Chapter 23

Samantha opened her eyes and looked out the windows toward the horizon. A sense of strangeness engulfed her as she studied the view. She usually woke up to a rooster crowing and sunlight pouring directly into her room. Here the sunlight poured through the windows in brilliant rippling streams of gold, filtered by the trees surrounding the house. They swayed gently in the breeze that flowed out to sea and the mist shimmered in the sun, white with shades of gray as it twisted and curled in on itself. The brilliant blue field of sky was strewn with great white clouds sailing along like ships on the breeze.

She rolled onto her back and snuggled into the crisp, lilac-scented sheets. Today, she decided, she was going to take advantage of her lack of chores. She tried to recall a time when she had been able to simply lie in a bed without having to think about the work waiting on the other side of her door. It had been a very long time.

"But not today," she whispered as she stretched, closing her eyes and arching her back. Several things popped and she smiled. Obviously, after their long trip something had been out of place.

She had not paid much attention to the room the night before but now, after a good night's sleep, she studied her round accommodations. From her position on the bed she contemplated the domed ceiling. It was painted like the morning sky. Along the edges, where it slopped toward the walls, someone had allowed their fancy to run rampant. Vines and flowers circled and even trailed into the sky while birds and butterflies darted here and there. She realized it was very relaxing to lie here and study this imaginary garden where the sky was always blue and the clouds carried no rain.

There was a knock at the door and when she called for them to enter, the woman who'd brought dinner in the night before came in with another cart containing a tray of covered dishes.

"Morning, Miss. Miz Isabel thought you might like to have your breakfast quietly this morning. There is a small balcony here, overlooking the garden where you can sit if you'd like to enjoy the morning." She threw back long damask curtains that covered the windows at the side of the house. "Or I can put it on the table inside."

Samantha turned and saw that a set of double doors opened onto a covered balcony. A small table and two chairs sat near the railing. She got up and slipped into her robe and moved to stand in the doorway and looked out, over the railing.

A beautiful closed garden spread out below in a circular pattern. A paved, serpentine path ran throughout, all leading to a three-tiered fountain in the center amid flowering bushes, roses, plants in beds and trees. Benches were set in shaded nooks throughout. The entire garden was surrounded by a brick wall draped in ivy. In one corner she saw blue morning glory running up the wall. In the opposite corner stood a gazebo surrounded with roses and a small ornamental pond nearby. Samantha wondered if there would be goldfish in it.

She was tempted to tell the woman she'd have her breakfast in the gazebo. However, the clink of china told Samantha breakfast was already served. But gazing on such a beautiful sight was almost as good as walking in it. She could do that later.

A loud knock sounded and almost immediately, John called out. "Hello? Sam?"

"Out here, John."

He came onto the balcony and stopped as Sam had done. "Wow!"

"Have a seat, brother. Have you had breakfast?"

"The nice lady woke me to say it would be served in your room. I had no idea it would be a theatrical event," he said and pulled out the chair opposite her. "And the food looks good."

They sat down and helped their plates to eggs, bacon, sausage and hot biscuits with plum jam and a bowl of sliced peaches. John poured coffee into their cups and for the next half hour they ate in silence, enjoying the symphony of birds singing in the garden to the sound of the sparkling fountain.

Finally after most of the food had disappeared, John leaned back with a sigh, stretched his long legs out toward railing and said, "I must say, I'm impressed."

Samantha sent him a puzzled frown, stuffing the last of her jam laden biscuit into her mouth. "How so? You've been here before."

He shook his head and poured a fresh cup of coffee. "No, this house wasn't here then. They lived in a smaller house further along the road. This was just a big wood with lots more trees. I think they were working on it but you couldn't see from the road. Most of the area we passed through since we left the forest was heavily forested then. In fact, they've done a tremendous amount of clearing." He paused, pursing his lips. "I wonder why?"

She looked to her right where the tower curved away, toward the road. It was a long way. And her experience with the forest on the way here was that you could be lost within a dozen steps. But how could such beauty have been crafted in such a short time? It appeared to have been here forever.

"How did you know this was their house last night?"

He shrugged. "Letters to Dad. She told him all about it. She quite loves this tower thing. I believe she did all the decorative painting herself." He looked over his shoulder at the inside ceiling. "Though, if it is all that extensive, I'm surprised she finished it in such a short time!"

"She paints?" She sat up and looked at John and then turned and looked back into the room.

"And plays piano."

Samantha slumped into her iron chair, suddenly uncomfortable. She neither played nor painted. She wasn't sure what her talents were but it would seem her aunt excelled at a lot of things.

“Don't worry, Sam, it would seem that all of us missed the talent line."

She glared at him. "Right. You own a kennel where you raise and train the finest tracking and hunting dogs on the island. Uncle Hugh runs a textile business producing fabric with his own designs. I suppose that is akin to the painting talent. Simon is a writer whose poetry in praised in every province. Christopher. . . well. . . Christopher is so handsome he doesn't need a talent."

John laughed and set his cup down. "And you, my annoying little sister, write novels in secret, run a farm, are a gifted seamstress, the demand for whose skills far exceeds your ability to keep up. You also embroider and crochet what I am told are works of art. And I'm also told by someone that you have the most perfect nose."

She had no answer for that other than a ferocious look and flaming face. She didn't have to ask who had offered that observation but the fact that he'd told her brother annoyed her.

"Further more, you are able to see things that most of us can't imagine. I'd say that was a pretty important gift."

"One I didn't ask for!"

"Neither did I."

They both jumped and turned. Isabel stood in the doorway. Her hair was pulled back in a bun and she wore a white blouse with a dark blue skirt that fell just below her knees. Below that was a pair of black riding boots.

"I'm sorry but I did knock. I don't think you could hear me."

She leaned over and took Samantha's empty cup. She poured the remaining coffee into it and sipped it.

Samantha flushed again, this time with shame. "I'm sorry, Aunt Isabel! I wasn't being disrespectful."

"Of course you weren't. You were being frank with your brother. I understand how you feel, Samantha. But you need to get over it. You were given this ability. You can't change it and your lack of acceptance is only causing you unnecessary pain. Now, get dressed and meet me and John downstairs in half an hour. We're going for a ride. I want to show you something."

She turned and walked back into the house, closing the bedroom door behind her. John and Samantha stared at the door and then looked at each other.

"Well," he said. "I think we have been truly put in our place." He tossed the napkin on the table and headed for the door. "I'll see you downstairs, Sis."

Samantha stared after them for several minutes. Finally, with a long sigh and a longing look at the garden below, she went inside to dress. Apparently, the vacation was over before it began. But then, it hadn't been a real vacation at all.