Eytea

As a child, when I first glimpsed the steeply pitched roof winking with pointed-arched windows, the love affair blossomed. At this moment, standing under the one-story porch facing the front door adorned with decorative crown and arches, my palms itched in anticipation. I was returning to Eytea, my family manor house, waiting in patience for my return. 

Bradshaw opened the door on silent hinges, still as a statue, a familiar, albeit older, member of the Eytea staff. 

"Welcome to your home, Madam. My condolences at the loss of your father and mother."

"Thank you, Bradshaw. She looks wonderfully ageless."

"Your luggage will be unpacked and brought to your Nana's suite."

Her rooms held a mixture of whimsical childhood memories accented with my vivid image of her demise. Dread weighed like iron in my gut. 

Bradshaw, in the usual fashion, having closed the door, spirited away, leaving me alone in the foyer save for the legions of portraits gazing down at me. 

The air stifled my breathing, making my feet leaden, while my mind screamed for sunshine. 

Nana's garden 

My heels clicked on the stone tiles, across the foyer, left down a panelled hallway to a stained glass doorway opening to the fresh air and nature. Ahead the ornate wrought iron gate lay open, rust netted amongst the filigree. 

Nana would NEVER have allowed this!

A tapestry of cerulean, fern, juniper framed the flowers in shades of onyx, obsidian and oil. The black sunflowers acted as sentinels, their heads tracing the route of the sun. A tear tickled my eyes upon seeing the fieldstone walkway bursting with Black star Calla Lilies -- her favourite. Ahead the black peony poppies bobbed in the breezes, and at ground level, the Black Rose succulents glimmered and glistened. 

Around a bend, I rediscovered the Witch garden bench where the fragrance of purple basil filled the air. I sank onto the cold metal, relaxing against the back, my eyes closed. 

"Eirisse."

My body tensed, awaking at once imagining that I had heard Nana calling my name. 

"Eirisse."

I shook as I stood, my eyes straining to see, my ears searching for the source of this voice. Goosebumps covered my bare arms now that the day's warmth disappears with the setting sun. 

I retraced my steps through the gate, which I struggled and failed to close, before entering the back door to the solarium. 

As if reading my mind, Bradshaw entered carrying a tea tray laden with cucumber sandwiches, small pastries and a generous floral teapot and matching cup and saucer. 

"Will I serve, Madam?"

"No, Bradshaw, thank you."

"Very well. Dinner will be served at 8."

"Mmm." I nod and Bradshaw withdrew, leaving me with my thoughts. Picking up the silver tea strainer, I poured the steaming amber liquid into the cup, recognizing the aroma of Nana's beloved Darjeeling Oolong's with its floral and sweet notes. 

"Eirisse."

Sweat swept over my skin, making me feel both hot and cold in waves. In a panic, I rushed from the solarium, down a dark hall, up the carpeted stairs, along the walkway overlooking the foyer, into Nana's, now my rooms.

I stared into the first room, noting the leaded glass, the plum damask draperies, the mauve canopied queen bed. At a glance, I felt Nana's presence in these design features; from the arrangement of the ornate heavy oak furniture, the pewter dressing table items, to the bouquet of blossoms with their cloying scents. 

Entering the ensuite bathroom I felt thrust into the present century. I welcomed the crisp white floor and wall tiles, the multi-head walk-in shower, the modern clawed soaker tub, the pewter coloured accents. Nana did not exist in this space. 

As water poured from the faucet into the tub, I tossed a concoction of bath salts into the water which foamed and frothed. Stepping out of my clothes, I slid my shoulder beneath the bubbles, my head upon a tub pillow. 

When I opened my eyes, two pillar candles had been lit, and a goblet of Processo tempted. 

My head hammered in my chest. Questions swirled in my mind. Who had lit the tapers? Who had poured the wine? Why had her favourites been selected? 

Cinching the Terry-cloth robe around my waist, I walked to the armoire, pulling open the double doors, surveying my unpacked clothing. In truth, my wardrobe did not include the needed formal wear for this dinner, not to mention future dining. 

My eyes focus on a black, beaded dress hanging from a deep purple padded hanger. My fingers traced the intricate beading, and when I pulled the fabric closer, Nana's scent enveloped me in that signature combination of neroli, ylang-ylang, vanilla and sandalwood. 

The gown fit to perfection, accentuating my curves, reinforcing my resemblance to Nana, the original Eirisse. I felt as if Nana hugged me in her protective embrace.

Drinking the Prosecco, plus all of the dinner wines, shaped my return up the stairs then down the hall, into my bedroom. My memory blurred into a miasma. Slipping the gown from my shoulders, I watched it sink to the Aubusson carpet before turning to make my tipsy tip-toe to the bathroom to prepare for bed. 

My reflection showed pale lips, crimson cheeks, bleary eyes. By the bedside, I removed my bra and panties, pulling back the duvet to discover a delicate gossamer nightly awaiting my body. When my head sank into the down pillows, I surrendered to sleep.

A cold hand cupped my bare shoulder. I sat up in bed, surrounded by deep darkness. Holding my breath, my ears strained to hear, my eyes sought to see. 

"Who's there?"

I clutched the duvet to my chest, pulling up my knees, leaning back on the pillows. 

"I know someone is here. Show yourself."

Just as I was about to slide down and return to my slumbers, my eyes tracked a figure who seemed to float across the room, exiting through the double closed doors. 

In a flash, I took chase, rushing to the hallway, lit at night with many wall sconces. Nothing to see. No one to hear. 

"Eirisse."

The voice rose from the foyer. I leaned over the bannister, peering into the dim light, when two insistent hands, palm open, grasped me by my shoulders, pushing me over. 

In fear, I arched my back, stabilized my footing, and jabbed my bony elbows into my assailant's ribs. I smiled upon hearing their grunt knowing this was a person, not a spirit.