Chapter 2.2 - The Flower Posy

I don’t know about other people, but Claire wasn’t the kind of person who could just shrug off the sight of an inexistent hat. It weighed on her, this mirror enigma, so much more because of the proscription that accompanied it; what could possibly be so unusual about an object that her grandmother simply refused to talk about it?

The constant churning of her mind didn’t let her sleep, that and the giant moon which shone through her window, full and round and barely touching the tops of the oak trees. It bathed the whole room in silver light, strong enough to reveal the shapes, but not the colors of things. 

Old memories of sitting on the porch to watch its glitter on the surface of the little pond in their back yard called out to her and she longed to relive those happy moments. Back then her world extended only to the edge of the property and she knew it very well - every rock, every blade of grass, every tree - and felt protected by it, just as she felt protected by her grandparents. The property felt much smaller now, but then it was vast and wondrous, her little enchanted realm filled with birds and flowers where her imagination roamed free. 

She walked down the stairs as quietly as she could, remembering to skip the fifth step, the one with the creak, so that she would not wake up her grandparents, and sneaked out on the porch to enjoy the beauty of the night and take in big gulps of its cool fragrance. Its darkness was humid and vibrated with the songs of the tree frogs. The waterlilies stretched their necks like periscopes with movements almost fast enough to notice, eager to take in as much of the silver radiance as they could before the moon hid behind the treetops again. 

Claire watched the scene with quiet attention, as if she’d seen it for the first time, until the shadows became longer and the chill in the air put a shiver through her body. She got up to get back inside and noticed with displeasure that the door which led back to the parlor was locked. She knew her grandfather hated leaving the doors unlocked at night and figured he probably didn’t see her sitting in the swing. He must have finished his business in town early and decided to come back home, rather than stay until morning.

“Great!” she thought. “Now I have to either wake everybody up or sleep here”. She wished she thought to bring a blanket, twenty twenty hindsight, but unfortunately she hadn’t, so she decided not to let this little mishap spoil her mood; she covered herself best she could with her long nightgown and eventually managed to fall asleep. The rose light of dawn nudged her to open her eyes just a few hours later, to the sight of a little posy of verbena and heliotrope. She stared blankly at it for a while, not knowing what to make of its presence, gave herself a talking to about the craziness of sleeping outdoors and fell back to sleep until the sun was high in the sky and the familiar clinking of cups and silverware alerted her that it was almost time for breakfast. The posy was gone. She jumped quickly and ran all the way around the house to the front door to change. She zoomed past the mirrors, unable to resist stealing a quick peek: the Claires were smiling back at her, their noses buried in the little flower bundles from the night before. She couldn’t help notice that though a superficial look could have mistaken their white outfits for nightgowns, they were wrapped around their bodies and draped delicately from their shoulders with the classic elegance of stolas.

“Claire!” her grandfather’s voice reached out from the garden. “Breakfast!”

She let go of the flowers and the stolas and ran upstairs to get dressed before the clock struck nine. When she got to the breakfast table she noticed the little posy was placed triumphantly right in the middle of it. 

“I found this by your side when I opened the doors this morning,” her grandfather explained. “Don’t tell me you slept outside!”

“It was a full moon and I couldn’t sleep so I got out on the porch for some fresh air and when I wanted to go back inside the door was locked. I didn’t want to wake you.”

The grandparents exchanged a quick glance, and if Claire didn’t know any better she could have sworn she saw panic.

“I thought it was you who locked the door last night when you came back home late. I know you don’t like to see doors open at night.”

Grandfather said nothing. He frowned and retreated into his coffee cup. Grandmother changed the subject to liven up the atmosphere.

“Did you try the hat, dear? Does it fit?”

“Yes, thank you, maman, it will do just fine.”

“Next time you wake me, you understand? Don’t care if I’m tired or dead! You don’t sleep outside in these lands, not unless you want to be taken,” Grandfather broke into the conversation in a tense tone, completely out of character for him. 

“Joseph!” Grandmother protested, outraged by the bluntness.

“What? Don’t you see? They already visited! They left her a gift!”

“Who’s they, Grandfather?”

Grandmother pinned him with a glacial stare. He gestured irritated and finished his coffee in silence. When he was done, he got up abruptly and left to tend to his beehives.

“What is he talking about, maman?” Claire turned her curiosity to her grandmother, who was pondering a reasonable response. After some soul searching she regained her poised smile and lighthearted attitude.

“Superstitions, child. Your grandfather forgets himself sometimes.”

“This is ridiculous!” Claire thought. “I’m a grown woman, for God’s sakes, whatever it is that they know, I’m sure I must be old enough to process by now.” She then remembered that she had decided to move back in with her grandparents so that somebody would take care of her and conceded to a certain level of immaturity that did demand protection.

“Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do next, bebelle?” her grandmother continued kindly.

“No, not yet, I’m still trying to get used to being back home.”

“Yeah, but there is nothing to do here, not for a woman your age. Surely you don’t want to linger in this house indefinitely and waste your life! You’re young, you should be out and about, conquering the world right now, you just have to find yourself a new balance and make the best of your youth.”

“You want me to leave, maman?” Claire asked, her eyes brimming with tears. What was it with people, the second she tried to forge a deeper, more meaningful connection with them they all pushed her away. Codependent personality somebody called it. “Nobody wants me around,” she moped disheartened.

“Of course not, child! I’m beside myself with joy for having you here, it’s just, we’re old, honey, you should be spending time with people closer to your age. Nothing ever happens here!”

“Right!” Claire thought, now absolutely sure that this whole business about the mirrors was real.