Hiding from a haunting past
Elenore parked her car and gathered her basket and hat. The
breeze coming off the ocean was cool, with just enough lift for a few colorful
kites. The sun sparkled on the gentle surf making her smile as she took a deep
breath and set off with determination to take her time and enjoy this fall day.
It had been a month since she had moved to this small coastal town. Was this a
place she could stay, or was it time to pack up again?
She strolled through the farmer’s market with her basket
dangling from her arm. For such a small community, there was quite a variety of
fruits and veggies. A few booths sported homemade baking products, and a few
others were selling the things needed to “put things up” for future
consumption. The local artisans displayed an array of goods in multiple
mediums.
With cautious optimism, she decided to look for some piece
of art that might cheer up her small cabin and maybe provide inspiration. A
vase in the stall of a potter caught her eye. The vase was a beautiful
hand-thrown piece with an hourglass shape, open enough at the neck for a nice-sized
bouquet. Encircling the wide base was a collection of stylized cages with birds
flying free or preening in the open cage doors. The whimsical style made her
feel light. She smiled as she picked up the piece to check the price. Not bad
for a hand-crafted work of art.
She was startled by a voice behind her. “The vase seems to
make you happy. May I wrap it for you so you can get it home safely?”
Elenore turned to see an elderly, slightly bent woman
smiling up at her. “Yes, I do love the vase. It makes me feel…optimistic.”
The old woman nodded. “Then you must also have the companion
wall hanging. Calligraphy on ivory parchment. I mix my own ink and press the
parchment myself. Here, would you like to read it?”
Elenore set the vase back on the shelf and reached for the
rolled-up paper. Unfurling it she read the words of “Caged Bird” by someone
named Maya Angelou. “A free bird leaps on the back of the wind…” Finishing the
poem, she realized she was nearly breathless, the last line making her heart
race. “…for the caged bird sings of freedom.” The words echoed in her mind.
Free. What did free look like feel like? Was it a prize she would ever claim?
The shopkeeper spoke in that low voice that only your best
friend uses when they are there to support you but maybe not provide a million
solutions, none of which seem possible. “So, do you like it? You may have it to
go with the vase. Both, for the price of the vase.”
Elenore looked up from the vase and caught the old woman's
gaze. Unable to speak, she simply nodded.
Several minutes later, she was back in the bustling crowds,
feeling disoriented and exposed. Her heart still raced in her chest, and her
vision blurred with the sudden glare. To calm her nerves, she visited the
veggie stalls to collect interesting candidates for the coming week’s meals.
She spent considerable time choosing selections at the spice and herb stall.
When her heart and hands had steadied, she began to wander through the fair,
not sure of what she was looking for. Her back straightened as she searched the
stalls nearby. Flowers would be nice, a bouquet for the new vase.
Her curiosity led her to a new vendor. At least she couldn’t
remember seeing this one before. But then, she couldn’t recall the old woman
from previous trips, either. Elenore looked back at the way she had come and
shook her head when she couldn’t locate the stall. Well, it was crowded, and
maybe the old woman only worked half a day. She turned and continued toward the
flower merchant.
The aroma of several fresh blooms reached her before she
reached the booth. Stepping out of the glare of the early afternoon sun, she
adjusted her floppy hat to better see the offerings in the shady booth. There
was a cool breeze blowing, and her well-developed radar began to ping. There
was something unsettling about the small and crowded space. Oh, for goodness
sake, I’m just unnerved by that old woman looking at me with her knowing smile.
I’ll be fine. I just want to find some flowers for the vase.
Browsing through the offerings with intent, she jumped when
a male voice behind her asked if he could help.
“I—I’m not sure. I just purchased a vase in another booth,
and I’d like to find something to build an arrangement. Are these flowers
freshly picked? I’d like something native to the area that might last a few
days.”
The man smiled as his eyes grew more intense. “I live some
distance away, but I pick my stock early in the morning and keep it cool during
the drive. You might feel the fan I set up to keep the flowers cool under the
shade. These are all plants that are native to our area. Are you looking to
create a specific mood or stay with a particular color pallet?”
He seemed sincere, but his look didn’t put her at ease. At
least she knew why there was a chilly breeze. He was still watching her.
Continue reading the story in the anthology:
https://books2read.com/u/mq5qNO
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