Grandmother wheeling herself down to the pool area. Maria Elena, the woman I employed to take care of my grandmother, was probably taking a nap.

Being a glutton for punishment and anything edible, I had to ask, “Grandma, why isn’t Maria Elena with you?”

She arched her neck, being sure to jut her nose out. “If you are referring to my sister, Tatiana, I don’t know.”

“I don’t like you coming down the hill by yourself.” The sidewalk leading from the mansion to the pool was crumbling and entire concrete chunks were ready to break loose.

“I’m hardly alone, my dear.” Her eyes moved to the side quickly as if pointing to someone.

“Who is with you?” I hoped she wasn’t starting to imagine people now.

“As if you haven’t noticed.” She winked at me.

“Grandmother, no one is with you.”

“Don’t be that way.” She leaned toward me holding on tight to the armrests of the wheelchair. “He’s very sweet on you. And he’s so charming—as we used to say in my day—debonair.”

Sometimes she was as sharp as the edge of a guillotine. She’d gotten a clean bill of health from the doctor, so it wasn’t Alzheimers or dementia.

“Maria Elena should have brought you down here.”

“If you are referring to my sister, Tatiana, perhaps she’s taking a nap. She needs her beauty sleep, you know.”

“Her name is Maria Elena Caceres, not Tatiana. She’s from Ecuador. And she is the maid, not your sister.”

She made a raspy sound in her throat. “Raquel, you’ve always been my favorite, but you are very mistaken about who your grandmother is.”

I hoped one day she’d see the light, although it had been at least five years since she’d started insisting on this nonsense. “Grandmother, I know exactly who you are. You were born Mary Margaret Minor in Richmond, Virginia, in 1926.”

“That’s what people say who don’t want to accept the truth.” She stuck her nose up again, her eyes glaring at me. “I was born Anastasia Nicolaevna Romanov in Russia.”

“That’s funny,” I said with a lilt. “You don’t sound very Russian.” Sometimes I liked making her mad. A little anger might get her to stop this insanity.

“I have forgotten my native tongue. It was so long since I was there,” she said wistfully, as if remembering the Alexander Palace.

“Another thing, Grandmother, you were born in 1926 and Anastasia was born around 1901.” I looked over at her, but she wasn’t fazed by my remark. “You are much too young to be Anastasia.”

Her lips pressed together, pushing some of her wrinkles out. “How do you know I wasn’t born in 1901?”

“Your drivers license, your passport, and the fact you had my father in 1950.”

“I believe someone else bore that child, although I did so adore your father.”

“What a terrible thing to say.”

I looked around at our backyard and our old pool. The cement was so chipped that grass grew between the pieces of stone.

She eyed my freckles that always appeared when I sat out in the sun. “You should be careful. You’ll burn out here.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting a little tan.” What Grandmother really meant was that she was afraid she’d burn.

“I’m sure your gentleman suitor prefers you to be fair. It’s a sign of noble birth.”

“Gentleman suitor?”

“He’s standing right behind me and hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we came down here.”

“I can’t take any more of this.” I stood up, no easy feat considering I weighed close to four hundred pounds. “I’m going to get Maria Elena.”

“If you mean Tatiana, please have her join me here by the pool.” She fanned herself with a piece of tissue. “And be a doll and have one of the servants bring me my sun hat.”

One of the servants. Right.

I stormed up the crumbling steps that led to the back of the house. Above me, on the back side of the house, verandas overlooked the pool. They looked intact from here, but if someone ventured onto one, no doubt it would come tumbling down. Great-granddaddy built the house in the 1890s, and in spite of a rather good salary I made as a writer, I was unable to maintain the thirty-bedroom, two-wing mansion. In fact, there were times I wondered if the roof would come tumbling down on our heads.

As I neared the rear porch, I stopped to get my breath. I was going to be thirty-six soon and needed to get this weight off. The doctor reminded me just the other day that I was a borderline diabetic, and that very soon I might have to start taking heart medication.

After a few minutes, I regained my strength and charged into the house, determined to find Maria Elena. Grandmother could have fallen going down to the pool.

The television was on. I rounded the corner to see her watching those Spanish soap operas again. Even today, I rarely entered the room with dark wood paneling and worn sculptured carpet. When I was young, this had been known as the men’s room. Sometimes I still got whiffs of Granddaddy’s cigars.

“Maria Elena, my grandmother is down by the pool by herself.”

She glanced up at me, then back to the tube. “Look. Marcio get another woman.” She pointed to a swarthy man on the screen. “And poor Diana is almost finding out.”

I marched in front of her and shut the television off. “I don’t pay you to watch soap operas. I pay you to take care of my grandmother.”

She shrugged. “She is all right?”

I didn’t respond.

Maria Elena had large black eyes that looked out of dark skin. Her golden hair had black roots and split ends grazed her shoulders.

“My grandmother rolled her wheelchair all the way down there by herself.”

Maria Elena jumped up and made her body as stiff as a board like a soldier at attention. “Yes, ma’am, I go down there now!” She made her words sound like robot-speak.

I walked through the foyer that was bigger than some people’s entire houses. Above me hung an enormous chandelier that hadn’t been dusted in so long cobwebs ran from crystal to crystal. I proceeded to the kitchen that was big enough to serve an entire cruise ship. When I was small, having such an enormous cooking area had seemed normal. Back then we had three maids that worked hard to feed my grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and my sister and me. Now there were just my grandmother and me, and occasionally Regina, my younger sister. That is, when she needed a place to crash between disastrous marriages.

I patted my pillowy midriff and grabbed the brochure sitting on the stainless steel island. Should I do this? I wondered as I looked once again at the diagram of the medical procedure I was contemplating. I headed back out to the swimming pool.

Maria Elena was already sitting beside my grandmother, sunning herself.

“Raquel, I’m glad you persuaded my sister to join me out here by the pool.”

At least Maria Elena had brought Grandmother the sun hat.

“Tatiana, it’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Grandmother pulled the brim down to shade her eyes.

“It certainly is, Anastasia. In fact, I getting my swimsuit and going swimming.”

I glared at Maria Elena. “No you won’t. You need to get back up there to the kitchen and fix my grandmother something to eat.”

Grandmother turned and glared at me. “Tatiana, please forgive my granddaughter.”

Maria Elena smirked in my direction. “It all right, Anastasia.” She had the nerve to pat my grandmother on the hand as if she really were kin.

Maria Elena was a mystery to me. When I hired her, I told her she could make weekly phone calls to Ecuador at my expense, but so far I hadn’t seen any charges on the phone bill. And on her days off, instead of leaving the house, she stayed with my grandmother.

Grandmother looked back at the pool. “Raquel, there must be staff to prepare us something to eat.”

I gave Maria Elena a glare, letting her know I expected her to cook Grandmother something fairly soon. There were times I wanted to smack that maid back to Ecuador, and other times I realized she really did make my grandmother happy.

I opened up the brochure and began to read about the operation. The model on the front page was wearing a pink cat suit, but inside there was a picture of her when she’d weighed enough to sink a yacht. On the next page it showed what the surgery would entail—where they’d cut and exactly what they’d be doing inside.

“What are you looking at?” Grandmother asked.

“Something I’m considering.”

“I know what it is,” Maria Elena said in the annoying Spanish accent she exaggerated when she wanted to. “It called the bypassa gasatrica.”

“Gastric bypass,” I corrected.

My grandmother lowered her lip stretching out her cheeks. “I don’t know what it is, but that gentleman who’s always admiring you certainly doesn’t like it.”

“What’s his name again, Grandmother?”

“Sir, be so good as to tell me what your name is?” My grandmother spoke to someone supposedly standing next to me. “Oh, a nice name, young man. I’ll have you know I’m Anastasia Romanov.” She nodded at thin air. “Yes, I am the daughter of the Czarina Alexandra and the Czar Nicholas Romanov.” She gestured to her sister. “This is my older sister, Tatiana.”

Maria Elena wrinkled her nose up at hearing she was supposed to be older than my grandmother. I didn’t know exactly how old Maria Elena was, but she wasn’t much older than me.

“So, Grandmother, what’s his name so I’ll know what to call him?” I was still looking at the diagram of how they’d connect my intestine to my stomach.

“His name is Abel Rollins.”

“Nice to meet you, Abel Rollins,” I said to appease her so I could keep studying the brochure.

My grandmother leaned over and spoke in a whisper. “He appears to be quite taken with you.”

“That’s nice.” If I argued with her all the time, I’d go completely crazy. I put the brochure down on the wobbly glass-topped table and closed my eyes. Would I be brave enough to go through with the surgery? It was dangerous. The thought of getting an infection or other complications gave me goosebumps. And then there was the other issue—did I have enough money to pay for it? If I did without, I could swing it.

“I tell you dear. Whatever it is you were looking at, Mr. Abel Rollins doesn’t like it.”

“He doesn’t?” How could grandmother have such a vivid imagination? She had no idea what gastric bypass surgery was, anyway.

“You see? He took that piece of paper, wadded it up, and tossed it away.” My grandmother pointed toward the bushes.

“What?” I looked, but didn’t see anything. “I’m afraid I don’t see him, Grandmother.”

Maria Elena was squinting her eyes and pointing, pretending to see something.

“Do you see him, Maria Elena?” I asked wondering if she’d lost her mind too.

“I no seeing him, but the paper.”

“Of course she sees him. Your piece of paper, dear. You see he’s thrown it away.” My grandmother continued to point.

I looked at the table. My brochure was gone. “Where is it?” I pushed myself up from the chair. There was a piece of paper beside the bushes. Odd, I hadn’t noticed a breeze. I sidled across the yard, my heels being swallowed by the moist earth. After I got the surgery, would my feet sink like this?

I grabbed the piece of paper by the bushes. It was the brochure I’d just been looking at. It was all crinkled as if someone had balled it up intentionally. What was going on here?

“Maria Elena, did you do this?”

Her jaw dropped open. “No, Señorita, no, I no doing that.”

“I tell you. It was Abel Rollins,” Grandmother said with a smirk on her face.

Being around my grandmother was officially driving me bonkers. I decided to go in the house and get some work done on my next novel.

Later that afternoon my sister, Regina, came over.

“He’s left, huh?” I knew she and Carter were having problems. Like every other relationship, there were big problems after a year or two.

“He’s gone so I have the house to myself.” She sprawled out on one of the ancient lounge chairs next to the pool. Her string bikini made her legs look like they ended at her waist due to the last round of liposuction her husband graciously paid for. “I figure I can do better than Carter any way.” She stretched her arms over her head just to flaunt her figure at me.

“You know you’re thirty-three and you’ve been married three times.” I was neglecting to mention the two she’d lived with.

“You’re just jealous because you’re always a bridesmaid and never a bride.” Her dark brown hair was bobbed off so it made a perfect line from ear to ear. Her eyes were almost black, making her look sultry and sexy.

“I’m waiting for the right man,” I said defensively.

Regina only behaved this way toward me because of the bias my father had shown. They said when Regina was born, he would barely look at her. He’d walk right by her crib and come to play with me.

Maria Elena came pushing my grandmother down the hill toward the pool.

“Raquel, your suitor is back.” Grandmother’s voice could be heard across the yard in spite of her frail size.

Regina looked at me then back at Grandmother. “Suitor?” She looked at me. “Raquel, are you keeping a secret?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I talked to him this morning,” Grandmother continued. “His name is Abel Rollins. He’s had the nerve to put on one of your father’s smoking jackets.”

“He’s just another one of Grandmother’s hallucinations,” I said to Regina.

“A hallucination doesn’t grab a piece of paper and hurl it half across the yard.” Grandmother jutted her chin out at me.

I peered over at Regina, who was already starting to tan. We certainly didn’t look like sisters. I had pale red hair, light green eyes, and skin that burned easily in the sun.

“What is this piece of paper?” she asked.

“Something I haven’t told you.” I turned toward Regina, the chair creaking under my weight. “I’m considering having gastric bypass surgery.”

Regina’s eyes popped open then I heard a splash.

I jumped up and sidled over to the edge of the water. One of the metal chairs was in the pool. I turned around and put my hands on my hips. “Maria Elena, you threw that chair in the pool.”

“No, no, not me, I no do that.” She began to shake so hard the seat she was in began to rattle.

Grandmother raised her hand as if conducting an orchestra. “Raquel, don’t take that tone with my sister. You know very well Abel Rollins did it.”

I glared at Maria Elena. I didn’t see her do it, but who else could have done it? “Tomorrow, when the gardener gets here, please have him fish it out of the pool.”

“Fish?” Her eyes had grown large at seeing me really mad. Once I had actually threatened to fire her, and she looked like I was sending her to a firing squad. I’d backed down since Grandmother would be miserable without Maria Elena.

“I mean have him get it out of the pool.”

I sat back down beside Regina. “Did you see how that chair got into the pool?”

“No. All of a sudden there was a splash.”

I felt guilty. Maria Elena frustrated me, but somehow I doubted she hurled the chair in the water. I looked over at her. She was staring down at her hands. “Maria Elena, I’m sorry. It must have been the wind.”

She made a little smile, but I could tell I’d hurt her feelings. As irresponsible as she seemed to me, she always had tons of patience with my grandmother.

“So,” Regina began. “How are you going to get the money to pay for this surgery?”

“I don’t know. I saved up for the initial procedure, but after I’ve lost the weight, I have to get another operation for the excess skin.” That’s the operation I was scared to death of. Everyone said it was horribly painful.

Regina nodded.

“I guess I need to produce more manuscripts.”

Regina had never worked a day in her life, since she ran from one rich husband to another. “You need to write more interesting books.”

“I think I do write interesting books.” She always put me on the defensive.

“But who’s interested in Queen Elizabeth I or Eleanor Roosevelt?”

“Lots of people,” I snapped. “They are women that changed the world.”

Maria Elena sat up. “I reading your book on Richard Burton, Raquel, and you no mention Elizabeth Taylor.”

“Because it wasn’t that Richard Burton. I wrote about Captain Sir Richard Burton who lived in the Middle East and translated the Kama Sutra.”

“He doing that when he married to Elizabeth Taylor?” Maria Elena asked.

“I give up.” I raised my hands in despair.

“She’s right,” Regina said. “I think you should write about important people like Tom Cruise or Matt Damon.” My sister hadn’t even finished high school. Why was I surprised she’d have this opinion?

“Or like Ben Affleck and why he dumping Jennifer Lopez,” Maria Elena interjected.

“I try to write about people who have contributed to the world, done great things.” I didn’t know how I had a sane thought in this house.

“Your daddy always called you the smart one,” Grandmother said, smiling at me with a proud expression on her face “Not surprising since we are royalty.”

“Daddy’s little favorite,” Regina spat out sarcastically. She never understood why our father preferred me over her—especially when it seemed the whole world preferred Regina. She was the one that had always had friends, boyfriends, admirers...

I was always alone in my room with my books.

“I think it’s time for us to go in,” I said as a hint for Maria Elena to take Grandmother up for her nap.

In a bright pink cover-up, Regina sipped iced tea on our mother’s settee. She looked like she should be in a posh resort rather than sitting in our dusty living room in Richmond, Virginia.

Out the front window, the trees on either side of the driveway were so dense they were almost growing together. I’d have to pay someone to trim them back. More money I didn’t have. There were those that said I should sell this house, but how could I sell a house that had been in my family for more than a hundred years?

Regina ran her finger across the French provincial end table and eyed the dust. “How often is this place cleaned?”

“There’s a girl that comes once a week, but the house is so big.”

“And,” she held her glass in one hand and ran her fingers up and down the outside, making streaks in the condensation. “The way Grandmother is seeing things, I’m wondering if we shouldn’t consider putting her in a home.”

Would she be happier in a place with other old people? “I don’t know about that.”

Regina jumped, spilling some iced tea on her bare leg. “What was that?”

I looked around. “A bug?”

“No, it felt like something pulled on my sleeve.”

Iced tea was running down her leg and onto the rug. It was an oriental carpet my mother had picked out on a trip she and my father had taken to Istanbul.

I picked up the box of tissues that had been sitting on the coffee table. I carefully lowered myself to my knees and began to wipe at Regina’s shins and feet. I threw a few on the floor to mop up the overflow.

“Grandmother belongs in a home,” Regina continued.

I didn’t know why my sister thought Grandmother couldn’t just continue living here. “She seems to be doing very well here. Dr. Blake makes house calls when we need him.”

“Old people belong with other old people.”

I was still blotting at the tea on the rug and trying to think of a response when Regina screamed. I looked up at her.

“Raquel!” I looked up to see the remainder of the iced tea spilling down her front. Pieces of ice were lodged in her bikini top.

“How did that happen?” I wobbled to my feet and plodded to the kitchen for a towel.

“You act like you don’t know,” she screamed.

I came back with the towels, wondering what she was talking about.

Regina’s eyes looked like they were on fire. “I was wiping the carpet when the glass was pushed then upended.”

“You don’t think it was me,” I said remembering how Regina used to love to blame things on me when we were kids.

“Who else could it have been?” She glared accusingly at me.

“Regina, come on, I wouldn’t spill tea on you. Don’t be ridiculous.”

She stood up and was busy pulling pieces of ice out from her cleavage and drying off her flat stomach.

“Oh, Mother’s settee is all wet. I hope the tea doesn’t stain.” I wiped at the upholstery that had Williamsburg blue and cranberry designs on a white background.

“You should have thought of that when you spilled it all over me.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

She stood there looking at me like she was going to cry. “You probably think Carter was justified in leaving me.”

I strained my arms pulling myself to my feet. “Oh,” I pushed out between breaths. Standing up took all my strength.

“He said I’m not warm enough.” She sniffed.

I fell into the chair behind me. “What does that mean?” I’d hardly known Carter at all. As usual, my sister had entered into a whirlwind romance and married him before I’d even met him.

“He said he didn’t like spending time with me.”

“Oh, he’s crazy,” I said wanting to console her. Regina didn’t have enough education to be much of a conversationalist, but Carter shouldn’t have said that to my little sister.

“Just like Daddy. He didn’t want to be around me, either.” Regina pouted.

Daddy not caring much for Regina had always been a mystery. Ironically, Regina looked exactly like him, whereas, no one knew where my red hair came from, and I was the only one in the entire family with a weight problem.

After I’d calmed Regina down and said goodbye, I went upstairs. Grandmother was up from her nap. “I saw what happened.”

I glanced back downstairs. The circular stairway gave anyone in the second floor hallway a bird’s eye view of the living room. “What did you see, Grandmother?”

“I saw that Abel Rollins pour tea on Regina.”

“I was right there, and I didn’t see this Abel Rollins.”

“I’m not sure why that is,” she said, bringing an arthritic hand up to her mouth.

“Grandmother, you are seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Balderdash. You just need to open your eyes.”

“Grandmother, do you ever think you’d be happier somewhere else?” It pained me to even think about this.

“Do you mean like back in Russia?”

I covered my face so she wouldn’t see me laugh. “No, I mean like a place where people would take care of you.”

“Oh, I know what you’re suggesting.” Her wrinkled face turned hard, like corrugated steel. “You want to send me somewhere to die, to waste away into nothingness.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” I’d miss her if she were gone.

The thin skin around her old eyes tensed. “Maybe that’s what Abel got so upset about. He heard you two plotting to put me away.” She pointed her finger at me. “If you aren’t careful, I won’t tell you two where the Romanov jewels are hidden.”

“I thought you might be more comfortable…”

“I suppose you want to send Tatiana away, also.”

“Grandmother, please forget I said anything about this.” I kissed the top of her head. “I want you here with me.”

“Hmmph,” she grunted, then pressed the button on her wheelchair and sped down the hallway toward her wing.

I walked into my bedroom and immediately, the phone rang. “Hello,” I said, wondering if it were Regina. You thought people would get used to breakups when they had one every few years, but Regina never did.

“Raquey-el,” Owen drawled into the phone. “Are you about ready, girl?”

I’d completely forgotten. “I’m running a little behind.” Owen was my very gay, very sweet dance partner.

“Me too, but I’ll be over to get you in just a few, and I hope you’re wearing that turquoise number.” He hung up the phone.

The only good thing about being fat – you mesmerized people if you could actually dance. Even though I trudged up stairs and felt like I was running the gauntlet just getting into a car, for some reason, when I got out on that dance floor, I was more of a fairy or a ballerina than an obese woman approaching middle age.

Owen had been referring to a turquoise pants suit that had sequins all over the top and had wide legs that fluttered when I moved. Tonight we were dancing at a supper club that was having us as entertainment during intermission.

I put on the outfit, slipped on a pair of silver heels, and swept my hair up on top of my head, letting my red ringlets fall down to my shoulders. As I was walking down the hallway, I closed my eyes, imagining doing the foxtrot one hundred and fifty pounds lighter.

I opened them again and saw a form in front of me. “Maria Elena,” I called, not knowing why she’d be on this wing. She didn’t answer. Haze surrounded the form. I reached over and flipped the hallway lights on.

I gasped. There was a man standing a few yards from me. Who could have gotten inside the house? The gardener wasn’t on the grounds and he never came upstairs. I squinted as he took a step closer. This man’s hair was dirty blond—definitely not the Hispanic gardener. It was parted in the middle and combed back. Kind chocolate brown eyes peered at me. He certainly didn’t appear to be menacing, in fact, he wore a very elegant smoking jacket. Wait. That was my father’s.

“How did you get in here?” I demanded. “And, have you been going through my father’s clothes just taking what you want?” Grandmother had mentioned the man she saw had on my father’s smoking jacket.

“My dear, I have been in this house longer than you have been alive.” His voice sounded more flirtatious than intimidating.

I stared at him, thinking that was absurd, since he looked like he wasn’t a day over forty. In fact, he was very handsome. My heart beat faster as his eyes raked over me. Then I realized, except for Maria Elena and Grandmother, I was alone in the house.

“What do you want?” I backed up. “Do you want my wallet, my jewelry?” I held out my purse with one hand and jerked my earrings off with the other. “Here, take them and don’t hurt us.” Maybe he hadn’t seen them. “I mean me.”

“Not to worry, I’m no common thief.” He moved under one of the hallway lights. A pencil-thin blond mustache outlined his top lip. “I want to tell you that you are a lovely woman and, as a man, I like you just the way you are.”

I always thought if I were going to be raped, I’d figure a way to talk myself out of it. “Sir, I’d like to tell you that I was just diagnosed with AIDS.”

He pinched up his face. “It sounds dreadful, really, but I have no idea what that is.”

I trembled, wondering what he’d do next.

With his hands locked behind him, he started to walk around me eying me as if I were a fine racehorse he was thinking of buying.

“What are you doing?” I might go down, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. I turned to face him. “Whe-where did you go?” The hallway was empty. Had he entered one of the rooms? I tried a few doors, but they were locked as always.

“Maria Elena,” I screamed and ran for their wing.

She wheeled my grandmother out into the hallway.

“Why you yelling?” she asked, staring at me as if I were a lunatic.

“You look lovely, my dear,” my grandmother smiled. “That dress does you justice.”

“Never mind that. A man is in the house.” I raised my hands up. They didn’t react. “Did you hear me? A man!”

Maria Elena’s eyes got big and round. “Where the man?”

“I don’t know. He was right down there. I was talking to him and then he was gone.”

“Was he fair-haired with piercing dark eyes? Was he very handsome?” My grandmother gave a deep giggle.

I thought back on the man. His voice had been cultured as if he really knew how to speak eloquently. In fact, thinking about him sent a thrill from my toes to my head.

“Was he wearing your father’s smoking jacket?”

I stared at my grandmother who looked like she was ready to laugh out loud.

“That’s Abel Rollins,” she declared with delight.

Maria Elena looked at my grandmother then back at me. “You was seeing him, too?” Her mouth dropped open as I nodded my head. “Oh, no,” she gasped.

Chapter Two

I was still shaking when I got into Owen’s old pickup truck.

“What’s the matter?” Owen said when I slammed the rusty door shut. “Looks like you’ve seen yourself a ghost.”

I slid my eyes my gaze over to him. His dark red hair was combed into a mini pompadour. “You don’t know how right you are.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me none if that ol’ place is haunted.” The rusty truck made all kinds of ghastly sounds as he drove down the half-mile driveway then out onto River Road.

Visions of the man Grandmother referred to as Abel Rollins paraded through my mind. I felt a tingle inside. How could I be turned on by a ghost?

“Hope that ghost was tall, dark, and handsome?” Owen was always between boyfriends, which was good since each one was always rotten to the core.

Abel’s fair hair had been parted in the middle and combed back in that way you always see in old photographs. “His eyes were dreamy.”

“I tell ya, these days I’d even settle for a ghost, girl.”

“It’s not funny. I was scared to death.”

“Probably just a figment of your imagination—you know, wishful thinking.”

It was hard to be serious with Owen. “I’ve got big news.”

“Bigger than your ghost?” He angled his head down, his dark blue eyes blinking at me.

“I’m almost positive I’m going to do it.” I took a deep breath. “The gastric bypass surgery.”

He splayed his long fingers across his chest. “Raquel’s going to be a lean mean dancing machine.”

I felt little chills run through me just thinking about being slender.

“You know what this means.” He took his eyes off the road and gave me an impish smile.

“Yeah, if I do it, I’m having major surgery.”

“Next year, we can be in one of the competitions.” He smiled so wide I could see which of his molars were missing.

“I’m sorry I’ve kept you from the big competitions because of my limitations.”

“Oh, Raquey-el, don’t talk like that. You’re one of the best dance partners I’ve ever had. I can just see you doing a tantalizing Tango with a rose in your mouth.”

I imagined myself doing those quick, tight-legged, hip-twisting steps that were impossible now because of my girth.

“We are going to knock their sequined socks off next year.”

“You know, Owen, you don’t have to be so loyal. You could’ve won a competition long ago if you hadn’t insisted on dancing with me.”

“So many of those dancers are such bitches.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

He was just the loyal type. We’d hit it off a few years ago and had become fast friends. He didn’t want to hurt my feelings by leaving me in the dust.

We walked across the parking lot toward the restaurant. A couple of waiters were obviously taking a break beside the front door. “Sorry, we’re all booked up,” one of them said as he stamped out his cigarette.

Owen pushed his chest out, making himself look like a bantam rooster.

The other waiter said under his breath, “And we ain’t got enough food for that one.”

I heard every word and tried to ignore it. Owen’s hearing wasn’t that great since his father used to box his ears when he was a kid. I looked at Owen, afraid he may have heard it. He may have seemed like a stereotypical gay, but being from coalmining country, when provoked he turned right back into an Appalachian hillbilly, ready to take anyone on.

“We are the dancers.” Owen spread out his arms so they would notice his sparkly white top with a wide collar. His black slinky pants tapered out into wide bells.

“A fruit loop and an elephant are going to entertain us,” whispered the same one who’d spoken under his breath before.

Again, I searched Owen’s freckled face for a reaction. Thank God he hadn’t heard either comment.

Luckily, the maitre d’ stuck his head out the door and recognized us. “Come on in, we’ve been waiting for you.” He ushered us backstage where we waited in the wings for the first half of the play to finish.

“Why wouldn’t those two just let us in?” Owen shook his head. “Some people are so danged ru-u-de.” He angled his eyes at me. “But I’m most intrigued by this ghost of yours.” He winked.

Just thinking about him caused my skin to warm.

“My goodness, must not have been Casper by the way you’re blushing.”

“Don’t be silly. There are no such things as ghosts.”

“I don’t know about that.” He waved his nicely-manicured finger around. “Granny Mills, on my father’s side, says a Civil War soldier shows himself on her staircase from time to time.”

His grandmother was probably as loony as mine, but I didn’t want to say that. “This one seemed awfully flesh and bone to be a ghost.”

“Well, if he’s hot and he’s haunting you, just go for it, girl.”

I admired Owen, the way he enjoyed life in whatever form it came.

A few minutes later, the actors filed past us from the stage and the MC introduced us.

The music started up and we whisked on stage. I followed Owen’s very masculine lead into a sumptuous Latin salsa. At first we heard a few catcalls, to be expected, even in a high-dollar supper club. Then, as my feet made quick steps, adeptly showing how the sexy rhythm should be performed, the audience fell silent. As we moved in time to the beat and I followed Owen’s strong arms into tight pirouettes and extended twirls, I left the fat Raquel behind. I savored the feeling knowing it would soon be gone. We ended our performance with a foxtrot and a sexy pose at the end. Clearly mesmerized by us, the audience applauded.

I was exhausted when I got home, way too tired to worry about seeing any ghost. That made me think. With the surgery, would I get as tired as I did now? Or would I be able to dance all night long and never get heavy eyelids?

I got in bed and waited for sleep to descend over me.

“Who was that dadblamed rascal who picked you up in a jalopy?”

I opened my eyes to see the man Grandmother called Abel Rollins standing at the foot of my bed. “Who are you? And why are you here?” I pulled the sheets up to my neck.

He was still wearing my father’s smoking jacket, which further annoyed me. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

I reached over and flicked the light on. “What are you doing in my house?” I demanded. He certainly didn’t look like a ghost, but his edges were hazy. Was this a dream? I certainly felt awake.

“I would like to know why you run around with a man like that.” He sucked his cheeks in giving himself a gaunt look.

“I will call the police if you won’t leave right now.” I thought about it for a second. “If you can’t afford clothes, then I can give you some of my father’s.”

“I don’t need your charity.” He stepped around to the side of the bed, and I saw him clearly. The haze had disappeared. What was he going to do?

“I swear. I’ll call the police if you take a step closer.”

He sat down on my hope chest at the end of the bed. “You may call the police if that would make you feel better.” A childish grin crawled across his face. “It might be a little embarrassing for you, though.”

“Embarrassing?” I glared at him. Who did he think he was? “You break into people’s houses and take their clothes, and you assume I’ll be embarrassed?”

He stood and held his hands out. “Please, I don’t mean to scare you.”

“You come into my bedroom in the middle of the night, and you didn’t mean to scare me?”

He folded his hands together in front of him and looked at his feet. “You are quite right.”

The outline of his form in the dim light clouded up. There was a haze and then nothing.

“Where did you go?”I jumped out of bed and ran my fingers through the thin air where he had once stood. “I must be going crazy.”

I sat on the bed and thought about the man who’d been here. I liked him. He seemed so sure of himself, yet he wasn’t arrogant. His hair was blond, yet his eyebrows were dark, making him look like he’d spent time in the sun. I breathed deeply. He was very handsome. I should forget him, though. Undoubtedly he wasn’t real.

I had recently published a biography on Isadora Duncan, and it had sold very well in urban areas. In fact, a bookstore very close to the White House had requested that I appear for a book signing.

I took the train from Richmond to Union Station, and then took the Metro to a stop near the bookstore. The escalator took me upward to the bustling streets of Washington. I loved this city with its professional air, as if everyone walking the street were a lawyer or a senator or a congressman. There was a coldness, though, that I’d never felt in slow, Southern-styled Richmond. Along the DC streets, yuppies paraded past me with their iPod wires hanging from their ears, wearing their expensive gray and blue and brown suits with designer tennis shoes, their dress shoes in their briefcases.

I had only walked a block when I had to stop to catch my breath. The thought of having that operation where they’d cut off part of my stomach scared me to death. It seemed like one minute I was determined to have it, and then a few minutes later, I had decided I’d never go under the knife. I leaned against a brick wall and watched people veer around me with irritated looks on their faces. I struggled to catch my breath so I could regain the strength to continue. Maybe I’d have to start that heart medication sooner than the doctor thought. In a few minutes I’d recovered and continued slowly.

When I got to the bookstore, I trudged to the back and practically collapsed into a chair. Thankfully, it was a sturdy one. I waited for my heart to stop beating as if I’d run a marathon and tried to wrap my mind around my biography of Isadora Duncan. I'd entitled it, “Isadora: a Lady Ahead of Her Time”. She’d lived an interesting life, then had it cut short when she was strangled by her own scarf.

Writing about a woman who saw the world so differently had been sheer joy. As I wrote about her dancing her way through Europe in the 1920s, I felt as if I were she. I’d admired her spirit and wished I were as adventurous as she had been. She was bold and grabbed life by the horns. She would have had that surgery a long time ago, I thought. I needed to be more like Isadora.

It was time for the book signing to begin. I walked out and warmly greeted the people who had come to hear me speak about Isadora. I started off talking about the profound impact one freethinking person had on the privileged people of her time. I read a few passages in the book, then finished with my favorite Isadora quote: “Dance is the movement of the universe concentrated in an individual.” I thought it really summed up her attitude toward life and living.

“Questions?” I asked. A few wrinkled their foreheads as if trying to formulate questions. Then I saw some hands shoot up.

“Yes.” I pointed to a woman with honey blonde hair sitting in the front row.

“I was wondering if you had tried those new diet patches they've come out with.”

Even though I was good with words, I'd never been able to formulate a proper comeback for things like this.

Another hand shot up behind her. “Do you have a question?” I said cheerfully hoping we could get back onto Isadora Duncan.

“You know it's all in what you eat.” She raised her eyebrow at me letting me know the path I should take.

“Well, I must have covered Isadora's life very well since there are no questions or comments about her.”I tried to remain composed, then turned around and walked straight back to the employee's area without saying another word.

If I stayed, they’d continue to give me unsolicited advice. I gathered my things and headed out the back door. I was disappointed that the book signing had gone so badly. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time it had happened.

Sitting on the train back to Richmond, I thought about the book signing. At least I hadn’t signed any of their books. They hardly deserved that. Maybe this was a sign, though. I was going to take action. I dug around in my purse for my cell phone and dialed that number. “Yes,” I said. “I’d like to make an appointment with the doctor.”

“And what will be the nature of your visit?” the receptionist asked.

“I would like to have the gastric bypass surgery.”

The next morning, Regina called and said she was coming by. Supposedly, she had good news. It could only be one thing—she had a new boyfriend.

She walked in wearing an outfit I could only dream of fitting into. The top was sleeveless, black, and glittery. Her slacks stopped just below the knee and her sandals had tiny rhinestones on top of them.

“Glad you finally decided to stop by.”

“You’re not going to spill anything on me are you?” She sat down in the overstuffed chair and crossed her legs as if someone were here to see.

I didn’t respond to her accusation.

“Well, I met someone,” she announced.

“That’s nice,” I said, trying to be positive. “Where did you meet him?”

Her mouth expanded into a tight-lipped smile. “I was having a drink in one of those places in Shockoe Slip and he came over and introduced himself.”

I forced a smile and nodded.

“The rest is history.” She ran her hand over her clothes. “He bought me this entire outfit last weekend.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Of course. His name is Barry and he’s a lawyer.”

I tried to keep my eyes open as she talked about her new beau, but I’d heard it all before, except the guy had a different name.

As she droned on, my thoughts drifted to my next biography. I was pretty sure I’d be writing about Theodore Roosevelt. I’d enjoy writing about a man who was as comfortable rubbing elbows with politicians in Washington as he was helping cowboys in a cattle roundup.

Finally Regina had had enough of telling me about her new conquest and excused herself.

I loved my sister, but since she’d never gotten an education, talking with her was as boring as staring at a wall. Would she ever stop going from man to man?

A few days later, I’d had the appointment with the doctor regarding the gastric bypass surgery. Even he’d pointed out all of the risks involved. People had died from it, although not under his care. He said that if I were serious about it, I’d have to be examined by a gastroenterologist, have a psychiatric exam, and I’d have to have neurological tests. If I passed all of their tests, and I was still interested in having the surgery, he’d perform the operation.

I contemplated what that meant as I drove to the University of Richmond to conduct an interview. Yes, I was nervous, and yes, I was still excited about having the surgery, but I still wasn’t completely convinced it was the right thing to do.

As I continued to meet the professor, I forced myself to concentrate on the subject of my next biography. I’d already read quite a bit about our 26th president. While police commissioner in New York, he was the first to allow Jews and women to serve as police officers. He was also quite a visionary, leading the armed forces to a more global perspective, which may have enabled the United States to win both world wars. So far, he appeared to be the kind of person I wanted to write about. The professor I was meeting with claimed to be an authority on Teddy Roosevelt. I hoped he’d be able to give me even more insight into his character and motivations.

The professor’s office was on the fourth floor, so I entered a crowded elevator that began to screech half way up. A horrible metallic sound worse than fingernails on a blackboard ran through the shaft, then the elevator ground to a halt.

Someone hit the alarm. When nothing happened, two students began to tug at the elevator doors. Soon they opened and we saw that the elevator had stopped between floors. An opening of about a foot high appeared. The boys scooted out and soon were followed by everyone but me.

Even slathered with baby oil I wouldn’t I fit through that slit. I stood there inside the elevator, alone and humiliated, for hours. Not one single person thought to hand me anything to drink, or a stool to sit on; and, feeling like I was on display at the zoo, I was much too embarrassed to ask for help.

After the repairmen had finally gotten the elevator to move, I continued up to the professor’s office. He had gone to class. I’d have to call him and apologize and think up some excuse. I wouldn’t want to admit what really happened.

The next day, I stood in the kitchen looking at the pages of information the surgeon had given me. If I’d had any doubts about having the surgery, being stuck in that elevator had erased them. How much more could I take?

I heard a whoosh behind me. “Maria Elena,” I called.

“Good afternoon,” said a deep male voice.

I turned to see him. This time he was dressed in a WWI Infantry uniform complete with a metal bowl-like helmet that had been called steel Stetsons when they first came out.

I ignored the thrill that crept through me. “I don’t know how you keep getting in the house, but I really must ask you to leave.” Why wasn’t I scared of him? I certainly should be.

He cocked his head back and stared at me out of half open eyes. “I have come to tell you that you are making a mistake.”

He was so irritating. “If I’m making a mistake, it’s no business of yours.”

“Is that any way for you to talk to your greatest admirer?” He took his helmet off and held it at his chest.

“What’s so great about your admiration? You just seem to be a plain old nuisance.” A very handsome nuisance, I thought to myself.

“Hardly should you think of me as a nuisance. I am here to save you from that abominable idea you’ve got parading around in your head.” He blinked his dark eyes slowly and puffed up his chest.

“First, it’s none of your business and second, it’s not a bad idea at all. This will give me a new lease on life.” What was I doing arguing with a spirit?

He looked like he’d swallowed a lump. “It could take your life.”

I ignored the truth of what he was saying. “Why does it mean so much to you?”

“Because.” He threw his head back. “Because, I would like to court you and, and, I can’t do that if you…” His deep voice halted abruptly.

“Court me?” It sounded so regal, so old-fashioned, yet very flattering.

His face clouded over, and soon his features went hazy, then, as quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone.

Was I going crazy? Or was this just my psyche’s way of dealing with the fear of having major surgery?

Chapter Three

A few weeks later, I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of that ghost. He was probably just a dream—or wishful thinking, I thought, remembering his gorgeous dark eyes. A guy that hot had never been interested in me. Maybe in Regina, but never in me.

I’d finally finished going through the multitude of tests in preparation for the gastric bypass. The surgery was tomorrow. All I had to do was follow the directions on that...that...that list. Where was it? It had been in the kitchen. I looked on the island, the countertops, then on the floor. Where could it be?

“Maria Elena,” I hollered. “I left my list here and now I can’t find it.” I opened the trashcan and moved the contents around a little bit. “I still can’t find it,” I screamed louder.

“Wait, Señorita Raquel, Marcio’s wife is about to find out,” she called from the TV room. Grandmother was upstairs taking a nap, so Maria Elena was watching her soap operas again.

“I don’t care about your Peyton Place. I’m looking for my list to make sure I do the right things before surgery.”

Maria Elena came sulking into the kitchen and glanced around. “I no see it.”

“I had it right here and I didn’t move it.” It had explicit instructions about what clear liquids I could consume and when.

“Maybe the door was opening and the wind blew it out?” She went outside and began to look around on the patio. “Here. I see a piece of paper right here.” She picked it up and unfolded it.

I grabbed it out of her hand and felt the slickness of moist paper. “It’s gotten wet.” Odd, it hadn’t rained all day.

“Si, Señorita, I can’t even reading anything.”

“How could this have happened?”

“Ay, Madre de Dios.” Maria Elena crossed herself. “It’s the ghost. In my country, there an old abandoned mine not far from my parent’s house. The Spanish killing many Indians there, and if you going by there at night,” she waved her hand up and down, “you hearing the Indians screaming.”

“Did you actually hear them yourself?”

Her pupils moved around in circles. “Well, no, but many people told me.” She nodded her head emphatically. “But your paper…” She pointed to the illegible, crumpled-up wad.

“No problem. I’ll just call the doctor’s office and get the information.”

“Sure, you doing that. You will be more skinny like movie star.”

I dialed the doctor’s office and got the instructions. This time I stuck it in the pocket of a big muumuu I wore around the house. As soon as this fat began to melt away, I’d buy no more loose-fitting stuff. I’d buy slinky things that hugged my new form.

I hadn’t eaten anything all day in preparation for the surgery and I was feeling weak. I decided to go upstairs and lay down. My head hit the pillow and I let my mind fill with pleasant thoughts—walking daintily in high heels and being able to sit on any chair, not just the ones that looked sturdy or wide enough.

I sank deeper into my pleasant dream.

“Mademoiselle Raquel,” he said overemphasizing the rhyme. “You are a vision of loveliness.”

The meadow was foggy around the edges, but I could see miles of carpety soft grass. Beside me walked a soldier with a metal helmet, jodhpurs, and a button-down coat.

“At your service, Ma’am,” he said crisply as he gave me a military salute.

I skipped across the damp lawn, enjoying moving quickly without my extra two hundred pounds accompanying me.

The soldier faced me, running backwards, holding his helmet over his eyes.

I ran faster, liking the cool breeze on my face. My lungs filled and emptied easily. This is the way my life would be without all the flab.

The man removed his helmet and looked at me with those deep brown eyes. “I like you the way you are.”

“The way I am,” I repeated. My weight crippled my legs and soon I was rolling across the green grass, damp blades cruelly slapping my face.

I opened my eyes. It had been a dream. Of course it was a dream. But it was the same man. Abel Rollins.

Maybe it was just nerves about having the operation. That’s it. I was apprehensive and my subconscious was dealing with it this way.

I patted the pocket of my muumuu. Nothing crinkled. Where was the list? I dug my hand down in the fabric. I looked around on the bed. It could have fallen out while I was sleeping. Yes, I had been tossing and turning and it must have slipped out. It had to be here. I ran my hands all around the sheets.

That scoundrel.

This time I knew who had taken it. The laugh was on him, though. I remembered everything the nurse had told me.

The alarm went off at five o’clock. They’d said it was imperative I be there at six sharp. The hospital was just a few miles away, so all I had to do was shower, get dressed, and drive over there. Owen was meeting me there and would wait for me during the surgery.

I grabbed my purse and headed for the car. Funny, I wasn’t nervous at all. In fact, I was excited about making such a big change in my life. I reached for my keys. Wait. Where were they? I dug around in my bag some more. They weren’t here.

I ran back in the house. The clock said five thirty. Don’t panic, I told myself. You have plenty of time to make it to the hospital. I dumped my purse out on top of the little table in the foyer—credit cards, lipstick, tissues, but no keys. I was already out of breath, but I ran back upstairs and looked under the bed, in the pockets of all the clothes I’d worn lately.

I ran out into the hallway and all the way to Grandmother’s wing. I was huffing and puffing when I knocked on Maria Elena’s door. “Coming…. in…,” I called, feeling guilty at waking her up so early. I poked my head in. “Sorry to wake you up, but I can’t find my keys.”

She turned a sleepy head toward me. “Today the surgery is, right?”

I was still trying to catch my breath. “Thanks for remembering, but I can’t find my keys anywhere.”

She threw the covers back. “I hope no is that ghost…”

That’s it. It was him. I took some heavy steps out into the hallway. “Mr. Abel Rollins.” I put my hands on my hips. He couldn’t do this to me. “Don’t you hide from…”

“You rang?” He materialized in front of me in my father’s smoking jacket.

My lips trembled in anger. “Where are my keys?”

“Probably where you last left them.”

“Hay, no, you talking to el ghost,” Maria Elena plastered herself up against the wall.

I took a step toward him. His pupils had little shards of caramel in them and his lips were thick and… “You know very well that isn’t true. You took them.”

“If I did, I did it for your own good.” His eyebrows made a seductive arch over the hollows of his eyes and his skin was tanned, like he spent just the right amount of time in the sun.

I decided not to listen to any more. I headed back to my room. Maybe it wasn’t too late. I’d call Regina. I picked up the phone. “What’s going on? There’s no dial tone,” I hollered.

Maria Elena had followed me to my room and was standing in the doorway shaking and holding her hands at her mouth. “You making the ghost too mad.” She looked around the room as if he’d jump out from under the bed and attack her.

I was scared too, but I wasn’t going to be foiled. I reached into my purse again and grabbed my cell phone. I dialed Regina’s house. Damn! No one answered. I left a message, knowing it was to no avail. Then I called her cell phone. It was turned off. She was at her new boyfriend’s house. Later on, she’d brag to me, “Of course I had my cell phone off. I didn’t want to be interrupted.” Then she’d give me a knowing wink.

“Owen,” I said out loud. “He’s probably already on his way to the hospital. He can just come and pick me up.” I dialed his cell. He didn’t answer, either. If he were already at the hospital, they would have made him turn his cell phone off.

The last time I’d called a taxi, it had taken an hour just to get here.

“I know!” I’d call the hospital and see if they could delay my surgery.

Soon I had the nurse on the line and explained the situation. “I’m very sorry but the doctor has back-to-back surgeries all day. You’ll have to reschedule the surgery.”

“No, you can’t mean that. I mean it’s only 6:30. I was supposed to be there at 6:00. The surgeon only has to…”

From her response, I realized there was no hope. I wasn’t having the surgery today. I hung up. I had reserved this space of time—rescheduled deadlines, book signings, meetings with editors—all so I could have this time off. Now, it was blown. When would I be able to have the surgery?

I felt demoralized, manipulated, and worst of all, not in control of my own destiny. That’s what the surgery meant to me. I was finally taking control of my life.

Like I’d done a million times before, I made my way into the kitchen. Before I knew what I was doing, I had a quart of chocolate fudge ice cream out on the island and was sitting in a chair wolfing it down as if I were competing for the last bit of food on the planet. I hated myself this time, just like every other. Food, my nemesis, had won. Beaten by some sugar, fat, and cream.

After I’d eaten the entire container of ice cream, I waddled back up to my room and there in the middle of the bed were the keys to my car.

“Did you do this?” I yelled up to the ceiling. “Tell me, Mr. Abel Rollins, how could you do this to me?”

“You are lovely as you are,” his voice breezed through the room.

I had to admit it was good to hear somebody liked me the way I was, but he couldn’t run my life like this. “You just stay out of my affairs. This is something I want, and I’m the one who makes the decision.” I felt ridiculous talking to thin air, and I really wanted to see him again, even if I were angry enough to strangle him.

Laughter filled the air, and my desire to see him turned to frustration. How dare he mock me.

Chapter Four

I sat down on my mother’s settee and heard it groan under my weight. Frustration was boiling in my gut. Usually I accomplished my goals, but now I had an apparition manipulating my life.

But worse, could I be going crazy? Could I have conjured him up because I was scared of the bypass? I’d read a lot about this procedure. Occasionally, someone did die from having their stomach stapled. There could be an infection or a mistake on the part of the surgeon. However, being morbidly obese, I was more likely to die of a heart ailment, stroke, or diabetes than complications from surgery.

I reached in my purse for my cell phone. I was rescheduling that surgery and would go through with it, ghost or no ghost. I just hoped he was real. Accepting something from the supernatural was preferable to losing my mind.

“What has gotten you in such a dither?”

Abel Rollins. I looked up to see him in his uniform again. “You. It’s all your fault.” I tried not to be moved by how gorgeous he was.

“You are even more beautiful when you’re angry. Your cheeks flush and your eyes sparkle like fireworks.” He was wearing that WWI steel helmet he’d had on in my dream.

I glared at him as I took in his eerily authentic uniform that made him look like he’d walked right off a Western Front battlefield. “You don’t belong here. And...and...what do you have that uniform on for?” My pulse raced. How could something that wasn’t made of flesh turn me on so much?

“I am proud to wear this uniform.” He clicked his heels together and raised his hand in salute. “Corporal Abel Rollins reporting for duty, sir,” he barked then shifted his eyes. “Pardon me, ma’am.”

“Mr. Rollins, you were never invited into my home.”

“My rank was corporal.”

“Corporal or whatever. You were never invited here.”

“Actually, that’s not true.” He clasped his hands in back and took a few steps in one direction, his heels clicking on the stone floor, then doubled back. “I was most certainly invited to this house, by your great-grandfather, in fact.”

I wanted to know more, but after the stunt he’d pulled, I couldn’t afford the luxury of having him around. “Listen, Mr. Rollins, this is my house, and I really must ask you to leave.” He was the reason I wasn’t on the road to slenderdom.

“You are a beautiful woman. You are strong and voluptuous.” He made a point of raking his eyes over my entire form.

“Well, you are the only person who feels that way. No one takes me seriously as an author because they think I’m just this pathetic fat person.” If I could just get this weight problem behind me, then I could go on with the rest of my life.

“Poppycock! What kind of idiots are they?” His chest strained against his uniform as if he were ready to take someone on

“It’s not just that. I’m developing health problems because of my weight. My sugar is high and my heart is getting weaker, according to my doctor.”

He shook his head. “In my day, a woman that was round and plump was admired.”

“Well, not today.” It felt good to have someone say things that were so nice. “I need to have that surgery.”

“No! I forbid it.” He jutted his chin out.

“Forbid? This is my house and you don’t get to forbid me to do anything.”

“That surgery is not for you.”

“You are not going to tell me what to do. You don’t belong here, anyway.”

He puffed his chest out. “I gave my very life for this country, and I will live where I please.”

“Gave your life?” I stared at him. Even his arrogance was sexy. “You look very much alive to me.”

He batted his light-colored eyelashes. “I shall visit you when you are in better spirits.”

“Spirits are what I don’t need,” I hollered at his vanishing form.

That afternoon I sat by the pool with Grandmother and Maria Elena, wondering if I’d seen the last of Abel Rollins. He was a pain in the neck, but such a handsome one and he really seemed to like me for who I was. I relaxed back on the lounge chair and let the May sun bathe my face.

“Be careful, my dear, you’re going to end up looking like a common peasant girl. Isn’t she, Tatiana?”

I doubt Maria Elena understood what Grandmother had just said, but she nodded her head and said, “Si, Señora.”

It always seemed odd to me that Grandmother didn’t even seem forgetful or mixed up, yet she went on and on about such strange things. “Grandmother, they’ve always said that Anastasia escaped, but I’ve never heard that Tatiana got away from the soldiers.”

“Poor mother and father.” She brought her hands to her chest. “Betrayed by those that were supposed to serve them.”

“How did you escape, Grandmother?” I asked.

She giggled and I saw her old eyes flit back and forth under wrinkled lids. “Well, there was a boy, the son of one of the men guarding us…”

“Grandmother,” I said opening my mouth. “You were with a boy when…”

She held her hand up. “I try not to think about that.” Her head bowed and she wiped at her eyes.

“What is matter?” Maria Elena looked at Grandmother, clearly wondering why she was suddenly so melancholy.

Grandmother turned to Maria Elena. “It’s better you don’t remember what they did to Mama and Papa and poor Maria, Olga, and Alexei.”

How did Grandmother know all of the names of the Russian royal family? She must have read a book or seen a movie about them.

I heard the French doors open and turned to see Regina parading down the steps to the pool area. “I thought I’d find y’all out here.” Her smile was radiant and her stride sure, unlike a few weeks ago when Carter left her.

She came down and gave Grandmother a kiss on the cheek then came to the lounge chair next to me and made large gestures in taking off her cover-up. Underneath she wore a leopard-skin bathing suit that only covered her nipples and her triangle. “Like it?” She did a three-sixty degree turn. “Barry got it for me.”

“It’s lovely dear,” Grandmother said. “You remind me of one of the gypsies that used to perform at court.”

Regina scowled at Grandmother and sat down.

“What’s new with you?” I asked Regina.

“Did I tell you Barry’s a lawyer?”

She probably did tell me that day, but I hadn’t listened. “What do you two have in common?”

“Oh, tons of things. He’s newly-divorced, too.” She patted my hand. “Oh, and he wants to take me to the Caribbean when he’s finished with this case he’s working on.”

I wondered how long this Barry would stay with my sister when he realized how shallow she is. The only hobby she had was replacing the man who had just left her. Even though she tried to hide it, these break-ups were hard on her. I knew she cried herself to sleep for nights on end. As each relationship ended disastrously, her eyes dimmed a little each time.

“When do we get to meet him?” I asked.

“Well, you know, he’s still going through his divorce and he’s trying to get joint custody of his two kids…” Her mouth momentarily turned down at the ends.

“You? A stepmother?” It slipped out before I thought about how it sounded.

“At least I know treating them both equally is a priority.”

I knew where that came from. It was really meant for my father and not for me.

“And you, I hope you’ve given up on that idea of getting that surgery.”

“Absolutely not. I’m going through with it.”

“Well, if you’re too nervous to have it, then you should listen to your inner spirit.”

She’d probably heard that term at some new age seminar her ex-husband Carter dragged her to.

“I’m not nervous,” I said a little too defensively.

“It was the ghost,” Maria Elena interjected.

“What?” Regina asked.

“He a very smart ghost,” Maria Elena was standing up and wagging her index finger. “He taking things that belong to Señorita Raquel.” She giggled.

“A very respectable man,” Grandmother said with her nose in the air.

“Respectable and a ghost, that’s the kind of man I’d expect for you, Raquel.” Regina wrinkled up her cute little nose.

“I’m calling in the morning for another appointment. I’m having that surgery.”

“He won’t like it,” Grandmother said in a low deep voice.

“Si, Señorita Raquel, he won’t like it,” Maria Elena chimed in.

I wondered if I’d scared Abel Rollins away for good by the way I’d acted this afternoon. I really hoped not. Around him I felt special and appreciated, and even attractive.

Regina frowned. “Sounds like you three have your little secrets from me, just like father used to.” She touched me with the back of her hand. “Don’t you remember that? How father used to tell you things that he wouldn’t tell me.”

I didn’t respond. I felt guilty that Daddy had liked me more.

Maria Elena stood up to push Grandmother up the hill to the house. “You know, Señora Regina, if Señorita Raquel have the surgery, maybe she prettier than you.”

Regina got a look on her face as if she’d just been served a rat for dinner.

As Maria Elena pushed the wheelchair up the hill, I heard Grandmother say, “Tatiana, you shouldn’t talk that way to my granddaughter, you know her father never gave her the love she deserved.”

Regina sat for a few minutes playing with her newly manicured nails, trying to act like Maria Elena’s comment didn’t bother her. “Sorry to visit for such a short while, but you know, Barry wants to take me to dinner tonight.” She looked at me. “I like to eat before I go out so I don’t pig out in front of him.” She waved her long fingernails. “Toodle-oo.”

I watched her walk up the hill. Here I was as big as a side-by-side refrigerator yet happier than my gorgeous sister. That’s because apart from the weight issue, I was very content with my life and I liked who I was.

I turned and saw Abel sitting right where my sister had just been. I jumped and grasped my chest my heart as it pounded uncontrollably. “Don’t do that to me!”

His eyebrows rose. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Feeling my heart beat so rapidly scared me.

“I came to apologize for my terrible behavior earlier today.” He leaned over, digging his elbows into his thighs.

I was relieved he’d come back. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.” I liked sitting close to him. He had a little boy look about him that I found charming.

“When I was a child, my mother went in for surgery.” He took his helmet off and ran his fingers around the edges. “She never came back.” He looked down.

“Your mother?”

“I was a just a boy and she went to the hospital and…”

I remembered how I felt when they told me my mother had passed away. “How horrible. What happened to you then?”

“My uncle, he wasn’t really the type to take care of a child, so he took me to an orphanage.” His eyes darted up to me then back down.

“So, you thought I wouldn’t come back?”

He didn’t respond, just kept fingering the rim of his helmet.

“And your father?”

“Oh, my father, he was taken by consumption a few years before my mother.”

“I’m so very sorry.” It was sweet that he’d been worried about me. “I’m touched, I really am.”

“I shouldn’t have put you through what I did.” He reached his hand over and placed it on top of mine.

His skin was soft and warm and I felt excitement twitching inside me. He wasn’t a part of this world. He was an apparition. How could I feel this way about him?

“Please accept my apology.” His eyes opened wide and he looked into mine.

I thought I would melt. “I can forgive you, but why are you here?”

He took a deep breath. “The two weeks I stayed in this house were the best days of my life.”

“The best days of your life?”

“While I was here, I was happy because I had been assured my mother would be fine. After that I was at the orphanage.” He looked out at the line of trees dividing our estate from the other next door. “My days here were blissful.”

“When were you here?”

“During the summer of 1909.”

“The house was practically new then,” I said more to myself than Abel. “And Granddaddy was a little boy.”

“Yes, we were fast friends, your grandfather and I.” His eyes became misty. “And after that came the orphanage.”

I couldn’t have imagined what would have happened to me if my father had died also. “It must have been awful.”

He tried to turn his frown into a smile but was unsuccessful. “I enlisted as soon as I could and went to Europe.”

I scanned his uniform for a bullet hole. “Were you shot?”

“No, I wasn’t that lucky. I got hit with the mustard, didn’t hurt at first, but…” His face shriveled like a prune as if he’d eaten something horribly bitter.

I remembered reading once why the Geneva Convention outlawed mustard gas. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, making some of his blond strands come loose, one lock falling over his forehead. “It was a long time ago, but then I came here.” He smiled at me.

“You’ve been in this house since World War I?” He would have witnessed my father’s birth, my parent’s wedding, and even Regina’s and my birth.

He put his helmet back on and stood up. “I must leave you.”

“We were just getting to know each other.”

He looked at me as if he hadn’t heard me. “Again, I apologize for my actions.” He reached down, took my hand, and brought it to his lips.

I felt the moisture of his mouth and knew he was no simple ghost or figment of my imagination. I wanted to kiss him and be held in his strong arms. I wanted to ask him a thousand questions. “Don’t go.”

He took a step toward the pool.

“Tell me about…”

He evaporated into the early evening.

Chapter Five

I clicked the phone off and slammed it down on the bed.

According to my agent, surgery wasn’t an option this week. She needed me in her New York office first thing Tuesday morning. I’d argued, but she’d insisted.

After promising the people at the doctor’s office I wasn’t chickening out, I finally got them to let me reschedule the surgery. There must be a lot of obese people, because this doctor’s dance card was very full stapling people’s stomachs.

At least it would soon be over, I thought as I plodded up the stairs. After the operation, I wouldn’t have to worry about being a borderline diabetic, nor would I have to go on heart medication. And, best of all, I’d be more comfortable. My legs wouldn’t chafe together and I’d be able to squeeze between tables at restaurants.

I grabbed my suitcase out of my closet, threw it on the bed, and began to throw in all of the things I’d need in New York. My jaw tensed as I thought about how I should be recuperating from surgery right now.

“You look as mad as a she-bear that’s lost one of her cubs.”

I recognized the voice and didn’t flinch, just kept on packing my bag.

“Where are you going?” His voice was deep and mocking. I didn’t like admitting it to myself, but even now he turned me on.

I hollered at the ceiling, “I’m going to New York. I’d be going in a better mood if you’d let me go through the surgery like I’d planned.” I slammed the suitcase closed and pulled it off the bed. I turned and my face was one inch from his.

“You shouldn’t be so angry at me.” He wore his uniform again and he smelled of gasoline and gunpowder.

“If I’d had that surgery, I might have lost some weight by now.” I backed up and felt my thighs hit the edge of the bed.

His lips tensed and I saw a little dimple form in his chin. “It’s just that the thought of you being in a hospital…”

I looked into his dark eyes, which contrasted with his blond hair. It was parted in the middle and combed back so that each piece was in its right place.

“I don’t like seeing you so frustrated.” His dimple got deeper.

I pointed my eyes at him hoping he’d feel guilty. “I’m only going to New York for a few days, and I’ll be back and I’ll have that surgery.”

He stepped toward me, pinning me between him and the bed. “For me, you are a vision of loveliness. I can’t see how being more slender will make you more beautiful, but if you insist.”

“I insist,” I said with a wry smile. I liked him being close to me. Masculinity emanated from his every pore.

“Before you go...” He came even closer. His breath was warm and musky. “Can I kiss you?”

“Abel,” I breathed. “You’re a ghost. You’re not real…”

His lips touched mine. They were sweet, firm. I wrapped my arms around him feeling the crispness of his wool uniform. His fingers walked across my ampleness attempting to encircle me.

Abel was warm and his mouth supple and tender. My eyes closed and I began to lose myself in his embrace, then there was nothing, just cold where he’d been.

My arms were empty.

“Where did you go?” I looked around the room. It was empty, too. My mouth longed for his. “How could you just disappear at a time like this?”

I decided to forget him and enjoy my trip to New York. As usual, the Big Apple was wonderful. My agent booked me in a posh hotel right across from Central Park. I took a carriage ride through it, vowing that when I came back a normal weight, I’d walk through the entire thing without resting once.

The following day I met with publishers and editors. My idea for writing on Teddy Roosevelt had been well received, so I caught the train back to Richmond in great spirits. The train ride was monotonous, but I was able to make a lot of notes about how I’d approach writing about the first President Roosevelt. As I pondered the time period I’d be writing about, I thought how ironic it was that the subject of my current novel lived during the same period of time that Abel did.

I was already missing him. He could be exasperating, but he was so handsome. The way he looked at me made me feel more beautiful than the most exotic runway model. I couldn’t wait to get back home. But there was that nagging fear in the back of my mind.

What if Abel was just a Freudian way of getting out of having major surgery? Could my subconscious be inventing a handsome man that preferred me rotund, just to convince me not to go through with it?

What an imagination I’d developed! Could my mind invent such an incredibly attractive apparition? The only way I’d know if Abel were real or not is to have the surgery and see if he reappeared.

The sun was just beginning to peak its head over the Virginia pines, giving the Richmond platform and everything around it an orangey-pink glow. As I made my way off the train, I had to turn sideways since the aisle was so narrow. I handed the porter my luggage and carefully maneuvered myself down the steps. Even the doorway was too small for me. I angled myself and stepped down. My shoe hit the sidewalk, my foot went one way, and my leg the other.

Within an instant, I was laying on the concrete platform in mind-boggling pain. My skirt had ended up around my waist and my arms were bloody from scraping the concrete. When I tried to move, my foot wouldn’t budge. I must have destroyed the ligaments, because it lay there like a limp piece of meat at the butcher.

It took three porters and another man, a passenger I think, to help me hop to a seat to wait for the ambulance.

A lady who had ridden behind me sat down next to me. “Don’t worry, they’ll get you all patched up in the hospital,” she said in a reassuring voice.

I tried to smile, but I was still in a lot of pain.

“You know...” Her mouth turned into a motherly smile.

“I know what you’re going to say. It’s my—”

“I had the gastric bypass two years ago.” She rolled her sleeve up.

I let my guard down and tried to smile at her in spite of the pain.

“My life has changed so much,” she went on, “And then I had my excess skin removed.” She showed me the scar on the back part of her upper arm. “Hurt like the dickens, but worth every bit of pain and expense.”

I enjoyed the smile that crept across her face. Momentarily, I forgot about the pain in my ankle.

I was trying to think of questions to ask her when I heard the squeak of the paramedics pushing a stretcher toward me. I waved goodbye to her as they wheeled me away. Luckily, without making a single comment about my weight, they helped me into the ambulance and drove me to the hospital.

I sat in the emergency room waiting for the doctor. All I could think about was whether I’d be in good enough shape to have the gastric bypass next week. No matter what kind of cast I ended up in, I was having my stomach stapled. And if I had problems with my nerves, then I’d get enough Valium to put an elephant in la-la land.

Finally, a doctor that looked young enough to be carded for a beer walked in. “Stress fracture, huh?”

“No, I fell,” I said in as deadpan of a voice as possible. As every heavy person knows, a stress fracture happens when your weight literally causes your bones to crack.

“You know why you fell, don’t you?” He gave me a one-sided smile that made him look like a leprechaun.

“Aren’t you even going to send me for a scan? Or can you do it yourself, Superman, with your x-ray vision?”

Without responding, he looked up at the clock. It was five o’clock in the morning and I’m sure he’d rather be napping than taking care of a fat person.

“The nurse will take you up.” He disappeared into the maze of counters and computer screens that made up the emergency room.

A few hours later, they’d put me in a cast with strict orders to stay off my foot for a few weeks. Owen, who had picked up on the first ring, was already on his way. One thing about being fat, you always knew who your real friends were. What would life be like after the gastric bypass?

Owen scurried around the emergency personnel and approached me with his hands up around his face. “Girl, you look like they ran you through a gauntlet.” He wrapped his arms around me. “What did they do to you?”

“I’m all right.”

“Nonsense, you’re just putting up a brave front.” He grabbed my purse and my suitcase. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“The nurse is going to help roll me out to the curb.”

He looked at me as if he were searching my face for some sort of clue. “You look like your face is about to break.”

“I’m all right.” I didn’t want Owen getting upset.

“I don’t even like these people touching you.” He flicked his fingers at them as if he were trying to spray water on them.

I held my hand up. “Please don’t, Owen, it’s all I can do to keep myself together.”

“Somebody said something to you,” he accused.

I was trying to keep my feelings from showing, but I guess I was doing a bad job.

“I knew it.” He looked around. “These people here need to go through a bad winter in an Appalachian hollow without enough firewood.”

I felt a giggle start in my belly. “Owen, you can always make me feel better.”

A nurse appeared and grabbed the back of the chair. “We’ll meet you outside, sir,” she said to Owen.

Owen held his index finger up. “You take good care of her, or you’ll have to answer to me.” Owen disappeared out the front door.

The nurse stared at him, but didn’t respond.

A few minutes later I was sitting in Owen’s pickup and we were heading toward my house. “So, what did they do to you? You look like you were tortured.”

“The doctor could have been nicer.”

He squeezed the steering wheel as if it were someone’s neck. “Sounds like they treat you as bad as they treated a little red-headed queer in the mountains.”

Owen had never told me a lot about his life, just made comments from time to time, but I guess he suffered a lot in the little southwestern Virginia town he grew up in.

“This will all be over as soon as I can get this surgery done.”

“Well, you shouldn’t let them cut you open just to please people dumber than a tick sucking on a gas can.”

Again, a tickling feeling started down in my tummy. “You can cheer me up no matter how I feel, Owen.”

“I mean it. I admit that I want you to have the surgery because I can just see us slipping and dipping and doing a sexy Tango. That will show those judges how it’s really supposed to be done, but if you’re having this surgery to make other people happy…”

“No, that’s not why. I’m really scared of developing diabetes and I’m already on the verge of having heart trouble. Every time I go to the doctor, the news gets worse and worse.”

Owen pulled into the long driveway leading to my front door. The morning light trickled through the trees and lit up Owen’s dirty dashboard.

“You go through with that operation, but only if it’s for you and not for all the people in the world that can’t tolerate someone if they’re different.” His lower lip puffed out.

“Don’t worry. I’m having this for the right reasons, but it’s starting to feel like I’ll never have this surgery. With this.” I patted my cast. “I’ll probably have to postpone it again.”

“You’ll get it, girl. If a little gay boy can survive in a hollow, then you can get this surgery and go on to become an award-winning ballroom dancer and lots of other things.”

I leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Can you be a doll and go in and have Maria Elena bring out Grandmother’s old wheelchair?”

He smiled, hesitated, then got out of the truck.

I knew he was about to ask if the wheelchair would be big enough for me. Owen, however, wasn’t the type to be so crass, even if he had grown up without running water. Imagine. Owen had tons of class even if he was born with nothing. And that doctor at the hospital probably had his diapers changed in a solid gold bassinette.

Maria Elena came running so fast I thought that ancient wheelchair would fall apart as she dragged it down the steps, clunking it onto the driveway. “Señorita Raquel, what happening to you?”

“A fall.” I sidled over and squeezed into the wheelchair trying to ignore the pinching pain as I sat sideways. When would this hell be over with? Owen wheeled me down to the handicapped entrance and then into the living room.

“I making breakfast.” Maria Elena disappeared into the kitchen.

“Thank you.” I never imagined Maria Elena having to take care of me.

Owen helped me hop over to an ample-sized chair, then sat down on mother’s settee and began to move his head around, taking in each corner of the room. “So, where is he?”

I felt myself smile. I wanted to see him too. I shrugged and looked around since I never knew when he was going to appear.

“Not here, huh?” Owen let his shoulders droop in disappointment.

I shook my head, then I saw a shadow in the doorway.

“What has happened to you?” Abel was wearing a pair of my father’s silk pajamas. He ran to me and knelt down beside the chair. “Are you all right?” His cheeks caved in and his chocolate eyes searched me for other signs of injury.

“I’m fine,” I replied.

Owen had been sitting back on the settee. He pushed himself forward and clasped his hands together. “Is he here?”

I nodded.

“That scroundrel. Did he do this to you?” He eyed Owen as if he’d like to flick him away like an annoying mosquito.

“Of course not, Abel, I fell.”

“Then it was his fault. He should have taken better care of you.” He turned and faced Owen, folded his arms, and tapped his bare foot.

“I was alone when I slipped,” I said, but Abel didn’t appear to be listening to me.

Owen jumped up. “Where is he, Raquel?” On my mother’s oriental carpet, he pivoted on his dancer’s feet. “I want to meet him.”

I pointed to where Abel was standing, which was right beside me.

Owen walked toward Abel sticking his hand out. “Mr. Ghost, I’m so pleased to meet you.”

Abel glared at him.

“His name is Abel Rollins, Owen.”

“Mr. Abel Rollins, nice to meet you.” Owen looked like a wind up doll as he turned around trying to shake hands with something he couldn’t see.

Abel’s lips narrowed in anger. “If he hadn’t been so busy mucking about like a soused butterfly, you probably wouldn’t have hurt himself.”

“No, it wasn’t like that all,” I pleaded.

“What he needs is to face the enemy. To be on the wrong end of a gun.”

“He’s just trying to be nice. I’ve told him about you, and he just wants to meet you.”

“I tell you, he needs the barrel of a gun pointed at him, and he needs to know what it’s like to have mortar shells going off all around him.”

Owen was still holding his hand out. “Raquel, is he here? I don’t feel anything.”

Abel took Owen’s hand in his.

Owen gasped. “I feel it,” he squealed.

Abel’s left hand grabbed Owen’s elbow and pushed him to the ground.

“Abel,” I cried. “Why did you do something like that?”

Owen immediately jumped to his feet. “Okay, buddy, I’ll give you some o’ this.” He jumped around like a boxer ready to strike. “Tell me where that son of a bitch is.”

“Abel, how could you do that? He’s my friend.”

Owen punched at the air, artfully hopping around.

I struggled to my one foot and held on to the back of the chair.

Abel stepped toward me. “No, don’t stand up, you’ll…”

One of Owen’s swings slammed Abel on the side of his head.

Abel fell to his knees.

Owen began to howl, “I got him. I got that ghostly motherfucker.”

I bent down to see if Abel was all right. His skin had turned red where Owen had smacked him, but it looked like only his pride was wounded.

“Let me hit him again. Just tell me where he is, Raquel.” Owen was holding his fist out. “I’ll teach him to mess with ol’ Owen.”

Abel pushed himself to his feet and squared his shoulders.

“No, Abel, no more of this.” I turned to Owen. “Stop that this instant.”

Abel straightened out the sleeves of my father’s robe. “He isn’t so bad after all. I thought the little effeminate thing was made out of glass.” Abel looked at me. “Tell him I’d like to shake hands with him.”

Owen looked at me. “Did he say something?” He looked around the room. “I thought I heard a hissing sound.”

“Yes,” I responded. “He said he wants to shake hands with you.”

Owen stopped his silly hopping around and stood still. “Really?” He wiggled his shoulders. “I guess he respects me now.”

Abel was smiling at Owen.

“Hold your hand out, and he’ll shake your hand.”

Owen spread his legs wide as if bracing himself for another onslaught, then he held his hand out.

Abel took his palm and gave it a swift strong shake.

Owen smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Abel Rollins.”

“Good to meet you, too, buddy.”

Maria Elena appeared in the doorway. “Señor, Owen, what you doing?” She charged in. “Señorita Raquel no should be standing.”

Owen opened his mouth, but stammered.

“Maria Elena, I’m all right.”

“Señor Owen, I see Señorita Raquel very tired, she need to eat and sleep.”

“No, Maria Elena, he was just…”

Owen held his finger over his mouth as a signal to be quiet. “That’s all right, Raquel, I really need to go any way. I’ve got the lunch shift today.” He leaned over to kiss me goodbye.

Abel was standing there silently as Owen headed out the door. “Not a bad chap, really. Still, he needs to spend a few months on the battlefield. That would teach him a thing or two.”

“I bringing your food here. You no moving.” Maria Elena disappeared.

From the chair, I glared at Abel.

His face looked angelically innocent. “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were mad at me.”

“If you had let me have my operation, I probably wouldn’t have fallen and broken my ankle.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but no sound came.

“I need this operation. You don’t realize it, but my weight is threatening my life.”

He hung his head and I watched him absent-mindedly fiddle with the edges of the robe. “It’s just that I am very… very scared for you.” He raised his head and peered at me. “I will leave you to consume your victuals in peace.”

“Oh, but I…”

He was gone, just vanished.

“Why do you just take off like that? Just when we’re about to…”

Maria Elena appeared with a tray of scrambled eggs and bacon. “Hay, Señorita, the ghost, you talking to the ghost?”

I looked at her guiltily.

“You grandmother say he very handsome.” She slid a tray over and set the food in front of me.

I took a bite of a slice of bacon. “He’s absolutely dreamy.”

“Ah, a handsome man.” She sat down on the settee across from me. Today she was dressed in a pair of long yellow shorts and a white button-down blouse.

“Maria Elena, have you ever been married or…?” It just occurred to me that I’d never asked about her. When she applied for the job I just wanted information on references and to see how she interacted with Grandmother.

Her face grew dark and her eyes drew down.

“I’m sorry.”

She continued to have that sad look on her face.

“Who was he?”

“Oooooooh, he a boy I like very much.” A smile grew across her face and her dark eyes twinkled.

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, he was good.” She looked up at me, then down to her hands that were busy playing with the material of her shorts. “But I got pregnant and my parents got very mad at me.”

I suddenly remembered back to my mother who had died when I was ten. What would she have done if I’d gotten pregnant without being married? “But they forgave you, though?” She’d never mentioned that she had a child.

She looked at the window.

I tried to think of a way to ask about the child as I poked at the scrambled eggs. Hopefully she’d calm down and I could find out about her child.

She jumped up. “Señorita Raquel, I sorry leave you, but I check on you grandmother.” She ran out before I could protest.

I wanted to know more about her. Why was she so upset about something that must have happened years ago? She’d been in this country for at least fifteen years.

Chapter Six

A few days later, my ankle felt better, but it would be a while before it healed. Grandmother and I sat at one end of the dining room table, long enough to accommodate thirty people. The far end of the table hadn’t been cleaned in so long time the wood appeared to be light gray.

The paintings of family members, some of them dating back to the tobacco plantation great-granddaddy’s family owned further up the James River, hadn’t been wiped off in so long the tops and bottoms of the frames looked like fancy dust holders. Spider webs ran across my ancestor’s faces, casting odd shadows and making them looked wrinkled. The house was way too big for me to take care of, but I couldn’t bear to leave the house all of my family members had been born in for over a hundred years.

We were eating a salad Maria Elena had prepared when she walked into the room with a plate covered with a cloth. “Bread fresh,” she said as she sat down next to Grandmother.

“Smells delicious, Tatiana,” Grandmother said. “Isn’t it amazing that my sister learned to cook, Raquel?”

“I was cooking in my country,” Maria Elena said as she put a napkin in her lap.

“You did no such thing, Tatiana. Mother always had Cook with us wherever we went.”

Maria Elena ignored her. She lifted up the cloth and began to break the warm bread with her hands. She laid a piece on Grandmother’s plate and then handed the plate to me.

“You know, after the operation, I won’t be able to eat bread any more,” I said.

“You will be so beautiful, Señorita Raquel.”

“My mother would never let a doctor touch her without Rasputin present.”

“Rasputin?” I couldn’t resist. “You knew Rasputin, Grandmother?”

“He was a priest, but I was always scared of him. Those eyes, you know.”

She never ceased to amaze me with her knowledge of the royal family. I knew about the Romanovs since I was once requested to do a biography on the last czar. I declined, though, since his shortsightedness had caused Russia to descend into chaos.

“Maria Elena, this is my last meal before my surgery, so don’t fix anything else for me.”

“Raquel,” Grandmother said in her gravelly voice. “You are having the royal physicians attend to you?”

I wanted to point out that there were no royal doctors here in the U.S., but it would do no good. “Of course.”

She let a breath out rapidly. “I am very thankful for that.”

I finished up my salad and pushed my chair out slowly.

“Your leg hurting?” Maria Elena asked.

I shook my head no. “I feel fine, but I have to wear the cast a few weeks more.” I stood up and limped to the door.

“I can’t wait for you being skinny, Señorita.” Her voice tinkled in enthusiasm for me.

Why hadn’t I seen what a nice person Maria Elena was before?

I lay down in bed. It felt good to prop my foot up. Even though it wasn’t painful, my ankle did swell in the summer heat. That I couldn’t afford to properly air-condition the house made it worse.

How would my life be after the surgery? Right now, I practically lived for Abel’s visits. And there was that nagging worry I’d find out that he was only my imagination at work. I’d miss his warm yet mocking smile.

“Good afternoon,” Abel’s deep voice breezed into the room.

I turned to see him standing by the bed. “It’s nice of you to visit.”

“I see that melancholy look upon your face.” Today he wore a black top hat and tails.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked.

“I have dressed to call upon a most lovely lady.” He laid his hat down on my hope chest then sat down on the bed.

I felt my lips turn up into a smile. He amused me with his mannerisms and his costumes.

“I’m glad that I have brightened your spirits. You looked terribly glum when I arrived.” He removed his white gloves and laid them on the bed.

“I’m having the surgery.”

“Not to worry. I will be there with you when you wake up.” I could see the angst in his face even though he appeared to be trying to conceal it.

“In the hospital?”

“Absolutely, but do know that I perished in a hospital, and they are not my favorite of places.”

Believing he’d be there relaxed me.

“I did much suffering in that hospital in Europe.”

“Yes, the mustard gas.” Even Hitler had been disgusted by the suffering he’d seen on World War I battlefields and had disallowed the use of mustard gas in World War II.

His cheeks hollowed. “It was a terrible way to go.” He twisted the white gloves up into a small roll. “First there was the blindness, and then it was like breathing fire until I could take no more. Suddenly the pain was gone and I was no longer flesh.”

“And what are you now?”

He laid the gloves down on the bed and turned to face me head on. “I am only of a corporeal nature when I’m with you.”

“Only with me?” I raised myself up against the headboard.

He squeezed his eyelids together sheepishly. “And that’s only for a short while, but…”

“But?” I wanted to kiss him badly.

“I am hopeful, though. I am able to hold my shape longer and longer.”

“Longer and longer?” I felt hope well up inside me.

His eyebrows rose and his cheeks reddened.

I felt giddy inside. Could he one day be part of my world?

“You know, I deserve to live.”

I looked at him inquisitively.

“I was cut down in my prime, before I could live or love.”

I held my hand out and his palms engulfed mine.

“I am sorry, but I feel my form fading…”

I reached out with my other hand to keep him from going, but he disintegrated right before me. First a mist; then nothing.

It’s all right, I consoled myself. He said he’d be there when I woke up from surgery. That is, if he weren’t just a memory brought on by my psyche.

“You’re fine. Everything went very well.”

I opened my eyes to see a woman in a blue hat with ties dangling from it looking at me. She must be a surgical nurse.

She said I was all right, but was I? I wiggled my toes just to make sure they were there. The room began to move. A few seconds later I realized my bed was being rolled across the floor.

Soon I was delivered to the room where I had originated. I turned my head and saw that no one had been deposited in that bed while I was gone. IVs were stuck in my left arm. The faint odor of rubbing alcohol wafted by me.

I felt a shiver in my shoulders that caused me to buckle. “Ooow,” I moaned.

The same nurse pulled the sheets and blankets up snugly around my neck. “The anesthesia makes you feel cold.” She pulled a syringe out of a pocket in her smock. “I have something for the pain that I’ll give you now.” She injected something into the tubes that were strung up on a pole beside my bed.

I tried to reply but my mouth felt like it was glued together. I moved my head, but instantly I felt a sting in my abdomen.

“This painkiller will start to work right away.” Her tennis shoes squeaked as she marched past my bed. “I’ll be back later to check your incisions.” She disappeared out into the hallway.

“I thought she’d never leave.”

I didn’t see him yet, but his voice was soothing, like a mother singing a lullaby to a newborn. Immediately, I knew everything would be all right. He stepped up to the bed. He wore a tight-fitting gray jacket, longer than the styles of today. Around his neck was a thin black bow tie.

“You are here,” I grunted.

“Of course I’m here, just as I promised.” His deep brown eyes looked at me protectively.

My hair must have looked like red seaweed. “I must be a sight.”

“Not a sight, a vision, as if from heaven above.” He leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek.

“You’re really here.” I felt my eyes well up with tears.

“Naturally. Abel Rollins always lives up to his word.”

“But I thought I had imagined you and that, after the surgery, I wouldn’t see you any more.”

“Ye of little faith. I have never left you and I will never leave you. I have been in that house ever since you were born.”

“You saw me grow up?” My throat was scratchy and dry.

“I remember the day your mother brought you home from the hospital.” His lips stretched out into a wide toothy smile.

“My mother…you knew my mother.” Even I hadn’t known my mother very well.

“Your mother was a lovely lady. She was radiant when she carried you in the door. Even when you were that small, it was obvious you’d have a beautiful head of strawberry blonde hair.”

I thought about my hair again. It probably looked like it had been combed with an eggbeater. I reached up hoping I could at least smooth it out.

“Not to worry. You are beautiful.”

The nurse came back into the room carrying something in her hand. “I just got off the phone with the doctor and he’s instructed me to give you something to help you sleep.” She walked toward my IV.

Abel clasped my hand in his. “I feel myself…” I saw his form turn to haze. “I’ll be right here beside you. I won’t leave you.”

“Don’t go,” I said out loud.

“I’d like to stay with you, honey, but I’ve got other patients.” She injected the liquid into my tubes. “You’ll be asleep in a few minutes any way.”

The next morning I awoke feeling content. I was on my way to skinniesville and I knew that Abel was close by, even if I couldn’t see him.

“Where is that Tango dancer?” Owen ran to the foot of my bed and held up a bouquet of yellow carnations. “You look radiant.” He set the flowers down on my nightstand and kissed my cheek.

“Thank you so much.” I was awake, but still groggy from the drugs.

“Just you wait. That fat is going to melt off you like wax from a candle.”

I tried to laugh but I could feel the stitches pulling. “I hope so.”

He gave a few big nods of his head. “Yes, girl, you are, because I have entered us in the next big competition.” He angled his head back and opened his eyes wide.

“When?” I certainly didn’t feel like dancing now.

“Six months from today. By that time you’ll be all healed up and you’ll have lost a lot of those pounds.”

“You have so much confidence in me,” I said weakly.

He put his hands on his hips. “You’ll do it. The Raquel I know doesn’t run away from anything.” He raised his hands and began to imitate holding me in a Tango position. “I can just see how gorgeous you are going to look dancing the Tango. We’ll get you a bright red dress and every judge will be ready to give you an outstanding score.”

“Owen, you are so patient with me. Why don’t you get a partner that’s more on your level? I’ve done nothing but drag you down. You’d have won dozens of competitions with a partner that danced as well as you.”

He shot me a frown. “You are my partner. What fun would it be without you, Raquel?” His forehead wrinkled. “Of course, if I do meet Mr. Right and he doesn’t like me dancing, then maybe you’ll lose me as your partner.”

I tried to stifle my giggle so it wouldn’t hurt. “If you meet Mr. Right, I’ll try to talk him into letting you be my dance partner.”

A different nurse entered the room. “Sir, I’m afraid that visiting hours are over. We need to change the dressings on her incisions.”

Owen bent over and kissed me on the forehead. “See ya later, pumpkin. I’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow and take you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Regina can…”

“Nonsense.” His back straightened and his Adam’s apple stuck out. “I’m your official ride home from the hospital.”

I watched Owen leave and knew that my life was finally on a positive path.

Chapter Seven

Even though my insides had been cut, sewn, stapled, and rerouted, I had no pain to speak of. The all-encompassing hunger was gone, as if it had been amputated. In between long naps, Maria Elena brought me liquids my system could tolerate. I felt more hopeful about life than I could ever remember. No longer did I have a cloud hanging over my head that ruined every adventure that I decided to undertake. No longer would I be a victim of obesity. I’d just go on and live my life.

During those first few weeks I spent most of my time in bed. Abel’s visits were always pleasant. He read me poetry from my grandfather’s library until I fell asleep. And he really seemed to enjoy the fact I was happy and hopeful.

A few weeks later, my strength began to return, and I actually ate a little bit of solid food. Unlike before, now I really looked forward to eating small portions and lean meat. The thought of gobbling down sweets or fatty foods like barbecue or French fries made me nauseous. I felt like a new person.

Finally, as I began to be able to feel my hips and thighs becoming slimmer, I pulled out a dress I’d purchased a few years ago. I held it up and looked in the mirror. A thrill ran through me, giving me goose bumps. It looked like it would fit. I chuckled to myself, thinking that given a little time, even this would be way too big.

The garment was a dark burgundy with a scarlet neckline. I slid it over my shoulders and it lusciously glided over my derriere. As I lifted my arms to zip it, my stitches smarted.

I looked in the mirror. I had a long way to go, but already my jaw line had more definition and my figure actually tapered into a waistline the dress hugged. I couldn’t wait for someone to see me. The fabric bounced against my one ankle and the cast as I made my way downstairs.

Grandmother kept her eyes glued to the television while Maria Elena explained to her what was happening on the Spanish soap opera. Her favorite character, Marcio, still had his wife in the dark about his extra-curricular activities. As Maria Elena translated, Grandmother seemed to really enjoy it, her eyes trained on the screen. She nodded whenever Maria Elena remarked how guapo the actor was.

“Taa-daa,” I exclaimed as I entered the room, modeling the dress by pulling out the skirts and doing the sharpest turns I could with my bad ankle.

“It too beautiful.” Maria Elena stood up and clapped.

“I do believe that my granddaughter takes after Victoria’s side of the family.”

Was she saying that I resembled Queen Victoria? I didn’t want to argue about that right now as I enjoyed the dress I’d been able to fit into.

“You will looking good dancing in that dress,” Maria Elena assured me.

“Thank you,” I giggled. “I’m thinking I’d like to go shopping.”

“I coming with you, Señorita Raquel?”

“That’s a great idea.” I’d never looked forward to buying clothes before. Of course I’d still be shopping in the big women’s department, but at least this time I wouldn’t wear the biggest size in the entire store.

Grandmother raised both of her hands in a fan-like gesture. “Raquel, you look so lovely. I wish I could find my old jewelry for you to wear with that outfit.”

“Jewelry?” I didn’t recall any jewelry my grandmother had.

“Yes, you know there were so many things that the Romanovs had. My mother had us sew many of our jewels into our corsets when we were leaving the palace. I have many pieces. I just don’t seem to be able to find them.”

“Grandmother, you couldn’t possibly have jewelry from the Russian royal family!”

“And why not? My mother was very fond of that Fabergé man. Carl, I think was his name.”

“Please don’t keep this nonsense up,” I pleaded. The thought of there being things in the house from the Romanovs who’d been murdered and chopped into tiny pieces made me shiver.

My grandmother looked back at the television. “It isn’t nonsense. One day you’ll see.”

Exasperated, I turned to Maria Elena. “Let’s go shopping after lunch.”

I walked back upstairs without saying anything else to my grandmother.

That afternoon, Maria Elena helped me pick out a few new outfits. The thrill was the kind of feeling only an obese person could understand. I was able to get “normal clothes” now. I picked out several regular button-down blouses—even got some shorts. It was, the first time I’d worn anything like that since I was a child.

As I was checking out, I noticed that Maria Elena was empty-handed. She deserved something, so I decided to get a few things for her, also.

I went with her to the non-big women’s department and enjoyed looking at the kinds of things I could be wearing in a year or so.

Maria Elena picked out a few colorful sundresses and shorts, and I was glad to buy them for her. She really seemed to care for my grandmother.

Afterwards, we stopped in a sandwich shop for a bite to eat. Of course, I had to remove the bread and simply nibble on the vegetables and lean meat. This was a good time to ask her about her child.

“Maria Elena, I remember what you told me.”

“I glad you have the operation, Señorita.” She could be very coy when she wanted to.

“I am too, but…”

“You already looking very beautiful.”

“About the child you had in Ecuador.”

She laid her sandwich down and looked down at her hands.

“How old is he?”

“He was very beautiful.” Her lips trembled.

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, but if she had a child I wanted her to know she was welcome to bring him here.

“He live only a few weeks.”

“I’m so sorry.” I should have respected her attempt to keep it private.

“It was very long time ago, but I still thinking about his beautiful little face.” She pressed her lips together. “I gave him a lot of love. I don’t know why he die.”

“What did the doctors say?”

“They don’t know, but we not having much money.”

That was odd. I could have sworn Maria Elena told me her father owned a chain of department stores in the town she lived in. Of course, the baby was dead, and there was nothing anybody could do.

That afternoon, Regina came over, and I couldn’t resist modeling my new clothes. Maria Elena got in on the action, and paraded around in the things I’d gotten for her. Grandmother had a kind word for each item we’d purchased and let us know how much the color and style did for us. Regina, however, remained quiet during our fashion show.

Finally, when I came to sit next to her, I asked. “How’s Barry?”

“He’s all right. He’s still crazy about me,” she said a little too defensively.

“Glad to hear that.” Her bright yellow outfit with matching visor made her dark hair look darker and shinier.

“What have you been doing to keep yourself busy?” That was always a mystery to me. She never had a hobby or an interest, so I had no idea how she kept herself busy.

“Well, I’ve been meeting with lawyers about the divorce. It seems Carter isn’t going along with what I want.”

“Maybe you should get a job or something, you know, to keep yourself busy.”

“No!” She shot at me. “Besides, Barry wants me to stay with his kids sometimes.”

I didn’t say anything, but I couldn’t imagine Regina babysitting.

“They’re all right kids, but they want so much attention.”

I didn’t say anything. No one had ever paid any attention to Regina when she was a child, so I imagine she had no idea how to treat those kids.

We talked for a little while longer, but she was so involved in herself she didn’t want to hear about my success with the surgery or how much weight I was losing.

After a while, she left and as I watched her leave, I wondered how long this thing with Barry would last and what Carter would do to her in the divorce. To the rest of the world, it probably appeared that she deserved what she got, but I knew better. My mother dying when she was so young and my father withholding love had really taken a toll on her. When would she rise above it?

I enjoyed reading about Teddy Roosevelt’s father as much as I did about the 26th president himself. Although wealthy, the first Theodore Roosevelt staunchly believed in helping the underprivileged. For me, what made writing a biography interesting was reading about the people around my subject, and if possible, their enemies and critics. To understand a character, I needed to understand his environment and the dynamics in which he was raised.

I was beginning to understand what made my subject tick, so I was on my way to actually starting the biography. Now I had to determine how I would start the book. Should I start with his childhood or should I start with him after his presidency and have him reminisce about his life? I sat back in my chair and stared at the blank screen in front of me.

“Good afternoon,” Abel’s voice broke the stillness.

I felt my face break out in a big smile. “You could knock.”

“Yes, you are right, but it isn’t a ghost’s habit to knock. It tends to scare people.”

“Etiquette for ghosts,” I said with a grin.

He wore another one of my father’s smoking jackets, with dark green paisleys running through it. He stepped toward me and stood erect with his hands clasped in front of him. “I have come to invite you to picnic with me.”

“Picnic?” I couldn’t imagine picnicking with a ghost.

“I would be honored if you would accept my invitation.”

He was so charming. “Of course I will.”

“Then I would be delighted if you would join me in the meadow behind the old tennis courts.” He had a satisfied grin on his face that made his thin blond mustache more prominent.

“When?”

“Tomorrow at 1:00, and don’t bring a thing.”

That made me really curious. What would a ghost serve for lunch?

The next day I felt as if I were a teenager going on her first date. Actually, I hadn’t been out on that many dates—a few, but not with someone I was really attracted to. My cast had finally been taken off and with the weight I’d lost, I was much more sure-footed.

I had gotten quite a few outfits that would be appropriate for the picnic, but I especially wanted to wear a pair of the capris with a matching cotton top. I’d even gotten a matching sunhat and sandals.

At twelve-thirty, I walked past the pool, then past the rose garden that now was nothing but a brown patch of sticks protruding out of the ground. That was another thing I couldn’t afford to maintain. I had fond memories of walking with my mother through what used to be a maze of rose bushes. We had stopped to sniff the roses on each bush that were white, pink, deep red, and even some miniature yellow roses my mother especially loved. She carried a basket and shears, cutting enough each week so we’d have fresh flowers in our rooms and as a centerpiece for dinner. I had few memories of my mother after Regina was born. She must have been very busy with my sister, because after she was born, I was usually accompanied by nannies.

Next, I came to the old tennis courts. The old metal fence was rusted and dipped in places, causing the sides to bow out like the side of a ship. Daddy and my uncles used to play tennis here. The concrete had cracked in places and weeds grew waist high.

I’d never even attempted to play tennis, but in the future, why couldn’t I play? I stopped and stared at the court. Of course I could. I’d be able to play. After losing a few more pounds, I’d get a racket and take lessons.

I walked around the tennis courts to see a white blanket, a brown wicker picnic basket, and Abel nowhere in sight. I sat down and was about to peak into the picnic basket when out of the dark green hollies, I saw him coming toward me. On his head he wore a cap with a short brim, white shirt, and baggy pants. He looked like he’d just hopped out of a Model A. I stood, glad I could now come to my feet gracefully.

“You are ravishing,” he said as he approached me.

My heart beat a little too hard, and I could imagine that my complexion flushed.

He grasped my fingers and held them tight while moving his head toward me. Our foreheads met. He smelled of fresh leather. His lips brushed mine and a thrill darted through me. He kicked off his shoes and pulled me down on the blanket.

“I have put together a light lunch for my dieting sweetheart.”

He lifted the lid of the basket and brought out two cups, then a pitcher of something cold. I’d feel so bad if he’d made me lemonade. I couldn’t have any kind of citrus after the operation.

“Not to worry.” He winked at me. “I know about your restrictions.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and felt so honored he’d gone to the trouble to check what I could and couldn’t eat. He poured me a cup of ice-cold water.

“It’s perfect,” I said and took a sip.

“My mother always loved to have a tall glass of ice cold water.” He took a sip and closed his eyes. “It was a long time ago, but I can almost see her getting the frosty glass out of the icebox.”

“I lost my mother when I was young, too.”

“Yes, I remember your mother well.”

A chill ran through me. “What was my mother like?” I barely recalled her.

“Before you were born, your mother and father used to throw wild parties out here. It was the sixties and there would be people out here strumming guitars and girls with long skirts dancing and swaying as if angels guided them.”

“I can hardly imagine my father at a Hippie party.”

“Well, his hair was a tad longer.”

“And then I came along.”

“You were a lovely little girl.”

“All little girls are lovely.”

“No, you had something special from the day you were born.”

“I’m surprised you were never under Regina’s spell.” Growing up was difficult, being fat, and on top of that I had the most beautiful and popular girl in Richmond as my sister.

“Poor Regina, she was only happy if she had a slew of admirers. You, however, were always complete. Even when you were a tiny girl, you had an aura about you, a kind of crown.”

“Now you sound like my grandmother.”

“Princess Raquel.” He grinned and I saw his dimples again. He took his cap off and leaned back on the blanket. “Can I interest you in some sushi?”

“Sushi,” I repeated. That was one of the things I was allowed to eat. I had been so afraid he would have made sandwiches, and I was unable to eat bread.

He lifted two plates of sushi rolls out of the picnic basket. Soon, he’d filled up two tiny bowls with black sauce and had handed me chopsticks.

“How did you know I loved sushi?” I ripped the wooden sticks apart.

“It was a lucky guess. When your father was a child, I heard a lot about the war with Japan, but now everything Japanese is in vogue.”

“You’ve seen a lot of history.” I clasped the chopsticks around a sushi roll and dipped it into the sauce.

“After seeing a war first hand, I was content to only concentrate on the positive side of life.”

I enjoyed the sushi roll, making sure to chew it slowly and deliberately. My tiny stomach could only handle small amounts.

“I’ve been seeing you working on that fancy typewriter of yours.”

I laughed. “It’s called a computer.”

“That sounds very complicated.”

“It’s not so bad.” I took a sip of the lemonade. “I’m starting a book on Teddy Roosevelt.”

“Hmmph.” He grabbed another piece of sushi and stuck it into his mouth.

I decided not to ask how a ghost could eat. “He was brought up in a family that did a great deal of charity work.”

“I’d say it’s easier to do charity work than to be in need of charity.”

“I suppose living in an orphanage wasn’t the best way to grow up.” I felt guilty since I’d had everything I’d needed, except a mother.

“I can’t complain about the orphanage. I was treated just like all the other orphans.” He laid his chopsticks down. “While Teddy Roosevelt was conserving the land out West and building up our Navy, I was an orphan boy with no shoes on my feet.”

“He’s considered a hero for establishing so many of our national parks, and many say we won both world wars because of his foresight.”

“I suppose it’s hard to imagine our world if we had been unsuccessful in our European campaigns, but from what I see, every war starts out as a rich man’s issue that ends up being a poor man’s fight.”

“Are you trying to convince me not to write about Roosevelt?”

“No, no, it’s not that at all.” He hung his head and looked out at the line of pines across from us. “I was cut down in my prime and I was never allowed to live out my life nor try to accomplish what I’d dreamt about.”

How many boys had had their lives cut short by war? No one knew what they would have done if they had lived.

“I wanted to come back home, make a fortune, and build orphanages.” He pointed his eyes at mine. “Maybe you would have written a book about me.”

I looked down at the blanket, ashamed at how unjust the world can be.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve spent our precious time talking about politics and things that will never change.”

He moved next to me and took my fingers and gently crumpled them in his hands. He gazed into my eyes. “I miss you when you’re not with me.”

“Then don’t go.”

“I long for the day when I can hold my shape for more time.”

Then I realized. He had been with me today longer than he’d ever been. “Can’t you hold on?”

His eyebrows wrinkled and he pressed his lips together. “I’ll try, but I feel myself slipping.”

I planted my lips on his. He pulled me closer. I wrapped my arms around him determined to hold him here. His muscles were firm, then he felt soft like a pillow. Then nothing. He was gone and I was lying on the bare grass.

I looked out at the trees that surrounded me. “Why can’t he stay?” I shouted.

Chapter Eight

A month later, I was back to work and I’d become adjusted to consuming much less food than before. The pounds were falling off rapidly, a testament to how much I used to eat. For once I felt hopeful about the future. I’d always felt positive about my career, but now I knew that the future wouldn’t include constant criticism about my weight.

An email popped into my reader from my agent. She’d want to know how I was coming on the Teddy Roosevelt biography. The truth was, after Abel’s point of view, I had decided to revamp my ideas on how I’d structure the biography. I still believed he was a great man, but I would question his decisions more as I wrote about him.

The phone rang. I picked it up, assuming my agent had decided email wasn’t quite enough and had decided to call.

“Hey, it’s me,” Regina’s voice dragged into the receiver.

“What’s up with you?” I asked as if I couldn’t imagine.

“Oh, you know—men.”

“What’s happened this time?” So predictable—she did this to herself, but I hated to see her suffer.

“Barry. He calls when he wants to.” Knowing Regina, she hadn’t bathed or gotten out of bed since her problems with Barry started.

“Well, him not calling you isn’t the end of the world.” She needed a life, but I couldn’t give her one. In the past, my pep talks had never worked.

“He stood me up the other night,” she sniffed.

“He never called?”

“Yes, he called me right before he was supposed to be here.” I heard some rustling in the background and I imagined she was sitting up in bed. “I think he’s seeing his wife.”

“I thought they were divorced.”

“Not quite yet. He said he was going to sign the papers…” Her voice trailed off.

“Why don’t you come over here?” I didn’t really want to be around her, but I wanted her to know I cared.

“No, I want to be here if he calls so I can get dressed up.”

“Regina. Don’t.”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand.” Her voice had gone from a whiny violin to pieces of metal hitting each other.

“If you’d just listen…”

“I’ve got to go. Just wish my sister could have some compassion.”

I heard the receiver bang down on the phone. If she’d get an interest, or a hobby, or a job, or something, even go back to school, she’d be so much happier and have something to offer a man. What would she do if Carter took the house away from her? Would she come back home? She wouldn’t be happy here, but she’d love making me miserable.

I heard a knock at the door. It must be Maria Elena.

“Come in,” I said.

The door cracked and I saw Abel’s blond head, then one of his dark eyes. “May I have the pleasure of a beautiful lady’s company?”

My heart fluttered as I rose and walked to the door. I’d put on another one of my new outfits, hoping he’d make an appearance. “Do come in.”

He wore a white shirt with a thin collar buttoned to the top and a pair of black pants that fit snugly. My heart beat too quickly and I hoped I wasn’t blushing. He walked with his hands clasped in the back, perusing the room, admiring my posters. I had one for each of the subjects of my biographies. I especially loved the photo of Captain Sir Richard Burton taken supposedly at the time he was translating the Arabian Nights. He looked like quite the character with a dark bushy mustache, a tall cap, and silky robes.

Abel perused each one, but lingered at the photograph of Isadora Duncan taken in Athens, on tiptoes, her head slung back, and her arms outstretched.

“Apropos that they took the picture in front of one of the Athenian temples, since they say she danced like a goddess,” I said.

“I thought of you as akin to a goddess when I used to watch you working in here.”

I didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted he used to spy on me.

“I couldn’t talk to you, only worship you from a distance.” His fair skin was creamy and his eyes the cool color of a forest floor.

“I don’t understand. If you could see me, then why couldn’t I see you?”

He stopped walking.

I looked around my office at all the papers covering every bit of furniture except for the place I left hollowed out so I could pound away on my laptop.

“Let me clear you a place.” I lifted a stack of papers off of an old chair, ignoring the dust that rained down to the floor. “Have a seat.”

He sat down across from me. “Tell me, did you believe in ghosts or spirits or anything like that before you met me?”

“Of course not, there are no…” I almost said a really stupid thing.

“You see? You didn’t believe until your grandmother put the idea in your head, and then you opened your mind for just an instant and you could see.”

“Then why can’t Maria Elena see you?”

He brought his leg up and crossed it over the other. “I am not an expert on ghostly affairs, but I do believe that her soul is tortured.”

“Tortured? Maria Elena?” I never imagined her to be tortured. Although losing a child must have been terrible.

“Some people have an aura about them. I’ve been able to see them since I died.”

“And? Maria Elena has an aura?”

“Well, everyone has an aura, but Maria Elena’s is sort of well, incomplete. Much like your sister’s.”

“Regina,” I repeated. “It’s so unfair,” I said without thinking.

“Yes, it was unfair.” He fiddled with his shoe’s ornate leather flap that covered his shoelaces. “Your father blamed her for the change in your mother.”

“Change in my mother?”

“Even in the hospital, it was obvious that your mother wasn’t the same after the birth of your sister.”

“I never really saw much of my mother after Regina came along.” I hadn’t thought she’d changed, just was dedicated to the new baby.

“Neither did anyone. She locked herself in her room, refusing even to tend to the infant.”

My mother must have been suffering from post partum depression and my father blamed poor little Regina. Understanding this made me feel like I’d found a piece to a puzzle, although it did little good in helping my sister.

“Poor Regina,” I said.

“She must find her own way in life, Raquel. You can only be supportive.”

He was certainly right. I’d found that out from dealing with my sister. She had to find her own path.

He let his foot slide down on the floor. “I enjoy my time with you so much.” He reached over and touched my hand.

“I just want you to stay with me and not disappear like that.”

His cheeks pinkened. “I feel myself getting stronger every time I’m with you.”

“Stronger?”

“More complete, more human, I have even felt hunger when in your presence.” His hand rubbed the back of my hand. He turned it over and lifted my palm to his lips. “You are succulent like a ripe peach.” He buried his nose in my hand.

I leaned over and slid my hands around his neck. “I want to be with you much more often.” I really meant that I wanted him here all the time.

His eyes flashed copper and he gave me a small peck on the lips. “I believe that with your love, I will be whole one day. I feel it.”

I pressed my lips against his. He pulled me tighter and I melded into him. I squeezed, then my arms collapsed. He was gone. “This can’t keep happening!”

Owen was on his way to pick me up, and I had put on that red dress I’d modeled for Maria and Grandmother. I could actually feel that it was a little looser than it had been. The feeling of having power over my size made me feel invincible. I’d never been able to control my hunger nor my size. Dieting caused me to eat more when I’d reached the point I couldn’t take the hunger any longer. Maybe my new feelings about myself would be reflected in my dancing and in my writing.

Owen’s truck came rattling down the driveway. He stopped when he got near the fountain that used to actually have water spilling from the top and down the sides. I’d had to turn it off because it cost me too much in electricity and water.

I walked out in my new dress making sure to strut just for Owen. I’d probably be more lithe on the dance floor since my straps no longer cut into my feet. Even they were thinner.

“You, my dear, are absolutely ravishing.” He got out of his truck and held his arms out. He took my hands in his and swung me around. “Those other contestants will just give up when they see you.”

We were on our way to a competition that would determine whether we’d make it to the next level. I knew we’d make it. Not because I was so good, but because anyone could dance well with Owen leading. He was good enough to make it to the top of ballroom dance, but he was the kind of guy that got comfortable in situations and stayed there. He worked in a restaurant, but he could easily have his own and be very successful. Unfortunately, he lacked the willingness to stick his neck out. With dancing, he trusted me and felt good around me, and for that he kept me as his dance partner when all I did was hold him back.

I looked over at him as he drove down Broad Street to the competition. Sometimes I didn’t know what I’d do without Owen. He was always there for me, and his open and accepting ways were always nice to be around. I, however, didn’t have the time to make it to the top of ballroom dancing. One day he’d need to move on and I’d have to nudge him so he’d make that change.

A few hours later, our names were called and we were in front of the judges. I was doing the Tango for the first time in front of an audience. I followed Owen’s firm lead and I did the tight twists to the best of my ability. At the end, I could see from the expression on the judge’s faces that we’d be selected.

Owen assumed that as I lost weight we’d be practicing every night. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what I wanted.

Just as I expected, we were one of the couples selected to go onto the next competition. I was excited, not for myself, but for Owen. He tittered all the way home. I didn’t want to say anything, but if we continued with these competitions, then we’d reach the point where I’d have to back out and I’d be leaving him right at the moment he’d need a dedicated partner the most. How would I break this to him?

A few days later, Regina showed up. Her dark eyebrows were cupped around her eyes. Baggy shorts hung from her hips and a frayed halter-top was tied haphazardly around her neck. Barry must still be MIA. “He still hasn’t called,” she announced as she walked into the living room. When she got to the couch, she sat, then turned her legs up and put her feet down, shoes and all, on the fabric. “He’s with that insufferable ex-wife of his. She’s why those kids are such brats.”

“What are their names?”

“Mandy and Brandy,” she said sarcastically. “Can you imagine? May-undeee ‘n Bray-undeee. Sounds like a stupid song or something.”

Maria Elena walked in. “Hello, Señora Regina. You seeing how much weight losing Señorita Raquel?”

Regina looked over at me as if she hadn’t even seen me when she walked in. “Yes, you’re looking better.” She took a deep breath as if saying something nice had really taken it out of her.

Then she looked at Maria Elena. “How is my grandmother?”

“She is fine. I sit with her and she talk a lot about her childhood.”

I didn’t know if Grandmother were telling Maria Elena about her childhood here or the fictitious one in Russia.

Regina pulled her feet off the couch and stared at Maria Elena. “What is that?”

“What?” Maria Elena looked down. “This?” She pointed to a pendant.

“Yes. As if you didn’t know what I was referring to,” Regina quipped.

I stood up and walked over to Maria Elena. “It’s lovely.” It was a locket in a very dark-colored gold and it had red and blue painting on it.

“Where did you ever get something like that?” Regina demanded then jumped to her feet.

“Your grandmother gave to me. It a gift.” She clutched the locket tightly.

Regina put her hands on her hips. “That isn’t the kind of thing my grandmother would just give to you.”

“Maria Elena,” I said. “Let me see it.”

She loosened her hold on the locket.

I peered more closely at it. The gold wasn’t the typical fourteen-karat of today. The writing on it was tiny, but it was definitely Cyrillic. “Grandmother gave this to you?” I asked.

“Si, she giving it.” Maria Elena covered it up with her hand again.

I was certain that Maria Elena wouldn’t steal.

“Maria Elena, you stole that from my grandmother.” Regina turned to me. “You should fire her this instant and if it’s true that Grandmother is giving things like that away, then she really does belong in a home.”

“I’m sure Maria Elena didn’t steal it. If Grandmother had it, she probably did give it to her.” I was more concerned as to how Grandmother would get a piece of jewelry like that. It certainly wasn’t any of the pieces I’d seen before.

Regina stepped toward Maria Elena holding her index finger like a sword. “You need to pack your things and be out of here.”

“Regina,” I said reaching out for her hand she was wagging in Maria Elena’s face.

Maria Elena’s face had darkened and her eyes were squinting. That must have been her way to fight back tears.

“Don’t you see?” Regina jerked her hand back. Her black eyes were blazing. The pathetic thing was that her anger was really for Barry and not for me or Maria Elena. “Grandmother needs to be in a home.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Abel approaching, then he was gone. I looked around for him.

“What are you looking at, Raquel?” My sister turned around then looked back at me.

“Nothing,” I looked back at her.

“The ghost,” Maria Elena whispered.

“You crazy thing,” Regina said to Maria Elena. She turned her wrath back at me. “You see, Raquel, that woman needs to be out of here and away from Grandmother.”

Abel was walking toward Regina with a big bowl of salad.

“The salad moving…” Maria Elena pointed to Abel.

Suddenly, the big bowl was on Regina’s head. Lettuce, carrots, and cucumbers streamed down my sister’s face and chest. Big chunks of the salad clung to her shoulders.

She slung the big plastic bowl to the floor making it bounce. “What have you done?” Regina first pointed her finger at Maria Elena, then at me.

Abel stood in the corner, his arms crossed with a satisfied grin on his face.

“No me, Señora, I no do that.” Maria Elena’s eyes resembled big black olives and she shook as if stifling back a laugh.

“Well, one of you did it,” Regina accused.

I stared at the salad dressing dripping down my sister’s face and staining her halter-top. “You know I didn’t do it. You were looking right at me when it happened.”

“That ghost.” Maria Elena shook her head.

“Ghost.” Regina’s voice sounded like cold steel. “Trying to blame it on a ghost, why not a leprechaun or a fairy?”

Abel rolled his eyes at the ceiling and gave me a straight-lipped smile.

I glared at him.

Regina wiped the salad off her hair, then tried to grab her purse with her greasy fingers, but it kept slipping out of her hand. Finally she cupped it then headed for the door.

I chased her out into the foyer. “Regina, at least clean yourself up before going.”

“I don’t want to spend another minute in this house.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“Don’t be mad?” She outstretched her arms. “Look at me.”

The salad dressing had left oily splotches all over her halter-top and tiny pieces of lettuce seemed glued to her arms.

“I’m calling nursing homes today. I’m finding a place for her. Barry’s a lawyer. I’ll make you put her in a home.” She tried to grip the doorknob, but her hands couldn’t turn it.

Maria Elena ran into the foyer with a rag in her hand. “I opening,” she said and opened it for Regina.

Regina stepped through and slammed it as hard as she could.

“She getting a lawyer?” Maria Elena asked.

“Don’t worry. As soon as she finds a new boyfriend or gets back on good terms with Barry, she’ll forget all about this.” I looked at the locket Maria Elena had on.

“Si, Señorita, she giving it to me.”

I nodded. “You better clean the salad up. It might stain the carpet.”

“Si, Señora.” She scurried into the living room.

Then I remembered Abel. “Where are you?” I called out.

He materialized in front of me. “At your service.” He bowed. He had my father’s jacket on again which right now made me even madder.

“You really shouldn’t have treated my sister like that.” I tried to keep from giggling at the memory of salad being piled on top of her head.

“She was calling Maria Elena a common thief and was threatening to send your grandmother to an asylum.”

“Not an asylum. A home. A nursing home. A nice place where she just might be more comfortable.”

“Reminds me of the terms my uncle used when he deposited me in that orphanage.”

“Can’t you see this is different?” When Abel didn’t like something, he tried to manipulate things so he’d get his way. Just like when he tried to keep me from getting the surgery.

“How is it different? A person belongs with their family and not in some institution.”

“Maybe your heart is in the right place, but Regina and I are her granddaughters and we will make the decision.”

“How can I stand by and allow her to send that sweet little old lady away?” His eyes were calm and his voice sarcastic.

“She thinks she’s Anastasia Romanov.” He needed to accept what Regina and I were up against.

“And do you know that she’s not?” His eyebrows lifted and he smiled.

He was making fun of me. “I know she’s not. She isn’t Russian. She was born right here in Richmond, Virginia.”

“That’s what you assume.”

“Wait.” I held my hand in a halting gesture. “Let me get this straight. You think my grandmother is Princess Anastasia?”

“I have learned that many things are possible in this world.”

I felt my pulse quicken. “Have you ever heard her speak a word of Russian?” My voice was really loud now and I imagined Maria Elena quaking in the next room.

“I have never heard her speak Russian, but I’ve never heard her speak Spanish or Italian either,” he said in a mocking tone.

He was so stubborn. “You’re just being obstinate. My Grandmother is as American as apple pie and she’s never set foot in Russia.”

He tilted his head and grinned at me. “You don’t honestly think that you know all of the secrets of the universe.”

“My grandmother suffers from some sort of dementia, and you’re acting like it’s a mystery.”

“Have you ever given any thought to the possibility that your grandmother could be Anastasia Romanov?”

I felt so angry I could cry. It felt like he was making fun of my grandmother’s delusions.

He joined his hands together in front of him. “Perhaps your grandmother is talking about things you couldn’t possibly understand.”

I felt my entire body quake with anger.

He continued with a satisfied expression on his face. “You can’t actually think your grandmother would be better off in one of those places with no family, no friends, just left to rot like an animal that’s met its demise in the wild.”

“If Regina and I decide to put her in a home, it’s none of your affair.”

He took a deep breath and his eyes widened. “I will not hear of it.” He clicked his heels together. “That lovely woman won’t be expelled from this house.”

“Wait a minute. It’s my house and she’s my grandmother.” I pressed my lips together. My skin was probably bright red.

“You, my lady, are in quite a foul mood.” He was so handsome and that’s what was driving me crazy.

My teeth clenched. “If I’m in a foul mood it’s because of you.”

He lowered his shoulders and smirked at me.

He seemed to enjoy making me angry. “Abel Rollins, I want you out of my house. All you do is meddle and...and...and tease me.”

“I have never teased you…” His eyes narrowed and I saw him dissipate.

“Good, and don’t come back!” I hollered, hoping he heard every word.

Chapter Nine

I searched through the papers in my office. I’d left it right on top of my work area, but it wasn’t there. Where was that list? The day before I’d talked with the editor and she’d given me some feedback on the first few chapters of my biography. I needed that list of changes to make. I should have taken the notes on my laptop. Abel didn’t know how to delete things in there—yet. But hiding a piece of paper would be easy for him.

After he’d taken my car key the first time, I made another copy and attached it to a magnet that I kept underneath my car. He could hide the keys I kept in my purse all he wanted.

“Good ma-a-ahning.”

I looked up to see my grandmother wheeling into my office.

“Good morning, Grandmother.” I hurried over to kiss her on the cheek.

“Tell me, Dear. What have you done to get that Abel Rollins so upset?” Her green eyes angled up at me and her upper lip stretched down the way she used to do when I’d misbehaved as a child.

“That man is so arrogant. He thinks he can tell me what to do.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I already missed him, but I wouldn’t think about that. He just thought he could pop in and out of my life as he pleased.

“You just have to learn how to handle him.” She gave me a smile that looked devilish on her elderly face.

“How do you know he’s so upset?”

“Why, he’s right there beside you, can’t you see him?” She pointed to my left side.

My heart jumped. I turned my head and looked all around. “He’s not there, Grandmother.” If he were there, I’d have demanded he give me my paper back.

“How could you not see him, dear? He’s standing close enough for you to hear him breathing.”

“I’m glad I can’t see him,” I said in a loud voice. “I don’t need someone meddling in my affairs.”

There was a loud bang behind me. I looked down to see a glass paperweight rolling across the floor.

“Throwing things will not make me change my mind,” I called out to nothingness.

My grandmother reached her frail hand out and caught mine. “My dear, a man needs to feel like he’s in charge.”

“I live in a different era than you, Grandmother.”

She let out a deep laugh. “I don’t believe men have changed in the last thousand years.”

I heard a whooshing sound and papers fell to the floor all around me. “What is he doing now?”

“He charged out into the hallway. He’s much too proud to sulk in here.”

“If you could see him in here, then why couldn’t I?”

She squeezed my hand. “Be patient with him.”

“How can I be patient with a man that hides from me?”

“I don’t believe that he intentionally hides from you.”

“Then why was he letting you see him and not me?”

She grabbed my other hand and leaned forward in the wheelchair. “I believe that deep inside he’s scared, and he can’t be here for you all the time until he feels his love is returned.”

I gently pulled my hands back from my grandmother. “I appreciate your trying to help, but I am too liberated a woman to accept a man’s trying to run my life.”

“Every man needs to feel like he’s in charge, even when he isn’t.”

My grandmother was from another generation. How could I make her understand that in today’s relationships, the man and woman were equal?

Her arthritic finger pushed the reverse button on her wheelchair and she backed into the hallway. Her head rose and her eyes caught mine. “True love is very hard to find.”

I was about to respond, even though I didn’t know what to say when she put her wheelchair in overdrive and sped down the corridor.

The following day, I put on a new pair of slacks and marveled at the person who looked back at me in the mirror. My thighs no longer bulged, instead they were smooth and my neck had thinned so much the outline of my jaw was visible. I tried to ignore the apron of skin over my waistline. That would need to be cut off, but I had no idea when I’d have the money to pay for that surgery.

The house needed a lot of repair work, in fact, I was almost sure the roof would need to be replaced soon. There was no way I could afford that. I wondered how much longer I’d be able to stay in the mansion. 21,000 square feet and thirty bedrooms cost too much. The only thing I could do was hope one of my biographies became a bestseller, and maybe then I could make this house as grand as it used to be. All these rooms and all of this space for just the three of us seemed absurd. Then I thought about Abel. What would he do if I sold this house? Would he haunt another family? Would he fall in love with next inhabitant of this house? I felt a twitch in my heart. Would Abel do that?

That afternoon I got ready for a meeting for local published authors. We met quarterly at a bookstore downtown and talked about the trends in the book market and what was selling and what was not. Some people were even willing to share their secrets of how they were publicizing their books while the rest of us listened intently. I needed to learn a lot more about selling my books. I looked up at the old plaster with chips, water stains, and buckles through out it. I really couldn’t bear to part with this big old monstrosity, even though every wall in the house needed paint or something else. What I needed to was work harder and smarter so I could afford to stay in this old house.

The bookstore was in an old Victorian building in the Fan District. The books were on the first floor and meeting rooms were upstairs. I walked in and saw familiar faces turn toward me then look away. They hadn’t recognized me. I tapped the shoulder of a girl I’d known for years. “Hi, Rhonda,” I said.

She turned and squinted her eyes at me as if she needed glasses. “Raquel?”

“How are you?” I asked glad to see her.

Rhonda wrote children’s books. We usually sat together at these meetings and shared our trials and tribulations of the writing life.

Rhonda’s eyes ran up and down me then turned to the person sitting next to her.

“How is your latest book coming?” I asked.

“It’s coming all right,” she said without looking at me.

“I’m working on a new one.” I felt stupid talking to the back of her head. “It’s about Teddy Roosevelt…” I stopped since my words were clearly falling on deaf ears.

The literature I’d read before I’d gotten the surgery said some people wouldn’t have anything to do with you after you’d lost the weight. I’d known that. It had happened to many other people who’d had the surgery, but I guess I just didn’t think it would actually happen to me. I’d always liked Rhonda.

I took a seat on the other side of the room and decided not to dwell on her. I’d just make new friends.

A few minutes later, Mitch Draughan sauntered into the room. He was a local author of self-help books. I’d heard he’d been very successful at promoting his work. He was tall and thin with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Today he had on a black polo shirt, snug jeans, and bright white Nike tennis shoes. I think every single woman that ever came to these functions had been interested in Mitch at least once or twice. Of course, he’d never looked in my direction.

He crossed the room and chose the chair next to mine. I froze. Mitch Draughan was sitting so close to me I could touch him if I wriggled in my seat.

He let his head fall so he was right next to my ear. “Is this your first time at one of these?”

He’d seen me a million times before but had never spoken to me. I didn’t want to remind him that I’d been at the meetings before and had even sat next to him.

“Yeah, I thought so. I’ve never seen you around here.” He sat up straight and turned toward me. He held his hand out. “Mitch Draughan, and you are?”

“Raquel Blankenship,” I said in a low voice. I wondered if the other people that had trickled in hadn’t recognized me either. I held my hand out far enough so he could shake the end of my fingers.

“Raquel Blankenship, Raquel Blankenship. Aren’t you the one who wrote about Eleanor Roosevelt?”

I smiled, flattered he knew at least one of my books.

“You’ll like our meetings—a good group of people.”

The speaker entered and stood at a small podium and began to speak on the usefulness of blogs. I could hardly keep my mind on the topic of discussion as I sat so close to Mitch. I’d seen the way he looked at me. As the speaker droned on, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him admiring me. Deep down inside, his attention made me feel beautiful.

The speaker shuffled through some papers looking for the next topic.

“Hey.” Mitch nudged me with his elbow. “Let’s say we go out for a latte after this.”

My heart thumped so loudly I thought it would come right out of my chest. What was I doing? I couldn’t drink coffee after the operation. “Tea,” I whispered.

He smiled making his ruddy skin wrinkle in a perfect weatherworn way. “I think they’ll make you some tea.” He winked.

Sitting in a coffee house, me with my hot tea and Mitch with his tall latte with a mound of whipped cream on top, we talked about the books we were working on. Well, really Mitch did most of the talking. He told me about every one of the books he’d written. I knew about all of his books, but I felt special sitting with him. As women walked by the shop, I noticed the admiring looks they aimed at Mitch.

This was incredible. I’d never even allowed myself to dream about a guy like Mitch. And here I was sitting right next to him—with him.

“Hey, would you like to go to dinner some time?”

I felt my lips tremble so I pressed them together. “Sure,” I squeaked out.

“What about Friday?” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a Blackberry. “Let me get your number.”

I carefully voiced the numbers, afraid I’d say something stupid or say something so he’d realize I was that elephant-sized woman that used to come to the meetings.

“Great. I’ll give you a call.” He stood up. When he got to the door, he turned around and winked at me again.

Would a guy like that actually call me? And if he did, would I be too tongue-tied to say a word?

The next few days, I could hardly sleep wondering whether Mitch would call. I felt giddy when I thought about him calling, but then when I imagined going out with him, I wondered if I’d be too awestruck to make intelligent conversation.

I walked into the kitchen to eat some yogurt. When I opened the drawer, I saw that all of the spoons were gone. That’s odd, I thought. There weren’t enough of us to use all of the spoons. I looked in the dishwasher that we rarely used.

Empty.

I knew who the culprit was. I wouldn’t let him get to me. I snatched a fork out of the drawer and stuck it into the yogurt. It might take a little more time, but I’d be able to eat this yogurt without a spoon. I grinned to myself.

“I see you have a twinkle in your eye.”

He expected me to spin around to see him, but I stayed facing the French doors.

“What has given you such a spring to your step?”

I continued to eat my yogurt. Truth is, I wanted to turn around and see him.

Finally he stepped in front of me. Today he wore a short-sleeved fitted shirt and baggy pants with a cap on his head. His cheeks looked like they’d been touched by the sun as if he just stepped out of a convertible.

“You’re in solid form today, I see.” It was supposed to be a jab, since lately he’d been invisible while harassing me.

“If I had it my way, I’d be with you all the time.” I saw his chest heave and his arm muscles were straining against his short sleeves.

“Well, you aren’t,” I quipped, knowing he came and went on purpose.

My cell phone rang.

“Raquel,” Mitch’s melodic voice said.

“Hello, how are you?”

Abel straightened himself as if he were bracing for an officer’s visit.

“I was just wondering if you’d possibly be free this Friday.”

“I think so.”

Abel’s eyes narrowed.

“I’d like to take you to dinner in Shockoe Slip.”

I felt tingly all over just thinking about him taking me out. “That would be nice.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at six this Friday.”

I told him where I lived then clicked the cell phone off, wondering what I’d wear.

“Who was that?” He clasped his hands angrily in front of him. “You look like you just spoke with Winston Churchill himself.”

I washed off the fork in the sink. “I guess you aren’t going to tell me where you’ve hidden all the spoons.”

His lips tightened as if he’d just bitten into a lemon. “Don’t change the subject. Who was that you were talking to?”

“It’s no one.” I threw the yogurt container into the trash. I looked into his deep eyes that had turned the color of charcoal. “I’m sure you have to dematerialize or whatever it is you do.” At least Mitch wouldn’t turn into smoke and vanish on me.

Thinking about going out with Mitch, I ate even less this week, hoping I’d fit into something really tiny by week’s end. On Thursday, I went shopping and I picked out a pair of tight-fitting lavender slacks with a glittery poncho top to go over it. As I dressed for dinner the following evening, I looked at the rolls of skin that had no fat underneath to hold them up. If the wind blew too strongly, my extra skin might act as a sail.

I walked down to the first floor wondering where Abel was. I hadn’t seen him in a few days, and if he’d hidden things from me, I hadn’t noticed. I already missed his impromptu visits and the way he praised me with his archaic speech. He’d been so thoughtful that day we’d gone on the picnic, and his protectiveness over my grandmother was touching. Still, I needed a real man.

The doorbell rang. Mitch was standing there with a bright red shirt over black slacks and shiny black shoes.

A whiff of his expensive cologne made me smile.

“You’re ready, I see.” Mitch didn’t drawl when he spoke so I assumed he wasn’t a native Richmonder.

“Yes, just let me get my purse.” I walked into the living room where I’d left my evening bag. I glanced around fully expecting Abel to show up brandishing bowls full of salad to dump on Mitch’s head.

Mitch was driving a navy blue BMW with little gray stripes up the side. “Let me get that for you.” He pulled the door open and I smelled brand new leather.

As we headed down the driveway of old pines and magnolias, he asked me about the house and I told him the story of how I’d inherited it and how much money it was costing to keep it up. He laughed and told me about his modern condo he’d purchased downtown and how much he liked being adjacent to everything—restaurants, cafes, and nightlife.

Mitch parked on a cobblestone street right across from the restaurant he’d chosen. As I waited for him to open the door, I pulled the visor down to repaint my lips. Someone was in the back seat!

I turned around. “What are you doing here?” I whispered angrily hoping Mitch wouldn’t hear me.

Abel raised his eyebrows. “I thought I’d come along for the ride.”

“Did it occur to you that you weren’t invited?”

“An oversight, I’m sure.” He leaned forward in the seat. “You know this chap isn’t good enough to wipe your boots.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask him to wipe my boots.”

The car door opened and Mitch reached for my hand and helped me walk across the round-topped cobblestones. I refused to turn around for fear Abel was behind us. I was so angry I could scream at him, but never before had I had two men interested in me.

Mitch had made reservations at a trendy restaurant that had a large brass elevator to take us up to the first floor. As we rode up, I saw Abel’s reflection in the glass. He was standing behind Mitch with a Cheshire cat grin on his face. What was he going to do?

The waitress sat us at a table right beside the balcony, which gave us a bird’s eye view of the large oak bar and two musicians who strummed guitars and sang country rock.

“Great place, huh?” Mitch said as he opened the menu.

I nodded then looked down at the menu. I wondered what the restaurant had that would be all right for my tiny stomach. The waiter poured water in my glass. I raised my head to say thank you and saw Abel sitting next to me.

I felt my temperature rise. I must have blushed because Mitch let his menu fall.

“Is it too hot in here? I’ll have them turn the air conditioning up.”

“No, I’m fine really.”

Mitch raised his menu again.

I pinched my lips together trying to give Abel the nastiest look I could.

He spread his lips out in a sarcastic smirk and reached over knocking my fork to the floor.

I lifted up the tablecloth.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll have the waiter…” Mitch waved.

“It’s right here.” I knelt down to get it.

Abel was on his hands and knees. He put his forehead up against mine. “You shouldn’t be so clumsy.”

“You,” I hissed. “You see how you’re always trying to control my life.”

“I am merely acting as your chaperone.” His eyebrows lifted. He was actually enjoying this.

“You need to leave.” I let the tablecloth drop over his face.

Mitch put his arm across the back of my chair. “I have this idea that you don’t like this place.”

“No, I…”

“If you don’t like it, we can go somewhere else.”

“I insist. I really like it here.”

“Good, because after we order, I want to tell you about my new idea for a book.”

“It’s a good thing you’re a good listener.” Abel was back in his seat with his top hat on. He had laid his cane and gloves across the table.

I ignored Abel and told Mitch what I was going to eat.

The waiter came and Mitch told him our orders.

“I guess he assumes you couldn’t possibly order for yourself.”

I refused to look at Abel.

Mitch handed the menus back to the waiter and turned back to me. “So, tell me, are you into racquetball or tennis or jogging?”

“If you say no, do we get to go home?” Abel slid next to me so I could feel his breath on my cheek.

I thought quickly. “Well, I have a pool.”

“Right, yeah, I love doing laps.” He raised his hand as if he were going to continue, but the waiter came with a beer and placed it in front of him. “Sure you won’t have a drink?” He asked as he took a swig. I watched the bubbles move upward in the yellowish liquid.

“He wants to get you drunk and have his way with you.”

Mitch laid his hand across my hand. “Let me tell you about my new book.” The tip of his index finger ran across my nail.

“I hope he doesn’t have anything. Some things are very contagious, especially when you associate with vermin.”

“Has the publisher voiced interest yet?” I asked.

He leaned back in the chair and squeezed my fingers. “Of course they’ll be interested.”

“This chap’s got the world by the tail, he has.”

I took the spiky heel of my new shoe and smacked it down on top of Abel’s foot.

“What happened?” Mitch stood up and looked over at the floor. “Don’t tell me you saw a roach. If you did, I’ll tell them we’re out of here.”

“No,” I gestured for him to sit back down. “They’re just new shoes, you know, a little uncomfortable.”

Abel doubled over on the table in pain. I must have gotten him good.

Mitch sat back down and took my hand back. “My book’ll be a best seller, I know it.”

Abel shot up out of his chair. “If you prefer this braggart to me, then so be it.” I looked up at his face and saw him melt into hot metal, then boil away.

Mitch was so busy telling me about his new book he didn’t even notice I wasn’t looking at him.

Last night had been very nice. Mitch and I had talked—correction, Mitch told me about his book, down to each and every chapter. He’d brought me home at a reasonable hour and he’d behaved like a perfect gentleman. Before asking permission to call me for another date, he gave me a peck on the lips when he left.

As I was on the way to the kitchen, the front door opened. Maria Elena and Grandmother were still asleep, so it had to be my sister. The second I saw Regina’s shiny black head, I knew Barry had called her.

“We’re going to Aruba.”

I watched her walk in her glittery sandals to the living room. Her skin was glowing as if she’d just put on a lot of self-tanning lotion and her shorts outfit was skintight.

“He’s signing those divorce papers this week and he’s only getting the kids every other weekend.” She sat on the sofa and crossed her legs seductively, even though I was the only one there.

It was very clear she’d forgotten completely about having Grandmother institutionalized. I’d known it was just her bad mood that had made her suggest that.

“I know why you’re so quiet,” Regina said

“I’m not quiet. I’m just listening to your good news.”

“You’re wondering if I’m still mad about you and Maria Elena throwing that salad at me.”

I couldn’t think of a reply. If I were her, I wouldn’t believe a story about a ghost. My heart throbbed painfully just thinking about Abel. He’d been a royal pain last night, but I shouldn’t have hurt him.

“Well, I’m not really mad any more…” Regina looked at me as if she expected an apology.

I opened my mouth about to apologize when I realized how much she’d deserved Abel throwing the salad on her head.

She raised her finger. “Wait. There’s something different about you.” She studied me. “Yes. There is.” She waived her finger again. “Is there a man in your life?’

I felt my cheeks flush. “I met someone.” I felt a sad twinge deep inside. The man I really cared about was Abel, but how could I be in love with a man no one else could see?

“Oh, losing that weight has done wonders for you.”

Abel liked me when I was fat, but Mitch…

“This is your first boyfriend, isn’t it?” She got a satisfied look on her face.

I didn’t respond.

“What’s his name?” Regina said in a quipped tone. She was used to being the only one with beaus.

“Mitch Draughan. You might have heard of him. He’s a writer.” That was silly. Regina had probably never finished a single book in her life.

“Sounds nice. A writer. Probably has some money.”

“I don’t know.”

She leaned over as if wanting to tell me a secret. “But tell me, have you told him you used to be, well, you know, bigger than a house?” She looked down at her watch. “I’ve really got to go. I just stopped by here on the way to the mall. I’ve got to get some things to wear in Aruba.”

She was always able to make me feel bad, no matter what was going on in my life. I sat in the living room thinking after Regina had left.

“Regina always saying bad things to you, Señorita Raquel.”

I looked up to see Maria Elena walking into the room. “You no should letting her speaking to you like that.” She was scowling and her copper-colored skin puckered around her mouth.

“I feel guilty that my father completely ignored Regina.”

“Your father bad, not you.”

“Regina is looking for the love my father withheld from her. So she tries to find it in every man she meets.”

“But you should not letting her talk to you bad all the time.” She sat down beside me with a look on her face like she was not going to let me drop this subject.

“I hope that by being nice to her, she’ll feel supported and will develop confidence in herself.”

“She getting confidence in being mean to her sister.” Maria Elena gave me long slow nods as if trying to grind in what she’d said.

Maria Elena was right. Regina even picked on my grandmother when she was in a bad mood.

She got up from the couch. “Next time she coming, you tell her she no talking to you that way.” Maria Elena disappeared around the corner.

I needed to be more assertive with Regina.

Chapter Ten

A week passed and Abel hadn’t surfaced. I missed his beautiful dark eyes that raked over me like I was an exquisite piece of crystal. I needed to put him out of my mind, though. He was a ghost and he was a chauvinist; he wanted to control every part of my life. It was flattering, though. Having a man think I was as important as the sun and the moon was a good feeling. How could I have a life with a ghost, though?

That night, Owen and I were dancing in yet another competition. I put on a new outfit I’d bought. Buying clothes before had been a chore, something necessary, but hardly pleasant, and now, I couldn’t wait to get to the mall to get a new outfit. I needed to be careful about what I spent. The bills were always just around the corner when it came to this house. Most of the money from my father’s estate was gone and my paychecks couldn’t pay to maintain a house as big as many hotels.

We rolled down the long driveway, Owen’s truck rattling and creaking. I rummaged around in my purse.

“Whatcha looking for?”

“My cell phone.” I shut my purse angrily. “Abel must have hidden it.”

“You and your ghost.”

I shook my head. He was probably doing that so I wouldn’t know if Mitch called or not.

“Ready to do that sexy tango move tonight?” Owen looked like he was about to burst with excitement.

I nodded and looked down at the royal blue dress with an orangey-gold scarf that encircled the neckline then hung down in the back. It would plummet to the floor just right when Owen did the dramatic dip at the end.

“We are really going somewhere, Raquel.” He banged his freckly fists on the rusty steering wheel.

“You are such a good dancer.”

He patted me on the thigh. “We are such good dancers.”

“But you have the drive and the enthusiasm. You live to get on the dance floor and many of those moves you choreograph are ten times better than what we see at the national championship.”

“Wish my family would come see me dance.”

I inhaled loudly. “You should invite them. Why not?”

“Why not.” His eyes grew dim as he pulled into the parking lot. “Because they wouldn’t want anybody to know they were related to the ho-o-mosexual dancing like a fairy up on stage.”

“They’ll accept you one day.” If I had a child, I’d love them no matter what.

“They’d accept me if I were the champion wood chopper, or if I owned the winning bird in a cockfight. But come to see me dance? They’d just as soon have dinner with Osama bin Laden.” The truck made a sick grinding sound when he engaged the parking gear.

Owen came around and opened the door for me since there was no handle on the inside.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll always be there to cheer you on.”

I was glad I said something kind to him because he grabbed me and sobbed into my shoulder. “Thanks,” he croaked.

“Don’t get yourself into bad spirits.” I pushed him off my shoulder. “You are going to dance much better than any Fred Astaire tonight.” He had to cheer up. Dancing, many times, had to do with the mood the dancer was in. No matter how difficult the moves were, you had to look like you were having the time of your life.

As if he’d read my mind, he pushed his chest out and offered me his elbow. I laced my arm around his and we entered the competition area to wait for our turn.

A little while later, we were on the dance floor and the sinuous Tango music started. With our arms rigidly extended, we waited for the music to draw us into the Argentine rhythm. Soon the parts below my waist began to swivel as Owen led me up and down the ballroom taking long exaggerated steps ending with dramatic about-faces. Owen pushed me and I arched back, hearing the crowd moan, then he pulled me into our ending pose, me with my hair dragging the ground and Owen bending over me. By the applause, no one had to tell us. We had qualified to go on to the next level.

We’d have to practice a lot harder in the upcoming months, and we’d have to design and learn an entirely new routine, one that was much more difficult than anything we’d ever even attempted. The problem was that I really needed to get to work on my Teddy Roosevelt biography, which my agent was sure would bring a hefty advance once the manuscript was finished and polished.

I’d dance with Owen, though. He was my friend and I owed him to do my best at winning these championships. I knew how much it meant to him.

After we left the dance studio, we headed for an all-night diner. On the way over, I told him about Mitch. I thought Owen would be thrilled for me, but he was quiet while we were driving.

I sipped on my water and nibbled on crackers and a salad while he ate a big greasy hamburger with fries slathered in ketchup. “You miss this?” He asked as he stuffed a few French fries in his mouth.

“No, not at all.” I held my arms out. “I’m enjoying this slimness.”

“That’s the problem.”

“Problem?” Was he crazy?

“You aren’t used to all this attention you’re getting from men.”

I felt defensive the way I always felt with Regina, but I knew Owen meant well.

“I’m not too crazy about this Mitch guy.”

“I don’t say anything about the guys you go out with.”

“That’s different, ’cause I got experience and you don’t.” Owen had a big smear of mayonnaise across his cheek.

I pointed and watched him wipe it off with his napkin. “What difference does it make if you’ve gone out with a lot of people? It’s the person who counts.”

“Ya don’t know how to read people, that’s all.”

“Maybe I haven’t dated a lot, but I’ve done pretty well negotiating with agents and things like that.”

He laid what was left of his hamburger on his plate. “Totally different, girl.”

I pretended I was looking out the window at the headlights whizzing by outside, but inside I was angry that he didn’t think I was able to carry on a relationship with a man.

“Just be careful is all. Don’t jump in headfirst.

Owen dropped me off after a very quiet ride home.

“Abel,” I called loudly as soon as I’d stepped into the foyer. The house was dark except for a light Maria Elena had left burning for me at the top of the stairs. “Abel Rollins,” I said.

“At your service, my dear.” He appeared on the staircase. “I am here for you.”

“Where is my cell phone?”

“I am fine, Raquel. HHow are you?” He smiled.

“I don’t exchange pleasantries with thieves.”

He slowly descended the stairs. He had my father’s smoking jacket on again. “I hardly think you should call me a common thief.”

“Where is it?”

His lids rose seductively. “Right where you put it.”

I felt inside my purse. My fingers felt the phone. “I bet you think that’s cute.” I wrapped my fingers around it and squeezed. He thought he could control me. I looked down at the display. There were seven calls from Mitch.

Abel’s mouth puckered into a pout. “How could you prefer him to me?”

“It isn’t that I…” I blinked my eyes and he was gone. “Where did you go?”

Silence.

“That’s why I prefer him over you,” I called out in the still night air.

“From Señorita Regina,” Maria Elena handed me a postcard with a picture of white sand, lazy palm trees and aqua seas.

“Having a blast. Love, Regina.” She’d written on the back.

“She not writing much, must being very romantic.” Maria Elena tucked her chin under and raised her eyebrows as she laughed.

“I’m sure it is.” Had Barry actually signed the divorce papers before he left as he said he would?

Maria Elena and I walked into the living room, where Grandmother was sitting ignoring the television blasting away with Spanish programs.

“Good morning, dear.” Grandmother smiled at me stretching the wrinkly lips out.

“From Regina.” I handed her the postcard.

“Raquel having boyfriend, too.” Maria Elena did a little dance before sitting down and turning down the volume with the remote.

“You have another suitor?” Grandmother turned her head toward me and raised her brow.

“I seeing him, very handsome.” Maria Elena grinned and nodded.

“You weren’t around when he picked me up.”

“Yes, I watching.” She turned to grandmother. “Nice car.”

“Abel Rollins is a delightful gentleman, also.” She stared at me without flinching, as if she were lecturing me without opening her mouth.

“You seem to be forgetting the fact that he isn’t real. He’s a ghost.”

“There are only a few people in this world that experience real love.”

I didn’t say anything, because I was busy thinking about Abel and the way he’d held me and kissed me. His arms had been protective, yet kind, and his lips had seemed like they were only for me.

“My parents had real love, even though Rasputin was always trying to interfere with the affection they had for each other.”

“Grandmother, stop with all this nonsense.”

She raised her finger at me. “And I had real love with your grandfather.”

I remembered my grandparents’ devotion to each other. My grandfather’s eyes used to light up when Grandmother walked into the room.

“Real love is when you accept someone for who they are. It’s when you love someone without trying to change them.”

That’s what was so charming about Abel’s love. He didn’t care how big or small I was. He’d even looked at me with adoring eyes when I’d woken up from surgery, and I must have been a sight.

“Your grandfather guarded my secret jealously.”

“Secret?” Maria Elena had been watching the television, but when she heard the word secret she focused on Grandmother.

“You know, back then, if people had found out I was a Romanov, I would have been killed.”

“Killing you?” Maria Elena’s eyes had opened wide.

“Yes, people wanted to kill me because they thought I would try to reclaim the Russian throne.”

“Stop with this nonsense,” I said. “You have never been in Russia.”

“I’ll have you know I was born there.” She turned to Maria Elena. “Wasn’t I, Tatiana?”

Maria Elena looked at me then back at Grandmother.

“You can’t be Anastasia Romanov,” I said. “If you were, you’d be over one hundred years old.”

Grandmother fiddled with the buttons on her sweater. “I don’t believe I’m nearly that old.”

“Well, if you were Anastasia, as you claim, you would have been born in 1901. That would make you well over a hundred years old.”

“So old.” Maria Elena shook her head.

“Don’t believe a word of it, Tatiana. My granddaughter means well, but she is very mistaken.”

I took a deep breath and glanced at the necklace around Maria Elena’s neck. That still bothered me.

“I have let you change the subject on me, Raquel.” Grandmother’s words drew my attention back to her. “We were on the subject of real love, the kind that makes you feel like you’re alive and that no one else exists in this world.”

Maria Elena’s lips pinched together making her chin furrow. “I had real love.” The ends of her eyes dipped down sadly.

“What happened to him?”

“He still in Ecuador.”

“All of the Russian nobility had to escape.” My grandmother said then took a deep breath.

“Do you still love him?” I asked. Maria Elena’s face had turned melancholy, very out of character.

“I still thinking him.” She stared down at her hands.

“A real love is worth fighting for,” Grandmother said to me in an accusing tone.

Mitch wanted to see me again and I’d pursue that relationship. After all, he was a real man.

Chapter Eleven

Mitch had made reservations at the Jefferson that evening—the most elegant place in town. I was very excited to be going out on my second date with him. I didn't know why Regina and Owen were making so many comments about my lack of dating experience. I hadn't ever really dated anybody long term or anything, but I'd been out with a man before.

I'd tried those matchmaker websites and I'd met a few guys for drinks. Unfortunately, the men looking to date obese women were hardly interesting, and those that didn't actually request to meet a large woman usually left after the first few minutes, if they showed up at all. Judging by the number of times I was stood up, I suspected some scoped me from the front door then snuck out before I caught a glimpse of them.

Admittedly, Abel had been the first man with substance who had shown any interest in me. Just my luck he was flesh and bone for only moments, frustrating moments that left me longing for so much more.

What was it that Grandmother said? If he were more secure about our relationship, he'd be able to spend more time with me? I seriously doubted that. He felt plenty comfortable with me, so comfortable he played tricks on me. Actually I missed those tricks. Lately, he'd been horribly quiet. When he hid my things, at least I knew he was around and still thinking of me.

Why was that so important?

Mitch came to the door in a camel-colored turtleneck and dark brown trousers with stiff pleats down the front. I wore a dark orange jacket and slacks with gold threads and a matching blouse underneath. He gave me a broad smile as I opened the door. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” I said shyly. If things got intimate at some point, how would he react to the extra skin I had tucked tightly under my clothes?

“Ready for the Jefferson?” He said as he shut the car door behind me.

“I haven't been there in years.” This regal old hotel that featured a five-star restaurant was rumored to be the place where Scarlett O'Hara had fallen down the steps in Gone with the Wind. In actuality, Scarlett had fallen down the stairs on a movie set in Culver City, California, not even in the South.

“I made the reservations a week ago and they were almost booked up then.”

I watched Mitch steer the car down Cary Street. As we rounded a bend and I took in the skyline, I thought how Richmond's downtown had experienced periods of growth, decline, decay, and then regrowth. It was hardly the downtown of my childhood. I could still remember my mother and I putting on white gloves and hats to go shopping at Miller & Rhoads and Thalhimer's, Richmond's competing department stores. I always looked forward to the tearoom where we enjoyed sandwiches the size of quarters and fashion shows where local girls modeled the latest trends. Life had been good before Regina.

As we zipped down in his smooth-riding car, he turned to me. “Hey, I made my pitch for my new novel.” Mitch raised his eyebrows that caused his nose to arch slightly.

“How was it received?”

“They loved it.” He rubbed his knuckles on his shirt as if shining them. He looked at me ready for praise.

“I would love to have your self-confidence.”

“Read some of my books and you'll have all the self-confidence in the world.” He winked.

We pulled up to the Jefferson and I looked up to see the famous cupola rising above the rest of the pale brick structure. The hotel had been built in 1895 and had been one of Richmond’s most popular attractions since then. Our car doors were opened for us and we walked through the lobby where we both laughed at the fountain containing a concrete replica of an alligator.

“My father used to talk about the real alligator that had lived in the fountain years ago.”

“Really?”

“As anybody would have guessed, the reptile got way too aggressive and actually tried to bite someone.”

“No kidding.”

“It’s true. They had to get rid of him.”

“Yeah, this place is true class,” Mitch said as we walked through the rotunda where an alabaster statue of Thomas Jefferson towered over us.

I thought of Abel and how absurd I'd look going to dinner with him—walking around alone talking to myself.

Mitch pointed upward at the stained glass located at the pinnacle of the rotunda. “Glad I made reservations here.”

“It's beautiful,” I responded as he took my elbow and pointed.

“There's the dining room.” We walked to the entrance where we were behind some other people waiting for a table. “Don't worry. I insisted they give us a really good table,” he whispered in my ear as he stared at some people that had come up behind us in line.

I was busy looking around at the chandelier that deflected yellowish light around the marble columns and roman arches that surrounded the dining area.

After the other customers were seated, we were taken to a nice table with dark pink tulips in the center. “This is beautiful,” I said.

“Yeah, and are we lucky we got a table before those two.” He used his thumb to gesture at the people who had been standing behind us in line.

I turned my head and saw a man and a woman that were about the same size I had been. “How so?” I asked him afraid of the answer.

“Hey, after those two, there'll be no food left.” He raised his eyebrows at me as if he knew I'd be in agreement.

“I'm sure they have tried to do something about their weight problem,” I said diplomatically as I felt my heart sink.

“All they need to do is push.”

I thought I'd heard every fat joke there was. “Push? Like push ups?” Most people thought all you had to do was exercise a little and you'd get rid of those extra pounds.

“No, like push yourself away from the food.” He imitated pushing himself back from the table then banged his fist silently as he shook with laughter.

I closed the menu and laid it on the table. “You know, Mitch, when I ran into you at the meeting, that wasn't the first time I'd met you.” I tried to keep my face calm.

“I met you before and didn't remember you?” His eyes scrunched up as he studied my features. “Nah, I'd have remembered you.” He winked.

“Oh yes, you even sat next to me before, but I was considerably…” I lowered my head and looked into his eyes. “larger.”

He swallowed hard. “Larger? How much larger?”

I spread my lips out in a straight-lipped smile.

He looked down at the table. “Oh no. Maybe I do remember.” He took a deep breath. “You were that big...” He shook his head. “How did you lose all that weight?”

“By having a life-threatening operation.”

Mitch, who never seemed to be without words, was speechless. He just looked at me, unable to respond.

Someone without a lifelong weight problem would have been surprised at his attitude, but I knew better than to be shocked or appalled. There were so many people out there with attitudes like Mitch's. Then there were people like Abel.

What was I doing here?

“Mitch, thank you for the invitation, but I've lost my appetite. I think I'll be running along home.”

“Can I...?” He made an insincere attempt to get up out of his chair.

“No, no.” I stood up. “I'll get a ride.” Triumphantly I walked out of the restaurant feeling like I’d done the right thing. I was way too good for him.

I hurried through the enormous lobby, trying to get as far away as I could from the restaurant. I dug my hand down into my purse. I really hoped Abel hadn't taken my cell phone. Finally I felt the little rubbery buttons. I grabbed it and dialed. I hoped Owen wasn't working tonight.

A little while later, I was riding in Owen's dilapidated old truck listening to its strange creaks and rattles. It sure was nicer than Mitch's BMW.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“Never even met the guy, but I didn't like the way he sounded.”

I recognized his black slacks and the white shirt he usually wore to work. “You didn't have to blow off work just for me,” I tried to sound convincing, but I was really glad he was here with me.

“I got a guy to cover from me. I'm sick of that place anyway.”

“You should have your own restaurant. Then you'd be more motivated.”

“Yeah, and I should just go on and fly my little old self to the moon,” he drawled in his mountain twang.

“You'd have a great restaurant with the way you cook and with your business sense.”

“No, no, you're just trying to change the subject. I'm here because you had a date worse than walking barefoot through a brier patch.”

“It wasn't all that bad. I just suddenly saw him in a different light.”

“Sounds like you saw him in the light of day—glaring, overhead, flaw-revealing light.” He laughed as we pulled into the same greasy spoon as the last time.

We walked in and took a seat in the same booth as before. Owen didn't even look at the menu before ordering the same sinful hamburger and french fries. I got a grilled chicken sandwich.

After the waitress walked away, I said, “And it makes me realize how much I like Abel.” Just saying his name made me feel bad. He probably was really worried about me going out with Mitch.

“Your ghost friend?” He let his jaw drop with his mouth closed so his chin dimpled. “And I thought I was bad.”

“Don't laugh. He's the nicest man I've ever met.” And would ever hope to meet. “But he is a ghost.” I twisted one of the saltshakers around. “A ghost. Can you believe it?”

“Doesn't sound so bad to me.”

“He's a ghost. Like nobody else can see him, like he doesn't really exist.”

“You have feelings for him, so obviously he exists.” He looked at me. “And, believe me, the way he threw me down that day? He exists.” He nodded his head emphatically.

“But how can I have a relationship with a person that nobody else can see?”

He leaned over the table, resting on his elbows. “You're bellyaching about people not being able to see your lover to a gay guy?” He let his mouth hang open for effect. “Listen, all the crap you hear about everybody being open about being gay these days. Don't believe it, honey. Tons of us opt for lovers that aren't out in the open.”

“You're suggesting that I let myself fall in love with a phantom?”

The waitress brought his hamburger and fries. He stuffed one in his mouth before she'd even left. With it still in his mouth, he began to talk. “Listen, if I had a chance at real love,” he chewed some more, “I'd go for it. I don't care if he's Count Dracula or Willie the Werewolf.”

I took the bread off the chicken and began to take small bites. “That's easy for you to say. You don't know the frustration of having a man that's whole for just a little while and then he vanishes.” I remembered him turning into thin air while still in my arms.

“He didn't vanish on you. Believe me, I know about the vanishing kind. He was there. You just couldn't see him. That's not vanishing.”

That was true. I never had truly felt alone when Abel and I were getting along and even the arguments we'd had were about him caring too much for my grandmother and me.

“If I were you, I'd go for that ghost. Screw the rest of the world.”

When Owen brought me home, it was just a little past nine. I walked in the door and saw Abel standing right in the middle of the foyer in his Top hat and tails.

“Such a vision of loveliness.” He bent over and slid his hat off his head.

I didn’t want to admit it, but it felt so good to see him again.

He raised back up. “Home so early. You must have tired of your friend Mitch's witty conversation.”

Could he have followed me on this date, too? No, if he had he would have walloped Mitch. That would have been an interesting sight.

“You're here just to gloat,” I accused.

“Not so.” He focused on me. “You look like the air's been let out of your tires.” He puffed his chest out. “What has he done to you?” He stepped toward me, his shiny leather shoes making a tapping sound as he walked.

My shoulders sagged. “Nothing.” I laid my purse down on a small table.

“If he has done something to you,” he raised his white-gloved hand and extended his index finger, “he will learn the wrath of Abel Rollins.”

“Relax. He only brought me back to reality.”

“And what is reality?” His forehead was wrinkled and his lips pinched as if he were suffering seeing me unhappy.

Reality? What was it? I didn’t want to know what reality was. I liked what I saw right in front of me. “I think I'm struggling with that.”

“I don't like seeing you struggle.” He stepped so close I caught the faint fragrance of cedar that emanated from his clothes.

“I'll be all right.” I looked into his eyes. The dark color of his pupils always reminded me of pure milk chocolate. I stepped toward him.

“Raquel, I hope you can forgive me for…”

I moved my hands forward and slipped them between his biceps and his chest. He wound his arms around me and once again I felt whole. What had I seen in Mitch?

His lips descended onto mine and I dug my tongue into his mouth wanting him like a real man.

“Señorita.”

We pulled away from each other to see Maria Elena running down the stairs, her arms flailing and her nightgown jiggling around her.

“Señorita Raquel, your grandmother making sick.”

“What?” My stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor.

Abel wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders.

“What's the matter?” I squeaked out.

Maria Elena stepped onto the floor in her bare feet making a sliding sound. “She grabbing her chest and much in pain.”

I slipped my heels off and charged upstairs. I stopped. “Maria Elena. Call 911 and then call her doctor.”

“Si, I calling.” She ran out of the foyer and I ran upstairs.

Was she in pain? What was the last thing I said to her? I couldn't think about that right now.

When I got to her, Grandmother was laying very still in the bed looking at the ceiling.

“Grandmother, speak to me.”

“Raquel.” She slid her hand toward me.

I grasped it and shuddered at how cool it was.

“Don’t let them take me.”

“Everything’s all right. We called 911 so the paramedics will be here soon.”

Muscles tightened around her eyes. “Don’t let them take me.”

“They’ll just check you out, give you oxygen probably, and get you to the hospital.”

I heard the front door open. “Up here,” I screamed.

Footsteps sounded on the circular staircase and then the sound of wheels and clanging metal. They were probably bringing the stretcher with them.

Grandmother’s finger tightened around mine. “Bolsheviks.” She gasped for air. “I always knew they’d come for me.”

“Bolsheviks?” They were the ones who killed Rasputin and the Russian royal family.

“Relax, there are no Bolsheviks in this country.” I turned my head to see a man in a blue jacket with EMT printed on one side. “I think she had a heart attack.”

“Raquel, they’re here to take me away.”

“No, Grandmother. They’re here to help you. They’re American.”

She feebly pulled the sheet to her chin. “No, they’ll do to me what they did to Mama and Papa.”

The EMT pulled out a stethoscope and bent over Grandmother.

“No, please, Raquel, don’t let this Bolshevik man touch me.” Her voice was surprisingly strong, but her skin was still very pale. She held her hand up to keep the man away.

The EMT vanished into the hallway.

“Grandmother, you need medical attention.” My voice turned hard as if reprimanding a child.

“What happening?” Maria Elena entered the room. “The EMT people looking at me funny.”

“Don’t worry. Dr. Blake is on his way.”

Chapter Twelve

I stayed with Grandmother while the EMTs waited. “Dr. Blake will be here soon.”

She feigned a smile then attempted to raise her head but couldn’t.

“Just relax.” I put my head on her shoulder then stood up to adjust her pillows.

“The j-j-jewels,” she raspily whispered.

The door opened and white-haired Dr. Blake walked in with his little black bag. He was the same doctor who had treated my father and my grandfather. I didn’t know his age, but he got around in spite of a stoop and a limp that somehow made him appear more dignified.

Without even looking at my grandmother, he turned to me. “Raquel, your grandmother’s heart is weak.”

He’d shown me her EKG results months ago, but I’d put that bad news out of my mind until now. I nodded and walked to the door, knowing he was trying to prepare me.

“Mrs. Blankenship, how are you this evening?” He sat down on the bed and pulled out his stethoscope.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” I said, but he didn’t turn around. He was already listening to Grandmother’s chest. I stepped out into the hall.

“Don’t tell me she worse.” Maria Elena’s eyes were red as if she’d been crying.

“No, I don’t think she’s worse.” I wasn’t sure if that were the truth.

“I no knowing what I do if she die.” She wrung her hands as if she were Lady MacBeth.

“Don’t worry. I don’t want to live in this big place by myself.” I assumed she was worried about where she’d go if she didn’t have my grandmother to take care of.

Her head fell into her hands. “Your grandmother only family I having.”

“Don’t be silly. You have family back in Ecuador.”

“My family no want me. Your grandmother making me feeling good like my real grandmother used to.”

It pulled at my heartstrings that she cared so much about Grandmother. “You should visit your family more often.” She’d never taken any kind of vacation in all the years she worked for me.

“No. I can’t. My father never forgive me, and he say my mother and grandmother no can talk to me.”

I gulped. “Your father actually said your mother couldn’t talk to her own daughter?”

“Si, he saying that when I found out I pregnant. I wanting to die inside.”

“Well, I’m sure your mother didn’t agree with that.” Now I finally understood why Maria Elena was so attached to my grandmother.

“My mother always do what my father saying.” She kneaded her hands together then looked up at me. “She dying, Señorita Raquel?”

“I hope not, Maria Elena.” I laid my arm across her shoulders and guided her to the steps. “Let’s go down and drink a cup of tea while the doctor’s in with Grandmother.

We walked down the steps and were half way through the foyer when the front door opened.

Regina was standing there, her eyes glassy and her usually alabaster skin bright red.

“Did you call my sister?” I turned to Maria Elena.

She shook her head. “No, I no calling her.”

“How did you know about Grandmother?” I asked Regina.

She tried to take a deep breath but choked. “It’s Barry. He just told me he’s getting back with his wife.”

“No. I thought he signed the divorce papers before you went to the Caribbean.”

“You haven’t heard the worst yet.” She looked up at the ceiling then her eyes filled with tears. “They’re expecting a baby.” She ran toward me then sobbed on my shoulder.

I stepped back. “Regina, I honestly do care about your life, but right now I’m worried about Grandmother.”

She jumped back as if I’d slapped her. “Grandmother?”

Maria Elena slid her slippered feet toward us. “Yes, the doctor with her now.”

Regina took a deep breath, looked down at the floor, then at me. “She’s just like Father. They all liked you and never cared for me.”

I bristled. “That’s not true. Grandmother has always loved us equally.” I put my hands on my hips. “You know, not everything is about you, Regina.”

Maria Elena nodded at me as if she were my own cheering squad.

Regina straightened up. Her tears had stopped.

“Maria Elena and I were on our way to have some tea while we wait for the doctor. You can join us if you’d like.”

Regina took several deep breaths. “No, I’m going home. Call me if there’s any change.” She turned and walked out, not even saying goodbye.

“Your poor sister,” said a deep voice.

A big smile crawled across my face. I turned and saw Abel.

His deep dark eyes drooped sadly at me.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me.” I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“The ghost?” Maria Elena’s eyes got so wide I thought her eyeballs would fall out.

“A wonderful ghost.” I didn’t care if she saw me hug thin air.

“Your grandmother seems to be breathing easier. The doctor gave her something.” I could feel the baritone quality of Abel’s voice resonate against me as he talked.

I pulled away sharply as I saw Dr. Blake descending the stairs.

“She being all right?” Maria Elena asked, looking like she’d fall over if he gave her the wrong answer.

He gave a faint smile. “She’s resting peacefully now.” He reached the bottom of the stairs and put a prescription into my hand. “I gave her some medication I always carry with me for such occasions. She’ll be all right, but her heart is very weak.”

I’d known she had some heart problems, but I just didn’t think…

“She’s had a mild heart attack.”

“Heart attack?”

“You should remember that the last time she had an EKG, it was obvious she’s suffered many of these small attacks.”

“So, she needs to go to the hospital. I’ll…we’ll have to insist.”

“No, no.” His white eyebrows raised and lowered. “The journey to a hospital would only weaken her and at her age, mild heart attacks are to be expected.”

“She’s only seventy-eight.”

He got the kind of smile usually seen when a child does something naughty but cute. “Your grandmother may tell you she’s seventy-eight, but I estimate her age to be at least ninety-eight.”

“But my grandmother can’t be…”

Abel put his arm around me and whispered in my ear. “Let it go.”

Dr. Blake walked toward the door. “Let your grandmother stay here in the house where she’s comfortable. A hospital environment would only be torture for a lady like her.” He opened the door. “Good night. Call me if there are any changes.”

Maria Elena locked the door. “She all right. I so happy.” She started up the stairs. “You staying here with your ghost. I going upstairs.” She giggled.

Tears welled up and I winced at the sting. “You were very right.”

“About what?” He ran his hands down my back.

“I never should have even listened to Regina when she mentioned putting her in a home.”

He opened his mouth to respond.

“I should have known that wasn’t a good idea. What if she’d been in that place when this happened?” The guilt made me tremble.

“Your sister can be as toxic as a bad case of poison ivy and it isn’t your fault.” He pulled me close and kissed my cheek.

I remembered the doctor’s statement about my grandmother’s age. “Abel, if Grandmother is as old as the doctor says.” I gulped and shivered with the thought. “Could she be Anastasia Romanov?”

He wrapped his arms around me. “She always had a regal air about her.”

When she was younger, I remember her walking as if she were floating on air.

“I wonder if your grandfather suspected she was at least twenty years his senior.” His eyes creased as if he wanted to laugh.

“How could a Russian princess have come to Richmond, Virginia and just blended in?” It sounded like something out of a fantasy.

“A fantasy,” he repeated. He took my hand and lifted it to his mouth. Then he began to shower it with tiny wet kisses. “For years it was my fantasy that you would be able to see me.”

“I’m afraid I never let myself dream of a fantasy as wonderful as you.”

With a force his arms pulled me to him and I melted into him.

“I am no fantasy.”

The next day, Grandmother was back to being her normal self as if nothing had happened. Maria Elena rolled her around the grounds while Grandmother admired the beautiful autumn colors of the trees outlining the estate.

I watched them from the French doors of the foyer, wondering what Maria Elena and Grandmother were talking about.

“What say we take a drive on this wonderful day?”

I turned around to see Abel in a gleaming white shirt, pants that ended at the knee, argyle socks below, and a cap on his head.

He looked so cute I felt giddy inside.

“I love to see you smile.” He bent over to give me a peck on the lips.

“Where would you like to go?”

He shot me an impish little-boy smile. “I was hoping we could visit the place where I grew up.”

“The orphanage?”

“Perish the thought. I hope I never see that place again.” His skin flushed and he breathed roughly. “I thought I could show you the house I lived in with my parents.”

I felt a thrill run through me about knowing something more about Abel. “Where is your house?”

“It’s located in a place called Church Hill.” He looked down at the floor. “I do so hope the old place is still there.”

I smiled. “The old houses there, for the most part, are very well taken care of.” I didn’t want to mention that it was a part of the city that had been a run-down slum throughout the sixties and the seventies. In the eighties, however, the old neighborhood with its stately Victorian homes became popular with the yuppies.

“Then we’re off?” Abel ushered me to the front door. “Allow me.” He crossed the circular driveway to my car. He reached his hand down as if to release the hood. “Where is it?” He looked at me.

“What?” I inspected the front of my car wondering what he was looking for.

“The crank, of course.”

“They’ve done away with those.” I giggled.

He bowed his head and I wondered if I’d embarrassed him. “Progress. I should have known.” He took a deep breath. “I guess I don’t get out enough. And, you know, you should drive.”

I nodded. That was a good idea.

Church Hill, where Abel was born, overlooked downtown Richmond. Nowadays, driving through Church Hill was like riding through a war zone. Some buildings looked like they’d been bombed, and others were not only restored, but glistened with bright colors and vivid ginger breading.

Abel pointed to a steeple high up on the side of a hill. “Church Hill was named after St. John’s Church.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said looking at the white clapboard sides and a black wrought-iron fence surrounding it.

“It’s where Patrick Henry gave his famous ‘Give me liberty, or give me death’ speech.”

“So old,” I said out loud as I peered through the fence to the weathered stone grave markers.

“My mother loved it here, the way you can look out at the entire city from the top of the hill.”

I pressed harder on the gas to take us up to the pinnacle.

“Should’ve seen how my dad’s Model T huffed and puffed up this hill.”

We spotted a couple walking along with matching yellow sweatshirts.

“When my mother and father would go for a stroll, my mother would wear a long dress and a hat so large it wouldn’t have even fit inside this car.”

I turned to see his chest heaving as if thinking of his mother was painful. He saw me eyeing him and continued, “And Father was always in a top hat, sporting his cane.”

Abel must have been so lonely all those years, running around my house with no one to talk to.

He looked at all of the cars lining the shady avenues. “I suppose with all of these cars around, no one needs to take a horse any longer.”

“I’m afraid horses disappeared from the streets quite a few years ago.”

He shook his head. “I really should get out more.”

“Where is your house?” We’d reached the heart of Church Hill where a small park occupied the center of the streets that fanned out in all directions.

“Over there.” He pointed to a street with lazy cedars hanging over the sidewalk.

We’d only gone a few feet when he pointed to a house in front of us. “That’s it.” He paused. “It’s painted a different color, but that’s where I was born.”

I looked at a house that was now a light orange and the trim a yellowish cream. HHeld up by thin stately columns, the porch wrapped around the front and down the side.

“When was the last time you were here?”

“When Mother went into the hospital.” His voice cracked. “Then I went to your house and when my uncle came to pick me up to tell me my mother had died,” he swallowed hard. “He took me straight to the orphanage.” His jaw clenched for an instant.

I drove farther, and soon we got a glimpse of the backyard.

He pointed. “Right there—that’s where I used to play.”

I saw a lovely little garden at the bottom of a set of wooden stairs. Boxwoods enclosed a stretch of recently cut grass that looked like green carpet.

“I was an only child, so I played alone, except when my mother could spare me a few minutes.” He looked away so I couldn’t see his face. “And then she started to feel poorly…”

“I guess anybody that loses their mother misses them for the rest of their life.” I knew how he felt. At least I’d had my father after my mother passed away.

His hand slid over and engulfed mine. “I missed your mother after she was gone, also.”

“You didn’t really tell me much about my mother. You just said she was never the same after Regina was born.”

He leaned his head back and stretched his neck smiling. “Do you remember those tea parties you and your mother used to have on the back porch?”

I felt my chest heave as I remembered my mother and I putting on frilly dresses and bringing all my dolls and teddy bears downstairs so we could have one big tea party. “My mother used to tell me that I had to make witty conversation with all of the guests.” I laughed out loud remembering her holding her pinky out when pretending to drink tea from the miniature cups.

“I think she had as much fun as you did.” He twirled one of my locks between his fingers. “She had hair just like yours.”

I tried very hard to remember what she looked like. “Tell me, when she got the appendicitis, why didn’t they get her to the hospital in time? If the ambulance didn’t come, then why didn’t Daddy take her in his car?”

Abel stared straight ahead.

“Do you remember what happened that night? Did it just burst with no warning?”

I saw his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. His lips quivered.

“What is it?” Why was he acting this way?

His voice was low and gravelly. “They shouldn’t have lied.”

A terrible feeling ran through me like a freight train. Then a chill coursed through me giving me goosebumps. “Tell me the truth right now.”

“Your father was trying to protect you.” His gaze was trained straight ahead as if he couldn’t face me.

“Abel, she was my mother. I deserve to know the truth.” Terrible thoughts entered my mind. Did someone…? “Did my father…?”

“No, absolutely not. He loved her.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Then what?”

He turned toward me. “Your mother took her own life.”

I felt my heart miss a beat as I tried to force myself to relax. “How?” I closed my eyes and braced my head on the headrest.

“She was in the bathtub. When your father found her, all of the blood had drained out of her.”

I jumped out of the car and walked toward the park we’d passed earlier. I leaned against a tree, thinking I’d pass out.

Abel came running toward me. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“No.” I held my hand up. “You were right to tell me. I needed to know.”

He took another step.

“Please, just leave me alone for me a minute. I have to digest this news and make sense of it.”

“But…” His breath was jagged as if he were scared for me, then he turned and faced the other direction. “I will leave you alone with your thoughts.”

I walked around the park, trying to enjoy the way the crisscrossing sidewalks were being covered over with orange and yellow leaves. My thoughts filled with anger at both my parents—at my mother for killing herself and leaving me motherless and at my father for lying.

Then understanding began to flow through me. My father had done what he thought was best. How could he have explained suicide to a child? My mother undoubtedly had been very sick at a time when there was no treatment for depression. Surely she thought it was the only way out.

Abel had walked back to the car and was sitting in the passenger seat watching me. It must have been difficult to deliver such information.

I sat back down in the driver’s seat.

“I’m afraid I’ve turned our drive into a terribly melancholy affair.”

“No, not at all. I feel like I have the answer to a great mystery, even if it is bad news.”

“I prefer to console you, not bring you bad tidings.”

The image of my mother being so unhappy that she lied down in a bathtub and slit her wrists paraded through my mind. I winced from the pain.

“She was so melancholy,” Abel said. “She just couldn’t bring herself out of the depths of downheartness.” He reached his hand over and ran it down my arm.

I felt a tingle at his touch.

“I have always loved you since you were a little girl. Although you were always a beautiful baby, then a child, then a girl, and finally a woman, I loved your spirit. You were always able to see the good in someone or something. Now I feel my love is deepening.”

I moved my head toward him and tasted his lips. Then I realized. I pulled back. “Wait.”

His eyes opened wide.

“Abel, you’ve been flesh and blood for well over an hour now.”

His mouth dropped open. “Yes, I was having such a good time I hadn’t realized.”

“No. Don’t disappear on me.” I squeezed his hand.

“I have no intention of ever doing that

That afternoon, I was heavy with the knowledge my mother had taken her life. I’d always wondered what had actually happened the day my mother died so suddenly. Daddy had never been willing to talk about it and the feeling had nagged at me since then, as if I’d suspected something all along. At least I knew the truth now.

Should I tell Regina? My father had made her a victim. Maybe if she knew the truth, she’d know our father’s rejection of her was because of our mother, not because of her. On the other hand, Regina could interpret it in another way. She might decide she was responsible for our mother’s death.

About halfway home from Church Hill, Abel vanished. His disappearance didn’t bother me though. I knew he was able to keep his shape longer and that he was always close by.

Maria Elena had put the mail on the little table in the foyer. I sifted through the bills then focused in on the letter from the roofing company. I’d requested they give me an estimate on repairing the slate roof. Although not visible from the front, some of the rooms in the rear already had water damage. I slit the envelope and pulled out the letter. My eyes focused on the figure: $100,000 – and that was only to fix the problem areas, not replace the entire roof.

Where would I ever get that sum of money? And the roof wasn’t the only thing in need of repair. Would I have to get rid of the house I was born in?

Chapter Thirteen

A week later, I sat in my office trying to finish all of the necessary changes to the biography on Teddy Roosevelt, but all I could think about was how to get enough money to fix the roof. Realistically, even if $100,000 fell into my hands right now, that would only cover the roof. It wouldn’t include the landscaping. Many of the interior walls were brown with water leakage and some of that was because of faulty plumbing. Recently many of the bricks near the foundation had started coming loose. I needed a permanent solution. I stared at the computer screen again, trying to concentrate on how to write my conclusion summarizing Teddy Roosevelt’s life.

“Why you look as if you’ve swallowed a porcupine, bristles and all.”

A warmth ran up my spine. Whenever Abel was around, I felt a little better.

“What has gotten you so glum?”

I swiveled around to see Abel standing there in a pair of navy blue plaid pants and a bright yellow shirt.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing you can help me with.”

He took a breath that caused his chest to puff out. “Why would you assume I cannot assist you?”

I looked down at his bright white shoes.

“Come now, things can’t be all that bad?” He knelt down and caught my hands up in his. “Please,” he kissed my knuckles. “Tell me what is bothering my lady love.”

In spite of my melancholy, I felt my lips spread out into a smile. “You make me feel like I don’t have a care in the world.”

He stroked my fingers firmly. “I know that you are a capable woman, but it appears you have a concern that is overwhelming you.”

I blinked my eyes. Why should I tell him about my money problems since he wouldn’t be able to help me?

His jaw drew tight. “I insist you tell me what is on your mind.”

I pulled my hands back. “It’s money.”

His eyes grew dim and his usually upturned mouth turned somber. “Is there something you need?”

“No, it’s far worse than that.” I let my breath out leaving me feeling deflated. “It’s the house. I just can’t afford to maintain it any longer.”

He looked up at the walls where the plaster was starting to chip away. “Yes, this is a grand house full of wonderful memories, but it is such a waste to have all this for only a few people.”

“But parting with the home my great grandfather built…”

“Parting with it no, but it could be put to other uses.” His lips curled up at the ends again.

“Other uses? You mean like a very large bed and breakfast?”

“I mean, this old house was always meant to be an orphanage.”

“Orphanage?” I rolled the word across my tongue. “I’d never considered anything like that.”

“This place is so grand, you could house the children, a small clinic, and have plenty of room for you and your family.”

I imagined the house full of people again and I also thought about children coming to live here—forlorn children that had no other home. Turning this house into an orphanage was a real solution. Something my father and grandfather would have approved of.

I stood up. His eyes twinkled. He’d love to have all those children around. I hugged him.

He wrapped his arm around me. “I take it you like my idea.”

“Like it?” I pulled away and waved my hands in the air. “I love it. Children should be living here. The kitchen should be bustling with cooks and people should be eating in that big dining room every night.” I walked around my office. I pointed out the window. “We’ll expand the driveway for buses to come in and take the children to school in the morning and fix up the pool area and get a swimming instructor. Imagine.”

Abel’s cheeks were a bright pink as he beamed at me. “I’m proud my humble idea has made you so cheery.”

“Humble idea?” I laughed. “It’s a brilliant idea.”

Sheepishly, he crossed the room to where I stood. “I would like to be a part of your world, too.”

“Of course.” I brought my finger to my mouth. “Oh, I need to research this out. How can I make this happen? There are funds for things like this that come from the State. I just have to find out how to get it set up.” I sat back down at my desk and brought up a browser. I’d forgotten Abel was still in the room. “Please forgive me, but I need to make some phone calls.” I turned around, but he had vanished.

A week later, I felt like a peacock with its tail feathers caught in a meat grinder. The great idea of turning this house into an orphanage had been met with a wonderful reception. Unfortunately, social services assumed that because I could afford to donate the thirty-bedroom mansion, I could also afford to transform the structure into the orphanage. They practically laughed when I asked if the costs could be covered by public funds.

I pondered all of this as I got dressed for my next big dance competition. I pulled a new pair of sequined stretch leggings and let the bright red top fall over me. In order to keep my skin from hanging down to my knees, I wore two leotards under all my clothes. That was another thing I needed money for. I’d have to think about that later.

This evening, Owen and I were dancing against some couples that were rated very high in the world of ballroom dancing. I shivered as I put my dangly earrings on and tied my hair up in a high ponytail. As we got higher up in the competitions, the fact that Owen was a better dancer than I was really showed. He denied it, but the truth was that dancing wasn’t my goal in life. Writing was, and now maybe running an orphanage was another focus I’d like to pursue. Somehow, I had to convince Owen that he needed to find another partner. Someone who could devote more time and energy to dancing.

A few hours later we were dancing the Hustle, a fun disco step from the ’70s. I could tell we’d really wowed the judges by the way people were watching us with their mouths wide open. Owen wasn’t just a good dancer; he really knew how to arrange routines that could wow an audience. Next, we did a very sexy Brazilian Samba that had caused me to lose at least ten pounds while rehearsing it. Owen led me around in tiny circles as my hips swiveled. As an encore, we did a very slow waltz with grand majestic steps.

As we stood waiting for the judges to give us their scores, I watched Owen talking to a very petite dark-haired woman. I closed my eyes right before they read the numbers off. I prayed that I hadn’t held Owen back. If we didn’t qualify for the next round, it would be all my fault. How many times had I turned Owen down for rehearsals? How many times had he asked me for help choreographing routines and I’d been too busy?

I felt Owen grab me and spin me around. “We did it, girl!”

Relief flooded me. “We did?”

“Of course we did.”

“Thank God,” I breathed.

“‘Thank God.’ No thank God. We deserved that. We’re better than those mamby-pamby dancers. Girl, we’re gonna win this whole competition.”

As we drove down the road, Owen’s eyes twinkled and his lips were trembling as if he could imagine hugging that trophy as he slept at night. “We are going to win the whole thing. Aren’t we?” Owen asked.

I didn’t answer him as he pulled into the same old greasy spoon we always dined in.

We ordered the usual. I looked at Owen who was wiggling with excitement and felt a pang of guilt that I wasn’t as happy as he was.

“Who was that you were talking to right after we danced?” I asked.

The waitress put the greasy burger in front of him. I wondered how many calories the hamburger had. When I used to eat like that, I bloated up like a Goodyear blimp, but Owen stayed svelte no matter what he put in his mouth.

I gave him a look like I really wanted an answer.

“Nobody,” he said as he gnawed on the burger, a small piece of lettuce doused in mayonnaise clung to his cheek. I reached over to wipe it off with my napkin.

“Nobody, huh?” There was something he didn’t want me to know.

“Loraine Morrison,” he said without looking at me.

“Loraine?” She won the competition two years ago and then her partner had been hurt in a traffic accident. Was she interested in Owen?

“Don’t fret. I told her no.” His dark blue eyes looked right at me as he stuffed French fries slathered with ketchup into his mouth. He let his elbows rest on the table. “Don’t worry. I ain’t interested in dancing with her.”

I took another small bite of my grilled chicken. “She asked you to be her partner?” That was an incredible honor.

“Aaah, she’s probably a bitch on wheels.”

“I’ve never heard anything like that about her. She must not be too hard to work with since she has won a lot of competitions.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a loyal partner.” He gave me a toothy smile. “And, I like dancing with you.”

When Owen first started dancing ballroom, no one wanted to dance with him because they considered him an effeminate gangly hillbilly. But now he‘d proven himself.

“You should consider taking Loraine up on her offer.”

“No way. We got a good thing going, and once you finish that book you’re working on, you’ll have more time to rehearse.”

I looked down at the table unable to meet his eager stare.

“But there’s something else bothering you?” He grinned and eyed me suspiciously. “Is it your ghostly man?” He giggled.

“No.” I felt myself blush.

“You have fallen for that haint.” Owen leaned over, almost dipping his shirt in ketchup. “Tell me, does he have a brother?”

“Sorry, he was an only child.”

“Just my luck.” He deposited the rest of the hamburger in his mouth and licked his fingers. His eyes narrowed at me. “I think something else is bothering you, though.”

I told him about how much money it would take to fix up the house and then I told him about the orphanage idea.

Owen had been sipping on a Coke and he practically spit. “An orphanage?” He shook his head. “What a fabulous idea. Hey, I could cater your meals for the kids.”

“The way you eat, they’d be in seventh heaven. But I haven’t told you the other part. I can’t get any funds from social services for the renovations.” He shook his head. “No funds.” He leaned back in his seat. “There’s never enough money for the things that matter.”

I pressed my lips together thinking how much this was beginning to mean to me. “There has to be a way.”

Owen pointed at me. “Raquel, you’re a resourceful woman. If there’s a way to do this, you’ll do it.”

Owen and I were quiet on the way home. After we said goodbye, I walked into the house thinking of how I could resolve this issue. Owen was right. I’d had the weight problem, and I’d been able to overcome that. Now I had to figure out a way not to lose my house. That was much more difficult, though. I’d need at least a million dollars to do all the work that was needed.

I heard a clank from up above me and  looked up to see Maria Elena carrying a tray down the steps.

“Your grandmother feeling tired, so I taking food to her.”

I smiled at her and thought how lucky I was that Elena took care of her like she would her own grandmother.

“Forgiving me, Señorita, but you looking sad.” She had gotten to the bottom of the stairs and stopped and looked at me. “You having problems with your ghost?”

The tension I’d been feeling flowed out of me as I laughed at her question. “No, my ghost is fine.” I stopped and stared at her chest. The locket my grandmother had given her was in plain view since her blouse was buttoned low in the front.

“You looking at gift.” She blinked her eyes. “I know really belonging to you or Señora Regina, but it mean so much to me.” I knew she was nervous because the tray of dishes began to chatter.

Could the jewelry really be from Russia? “Maria Elena, can I borrow the necklace?”

She looked down at the tray. “Si, you can borrowing it.”

I knew she believed she’d never see it again.

“I liking because it from your grandmother.” Her eyes refused to look at me.

“I promise I’ll return it if possible.”

She nodded keeping her eyes away from mine.

I stepped behind her and undid the clasp.

As Maria Elena continued toward the kitchen silently I inspected the necklace more closely. The writing on it was so badly damaged it was hard to make out what it was. When I’d first seen it, I’d thought it might be Cyrillic, but now I wasn’t sure. It appeared to be some sort of emblem and the colors were incredibly vivid in spite of it being very worn.

What if Grandmother were Anastasia Romanov as she claimed? Was there a possibility the jewelry my grandmother referred to was really valuable? If so, could it be the solution to my problem?

Chapter Fourteen

The man at the jeweler my family had used for decades had said it would take over a week to get the appraisal. He’d looked at it, but said he couldn’t even guess the necklace’s apparent value or origins. I’d just have to wait and be patient. That was hard to do when I felt like wolves were at the door.

I lay in bed wondering if I’d be able to keep this old house. I thought of Abel and how he liked roaming the grand halls. The two of us belonged here. I still hadn’t given up on the idea of the orphanage. Abel and I should work together helping the children everyone else had given up on. A tingle ran up my spine. Writing gave me a wonderful outlet, but giving back to society was something I had never done; mainly because I’d been too much of a recluse. Maybe my father kept me so close because he was afraid I’d do the same thing as my mother. He damaged my sister and me with his fears.

I pulled the covers back and felt a twinge in my belly button. I pulled myself out of bed and looked into the full-length mirror. Raising my arms, I looked at the droops under my arms that looked like gigantic earlobes. Then I raised the skin that hung from my waistline like yards and yards of extra fabric. Above my triangle was a gigantic red rash and from the area around my belly-button, a horrible green-looking blob oozed. It was happening, just what I’d read about.  I had so much excess skin it was getting infected.

I needed this surgery to cut away the skin that dangerously hung over my tummy. The skin on my thighs hung so loosely it bagged around my knees. The surgery was expensive and I’d miss a lot of time from writing. If something didn’t happen, I would lose this house.

I made an appointment with the doctor. In the meantime, I’d have to take antibiotics and use creams to keep my skin from getting infected.

Finally a week had passed and I drove over to the jewelers. The man handed me the necklace in a tiny plastic bag with a large manila envelope. I opened it and began to read the appraisal. The value of the necklace was right around $200.

I looked at the man standing behind the counter. “Did the jeweler tell you if the necklace could be a Faberge?”

He raised his eyebrows as if he felt sorry for me. “I’m sorry, but the jeweler thought it was a rather run of the mill piece of gold jewelry.”

I walked out of the jewelry store like a puppy with its tail between its legs. I wanted to kick myself for being so gullible. What had I been thinking? That I was royalty or something? That I could just go and claim the Russian throne and kick out Putin and his cronies? I needed my head examined.

Now I had to come up with a real solution. Then I began to worry. If I lost the house, what would happen to Grandmother? I couldn’t envision her being happy in a condo. Then I began to wonder what would become of the house. Who would buy it? And, would Abel come with me wherever I went?

When I got back home, Abel was standing in the foyer as if he’d been waiting for me. He wore a thick gray sweater a turtleneck and baggy slacks.

As I opened the door and beheld him, my eyes began to gush and I bent over into a shivering heap.

“What on earth is wrong?” He ran to me and pulled me to him.

I sobbed on his shoulder, feeling the coarseness of the wool.

“Whatever is bothering you, I’m sure we can fix it.” I felt his voice tremble as if he feared the worst.

“If I lose this place, I’ll be letting my family down.”

He pulled my head up and looked into my eyes. “No, we’re not going to lose it. We’re going to find a way to keep this house.”

“But if I lost it, would I…” I trailed off. Maybe I didn’t want to know. I had come to live for my interludes with Abel.

“Would what?” His lips began to trail across my cheek giving me tiny kisses. “Don’t be so upset. Tell me.” He looked at me with his big, dark eyes.

I felt like I’d melt. “It’s just that if I had to leave this house…”

His forehead wrinkled. “What?”

“Would I lose you too?”

He took a step back. “What do you take me for? A rake? A man that would leave the woman he loves just when she needs him most?”

Cheeriness filled me, dissolving my tears. “You wouldn’t abandon me, then?”

“Abandon you?” His eyes become round and his jaw dropped open. He looked at the floor. “Clearly I haven’t been forthright in stating my intentions.”

“But I didn’t know if…”

“Raquel Annalisa Blankenship, I have loved you ever since your mother brought you home from the hospital.” He reached for my hands and brought them to his lips. “I couldn’t abandon you any more than the sunshine can abandon the sun or the man in the moon can abandon the moon itself.”

Again I felt tears run down my cheeks. “You would actually be able to come with me if I left here?” My breath felt jagged in my lungs.

“I would live with you whether it were in a tent on a mountain top or in a hovel beside a garbage dump.”

“Sometimes I wonder how I ever existed without you.” Relief unburdened me and suddenly I could relax.

The next morning Regina showed up. She’d finally gotten over her latest fling and she had on part of her ‘get a new man’ wardrobe. Her heels were high and her burgundy tights clung to her showing every curve. Against the cold, she wore a black cape draped over one shoulder. Her face, however, didn’t match her outfit.

“What’s the matter?” I had to be the one to initiate the conversation. If I waited for her to inquire about my well-being, I’d die of old age in the meantime.

“It’s been at least three months now since I’ve had a date.”

“I’ve gone many months without dates.” Didn’t she realize who she was talking to?

She twisted in her place on the couch. “That’s different.”

I just looked at her hoping I could shame her into realizing she wasn’t the only living breathing thing on the planet.

“You know, Raquel, you’ve always had so much.”

I eyed her pointedly. “Had so much?” She’d gotten a very nice house out of her divorce, but I was about to lose mine. “I didn’t know I had so much.”

“You do too know.” She puffed her lips out and brought her feet up under her without kicking off her shoes.

“You were the one with boyfriends and held the title of miss popularity around here.”

“When I walked out that front door, I was everything, but inside this house, I was nothing.”

I forgot my frustration with her. With everything else going on, I’d forgotten I needed to find a way to tell Regina that Mother had committed suicide. Now wasn’t the time, she was way too down. I’d have to wait until she met her next love and when she was high on that roller coaster ride, I’d find a way to break it to her.

“Everything in here was, Raquel this and Raquel’s so good at that.”

I took a deep breath. “Regina, I know you weren’t treated fairly when we were little, but your whole life can’t be going from man to man because of that.”

“And what do you want me to do?” She lobbed her arms out. “Write books? Teach at the college?” Her lips pinched together and her cheeks turned red. “Have you forgotten I dropped out of high school?”

“That doesn’t define you. The fact that you dropped out of school doesn’t have to guide the rest of your life.”

She looked away then back at me. “What do you want me to do? Just pick up and go back to school?” Her eyes looked glassy and for an instant I thought she’d cry.

“Actually, I think that’s a great idea.”

She pulled her lips to the side and began to chew the inside of her mouth. “You probably just want to see me fail.”

“Daddy might have made you feel that way, but I didn’t. I never believed you were dumb.”

The anger left her face. Her jaw dropped then closed quickly. “You didn’t?”

“No, I never believed that for an instant.”

Regina started at the floor for a moment. “I don’t know. I couldn’t imagine going back to high school.”

“You don’t have to do that. You probably just have to take a test or something. You might not even have to take any classes.”

Her eyes shot back and forth as if she were deep in thought. “Just take a test?”

“Listen, you have dedicated your life to always having a man, but you have talent. You’ve always had an incredible concept of design.” I pointed at her outfit. “Look, you put that outfit together and I bet you didn’t get any help doing that.”

She shook her head.

“You were good at art. You’ve been so busy going from man to man you haven’t looked at what’s inside Regina.”

“But you believe?” Her eyes crinkled up

I cocked my head wondering what she meant.

“I mean you actually believe I could get my high school diploma?”

“Believe you could get your diploma? Of course I do. In fact, I’m sure you could get a college degree.”

She couldn’t have looked more dazed if I’d smacked her in the head with a baseball bat. “Really?”

“Daddy should have told you he believed in you.” I refrained from telling her. Now wasn’t the time.

Regina put her feet back on the floor and looked around for her purse. “I’ve got to go.”

I stood up and touched her arm. “Think about what I’ve said.”

Regina’s face looked so calm as if she didn’t have to wear her armor any more. “I will. I’ll think about it.” She walked slowly toward the front door and this time her heels didn’t clack against the marble.

Later that day, I stepped out the front door to get the mail. Wind whipped around my shoulders, sending shudders down my spine. Normally I never wore a coat, even in the dead of winter and it was just the beginning of November. Then I remembered I hadn’t needed a coat before because I’d been shrouded in a coat of blubber. Now I was like everyone else. I actually needed to bundle up because of the cold.

I continued out to the mailbox, enjoying how my teeth chattered. Inside was a familiar looking envelope. I looked more closely. It was from the State of Virginia. A deeper chill ran through me. Slowly I walked back to the house, knowing it couldn’t be good news.

It wasn’t. The value of the house had gone up considerably, most likely since we had riverfront property. I now owed $50,000 in taxes for this year alone. It may as well be five million. Even the hefty advance I’d get for the Roosevelt biography wouldn’t be enough to pay all of the bills that were piling up.

I laid it aside and looked at the next envelope. It was from the Gretna Foundation. I opened the envelope, assuming they were asking for a donation. Fat chance they’d get money from me.

I read through the official-looking letter with gold-embossed letterhead. They were looking for a location for a new girl’s school. My home was large enough and centrally-located enough. I stared at the printed words. My house a school…

A feeling of contentment swept through me. Abel was behind me. This time I sensed him before seeing his angelic smiling face.

“And how is the loveliest woman in the world this morning?” He had on my father’s smoking jacket again.

“A company wants to turn this house into a school.” My eyes moved from the letter to Abel.

His usually alabaster skin turned pink with little spider veins running through his cheeks. “Let me see that.” His eyebrows curled. “A la-dee-dah private school,” he growled.

He didn’t have to explain. He’d wanted this to be an orphanage to help disadvantaged children, not rich ones.

“I oppose this,” he said indignantly.

“I may not have a choice. I also got a bill for the taxes. It’s much more than I can afford to pay.”

“Have faith, my dear.”

He had jutted his chin out to give him an air of invincibility, but I saw through his bravado.

“If we have to leave, we’ll just get something smaller.” My insides felt raw, worse than when I had the surgery. I’d never lived anywhere else except the college dorm, but that had been fine because I’d come home on the weekends. “It will be hard for Grandmother, but we’ll survive.” I looked at Abel. I still wasn’t convinced he could leave the house as he said.

He stepped toward me and I let my head fall onto the plush of his velvet jacket. “Do not worry. You will never leave this house unless you want to.”

I kept my head buried in the warmth of his chest, wanting to believe his comforting words.

In spite of Abel’s words, I moped around the house trying to get inspiration for my next book. There were so many great people to write about, but I couldn’t come up with one candidate.

I came out of my office and sat down in the room where Maria Elena usually watched television.

A few minutes later, Maria Elena pushed Grandmother into the room.

“This is very good. You can watching my novela with us.”

Grandmother’s old eyes moved dryly in their sockets. “Why are you so down, dear?” She waved her crinkled hand at me.

I placed my palm in hers and felt her cool skin.

“What has you so upset?”

Maria Elena was holding the remote control in her hand waiting for our conversation to end. “Yes, Señorita, you looking very sad.”

I looked up at the ceiling for solace, but then I saw a new crack. I looked away quickly. “It’s the house.”

“Don’t worry about the house,” my grandmother said as she squeezed my hand.

“Yes, Señorita, I cleaning when I get time.” Maria Elena’s fingers were poised to turn the television on.

“It’s worse than that.”

“My sister is right, Raquel, we’ll help you clean this place up.”

I smiled at their offer to help me. “There are so many bills to pay on the house, and I can’t possibly pay them all.”

Grandmother pulled her hand away then swatted at the air. “Money? You don’t need to worry about things like that.”

Maria Elena’s eyes had gotten as round as golf balls.

“I need a very large amount of money or we’ll lose the house.”

“Pshaw, I was smart enough to hang onto quite a bit of the money and jewels I had in Russia.”

I had to take a deep breath to keep from getting angry at my grandmother.

“Money and jewels,” Maria Elena repeated.

“I wish I could stay and watch the soap opera with you two, but I’ve got things to do.” I ran out of the room quickly. If I listened to her, I’d start to dream of nonexistent fortunes.

When I’d gone to the doctor about my skin infections, he’d given me pills and suggested I wear a full-body girdle. I’d gone out and bought one and I was now trying to put myself and all my extra skin inside it. I looked great, but I felt like a mummy under my clothes.

I slipped a shimmery silver dress over my head and zipped it up. The mirror didn’t reflect the fear welling up inside me. Tonight Owen and I were going to dance against some of the real greats in the world of ballroom dance. To win tonight, every turn would have to be perfect, every promenade graceful, and most of all, we had to look like we were in control of the dance floor and the crowd.

As usual Owen picked me up in his truck, talking as if we’d already won the competition. I danced well, but there was no substitute for rehearsing every day, and that was something I couldn’t do.

“Don’t worry, we’ll knock ’em dead tonight.” His truck made a sick sound, echoing the way I felt. I was always willing to drive, but he insisted on picking me up every time.

“You know, there are some very good dancers competing tonight.”

“I was thinking about that, but I think it’s all in the teamwork.” He gently rapped my shoulder with his knuckles. “And you know, we are an awesome team.”

I clutched my purse tightly. “I really need to be devoting more time to writing. I still haven’t even come up with the subject for my next biography.”

He shook his head and stared straight at the road. “We’re doing great, so far. You’ll just have to schedule better so we can practice more.”

“I’m not sure if…”

Owen started to bang on the steering wheel. “And, you know, the next competition will be in Orlando, Florida.”

“It is?”

“Of course. We’re entering the big time, girl.”

This was just getting to be too much. I’d have to talk to him after the competition. If we won, it would break his heart and I’d know it was all my fault.

Lorraine was sitting in the front and waved at Owen when we walked in. He simply gave her a grin as we walked by.

“You really should talk to her,” I said as I took a seat backstage.

Owen poopooed me as he went over and stood in front of a full-length mirror. “Do you like the way these pants look in the back?”

As usual, Owen looked great from his head to his toes. “You look fine.”

“You are always so sweet.” He sat down on the bench beside me. “It’s having somebody that thinks you’re great that makes you a good dancer.” He winked at me.

“No, Owen, you’re a GREAT dancer.”

“Not everybody thinks that.” He crossed his legs and wound his foot around in circles.

“Yes, everybody thinks that.” I knew he was thinking back to the days when he was just learning ballroom and he wasn’t very popular. “Lorraine thinks so.”

A buzzer sounded.

“Saved by the bell. I am certainly ready to end this ridiculous conversation.” He popped up then bent over and offered me his hand. “Come on, princess, the best ballroom dancer this side of the Mississippi. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

I opened my mouth to reply.

“No more of your silliness, either.” He took my hand and led me to the dance floor.

We lit into a slow Salsa. I fully believed the reason Owen was such a good choreographer was that he didn’t just use influences from other ballroom couples. He went out to nightclubs where Cubans and Puerto Ricans danced Salsa. Because of that he brought a real cultural flair to the routines. The music slowed, almost halting. We kept the rhythm until the music sounded loudly and the pace quickened. We kept our steps small and close under us just as Owen had seen the Latins do, then we erupted into twirls, one after the other, meeting perfectly after each turn. With a shout in Spanish, the music stopped and right on the note, we ended up with our arms stretched to the ceiling.

The judges gave us our numerical scores, which were only a point above the last couple. The next pair of dancers, though, were the ones everyone expected to win.

I looked at Owen, who sat beside me ignoring Lorraine’s glances.

I couldn’t bear to see Owen’s face if this next couple beat us, and I knew they would.

They entered in flame orange outfits. Her skirt was short in front and trailed down in the back. His collar was high in the back as if he wore part of a vampire costume.

They had chosen a cha-cha-cha that had a nice constant beat. I’d never seen two dancers be able to accomplish so many complex moves while dancing so close together.

I stared out at them, refusing to look back at Owen. There was no way we’d win this competition. Their steps were too fluid, too quick, too synchronized. They were certainly putting many more hours into rehearsing and choreographing than I’d ever be able to.

The pace of the music slowed, and we waited for their finale, knowing it would be great.

Her foot slipped out from under her. Since they were dancing so close together, both of them came crashing down like discarded rag dolls on the dance floor.

I looked at Owen. He face had filled with horror at what had happened, but then a smile crept across his freckles. “We did it,” he mouthed.

This was ridiculous, I thought as I watched the couple pick themselves off the floor.

“We’re going to the next competition,” he whispered in my ear.

I was still watching to see if either of the dancers were injured, but they had only suffered a blow to their pride.

“Orlando, here we come.”

“No, Owen, no.”

“You’re just intimidated.”

“You saw how they danced, Owen. That couple has what it takes. We would be able to dance that well if I had all the time in the world to practice, but I don’t.”

His mouth drew up all wrinkly like a bulldog’s face.

“You know it’s true. And don’t forget that I have to have that surgery and I’ll be out of commission for a long time with that.”

“You’re abandoning me.”

“No, that’s not true at all.” Loyalty meant so much to him.

Owen got up and walked toward the front door.

I followed behind him trying to plead my case. “I’m not deserting you. I’ll be at every competition cheering you on.”

He opened the front door and didn’t hold it for me.

“You’re acting like a child,” I called after him.

He spun around. “If I’m acting like a child, then you’re acting like a quitter.”

“Not a quitter, Owen. Consider dancing with Lorraine.” It was the best thing for him. Why couldn’t he see that?

He headed toward the driver’s side of the truck.

I tried to open the passenger side door, but it was so rusty it refused to move more than a few inches. “Come on, Owen.”

He sauntered over and opened it for me.

I put my hand on his arm. “Don’t be like this.”

He hung his head. “You have your books.”

That was true. Owen didn’t like being a waiter at someone else’s restaurant. He wanted to work for himself as much as he wanted to be an award-winning ballroom dancer. I opened my mouth to argue with him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He waited for me to get into the truck then closed the old door making sure my gown wasn’t caught.

He drove me to my house in silence. He was so much like Regina—mistreated in childhood and still acting it out in adulthood.

Chapter Fifteen

As the months slipped by, I was losing even more weight. I felt much better and could walk long distances without getting winded. Most enjoyable was that I could breathe much more easily, now that those extra pounds weren’t crushing my chest. There was a down side, though. I needed to wear the full body girdle all the time. It looked like I had enough skin for three people on my frame.

Selling the house was the solution. That would give me plenty of money to have the surgery. Still, parting with the house didn’t seem like something my father and grandfather would have approved of, although they would have wanted what was best for me.

I washed my breakfast dishes and was busy wiping off the island when Abel appeared in front of me. Today he wore an overcoat. “Good morning.” He took off his cap and bowed ceremoniously.

Joy filled me and I must have blushed.

“You are even more radiant today than on other days,” he said in his gentlemanly voice.

That feeling of being truly cared for seeped into me.

“May I invite you to take a stroll with me down to the river?”

“What a lovely idea. I haven’t been down there in years.” The truth was I hadn’t been able to walk such a long distance since I was a child. “Let me get my coat.”

Soon we were ambling arm-in-arm past the old tennis courts I still hadn’t been able to restore. He didn’t have to say it. I knew he was thinking how much the orphans would enjoy batting the tennis balls around in there.

Abel wrapped his arm around me. “Are you cold, my dear?”

“Not now.” I enjoyed feeling his arm protecting me from the wind bending the branches overhead. Some of the more stubborn, brightly colored leaves still clung to the trees, while most were below our feet, damp and brown.

The lawn leading from the house finally ended with a row of tall hollies. We took the old path that led us to the railroad tracks. Abel helped me step along the pine crossties then over the rails. The path resumed on the other side.

“My sister and I used to come down here all the time.”

“Yes, I remember,” Abel responded.

I looked at him. His cheeks were beginning to chap in the chilly breeze. “Is there anything you don’t know about me?”

“Well, I didn’t follow you when you went to college.”

“That’s good. At least I do have a few secrets.” Although I had few tales to tell since weighing well over two hundred pounds meant I wasn’t invited out very often.

Soon the path led us to the old footbridge we used to cross when we were children. The railings were gone and the boards looked flimsy.

“Not to worry.” Abel wrapped both arms around me from behind.

I looked down at the slow-moving canal beneath me. At this time of year, the water would be very cold, but with Abel I never doubted I’d fall as he made sure to guide me to the surer of the boards. Then we heard the fast-moving waters of the James.

“Regina and I used to go out into the water here.” I pointed to a place where the water swished between two rocks, making bubbles run around the edges. “We liked the feeling of the cold water whipping by our ankles. Sometimes we’d sit on the rocks so we’d feel like we’d be pulled downstream. It was right here.”

“I know. I used to hold you so you wouldn’t be swept away.”

I stopped walking and looked at him. He was a man I had few secrets from. “How could you have liked me as a child? I must have been terribly spoiled the way my father doted on me.”

He tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes as if remembering. “That’s not true. You suffered from your mother’s absence and even from a tender age, you knew your father’s lack of affection for Regina was wrong.”

“I guess it was instinctive. She was my younger sister and it was my job to protect her, but I couldn’t make Daddy love her.” I felt that same old feeling of helplessness at not being able to fix what needed to be fixed.

“It wasn’t your job to, either.” He pulled me closer.

I gazed into his eyes. They were so kind and sincere.

“You’ve always had a presence—a decency about you.”

“I wish I could have seen you then.”

“How odd that would have been—the little girl that sees things.” He laughed.

“That would have been awkward, I suppose. Who knows how many psychiatrists they might have dragged me to?”

His eyes raked over me and his mouth turned into a contagious smile. His hands kneaded mine. “I am trying to tell you that I have always loved you.” He dropped to one knee on the damp ground. Before I could respond, he’d pulled a tiny blue box out of his pocket.

“Abel,” I started.

“This is for you, if you’ll accept it.” He flipped the top of the box back and I saw a small pinkish diamond surrounded by pearls. “It was my mother’s.”

I stared at it thinking how much it must mean to him. I did love him…

He pulled it out of the box. “Raquel, will you marry me? I know that I don’t have worldly riches, but no one can know a purer love than what I possess for you.”

I looked down at the ring then back into his eyes. I knew his love was true, but, but…

“There is nothing I want more than to marry you, my love.” His eyes pleaded with mine.

The warmth of his hand contrasted with the frigid wind that was whipping around us. A feeling rushed through me, instinctive and raw. Something that had lain dormant in me for so many years. I couldn’t even remember when I’d given up on it. I’d let the dream die because I’d been so big. I didn’t allow myself think about it, but now that my life had changed…

“Please say you will be my wife.” He still held my hand and was poised to slip it onto my finger.

“I’m sorry, Abel.” I pulled away and started to run, not turning around, not able to face him. I stumbled across the rickety bridge then headed for the railroad tracks. I wanted a child. Yes, I wanted to have a baby. I had been way too large to consider getting pregnant, but now I could. Poor Abel, he was a ghost and there was no way he could have children.

As I entered the house, I realized I shouldn’t have run away like that, but what could I have told him? It would hurt him so deeply to say I couldn’t marry him because he was a ghost. Of course, turning and running was probably worse.

That afternoon, I berated myself for the way I’d treated Abel. No matter what the reason, I shouldn’t have left him kneeling on the ground like that. And yet, I still didn’t know what I’d say to him the next time I saw him. That is, if he ever spoke to me again.

The front door opened and Regina walked in. She was well dressed, as usual, but she didn’t have the look of being on the prowl like she usually did when she was between men.

“How are you?” she asked and waited for an answer.

I was so unprepared for her interest in me, I could only grunt out, “Uh, fine.”

“Well.” She twirled around. “You are looking at a high school graduate.”

“What? So fast?” She had listened to what I had told her?

“Yes, I did as you said. I simply took the test.” Her eyes came alive as she grinned. “Passed it with flying colors, they said.”

“Oh, Regina, that’s wonderful!”

“And, there’s more.” She spread her arms out wide. “I enrolled in the community college.”

“You did?” I was so surprised I was almost speechless.

“Yes, I’m thinking about studying fashion design. That is, if I can.”

“Fashion design. That’s, that’s wonderful. Of course you can.” This seemed like it was beyond my wildest dreams for Regina.

She gave me a sweet uncomplicated smile, and I saw that her shoulders were relaxed as she stood before me. It was amazing what a little success could do for a person.

This was the time, I thought to myself. I had to tell her. It would be unfair to wait any longer. I touched her elbow. “Let’s go sit down.”

She was so high on her newfound euphoria she didn’t even notice the serious look on my face. She plopped down on the couch and made herself comfortable without acting like she had to impress me. “You know, I was thinking about opening a dress shop.”

“A dress shop? That really is a wonderful idea.” I’d never known Regina to have a goal or a dream except to snag a man. It was good news, though. Regina would make a great salesperson when it came to clothes and jewelry.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to come up with the money, but that is my goal. I want to call it Regina’s.” She used her hands to talk, and the gleam in her eyes was contagious.

I smiled, then bit my lips, knowing I had to break the positive mood and tell her.

She stopped babbling about her dreams. “You do look like you need to say something.” She fixated on me.

“I learned something recently. Please don’t ask me how I found out.”

Regina leaned forward. “Just tell me.”

I took a deep breath trying to find the right words. I couldn’t. I’d just have to say it. “Mother didn’t die of a ruptured appendix. She committed suicide.”

Regina stared down at the carpet.

“And, Daddy…” I began.

“You don’t have to tell me. He blamed me.”

“He shouldn’t have done that.” I wanted her to know that Daddy was wrong and she didn’t deserve the way he treated her.

“It wasn’t me,” she breathed.

“Wasn’t you?”

“I always thought the reason he didn’t care for me was that there was something wrong with me.”

Of course, I reasoned. Children always assumed the problem was inside them and not with the adult committing the wrong.

“All those years he hated me for something that had nothing to do with me.” Regina’s face distorted in thought.

“Please don’t feel…”

“How did Mama do it?”

“She slit her wrists in the bathtub.” I looked away imagining what a horrible sight it must have been.

“You know, Raquel...”

I looked at her, dreading she’d fall to pieces.

“I feel bad for Mama, even though I never knew her, but somehow I feel better down deep inside.”

I’d been putting off telling her thinking it would upset her, but she seemed to be dealing well with it.

“I feel like a weight’s been lifted off me. You know, I think I can be whatever I want. I don’t have to sit around wondering if what Daddy used to say about me was right.” She punched her fist at the air. “I really can be a fashion designer just like I want to be.”

“Yes. Absolutely. You can do it.”

“Daddy shouldn’t have treated me the way he did.” Her lower lip protruded.

“I know. I always felt guilty, but then I envied how you just went out in the world and met people and did things and went places.”

“I envied you because you had one place you were always welcome.”

My drop dropped open as I realized how horrible that must have felt. No wonder she got married so young. “Well, we can’t undo the past, but you are always welcome in my house, no matter where I am living.”

Regina jumped up from the couch and came over to embrace me. I hugged her the way my little sister should have been hugged when she was a little girl.

A little later that day, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to Owen, who looked like he’d just gotten out of a swimming pool. It had started to rain, and his red hair descended in thick clumps across his forehead.

“Come in,” I said and ushered him into the foyer.

“It’s coming down like a dam let loose out there,” he drawled.

I ran to the bathroom and got some towels.

“Don’t help that my window won’t close all the way.” Owen rubbed the towel over his head.

“You know, at some point, you’ll need to break down and buy a new truck.”

“That’ll be difficult since I just had an argument with my boss last night.” He followed me into the living room and took a seat across from me.

He worked at one of the best restaurants in town. Losing that job would mean he wouldn’t be making so much in tips. “Oh no, about what?”

“He just lets the employees take breaks whenever they want, so I told him he could do a better job as a manager. And, he just blew up at me—for no reason. I was trying to help.”

This was why Owen needed to work for himself. “You’re a good waiter. That’s why you do so well in tips, but you need to learn to keep your opinions to yourself.” It was hard for him when his real goal was to have his own place.

“It isn’t in my nature to keep my mouth shut.” He looked around. “By the way, is your ghost friend around?”

I grimaced.

“Maybe I’m not the only one who didn’t keep their trap shut?” Owen handed me the towel.

I led him into the living room and offered him a seat. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Do you still love him?” He looked at me accusingly.

I closed my eyes.

“And does he love you?”

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, remembering how I must have hurt Abel.

“Then everything else can be worked out.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ve never experienced real love, but I still believe love conquers all.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You think I’m ignorant because I grew up barefoot with no running water, but there are some things I do know.”

“Owen, you know I don’t think that.”

He ran his hands through his damp hair that now looked like a big red bush. He took a deep breath and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well, I have taken your advice.”

“My advice?”

“I met with Lorraine.”

I tried to imagine Owen dancing with Lorraine. A twinge of jealousy made me flinch. I needed to quash that feeling. Continuing to dance with Owen would only hurt him.

“So, how did it go?”

He shook his head, making his curls flop around. “It’s still not like dancing with you, Raquel.”

“You know very well that Lorraine is a better dancer than I am.” I was sure she practiced every single day and probably watched dance videos every night.

“Don’t change the subject.” He waved his index finger at me. “I think you should be my partner. Look how far we’ve gotten.”

“Tell me the truth. How did your session with Lorraine go?”

He took a deep breath and let it out in a huff.

“I bet she had some great ideas for choreography and I even bet she corrected you on a few things.” I still felt a hint of resentment that if he danced with her, they’d probably go straight to the top.

His head swayed around as if separated from his shoulders. “She did have a few thoughts on a few things.”

“A few thoughts on a few things,” I repeated.

“Oh, cut the crap, girl. We do good together,” he whined.

“Señorita,” Maria Elena called from the top of the steps.

I jumped up, afraid something had happened to Grandmother. “Maria Elena, what is it?” I hurried into the foyer.

“It terrible.”

My breath caught in my lungs. “What?”

“Water coming in and so terrible.”

Relieved, I let out the air quickly. Thank God it wasn’t Grandmother. The roof was so bad I knew this would happen sooner or later.

I turned back to Owen. “I’m sorry.”

“I need to go any way. I’ll show up for work today, even if I have no idea whether I still have a job or not.”

I cast him a sympathetic look as I hurried upstairs.

When I arrived in Maria Elena’s room, it looked like the wall behind her bed was painted with shellac, it was so shiny. Then I realized, the reason it was so shiny is that a steady stream of water was leaking from above, covering the wall with a film of water.

Maria Elena was already bringing in towels and sopping up the mess. I helped her for a while, but I knew what I had to do.

The Gretna Foundation was so thrilled by my interest in selling, they volunteered to send out a representative that very afternoon. Inside I felt guilty. This is exactly what Abel hadn’t wanted me to do. I admired his spirit of wanting to help the unfortunate. Truthfully, I knew he was right. There were other properties the Gretna Foundation could purchase for their school, but who else was willing to make a house like this into an orphanage?

On the other hand, it looked like we wouldn’t be able to turn this house into an orphanage, anyway. If I got a large amount of money for this house, I could afford to get Grandmother the kind of help she would need in the years to come. Right now, she only had Maria Elena to tend to her, but I could make her much more comfortable physically by taking her to a place designed for a handicapped person.

The doorbell rang, and a stately looking woman in a camelhair coat stood at the door. I walked her down both wings and took her up in the elevator so she could see the rest of the suites. From the second story, I showed her the pool and the tennis courts. Judging from the way her eyes darted around, and by the way she kept her hands by her sides, afraid to give anything away, I could tell she was very impressed.

When we came back downstairs, I saw him. Abel was standing at the edge of the foyer. His form was hazy like a low-hanging cloud. He looked at me and his complexion was pale. The usual luster that made his eyes look like polished ebony was gone.

I felt a desperate desire to run to him, but I resisted it since the lady was right at my side.

“Ms. Blankenship, could we sit down for a moment?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said as I took her to the dining room.

We took a seat at the old table that hadn’t had completely filled with people since I was a child. The memory almost brought tears to my eyes. This would be a perfect place to serve children no one else was willing to help, children that were like Abel had been.

She laid her briefcase on the table and pulled out some papers. “Ms. Blankenship, we were hoping you would be interested in selling us your home and we have gone to the liberty of drawing up some paperwork in the event you were willing to come to an agreement today.”

I stared at the papers sitting on the old lace tablecloth.

She peeled the top papers back and, using a pen, pointed to a figure at the bottom. “Here is the amount we are offering.”

My heart beat so fast I thought I’d faint. They were offering me ten million dollars for the house and the land.

“I’m sure you’ll agree the price is fair.”

That was true. The State had valued the property at seven million. I swallowed hard. For that amount of money, I could buy whatever kind of condo I wanted. I could even get one completely equipped for a handicapped person. Instead of giving Grandmother a bath by hand, Maria Elena could bathe her easily in a specially equipped tub.

“We already have the check prepared.” She pulled out a cashiers check for ten million dollars.

My hand slowly reached upward. I could get the surgery I wanted. I could buy Regina a little store and I could get Owen started in his own restaurant…

“You just need to sign right here and the check is all yours.”

“So fast,” I said feeling disoriented.

She nodded. “Yes, this is the piece of real estate we want and rest assured, the school will be lovely and you are more than welcome to visit any time.”

“I don’t think…”

Her jaw drew tense. “If you insist, we can name the school after you.”

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t possibly make this decision so fast.” Abel didn’t want me to sell.

Her mouth drew up like a dried up prune. “If there’s anything I can say to change your mind…” She slowly put the check back in her purse.

“I need to think.”

“If the issue is money, we only have a little leeway, but we might be able…”

“No, the issue isn’t money. I just need to think about it, talk it over with…”

Her eyes narrowed. “I must be mistaken. I understood you were the sole owner of the property.”

“I am, but well, there are other interested parties.” I couldn’t just go and sell this place without talking to Abel or Regina or Grandmother.

“I understand.” She crammed the papers back in her briefcase. “We will be in touch with you over the next few days.”

I nodded.

“Don’t worry.” She stood up abruptly. “I know my way out.” I heard her angry heels march across the foyer then heard the front door close.

Could I really just get rid of the only home I’d ever known so easily? Just by signing my name? I was so confused.

I hurried into the foyer, hoping I’d see Abel, but he was nowhere to be found.

Chapter Sixteen

I sat in the living room alone, thinking about Abel. I knew he was hurting, but he was obviously avoiding me. I could hardly blame him after the way I’d acted toward him.

Grandmother appeared in the doorway.

“Good morning. Where’s Maria Elena?” I said.

“I was feeling so well, I decided to come downstairs without her.” She adeptly grabbed the chrome wheels of her wheelchair and came toward me. She cocked her head. “What has gotten that Abel Rollins in such a state? He looks like he’s bitten into something rancid.”

I looked down at the floor.

“You don’t look any better. Whatever it is, you just need to say you’re sorry. Even if you were right, my dear.”

“Grandmother, what would you say if I sold this place?”

“Sold this place?” She looked around the room. “My father-in-law built this place and dreamed of it being in the family forever.”

I felt even worse. “Abel thinks it should be turned into an orphanage.”

“An orphanage,” she repeated. “What a lovely idea. That’s certainly better than the Communists taking this place over. That’s what happened to Father’s palaces, you know.”

How could my grandmother make so much sense one minute and then be so crazy the next?

“This old house does need children, lots of them. I wanted to have more children, but I wasn’t blessed with more, just your father.” She smiled and looked down at her hands as if remembering holding him.

“I want children, too,” I said more to myself than to Grandmother.

“You are lucky, Raquel. You have true love, not like Regina who, in spite of all her beaus, still doesn’t know the meaning of love.”

“I think Regina will be fine, Grandmother.”

Her old eyes looked right at me. “I certainly hope my youngest granddaughter can overcome her father’s mistreatment.”

“I think she’s about to turn over a new leaf.”

“Raquel, my dear, I must tell you something.” She leaned forward in the wheelchair.

If she mentioned something about the Romanov jewels, I thought I’d break down and cry.

“I sense that I won’t be with you very long, and I want you to do something for me.”

“Grandmother, Dr. Blake says you are perfectly fine.” He’d come over just a few days ago and said her heart was strong.

“Doctors don’t know everything. That’s why my mother counted on her Rasputin.”

“Well, Dr. Blake says you’re fine.”

“When I go, Raquel, I would like you to scatter my ashes over the Moscva River.”

“The what river?”

“The Moscva, dear. It runs right by the place I was born.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Please, dear, I insist you agree with my wishes.” She kneaded her hands together as if she didn’t trust me.

“Grandmother, you know very well you are to be buried beside Grandfather in the vault where all of the other Blankenships are buried.”

“No, no, your grandfather understood and respected my wishes.”

I didn’t like lying to her, but I guess I would since she was suffering from dementia. “Sure, Grandmother, I will honor your wishes.” I wonder if she even realized how far Moscow was from Virginia.

She let out a sigh of relief.

“I was never able to govern my subjects due to those crazy people who took over, but at least I can be a part of Russia when I die.”

“Rest assured, Grandmother, I will make sure you are buried in the country you were born in.” There, I wasn’t actually lying to her. She’d be buried right here in Virginia where she was really born.

Luckily Maria Elena appeared in the doorway. “Good morning,” she said. “Come with me,” she said to my grandmother. “Let’s go get some breakfast.”

I watched her wheel Grandmother toward the kitchen.

I closed my eyes and thought of my mounting money problems. I hadn’t signed the papers because I wasn’t sure. I had to be realistic, though. Money wasn’t going to fall out of the sky.

“Hello,” said a deep voice.

I opened my eyes to see Abel. His shape wasn’t very clear, but I saw that he was wearing his World War I uniform again. “It’s so good to see you,” I said guiltily.

Even though his features were hazy, I could see the hurt in his eyes and the way his face looked pinched in frustration.

“I see that you are considering selling the house to that la-dee-dah school.”

I hung my head. “It isn’t what I want, but I don’t see any way out of this predicament.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but Maria Elena appeared again the doorway. “Señorita, your grandmother, I think she’s…”

“She was fine when she was in here,” I said, then remembered what she’d said. “Oh my God.” My heart beat painfully in my stomach. I ran past Abel and into the dining room.

Grandmother was leaned over in her chair looking incredibly peaceful.

“Grandmother,” I said in a low gentle tone.

She didn’t respond.

“Oh no, Señorita, she dead,” Maria Elena sobbed.

“What happened?” I looked at Maria Elena.

“Nothing, I talking to her and her head fall to the side. She no say nothing.”

I sandwiched Grandmother’s hand between mine. “Grandmother, wake up.” Her cheeks were without color and her hand cool.

My senses swam with confusion and grief. I felt the earth attempt to swallow me.

“Don’t falling.” Maria Elena shoved a chair beneath me.

I fell into it. “You need to call…”

“I make the phone calls, you no worrying.” She ran out of the room.

I straightened my grandmother’s hair, remembering how particular she used to be about her clothing and how she used to go to the beauty parlor once a week before she was wheelchair bound. “You knew this morning that today was the day,” I hadn’t paid much attention to what she said.

“It was her time,” Abel’s voice swept into the room.

I looked up to see a haze that quickly materialized on the other side of the dining table.

“Did she go for the light?” I asked calmly.

Abel nodded, his haze swirling around him.

“Was anyone waiting for her?”

“They were all there,” he answered in a consoling tone.

I envied Abel that he’d seen everyone I missed so much.

“Your grandmother loved you.”

“I knew she was old and I knew she was going to die sometime, but I wasn’t ready.” All I could think of was how I was irritated at her this morning. I should have been nicer. I believed I had so much more time with her.

“I don’t think we’re ever ready to say goodbye to someone for the last time.” Abel put his hand on the back of one of the dining room chairs.

I looked down at her hand that I still had clasped in mine. “Grandmother was worried I was throwing away true love.” Sheepishly I raised my eyes to look at Abel’s.

“She was a wise lady.” I thought I saw his cloudiness take on a little more form.

I laid Grandmother’s hand down on her lap the way she used to let them rest. She was always such a lady. I should be more like her. “Abel, the reason I ran away…”

“Yes.” He stepped closer to the table.

“I left you standing there because I suddenly realized, just at that instant, how much I wanted children.”

“Oh.” His head bowed then he raised his eyes. “And you thought that because I’m an apparition, I couldn’t give you children.”

I trembled inside, hoping he could forgive me for my terrible behavior.

Surprisingly, I saw his expression emanate understanding rather than recrimination.

Maria Elena walked in the room, her eyes red from crying. “They’re here, Señorita.”

Behind her, EMTs marched toward us carrying their medical kits toward us. One of them shooed me out of the way. I stood there stubbornly, not wanting to leave her side, then I realized how absurd that was and walked into the kitchen, making sure I could still see what was going on.

Abel seemed to have disappeared, but Maria Elena wept beside me.

“Don’t worry. You can stay in this house as long as I’m here.”

“I miss her already. She was my family.”

I wrapped my arms around her. Her usually caramel skin was pale and she trembled from her sobbed. “You made her last few years a joy. She so appreciated your company, Maria Elena.”

“She made me feel wanted, something I hadn’t since my father threw me out.” With the back of her hand, she wiped her wet cheeks.

“At least they’re alive. I’ve lost everyone in my family except Regina.” That reminded me. I had to call her. How would she take the news? In spite of the fact she and my father never got along, she’d been devastated when he’d passed away.

Chapter Seventeen

“One of the last things she said to me was about you,” I said as we got into the limousine.

Regina’s eyes were filled with tears. “Really?” She looked at me as if I were making it up.

“Yes. She said,” I faltered. “Grandmother said she wondered if you’d ever get over Daddy’s mistreatment of you.”

“She cared!” Her eyes cleared and she looked at me. “Grandmother did care. She actually noticed Daddy didn’t treat me right.” Her voice turned high and thin.

“Of course she noticed. Everyone noticed.” I hung my head. How could my father have blamed a baby for my mother’s suicide?

“And now she’s gone.” She brought her hands up to her cheeks. “It’s just you and me.” She sounded like a child.

I nodded, feeling as forlorn as Regina did. “Everybody’s gone but you and me.” I looked down at the urn that contained Grandmother’s ashes. I stroked its shiny brass sides.

The limo passed the pillars at the entrance to the cemetery and started down the gravel road to the Blankenship mausoleum. Soon we crested the hill and could see the columned granite structure that housed every Blankenship except Regina, Grandmother, and me.

Regina laid her hand on my thigh. “Can you forgive me for wanting to put Grandmother into a home?”

I curled my mouth to let her know that was a silly question. “There was nothing to forgive.”

The driver stopped and I opened the door before he could open it for me. I handed him the key for the mausoleum. We waited until he had opened the door and turned on the light.

I walked past Daddy’s vault. Next to Granddaddy’s spot, Grandmother’s name was written out in very English looking letters: Mary Margaret Minor Blankenship April 21, 1926—. Soon the end date would be engraved there. I set the urn in her spot. I felt a smile crawl across my face as I realized they were finally together.

She had said they were truly in love. That made me wonder. Did Abel still want to marry me? If I were him, I’d certainly have doubts about a woman that just ran away while I was down on one knee. I hadn’t even looked back.

Regina reached up and straightened Grandmother’s urn in the vault so that the little wings on the sides were straight with the line of the wall. “I’m going to miss her.”

I thought about poor Maria Elena. She was so upset, she hadn’t been able to pull herself together to come to the cemetery. “No, Señorita,” she’d said. “I crying too much.”

I’d tried to persuade her to come any way, but she’d insisted.

I put my arm around Regina. “Let’s go.”

The driver dropped Regina off at her house.

As she walked up the walkway, I called, “Come over soon and tell me how your classes are going?”

She waved at me with a smile and kept on going. I could tell by the sureness in her step that things were going to be all right with her.

When I got home, Maria Elena was standing in the foyer looking like she was glad to see me. “I sorry I no go with you.”

“That’s all right. I’ll take you over to the mausoleum any time you want to go.”

She wasn’t crying, but I could by the way she was staring at me she was going to miss Grandmother very much. After all, she’d been Maria Elena’s entire life for the last five years.

“I was bringing in the mail for you.” She pointed to the table and stood there as if I should tell her what to do.

I looked at the stack of envelopes then turned to Maria Elena. “Just make yourself comfortable.”

“I no knowing what I should doing.” She laced her fingers together in front of her.

“It’s going to be lonely around here without Grandmother.” I picked up the letters and began to sift through them. Maria Elena was still looking at me. I felt like a mother with a three-year old who had run out of games to play. “You know, Maria Elena, you could start to put Grandmother’s things in boxes.”

“Her things?” she said as if Grandmother were still alive.

I was thinking of a reply when she began to nod her head. “Yes, I will taking care of her things.”

“If there are any if her possessions you want, Maria Elena, you can have them.” I watched her disappear up the stairs.

I spotted another envelope from the State of Virginia. I’d already gotten the bill. What could this be? I ripped it open. It was a bill from last year. They were saying I hadn’t paid the taxes from last year. That couldn’t be right.

I walked into the television room and sprawled out on the couch. How much more could I take? Tears built up and soon I was gushing.

“Don’t cry,” Abel’s voice whispered in my ear.

I looked to see Abel bent over me. His form was clearer than yesterday, but he was misty around the edges, making him look like he had a halo around him.

I sat up and he took a seat next to me. I let myself fall into his arms, but now he felt more like a soft pillow rather than the muscular well-formed man I was used to. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Hmmm.” He kissed me on my forehead.

“Wait. Why didn’t you come to the cemetery this morning?” I sat back up and looked at him.

His face grew serious. “Your grandmother wanted to have her ashes scattered over the Moscva River.”

“Abel, please. We’ve been down this path. She suffered from dementia. She was not Anastasia Romanov.” I felt so irritated at him that he wouldn’t accept the truth.

“You don’t really know that.”

“I do know that.” I jumped up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. There was only one thing to do.

A few hours later, the lady from Gretna was sitting across from me at the dining room table.

I choked back tears, thinking I was sitting just where Grandmother had died just three days ago.

The lady sat quietly across from me, waiting for me to say something. I knew I was doing the right thing, but I wasn’t happy about it. “I’ve had a chance to consider your offer and I’ve decided it’s a fair one.”

I waited for her reply, hoping they hadn’t found another property as nice as this one. If she didn’t buy it, I feared the house could be sold for back taxes.

“I’m very glad to hear that.” She leaned over to get something and then popped back up. “Where is it?”

“What?” I just wanted her to get those papers out, and I wanted to sign them, and I wanted to get this over with, now that I didn’t have to feel guilty about uprooting Grandmother.

“My briefcase,” she said a little too loudly. “I can’t find it. I put it right here when we sat down, but…” She lifted up the tablecloth and looked around the legs of the tables and chairs.

She’d walked in with it. Where could she have put it? I knelt on the floor to help look under the table. “Maybe you set it in the kitchen on the way in.” That didn’t sound right, though. I’d have noticed if she did that.

It smelled like an Abel Rollins prank. I came into the kitchen slapping my feet loudly on the floor so he’d hear me. “Where is it?” I whispered agitatedly.

I saw something move outside. I looked out the window and saw Abel standing there. He was very hazy, but I could see the self-satisfied look on his smug face. Even as mad as I was he still looked cute, like a bratty little child you have a hard time staying mad at.

Footsteps sounded across the kitchen floor. I looked back to see the lady from the Gretna Foundation walking toward me. “This is so embarrassing. Please, I do apologize. I must have neglected to bring it.”

“That’s all right.” I wondered where Abel had put the briefcase.

“Please, I will be out here first thing tomorrow morning and we’ll get these papers signed and we can work out the details after that.” She had her coat draped over her arm and she was still looking all over the floor for the briefcase she knew she’d brought with her.

“Tomorrow will be fine.” By then I’d have Abel Rollins straightened out.

I saw the lady to the door, all the while reassuring her that tomorrow would be fine. I could imagine how she’d felt, thinking she’d lost that ten million dollar cashier’s check. Knowing Abel though, she’d find it very soon, that is, after she was far from here.

I turned around after I’d closed the door and saw Abel running up the steps.

“You come back here.” I set off in a run, but I felt a pull from the sore skin around my belly button. The antibiotics cleared up the infections, but I was getting more and more uncomfortable. I needed that operation. I had to ascend the stairs at a slower pace, but I was going to catch him.

I followed him down Grandmother’s wing. He was making me so mad. He was running, then turning around, just to anger me. He was such a child.

“Come,” he called as he disappeared through the closed door to Grandmother’s room.

I opened the door and saw Maria Elena standing in front of the bed. “Señorita, you need to see.” She held out her hand and moved to the side.

On the bed lay necklaces and rings, loose red and green gems, and unmistakable Fabergé eggs.

I bent over the bed to examine them more closely. Inside one of the eggs was a photograph of the Russian royal family. I felt like I’d faint. I sat down on the bed. “Maria Elena, where did you find these?”

“There a trunk in her closet. All these years, I thinking it empty.” She held up a necklace for me to see.

I looked at it closely. “It’s just like the one you have on.” It was identical to the one I’d taken to the jeweler.

“It the same, but much more beautiful.” She pointed to the one in my hand while she fingered the one around her neck.

Now I understood. The one I’d taken to the jeweler was an imitation of the authentic one. “She wasn’t crazy,” I said to myself. “Poor Grandmother couldn’t get any of us to listen to her.”

Abel materialized in front of me.

I was speechless as I saw him there in my father’s smoking jacket again.

“Please forgive me,” he said.

I held my hands out and I felt his manly hands engulf mine. “It’s you who has to forgive me.” I swallowed hard. “That is, if you can find it in your heart to do so.”

Maria Elena took a step back. “Hay no, the ghost. I leaving.” She ran toward the door and closed it behind her.

“My heart beats for you.” He smiled so widely, dimples I’d never seen before appeared in both of his cheeks.

“My life has changed so much in the last year, having the operation, losing weight, and, and, best of all, falling in love with you.”

His edges undulated, the halo effect disappeared. He was whole again.

“You don’t have to explain.” He sat down next to me on the bed. “I don’t just love you when you’re in a good mood or when things are going well. I love the whole Raquel.”

I remembered how he looked at me when I’d weighed four hundred pounds, when my hips were wider than many door jams.

His hand slipped from my hand to his pocket. “I will ask you again and I will continue to ask you to wear my ring.” He pulled the box out again and flipped it open. “Although I’m afraid it pales in comparison to your grandmother’s jewels.”

We both turned and looked at the jewels spread out on the bed behind us.

“No, don’t think that.” I gazed fondly at the tiny ring with its dainty pearls around the diamond. I held my left hand out, extending my ring finger. “This is the ring I want to wear.”

He glided it over my nail, then over my knuckle. It fit perfectly.

His mouth neared mine and I tasted his lips. My arms encircled him and I pulled myself closer to him.

There was a knock on the door. “Señorita.” Maria Elena called. “I so sorry.” The door opened and Maria Elena stood there staring at us with her mouth open.

“What?” I demanded.

“He no ghost no more.” She smiled and bobbed her head up and down. “And, your grandmother very right. He very guapo, Señorita.”

I got up from the bed and pointed to Abel. “Are you telling me you can see him?”

“Yes, and he muy caliente.” She giggled uncontrollably.

“What does this mean?” I asked Abel.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I have been a ghost for almost a hundred years. I assumed I’d always be one.”

Maria Elena was still giggling and looking at Abel.

“Maria Elena, why did you come in here?”

She stopped laughing and stood up straight. “Oh, that lady coming back. She say she find her thing.”

“The lady from the Gretna Foundation?”

“Si, that her. She downstairs.”

“Okay, Maria Elena, you stay right here with Grandmother’s things.” I turned to Abel. “Would you please come downstairs with me?”

“I would follow my fiancé anywhere.”

I tingle ran up my spine as I realized I was actually engaged. I used my thumb to feel the ring to make sure it was still there.

Abel and I walked downstairs arm in arm.

The lady was standing in the foyer holding her briefcase as if would run away from her.

“Good afternoon,” I called as we descended the stairs.

“You’ve got company now.”

It was true. People could see him, not just me.

“I’m sorry,” she continued. “But I found the papers and it would just take a few moments to get your signature.” She smiled hopefully.

“I am very sorry,” I started. “But there have been some recent developments. It appears I’m going to be able to keep my home.” I tried not to smile, but I was so happy.

Her chin crinkled. “That is indeed unfortunate news for the foundation.” She looked down at the floor as if trying to think of an argument.

“You see, I’m engaged.” I held my ring up for her to see.

“Congratulations,” she said dryly. She looked at Abel then back at me. “If you should change your mind in the near future, you know how to reach me.” She did a crisp about-face and opened the door. Her heels clomped across the driveway as she headed toward her car.

I closed the door and turned to Abel. “If it hadn’t been for you, I would have signed those papers and I would have lost my house.”

“Even if you had lost the house, you wouldn’t have lost me.” He held my hands together between us. “I want to be by your side for you for the rest of your life.”

Chapter Eighteen

All I could think about as the anesthesia swept into me from the IV was how good I’d look in my wedding dress after this surgery. I tried to put out of my mind the pain I’d be in the next few weeks. The best part was that being obese would be behind me. My eyelids grew heavy…

“Raquel,” Abel said. “It’s over.”

The surgeon had cut me up like a harried seamstress cutting on a bolt of fabric. The stitches stung, but even lying down, the extra skin wasn’t weighting me down. How lucky I was to be marrying a true gentleman who’d never mention the scars I’d be left with! My eyes opened and I gazed into the face of a man who’d literally waited decades for me.

Gripping my free hand a little too tightly, he kissed the ends of my fingers. He’d never completely get used to seeing me in a hospital.

“I’m fine,” I said with a dry mouth.

He tried to act cool, but I saw relief run over him like a warm shower. “You’ll be up and around in no time,” he reassured me, though he was really reassuring himself.

“How is the house coming?” Workmen started to arrive last week, but today they were going to start making the east wing into a dormitory for the children the State was desperate to send our way.

“The architect is overseeing everything so you don’t have to worry.” He bent over and let his forehead touch mine for an instant, then kissed my brow.

“I have to worry. I want everything to be working perfectly when the kids get there and I want to make sure everything’s done for the wedding.”

“I promise you it will be.”

I trusted in him. Hawks could take lessons from his ability to oversee things. He was going to make sure that orphanage was everything it could be.

The nurse came in and hung a yellowish looking bag from my IV pole. “Sir.”

Abel jumped, clearly not used to people being able to see him.

“You’ll have to leave the room.” Another nurse came in behind her. “We need to check her dressings.”

“I need to run along to keep an eye on the workmen, anyway.” He blew me a kiss as the other nurse blocked him from view. “See you soon.” I heard him say.

A few hours later, the nurses had checked my incisions and were satisfied that there was no bleeding. I had a little plunger I could operate that gave me the pain meds I needed. I tried not to concentrate on my discomfort. Rather, I tried to imagine the gown Regina had picked out for me. She’d opened up her shop and the first month she’d broken even. The second month, she’d even made a little profit.

There was a faint knock from outside. “How is my svelte ex-dance partner?”

“Owen.” I perked up. It was always good to see him.

He sashayed in, twirling around in place. “We did it.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off.

“That’s right. We won that danged thing.” He spread his arms out making his silk shirt glow under the hospital lights.

“I’m so happy for you.” The thought of getting up and dancing made my sutures pull even more.

“Sorry I was such pissant about the whole thing.” He hung his head like a five-year-old.

“I’ll forgive you if you and Loraine will dance at my wedding.”

“I am going to cater your wed’n and dance like a bunch of skin heads are after me.”

“I don’t want you working during the wedding.” I slanted my eyes at him. “You’re a guest.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve hired some really good guys. In fact, as soon as the orphanage opens up, we’ll be ready to start breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” His eyes sparkled when he talked about the orphanage.

“We’re just waiting for them to finish the construction.” The sale of the jewels was allowing me to realize all of my dreams.

“And, Raquel, you know I can’t thank you enough for…” He looked down at the floor.

“Owen, I have invested in you. I know you are going to be very successful.”

He twisted his torso and leaned against the end of the hospital bed. “Well, so far so good. The restaurant is bringing in the customers and I’m catering a few more weddings this winter.”

“You see? I know a good business opportunity when I see it.”

He crossed his arms like he was posing for a magazine cover. “And you. How are things with you? Other than being all bandaged up in the hospital.”

“I couldn’t be happier.”

“With your ghost.”

“You haven’t met him yet, but you will at the wedding. And, I assure he’s no ghost.” We were waiting for our wedding to consummate our relationship, but I was very aware from our embraces that all parts were alive and working.

“And does he have any of those little thingies in his spud?”

I breathed in, angered by Owen’s obnoxious question, but my stitches pulled against my skin. I shook my head at him. The two men in my life were so childish at times. “Yes, he’s been to a doctor and his sperm count is just fine.”

He looked down at his watch. “I need to run. Got to check on the troops back at the restaurant.” He winked at me. “Thanks to you, girl.”

I smiled at him knowing how grateful he was.

“And then I’m going to be meeting Loraine. We’re dancing in the tournament in New York.” He held his arms out and spun around. “Imagine me... in the Big Apple.”

A couple of weeks later, I was out of the hospital and was able to get around fairly well, although going up or down stairs was torture. I was glad Father had put the elevator in the house when Granddaddy was sick. That also meant we could house handicapped orphans.

Abel was busy making sure the men were constructing the children’s living quarters correctly, and I wanted to make sure everything was ready for the wedding. Regina had already been a great help in planning it and had almost single-handedly picked out all of the flowers. In addition, she’d made things very easy for me by not really saying much about Abel, other than she thought he was very handsome and perfect for me.

I gingerly maneuvered myself into the driver’s seat and drove toward Regina’s store. It was in a lovely little shopping area where all of the buildings were painted in pastel colors and antique shops stood beside clothing stores, shoe shops, and bakeries.

I parked and walked slowly down the sidewalk. Regina had hung a little shingle over the door with Regina’s written on it in a swirling cursive. In the window stood a mannequin with exaggerated bell-bottoms and a short tweed jacket. I opened the door and bells tinkled over my head.

Someone was modeling a floor-length evening gown in front of a three-way mirror in the back.

“It needs a tuck in the back and a little hem, but the color is perfect,” Regina said to the woman.

She turned her head. “Raquel, finally, you’re here.” She turned back to the customer. “Excuse me.” She headed toward me and wrapped her arms around me barely touching me. “I don’t want to touch you for fear of hurting you.”

I nodded. “The shop is beautiful.” It was hard not to notice how much more bounce there was in her step. Her cheeks were rosy, as if there were more blood pumping through her veins.

“Thanks. Listen, let me finish up with this customer.” She pointed to a row of white dresses in plastic wrap along the back wall. “Those are the wedding dresses.”

I headed back there and began to go through the gowns. They were all so beautiful and with my new figure, I could wear any one of them. I closed my eyes for a minute, remembering how far I’d come in the last year.

I heard Regina’s footsteps behind me. “I already have one in mind for you.” She grabbed a sparkly champagne dress off the rack. “This color will do wonders for your complexion and your hair.” She pulled the plastic cover off it.

The dress was very plain, with an a-line form and a row of large pearls around the plunging neckline.

I gasped. “For me.”

“Of course for you.” She shook it out so that I could see the long skirt with tiny pleats at the bottom. “You need to show off that slender form of yours.”

I just stared at the dress. I’d always bought things that hid my form rather than showed it off.

“You are going to love it. Just go in there and try it on.”

“I don’t think I can.” I pointed to where my stitches had been. “I don’t want to rip anything.”

“Right.” She walked toward the front door. She turned the lock and hung the “closed” sign. “I’ll help you get it on.”

A few minutes later, Regina pulled the dress over my head and zipped it up in the back. I closed my eyes, afraid it wouldn’t fit.

“Open them, silly, it looks great!”

Slowly I took a peak. It fit. Not only did it fit, but the dress clung loosely to my hips and showed off my narrow waist. I opened my lids all the way and saw how the dress accentuated my bust line. The pearls looked like a big necklace on top of my cleavage.

“I don’t think I need to try on any more.” I looked in the mirror and didn’t recall ever seeing my own smile that wide.

Regina disappeared into the back of the store as I stood in front of the three-way mirror, checking how I looked from every angle.

“I’ve got the perfect veil.” She held a delicate piece of lace in her hand as she came up behind me. “This just came in from Paris,” she said as she placed the tiara-like ring of pearls on my head and arranged the lace around the back of my head.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, tears springing to my eyes. “If only mother…” I caught Regina’s gaze in the mirror.

She wrapped her arms around me. “If only mother were here with us.” I saw her eyes grow glassy, then she wiped them off and stood back. “I have some news though.”

I turned slightly, liking the way the satin felt against my skin, but not liking how stiff I was because I hadn’t healed all the way yet.

“Carter is coming to the wedding with me.”

“Carter?” The last I’d heard, they were still arguing about the divorce.

“He’s been helping me out quite a bit with the dress shop—you know, with the accounting aspects and things like that.”

“That’s wonderful.” I didn’t really have anything against Carter. In fact, I’d liked him in spite of the fact that he’d hurt my sister’s feelings when they split up. “So, you’re..?”

“Well, we certainly are talking a lot—a lot more than we used to talk when we were married.”

I turned my back to her so she could unzip me. “I’d be glad to have Carter at our wedding.” I shot her a smile so she’d know I was truly happy her marriage was going to work out after all.

Chapter Nineteen

Workmen carried two-by-fours toward the wing they were revamping for the kids. A layer of sawdust covered the marble floor in the foyer, and the sound of electric saws permeated all the way through to the kitchen almost a football field away.

Maria Elena wandered around helping out by translating. I knew she was looking forward to helping out in the orphanage, but what her role would be was still undecided.

She walked through the foyer toward the kitchen. Her head was hanging down so low she didn’t even see me.

“Maria Elena, a penny for your thoughts,” I said in the sweetest voice I could find with all of the debris flying around.

“I no seeing you, Señorita.”

“You need to start calling me Raquel.”

Her eyelids fluttered covering her big dark eyes. “Yes, Raquel. You right.” She leaned against the staircase.

“You look so sad. Aren’t you excited about the children coming?”

The ends of her cranberry lips curled up. “Yes, I excited about the children and your wedding.” Her mouth trembled.

“You don’t look excited.” I cocked my head to the side to let her know I wasn’t falling for it.

She splayed her fingers out in front of her then locked both hands together. “I will feel better when the kids here, but now I missing your grandmother.”

I stepped closer to her. “You should call your family back in Ecuador.” Maria Elena had run from something for way too long.

“No. When I needing them most, they betray me.” Her dark lips turned hard.

“Listen.” I touched her arm. “Come sit with me for a minute.” I led her into the living room where it was a little quieter.

She sat down on the couch beside me. “This room remind me of your grandmother too much.”

I nodded slowly, trying to think of what to say to her. “Losing her made me very sad too, but you need to get on with your life.”

She squirmed then shook her head. “You are very lucky you met your ghost.”

I couldn’t help beaming when I thought of him.

“You so in love, Señorita Raquel.”

“Just Raquel. I don’t want the employees of the orphanage to hear you calling me that.”

“Yeah,” she said and looked down at her hands.

“I still think you should call your family. They are probably very worried about you after all these years.”

“No, I write my cousin and she tell them where I am. They no want me.” A tear slid down her cheek that she hastily wiped away. “It no bother me though.”

“Doesn’t bother you?” How could it not bother her?

“Well, I having your grandmother and she make me feel so good. Now the children coming and I having family again.”

“That’s not enough.” She had been a true friend to my grandmother and now I needed to be a friend to her. “You’ve been in this country a long time away from friends and family. You need more than your work.” Before I’d met Abel, I hadn’t had much else.

She looked out the doorway to where the men were working. Some of them talked loud enough to hear them, but they spoke in Spanish so I had no idea what they were saying.

“Sometimes I think of the father of my baby.” She glanced at me then looked down.

“Yes, what was his name?”

“Pedro.” Her hand moved to her breast then fell to her lap.

“You should get in touch with him.” I nudged her.

“No, what if he happy with another woman?”

I thought for a second. “I know. Ask your cousin. She’ll know if he’s married.”

“No, no. He no know my family.”

“But she can ask around. It’s a small town down there, isn’t it?”

“Si, a small town, but he from a different class. He from very poor family. Things down there, they no like here.”

“And what if he’s still in love with you?”

Her shoulders jumped as if she’d been bitten by something. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t get in touch with him.” I raised my eyebrows at her.

“And what if a woman answering and then I feel smaller than a worm.” Her eyes slid across and met mine. “Then I feeling worse.” She looked back down at her hands that ran up and down her thighs. “I leave alone the sleeping horses.”

“I think that you need to get the answer to this question, Maria Elena, even if what you find out hurts.” I stood. It was time to go get Regina.

I picked Regina up, and we headed over to the mausoleum.

As I watched her walk to the car, it was like watching a completely different person. Her step was lively, as if she were enjoying life and not trying to impress everyone else with her stride.

She sat next to me. “You wouldn’t believe how busy I am these days.” She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

“The shop is doing well, then.” My chest swelled with pride. I loved hearing how well her life was going.

“I have a few women that are having me do their entire wardrobe this year.” Her cheeks were round and glowing as she talked. “And, I even had a request to open up a shop on Southside.”

“Are you?” Regina must really be good at this.

She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I want to do. I want to dedicate myself to doing well in this one shop.”

I was glad to hear she wasn’t going to spread herself too thin since she and Carter were in the middle of reconciling. Working too hard wouldn’t be good for their budding relationship.

We were both silent as we passed the pillars that marked the entrance to the cemetery. Finally we were in front of the mausoleum.

“I don’t understand all this.” Regina followed me to the doorway.

I turned around with the key in my hand. “The last thing Grandmother said to me was that she wanted her ashes sprinkled over the Moscva River.”

“Did you know about the jewels?” Regina looked right at me as the winter wind whipped around us.

“Every now and then she’d say she had some jewelry, but I didn’t believe her.” I unlocked the two-story door and tugged it until it opened.

“But does this mean that she was Anastasia Romanov?”

I let my eyes adjust to the dim interior. “I don’t know.” I walked over to where Grandmother’s ashes were sitting in the opening beside Grandfather’s. Regina stood beside me and looked at the brass urn.

“If she were Anastasia, then we are kin to the Romanovs.” Regina shook her head in amazement.

“Not just the Romanovs, but Queen Elizabeth and Prince Charles and other crowned heads of Europe.”

“Royalty,” she whispered.

“When I decided to sell the jewels, I insisted it be done anonymously.”

“Why? Why would we want it to be a secret?”

“Grandmother said Grandfather was insistent that no one learn who she was.”

“Why? What could happen here?”

“Remember, all those years no one knew. I don’t even think Father knew.” If he’d known something like that, he would have mentioned it.

“Even he didn’t know?”

“No. So that means that our grandparents didn’t want anyone to know. Grandmother only started talking about it when she was old and senile.”

Wrinkles appeared across Regina’s brow. “In other words, they were very scared.”

“And we don’t know how Grandmother got the jewels.”

Regina began to giggle and soon, she was bent over in convulsions.

“Have you forgotten where we are?” I looked around at Daddy and Mommy’s graves as Regina continued to laugh.

“It’s just that I got this mental image of Grandmother being an international jewel thief.”

I felt a chuckle start in my stomach.

“Remember that movie with Catherine Zeta-Jones in the catsuit?”

Looking up at what was left of Grandmother, my insides throbbed at the thought of her sneaking into castles and banks, stealing jewels.

Then I remembered the sadder possibility. “Regina,” I said, not getting her attention. I laid my hand on her shoulder. “If Grandmother was Anastasia, she saw her entire family killed right in front of her eyes.”

Regina stood up straight and stared at the urn.

“And it would mean we were related to the Czars.” I remembered how I had refused to do a biography on Nicholas II because of his ineptitude. At that time, I had no idea there was a possibility he could be my great-grandfather. A shudder ran down my spine. My grandparents had wanted to bury this past.

I turned to Regina. “I think that we should respect their wishes. There was a reason we were never told.”

“Yes, if they wanted the world to know, they wouldn’t have kept it a secret for so many years.”

“We just have to quench our curiosity.” I reached up and grabbed Grandmother’s urn with both hands and lowered it gently. I turned to Grandfather’s crypt. “You’re not here to ask so we are going to do what we think you would have wanted.”

Regina and I walked back out to the car.

I nestled Grandmother’s ashes in between us.

“Who did you sell the jewels to?” Regina asked me as we pulled away.

“Luckily, there were museums willing to pay a high price for the items.”

“I think that’s good. People will be able to see the things rather than having them locked up somewhere.” She absent-mindedly stroked the brass handles.

“They were beautiful things,” I said out loud as I remembered the Fabergé eggs and the dark gold earrings and necklaces that were in the collection.

“And soon you’ll be on your honeymoon.” She looked at me as I drove. “Are you all healed up?”

I nodded. “Yes, I’m ready to go.” I felt myself give an uncontrollable grin.

“And you’re still going to Moscow?”

“Yes, and I’m going to do what Grandmother asked me to do. I’m going to stand on the bridge and dump her ashes into the river.”

As I parked the car, I thought how satisfied I was that Regina was going to be happy. It had gotten even colder and I pulled my coat up around my neck as I dashed to the front door. I grinned at how easy it was to run these days.

The door burst open and Maria Elena darted out barefooted, wearing a short-sleeve shirt and a pair of baggy pants. “I doing it,” she hollered so everyone in Richmond could hear.

“What?” I couldn’t imagine what could be going on in the house for her to come charging out of the house like that.

“What you say. I do it.” She did a little Salsa twirl on the stone drive.

“It’s gotta be thirty degrees out here. You’re going to catch your death.” I held my arm out hoping she’d realize I was trying to get her to go back in the house. I was shivering, and I had a coat on.

Her arms were flailing and most of what was coming out of her mouth was gibberish. “I do what you saying and he still loves me.”

“Pedro? You called him?”

She started to nod but soon her entire body was jumping up and down in the rhythm.

“He still loves you?”

“He saying he still think about me.” Her hands came together in front of her mouth as if praying and she began to spin around.

“Come on.” If she stayed out here barefooted like that she would get sick. I opened the door and dragged her inside. “Tell me. What did he say?” I took my coat off and put it on the coat rack.

“He say he still think about me and our little baby.” Her head dropped and her body drooped.

“You can have another baby, Maria Elena.”

Her face popped up and she smiled radiantly. “That what he say.” Her hands balled up into fists and she beat them up and down. “He coming!”

I looked at her. “Coming?”

“He taking a plane.” She closed her eyes. “I send him the money and he coming here.”

“You already sent him money?”

“What? You think I don’t having my own money? I do. I saving my money,” she said indignantly as if I’d just cut her to the quick.

“I’m so happy for you.” I held my hands out to give her a hug, but she’d turned and was half way up the stairs before she turned around.

“I needing to get ready, and you know, making myself beautiful.”

I watched her skip up the stairs as if she were a child at play.

A light tapping sound behind me told me Abel was approaching. A mild shiver ran up my spine as I thought how soon he’d be my husband.

“You look like you’ve heard some good news.” He gave me a quick, but wet peck on the lips.

From the second floor, we could hear Maria Elena singing.

“She is very chipper.”

“She certainly is. Her boyfriend’s coming from South America.”

“Boyfriend?”

I nodded. “They’ve been pining away for each other all these years.”

Abel looked downward as if studying the floor.

“Did that make you think of something?” I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“It certainly does make me think of something.” He smiled and touched his nose to mine. “When you find that special someone, the one you were meant to be with forever, you have no option but to be patient and let that love come to fruition.”

“I can’t wait for our honeymoon,” I mouthed between his light sweet kisses.

The End

http://leighbarbour.com

Author Bio

Leigh earned a Masters in English Linguistics at George Mason University (under the Title VII Bilingual grant) and a Bachelors in Geography from Radford University.

Being fluent in Spanish, she won the prestigious Fulbright Fellows Award as an English Teaching Fellow. In 1994 she spent one year instructing teachers in Arequipa, Peru.

Now Leigh and her husband live in Durham, North Carolina.

Red Rose Publishing

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