Chapter Three: Vacation with Valerius

"Look at this angel who has come to visit me!"

Christine smiled as she wrapped her arms around the frail older woman. "Auntie V, you shouldn't have come all the way here to pick me up, I could have caught a cab."

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed, nearly dragging Christine to the wide glass doors and outside of the airport. "Look, I have the car right here."

Aunt V, Elizabeth Valerius, was Christine's father's sister, fifteen years his senior. At the age of 78 she looked like a woman who had been wild and strong in her day, her appearance a mixture of ancient glamour, frazzled nerves, and forgetfulness. She was small and wiry, with hair perpetually in curlers and large, once-beautiful rings on her fingers. Christine lowered her eyes against the bright sun and caught a glimpse of Aunt V's feet, clad in large fuzzy slippers, and the bottom of a pink dressing gown peeking out from under her coat.

The car was an ancient red Cadillac that looked like it could fit twenty people in the back; it was rusting, dented, and parked with the front half on the sidewalk, a yellow ticket tucked into the windshield wipers. Christine felt a stab of unease as she stowed her bags in the trunk.

"Auntie V, are you sure…" she began to ask. The older woman had already climbed into the car, ignoring the ticket.

"Get in, dear, get in." She motioned wildly as Christine reluctantly entered the passenger seat. "All buckled up? Well then, let's go!"

She turned the key in the ignition; the car coughed, lurched, and slammed forward, driving for a moment on the sidewalk and scattering pedestrians. Valerius spun the wheel and banked hard to the left, then hit the gas so fiercely Christine was thrown back against her seat.

Christine clutched the sides of her seat until her knuckles turned white as they screeched out of the parking lot and onto the highway. She glanced over nervously: Valerius had rolled the window down, her elbow in the open air as she leisurely smoked and drove one-handed.

"So tell me, dear," Valerius shouted over the rush of air. "How is life going for you now? Doing well in school?"

Christine tried to ignore the car swerving from side to side. "Yeah, I'm okay, how are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine, just fine." Valerius waved her cigarette in the air as if to prove a point. "Fit as a fiddle, darling!"

"But I heard…"

"Those doctors don't know what they're talking about!" She flicked her cigarette out the window but kept her hand and arm in the whipping wind. "I've never felt better in my life! I'm telling you, the quality of training in this country keeps on going down; you can't believe anything they say anymore!"

They screeched off the highway and for a few minutes there was silence as Christine held on to her seat and Valerius calmly lit another cigarette. Scenery flew by them, so different from the cold of Pennsylvania: this land was all green and wet and mild, though Christine still hugged a thin coat around her as if to ward off an impending chill. It wasn't until they were pulling into the driveway of the little house in the quiet seaside town that Valerius turned to her niece and asked, dragging on her cigarette, "Now tell me, how is your father doing?"

Christine stiffened and hugged her jacket closer. "He…Auntie V, he passed away three years ago. Don't you remember?"

Valerius gave her a blank look before smiling too brightly for the somber conversation. "Of course, I'm sorry, how silly of me to have forgotten. Now if you'll just come into the house…"

Christine slid out of the car, still shaken by the sudden mention of her father. Was V really that bad? A thread of worry began to knot itself in her stomach. Oh God, not V too, not her only family, her only link.

Well, there was one more link here, but she didn't think she'd get to see him. He was probably long gone by then, off doing something great in the world. He had probably forgotten all about her…

"Coming, dear?" Valerius was waiting expectantly by the door, and Christine blushed as she gathered her bags.

"Yeah." She paused. "Auntie V, do you still have a license?"

Valerius waved her cigarette-holding hand in the air as she opened the door with the other. "Oh, they took that silly old thing away years ago, as if that would stop me from driving. After all, I'm a perfectly good driver, aren't I?"

Christine decided to stay silent as she entered the dark interior of the house.

It was small and, though Valerius had no pets, smelled strongly of cats and mold. Heavy, dusty curtains were draped over the windows, and the chairs and sofa were covered with yellowing plastic. It was a house from Christine's childhood, a nostalgic house, but now it merely looked sad and old.

Valerius padded into the kitchen. "Why don't I get us something to drink and we'll talk. Make yourself comfortable."

Christine perched awkwardly on the plastic-covered sofa and stared at a vase of dusty plastic flowers. She remembered coming here when she was a child, when the windows were always thrown open and hung with screens to keep the summer bugs out, when V had a small yappy dog that ran around her heels, and when a small blond boy held her hand and watched as she made wreaths of flowers. She could see her father sitting in the rocking chair across from her, holding his violin and taking requests from the motley audience of sister, daughter, boy, and dog. In this house she could see more clearly than ever his rough and knotted hands, seemingly incapable of making music, grip the bow and sleek wood with gentleness. She could hear the echoes of his sad melodies, for even when he was lively there was a touch of sorrow as he forever mourned her mother and played only for her.

And here, now, she could hear the almost-forgotten sounds of yesterday: her father's voice raised in weary anger as he battled with his sister and Christine hid at the top of the stairs, six years old and scared and lonely after her mother's death.

"Just take her for a few weeks, just a few weeks."

"And what are you going to do, Charles? Hide away and ignore the family you still have left?"

"I'll come back for her. I just need to get my feet on the ground, find a job."

"You have a job…"

"I can't make music anymore, Betty. I won't. Not like I did."

"You're acting like you have nothing left to live for. I know you loved her Charles but you have your daughter! Live for the family you still have."

"I'll be back, Bett. You know I will."

And he had come back several weeks later and taken her to Maine, but the knowledge of his almost-abandonment lingered in her memory like a bad dream. She firmly pushed it out of her thoughts.

'Stop dwelling on the past,' she told herself. 'Or you'll lose your mind.'

"Milk in your tea, sweetie?"

Christine jerked her head up, startled. "Oh…no thank you. Just lemon."

"I'm afraid I don't have any good ones; they're all rather fuzzy at the moment. Sugar?"

"Sure."

Valerius set the mugs on the table and tipped a huge amount of sugar into Christine's. "Enough?"

Christine made a face as she lifted the cup. "Yeah, that's fine Auntie V. Thanks."

Valerius settled herself on the couch. "Now, you must tell me about your life. How's school? And your love life! Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I, ah…well, school is good. I don't know if you remember but I'm a business and a theater major."

"Business? What's a girl with a pretty face like yours doing going into business?"

"Because, I…well anyway," she said, ignoring the question. "I don't have a boyfriend right now. I haven't had one for about two years."

"Darling, they must be crazy for not snapping you up. I would think boys would be beating down your door!"

Christine felt her face grow red. What was she supposed to say? 'No, actually, no guy will have me, I think they all think I'm kind of a freak and as for this 'pretty face' you're talking about, if no one so much as flirts with you for two years you start to realize that the only people who think you're pretty are batty or just being polite.'

She took a deep breath and cut off the angry rant in her head. "So how are you doing, Auntie V? Really?"

"I'm fine, dear, don't you worry. Having you here makes me feel like a young person again. Why, I remember you when you were just a little girl, how solemn you were! I think I only ever saw you truly happy when you were with your father or that little boy from down the street, now what was his name…"

"Raoul," Christine said softly. Valerius beamed.

"Of course, the little French boy. He was so sweet, always so polite."

"Do you have any idea what happened to him?"

"None at all," Valerius said breezily. "Only that he's not here anymore. Went up someplace north, I think, but that's the extent of my knowledge."

"Ah." Christine fell silent.

"Is everything okay, sweetie? You seem to have something on your mind."

Christine hesitated, unsure. When she was younger, V was one of the few people she could go to with her stories, her dreams, and never be mocked. Only V, her father, and Raoul had ever been trusted with her secrets; now only V was left but teetering on the edge of some vast hole. Christine glanced at her Aunt's eyes, but the vagueness had disappeared and they were as sharp and lively as she remembered them. She decided to try.

"Well, there is one thing," she murmured. "Lately, sometimes, at night when I sleep, I hear…"

"Yes?" V prompted.

"Music," Christine finished timidly. "Beautiful music. It's like something out of dad's stories, and I like to hope…that maybe it's him, watching over me. Like, I must be doing something right in my life if such beauty can come to me, as if it's a…sign, or something. I don't know." She gave a little laugh to make the conversation seem less serious and more sane, but V was listening intently to her every word.

"Well, of course it's your father," V said without hesitation, and Christine's head snapped up. "He always said he'd send the angel of music to you, didn't he?"

"Auntie V, those were just stories."

"All stories spring from truth," V continued staunchly. "It is a sign, darling, a sign that you are meant for great things. Your father knew you were."

'Great things…' Christine thought wistfully. 'If only I could truly be meant for great things. But I don't have mama's talent, or dad's heart, I'm just me. Alone.' She blinked back tears. 'How I wish it could be true, angels and guardians, all of those childhood dreams. How I wish for great things!'

"Dear?" V was looking at her and smiling. Christine smiled back.

"Sorry V, just thinking."

"A wise pastime," V said sagely and somewhat vaguely.

"Why don't I make us both a sandwich? And then we'll decorate the house for Christmas. Sound good?" Christine forced the worry into the back of her head and kept her voice cheerful.

V nodded. "That sounds wonderful. I think I went to the store yesterday."

Christine walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, then drew back sharply. The cold shelves stood vacant; in the door were several cleaned and completely empty jam jars, and shoved in the back, creating the horrible smell, were several molding pieces of what she assumed had once been food. Swallowing nervously, Christine moved to the cabinets: they were empty except for one lone box of cereal and a carton of macaroni and cheese, both of which had dust gathering. She felt sick. What had V been eating lately?

Tears welled in her eyes. Christine clutched the counter and willed herself not to cry. She scrunched her face up and was screaming inside of her head not to cry, to push it all away, when the doorbell rang.

She gasped slightly as the high sound jarred her thoughts. Dimly she heard the door open, and voices.

"Why hello, dear, and what can I do for you?"

"Mrs. Valerius, don't tell me that you've forgotten me? I haven't been gone that long, have I?" A man's voice laughed, warm and smooth, and Christine felt her breath catch. Carefully she made her way out the kitchen, and there, standing in the living room and looking windswept and bright, was Raoul.