Firebird (59 page)

Billie shook her head.  “Garcia will find the answers,” she said finally.  “And speaking of Garcia, where is he?”

“How would I know?  Probably off fighting the bad guys.”

“Don’t you give me that look!   Admit it, Baby Sister.  You’ve fallen for a genuine rides-a-white-horse hero and it’s time you let yourself be happy.”

Alexandra felt the blush wash over her skin.  “He’s afraid of horses, Billie.  But  we’ve got... plans.”

“About time!”

Alexandra laughed.  “He’s taking me, Ruby and Jules to his cottage in Maine to spend Thanksgiving with his mother.” 
And to see Los Astros when they’ve gone to sleep.
  “There’s a swing in the yard, Billie.  And a one-eyed dog named Hoover...”

“Hold on.  Rebel-Runaway Juliet actually
agreed
to go?”

Alexandra gave a rueful smile.  “Okay, ‘agreed’ might be generous.  She insists it’s only because Ruby needs her.  And she’s fallen for Hoover.”

“A dog, a swing and the man’s mother.  You’re in big trouble, girlfriend.”  Billie looked down at the bare feet that peeked beneath Alexandra’s clinging misty-grey dress and rolled her eyes.  “What will his mama make of you?”

“Don’t forget Juliet’s pierces and tattoo.  And Ruby… well, not exactly the conventional family unit.”

“Lordy, that’s a family dinner I’d like to crash!”

“Crash away, Billie.  You call me your ‘baby sister,’ don’t you?  That makes us family.  No way you’re not coming with us.”

The two women burst into laughter.  “Hush,” gasped Billie.  “Here come the children.”

Juliet, with Ruby in her arms, drifted with a dancer’s grace toward them across the room.  Tonight, the usual blue eye shadow across Juliet’s brow was replaced by a theatrical scattering of lavender glitter. 

“Bil, Bil!” chanted Ruby.

Billie chucked Ruby under the chin and turned to Juliet.  “I hear you’re going to have Thanksgiving with Ruby and your Aunt Zan.”

Juliet shot a look at Alexandra.  “How uncool is that?  At least Garcia has promised me pizza.”

The sound of women’s voices, slowly lifting in harmony, filled the gallery.  With a wave and a jangle of silver bracelets, Billie hurried across the room.

As Juliet moved to follow her, Alexandra laid a hand on her arm.  “Wait.”  She reached to turn a large canvas that was leaning face-in against the wall.  “This is for you, Jules.”

“Seriously?”  With a suspicious glance at her aunt, Juliet shifted Ruby on her hip.  Then she froze, her gaze locked on a very impressionistic oil of an adolescent dancer in a bright Degas-green leotard, seated on the floor in front of a row of mirrors, head bowed, one bare foot pointed forward.  A butterfly tattoo shimmered on one cheek, a tiny amethyst winked in her nose, spiked orange-gold hair glowed like a halo around her head.

“But – that’s
me
!” gasped Juliet.

Alexandra smiled.  “I told you, I wanted to paint you.”

“But – this girl is so beautiful…”

“You
are
, Jules.”

Juliet shook her head in disbelief, huge eyes shimmering as she gazed at the oil.  Alexandra held her breath.  Don’t turn away this time, Jules.  Give us a chance…

“Maybe,” said the girl slowly, “when we get back from Maine, we could take Ruby shopping for a Christmas tree…”  She signed the word ‘tree’ to Ruby.   

Ruby’s tiny hands moved in the air.  Tree. 

And then the delicate fingers moved once more.  Still as a photograph, Alexandra stared at her daughter.  “Will you please sign that again, Ruby?”

“
Mama
,” shouted Ruby, and held out her arms.  “Mama!”

With a cry of joy, Alexandra gathered both children against her breast.  Closing her eyes, she felt, in that moment, her sister’s touch.  Her sister’s love.

* * * *

Moments later, when a breathless Jon Garcia hurried through the entrance doors, he was engulfed by glorious women’s voices raised in song.  As the words to
Let the Rivers Run
fell around him, his eyes were drawn to Alexandra and her two girls at the far end of the gallery, gazing up at a painting.

His heart skipped in his chest.  This unconventional trinity, this tiny, beautiful family was waiting for him.  What the devil had happened to him?  When had he fallen so hard for a rebellious tattooed teenager, a luminous little girl who lived in silence, and a maddening flame-haired woman with unforgettable mirrored eyes?

When he reached Alexandra, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and followed her eyes to the oil painting that hung alone in the center of the soft grey wall.

“El Pajaro Incendio,” murmured Jon Garcia.  “The Firebird.  You’ve finally found her.”

* * * *

The woman in the painting wore a gown of startling crimson silk.  Golden hair tumbled over her bare opal shoulders.  Just above her breast, an antique brooch in the shape of a winged Firebird glittered with flames and ice.  A glorious, dazzling bird, her heart forged by fire.

The artist’s signature in the lower right corner was A. K. Marik.

“My God,” breathed one guest, gazing up at the beautiful face.  “She’s so
alive
!  Who is she?”

Alexandra stepped forward.  ”I’d like to introduce you to my sister, Eve.”

Evangeline Marik Rhodes’ bright green eyes stared boldly back at her from the canvas, enormous and enigmatic and as full of secrets as ever.

Firebird Acknowledgements

Thank you for joining me in Alexandra’s world.

More than anything, I wanted to tell a good story, create characters with depth, and paint pictures with words.

Firebird was written over several years.  Much of the plot came from the New York Times, the Washington Post, Time magazine and NBC Nightly News.

The Kirov Ballet did perform at Covent Garden in London in September, 1966.  The fire, of course, happened only in my imagination.

While Cliff House, the Baranski Gallery, St. Theresa’s, Foxwood Horse Farm and Ivan’s lodge do not exist, I can see them as clearly as if they were real.

Juilliard has a Pre-College Youth Division which inspired Juliet’s dance program.  Axis is indeed an internationally acclaimed contemporary dance company in Oakland, CA, for performers
with and without
disabilities.

Georgetown’s Oak Hill Cemetery, Maryland’s Great Falls Park, Middleburg, VA, and the Metropolitan Opera House are all, of course, beautiful real places and deserve a visit.  There is a fascinating two hour backstage tour of the Opera House at Lincoln Center, complete with the painting whose eyes seem to follow you.  Call for a reservation if you visit NYC.

Tatyana’s
Palace of the Firebird
restaurant was inspired by a wonderful dinner I had with my husband at the beautiful Firebird restaurant on W. 46
^th
St. in NYC.   I never met the owner, and Tatyana’s Courtyard exists only in my imagination – but that night my husband bought me a jeweled Firebird brooch, which became the inspiration for so much of Firebird’s story.

I am grateful for the good information on childhood deafness from the Alexander Graham Bell Association for the Deaf, Inc., in Washington, D.C.  There is a wealth of information on infant and childhood deafness available, including The American Society for Deaf Children (800-942-2732) and the National Information Center on Deafness ([email protected]). 

My character Ruby’s deafness, however, while based on combined information from many organizations and health articles, is a product of my imagination.

The evocative quotes at the beginning of each chapter come from the book, Familiar Quotations, by John Bartlett.

I also want to acknowledge Steve Goulet, Zephyr Publishing, for his remarkable editing and E-publishing skills, his patience, and his love of books.

You also may be interested to know that a substantial percentage of the proceeds from Firebird will go to my SunDial Foundation, Inc., which, since 1998, has benefited women, children and families.  SunDial supports inner city food banks, education, health, shelter, child  protection, the arts and economic development, with an emphasis on programs that promote dignity, independence and safety, and combat poverty, hunger, sickness and homelessness.  (sundialfoundation.org)

While it is difficult to say farewell to Alexandra, Garcia, Juliet and Ruby, I am now “living” in the world of concert pianist Maggie O’Shea.  Her story, The Lost Concerto, will be available as an E-book in late spring or early summer, 2013.  I hope you will enjoy her story as well.

Visit online at www.HelaineMario.com