Chapter 4

Love is a flower, love is a tear,

– Lilyroach Elizabeth

Oh Jack…

I made my escape.

I wondered into the street, dazed, wandering how Jack could do something like running up a large bill when he knew very well that I, who loved him as no man ever loved another woman, was depending on him to help me in my quest to pursue my father. Dreams lost; relationships gone afoul; opportunities ruined; friendships cooled; rivalries heated; despair instigated; hope confulgrated.

“Oh, Jack”, I shouted under my breath. “Oh, Jack, the very lace that tied my shoes – how could you? I gave you my heart!”

My heart wept, tears streaming down my face.

Days later, as the last of the salty tear drops was dripping down my freckled check. I met Mrs. Willowbend. She looked up from her brisk trot down the pebbly, pot-holed lane.

“Oh, my dear. The girl’s crying. What’s wrong?” she said, sympathetically.

Her voice was so beautiful even in old age, but in a different way. Her age only made her seem all the better in my eyes. I could see that she had had a much harder life then me.

“Oh, Mrs. Willowbend”, I intoned, “I cannot find my father, and now the one man I love has ran off with my cousin’s sister! I just need love and understanding.”

“There, there, my dear,” she said, patting me comfortingly, “I’m sure your father will turn up sooner or later.” She sighed. “I too have had my share of tribulation. I know how you feel.”

“Nobody knows how I feel!” I wailed. I placed my heavy head in my lap and felt like it would never come up again. Mrs. Willowbend came beside me and patted me on the back. Comfortingly.

“Listen,” said Mrs. Willowbend, after I had had a cry, and she had promised me some freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies which were to die for, “I need your help with the orphanage. We’ve some terribly naughty children that need disciplining.”

Mrs. Willowbend used to have a husband, but he’s dead. No one knows how.

“Oh, I love little children. Can I help?”

“Yes, of course you may, dear.”

Just then, I felt the world go out from under me, and everything went black. I saw Mrs. Willowbend chuckling evilly, and saying, “I’m so sorry, my dear, about your mother and father. Only… we needed some more orphans.” And then everything went dark. She laughed.

The next thing I remembered was the sound of water.

Chapter 5

My life on the boat was not very happy.

They kept her locked up with the rats down in the cellar. I cried very often and made friends with the rats. Her cell was about 4 by 6 feet, with old cinders from a pine tree. She had a little hole big enough to fit you’re pinky through that she could see out of, but it was mostly dark down in the depths of the ship, so she couldn’t see through it anyway. I was given a crust of bread and some water every few months.

The memories flooded over me. I was overwhelmed. I remembered the times when Jack and I would walk in the lush, emerald-green hills with the ochery-buff gold saffron leaves of autumn at the dawn of a bright, new day. And also the times, months later, when we would wander the auburn hills, our feet swooshing in the leaves. We would feel a complete sense of inner peace, an utter joy, and happiness, and peace, and love, and camaraderie.

keep trying, Cantaloupe

fight for happiness and love!

fight for it!

keep trying!

believe in yourself

That day, the Captain came down, and said, “Cantaloupe. I strongly advise you to marry me. I think you’ll find me a fine, charming, handsome, man,” he said, twirling his handlebar mustache.

“Oh, thou, fool,” she said. “My heart is already taken, reserved for a shoulder far finer, more charming, more handsome, more manly -”

“How dare you!” cried he. “You’re going back on the plank tomorrow morning.”

I was not sad. I was glad to be rid of this body, for this world was not for me.

Chapter 6

Meanwhile, I sat in my cell in the bottom of the boat. Tears streamed down my face. I dreamt of my mother, wiping the tears away from my face wit
h her warm palms. When would I be happy again? When would the world be back to normal?

Days past.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I lost all hope of rescue. I had no friends and everything was horrid.

As I sat in the cell, I thought I heard a noise. I looked out into the hall, and saw a dark, handsome, figure approaching me. The cell door opened and Antonio walked into my life. He was a sailor of average farm-stock. And he had lovely burgundy eyes.

“W-w-who are you?” I whispered, terrified.

“Never fear,” he said in a sincere, soft voice.

“I’ve come to break you out of this cell. I’ve come to help you find your father.”Antonio said, “But to get out of the cell, you must connect your soul with Nature.”

“How?” I asked, wailing.

“Try to feel what your father is feeling. Thinking. Right this minute. All around you,” he said, giving a flip of his beautiful black hair.

“But…how? H-h-how?”

“Just the spontaneous thoughts that burst forth from your soul, and the light of peace shining on your spirit. Just be yourself. One with nature.”

“I think…I think…I can see him now.”

“Good. What’s he thinking?”

“Joy!”

“Good. Yes.”

“Peace!”

“Good!”

“Happiness! Global communion from the same cup of love and joy and peace and happiness and love!”

“Good! Good!”

“Oh, Antonio,” I said, “I know! I know how to share the same thoughts with my father! This is wonderful.his is the best day of my life!”

This would be the last time I would be happy.

I felt that at last I had a soul mate. Antonio was my only friend in a grief-striken world. He was my deepest spiritual friend. Oh, Antonio, if only things could have worked out. Our love was so complete, so passionate, so full! Oh, Antonio, these were among the happiest moments of my life.

A step came from outside the cell. Antonio’s stark features looked alarmed, and he blew me a kiss and said, “Dearest thing, I’ll be with you tomorrow. Don’t worry about the plank. I have it all figured out.”

Antonio had dark eyes.

To be continued…