The Amber Stone (3 page)

After the rescue, Teresa’s whole body still ached. But she didn’t complain because she knew her sporty sister would just remind her that she was out of shape. She’d briefly been able to see Louisa at the hospital and speak to her aunt. “Aunt Margaret said it was just an accident,” Teresa said. “But I know it wasn’t.”

“Didn't she get the memo?” Michelle said.

“Memo?”

“Yes, black girls don't commit suicide.”

Teresa frowned. “You have a sick sense of humor.”

Michelle sipped her drink without apology. “I know.”

“I wonder why she did it,” Jessie said.

Teresa could speculate. She could understand the deep well of loneliness that could grip someone. It had gripped her after Bess’s death and nearly choked her after the death of her parents.

They’d had kids later in life, so they were an older couple. But their illness had seemed so simple. She'd cared for the family before whenever someone fell ill, so nothing warned her that that night would be different. That it would be the last time she'd speak to them. She still saw her parents in her dreams, but they never faced her, as if they blamed her too.

She’d punished herself after her parents’ and Bess’s deaths by never indulging in speaking about her pain. Instead she smiled. She smiled through everything. “You’re the heart of the family,” her father liked to tell her. “No one wants to see you sad.” So no one ever did. She pretended that the rumors about Bess didn’t hurt, laughed away criticism about her natural remedies and indulged her sisters’ teasing about making strange potions, even when they tore at her heart.

“There was a strange man who was there,” Teresa said, almost wondering if she should. “He knew her.”

“That’s no surprise.” Jessie said with a smirk. “Louisa knows a lot of men.”

“And strange men aren’t hard to find,” Michelle added, shaking her head. “Especially if you’ve ever been downtown. I actually had a homeless man try to pick me up today.”

“Old George on Fifth, right?” Jessie guessed. “The man is hopeless. I once saw him propose to a nun walking past. She told him she was already married.”

Michelle laughed, adjusting the napkin on her lap. “That’s one husband I wouldn’t want to handle.”

Teresa frowned, not finding the situation funny at all. She felt sorry for poor, harmless George, who preferred the streets to the homeless shelter. Unfortunately, she didn’t always understand her sisters’ sense of humor. Though they were like night and day, they seemed to have more in common as time passed. Michelle, the eldest, was the queen of cool and today she looked it, dressed in an ice blue suit, tiny gold hoop earrings and sporting an emerald ring, which she wore on her right hand. Her dark brown hair was cut in a chin length bob that swung casually anytime she moved. She ran the Clifton Center for Business and Enterprise in the exclusive Winfield Building.

Jessie worked with their cousin, BJ, at Fedor Malenkov Jewelers. Unlike Michelle, Jessie had a temper that could melt a glacier. Fortunately her recent marriage had curbed some of it, but it flared up when specifically provoked. She looked casual but sporty wearing a pair of grey wool trousers and an off-white jacket.

Teresa on the other hand preferred loose skirts, bracelets and scarves to suits and sneakers. At times she wished she could be cool like Michelle with her steady calm gaze or fiery and striking like Jessie. She didn’t have their signature angular features. Instead her face was soft and round like the rest of her. She loved her sisters, but felt more and more out of touch with them.

“You shouldn’t laugh at George,” she said.

“Why not? It’s funny,” Michelle replied, unapologetic.

“So tell us about this crazy guy you picked up,” Jessie said.

Teresa pushed food around on her plate annoyed. “I didn’t pick up a crazy guy. That’s not what I meant when I said ‘strange.’ I meant I saw him swimming in the bay.”

Jessie shivered at the thought. “In this weather? He must be crazy.”

Teresa shook her head. “That’s just it, he wasn’t.” She paused, tugging on her bracelets. “He helped me rescue Louisa. One moment he was there and then the next moment he was gone.”

Michelle stirred her cream of broccoli soup. “You’re not creating another fantasy, are you?”

Jessie laughed. “Check her cranberry juice. They might have slipped something in there just for fun.”

“I don’t create fantasies,” Teresa said in a quiet voice, knowing she couldn’t tell them about how his touch had immediately calmed her. “He was real.”

“Okay, we believe you,” Jessie said, elbowing Michelle before she could disagree. “What did he look like?”

Michelle groaned loudly; Jessie and Teresa ignored her.

Teresa thought for a moment, bringing his image to mind. “He had a beard, curly black hair and a cream-brown body like an athlete. I couldn’t see his eyes clearly, but I could feel them. He’s very intense.” She paused. “I think he’s going to be my husband.”

Jessie stopped with her sandwich halfway to her mouth; Michelle’s spoonful of soup dripped back into the bowl like a leaky faucet.

Michelle was the first one to recover. She put her spoon down and leaned forward. “Could you please repeat that?”

“I think he’s going to be my husband,” she said.

Jessie put her sandwich down. “Have you lost your mind?”

Michelle touched Jessie’s sleeve, warning her not to overreact. “What gives you the idea that this...stranger,”—she stressed the word—“Is destined to be your husband?”

“He was wearing a necklace with a charm that I know from somewhere and it means something.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of necklaces.”

Teresa shook her head. “This man was wearing an important necklace with amber stones. Healing stones. I think I saw it in one of my dreams.” She couldn’t yet understand why it was important, but she knew it was. She rarely ignored her hunches. “And there was an awareness that happened the moment I saw it that I’ve never felt before.”

“It’s called hormones,” Michelle said in a flat voice. “You were supposed to go through this phase at thirteen.”

“It’s not hormones or an infatuation,” Teresa said. “This man is part of my destiny.”

Michelle pointed a spoon at her. “I don’t want you to go to the bay by yourself anymore. There are a lot of weirdos out there and you’re too fanciful.”

“Dad used to take us there all the time. When I’m there I feel peaceful. Besides, I carry mace,” she said patting her handbag.

“This is silly,” Jessie grumbled. “The whole thing about dreams, men and destiny.”

“I knew you and Kenneth would be together.”

“Coincidence,” she scoffed.

Michelle nodded. “Personally, I blame all those JS Braden books you’ve been burying yourself in. Men coming out of the water like seaweed.” She sniffed, shaking her head. “Now you’re suddenly engaging yourself to a man you don’t know because he was wearing a necklace like someone you’ve seen in your dream. That sounds downright nuts. Like an acid trip.”

“What do you know about acid?” Jessie asked, grinning.

“I’m just using an example to state my point.”

Teresa pushed the plate away. “It wasn’t just a dream.” She knew it was useless to try to explain it to them. How could anyone understand how true her dreams were to her and her nightmares? How she feared evening coming when her sleep would be interrupted by nightmares so real, she would wake up sweating and trembling, unable to understand why they scared her so much. She changed the subject. “What’s wrong with JS Braden books anyway?”

“They’re children’s fantasies and, if you remember, that’s when your dreams started. Why can’t you ground yourself in the mysteries of science or something else, instead of in the realm of elves, fairy princesses and the world under the Tanton Tomb?”

Teresa blinked. “How do you know about that?” she asked, amazed that a non-Braden reader would know about the Tanton Tomb.

Michelle sighed, resigned, glancing out the window. “All right, I admit it. I read one.”

Teresa leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, eager to hear her sister’s assessment. “And?”

Michelle shrugged and turned back to her. “It was a good story. So good in fact that later that evening I stood outside my window ready to fly. Convinced that the stars would come down to catch me.”

“That’s not fair,” Jessie said, watching Teresa’s face fall. “You shouldn’t tease her. You read romances.”

“I’m different. I know they’re only fantasies and can come back to reality when necessary.”

“I can too,” Teresa replied.

Michelle took a sip of her drink, grinning smugly. “Remember when you prayed for a tornado to strike our house so that we could be blown to the Emerald City or,” Michelle added when Teresa began to protest. “When you stared into Grandma’s mirror hoping to escape through it like Alice? Soon you’ll be looking at the clouds and seeing men’s faces.”

“I was just a kid, give me some credit,” Teresa argued. “You make me sound like a lunatic.”

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want you developing any strange ideas about this chap, okay? There are a lot of men who wear jewelry.”

“We just don’t want to see you fall in love with a dream,” Jessie said.

“He’s not a dream,” Teresa said, fighting to keep her voice pleasant.

“But he’s a man and that can be just as bad,” Michelle said.

“What?”

“You put your hopes and dreams on them and you’ll find yourself drowning in disillusionment. I’m not saying men aren’t wonderful accessories, but they’re only human after all and not Prince Charming.”

“You both got your Prince Charming.” Teresa looked at her younger sister who had gotten married over a year ago. “Jessie got Kenneth, a man who’s successful, attractive and loves her to bits and you have James.”

Michelle tucked hair behind her ear. “Unfortunately, I seemed to have misplaced him somewhere between here and Salisbury, England,” she said, speaking of her estranged husband.

“I don’t know how you can work in the same building his family owns,” Jessie said.

“Well, they are still married,” Teresa said.

“It’s good for business,” Michelle countered. “That’s all.”

“You’ll get back together,” Teresa said with a smile. “It’s destiny. You’re both being stubborn right now. If you just tell me what went wrong I could help.”

“What went wrong was us, but that’s not what I mean by false hopes. People rarely hit the jackpot and women like us can only have certain expectations.”

Both sisters stared at her.

“What do you mean, women like us?” Teresa asked.

“There’s no use trying to pretend we’re like other women. Jessie got lucky that Kenneth looked past her nasty temper—”

“Hey!” Jessie said in protest.

“And unusual gift,” Michelle continued. “To the woman inside.”

Teresa shook her head. “It wasn’t luck, it was destiny.”

“Then I guess we don’t have the same destiny for happy-ever-after.”

“What happened with James? Could he not accept that you—”

“What I am saying,” Michelle interrupted, twisting the emerald ring on her finger, “is that you have to be extra careful when it comes to men. Especially now.”

Because of the money Bess left me? Do you think no man will want me for me?
Teresa wanted to say, but she didn’t want to argue with her so she smiled instead. “Don’t worry. I will.”

They changed the topic and Teresa turned to the window and watched people hurrying back and forth on the busy downtown sidewalks, unaware of her looking at them from behind the glass.

She knew her sisters were trying to protect her, but she also knew she’d felt the touch of the man who’d hold her heart forever.

An hour later, Teresa sat in the dark, hushed interior of Fedor Malenkov Jewelers among a selection of gems, Victorian-aged pins, and an Edwardian diamond pendant, with her cousin BJ, a large man wearing a heavy canvas apron, who rarely smiled. He had beautifully made ebony features that none of the Clifton sisters had inherited. The tools of his trade sat to the side while he looked over the sketch Teresa had given him. It was of the charm she’d seen around the stranger’s neck. She knew Jessie was meeting with members of the Historical Society for an upcoming event, and wouldn’t be around.

“It means something doesn’t it?” she asked.

“Did you ask Jessie?” he said with a note of caution.

“I’m asking you.”

“It could have many meanings, but the main one seems to be a connection to Mother Earth. That’s what the tree symbolizes and why the branches are created that way,” he said, tracing his finger over the lines. “As if the tree and branches were one and the same. And they’re connected by the small amber stones. Healing stones.” He handed the sketch back to her. “Why do you ask?”

She hesitated. Her sisters had already teased her about the stranger, she didn’t want BJ doing the same.

“Do you want me to make something similar?” he asked, when she didn’t reply.

“No,” she said quickly not wanting him to go through the trouble. “I was just curious.”

Satisfied with what BJ had told her, Teresa went shopping at The Crabapple, the local international market, to get items for dinner. It was the only international store around for miles and bordered both Randall County and the South Bank, so it was usually crowded with people hoping to get the best bargains, though most patrons knew they were getting ripped off because there were no other stores in the area to compare the prices to. (There was the specialty store in Bedford that catered to the rich, upping prices and promising exotic food, but no one was silly enough to go there).