The Summer Solstice ~ Enchanted (5 page)

“I don’t know what I’d do without my Charlotte.
She’s like a daughter to me now. It’s just too bad her and your mother never
met. I think they would be the best of friends.”

“You spent a lot of time with my mom then?”

Rose nods, grinning now. “She lived with me all
through her high school years. She loved Apollo Beach. She loved the water and
the small town. She had so many friends.”

Listening to Rose speak of my mother so fondly
brings an ache to my heart. After all of these years, I had no idea that my mom
and Rose were close. I had always assumed that my mom hated Rose for the same
reasons she hated my father. And I just never thought to question it.

“Do you have pictures from back then?” I sit
forward, anxious to learn more of their lives here in Apollo Beach.

The photo albums are sitting in front of me now,
dusty from their lack of care. I make a note to myself to fix that when I have
the chance. Memories deserve to be taken care of – especially memories of
my family.

Rose gives me silence and respect, allowing me to
take my time, while flipping through each page with a thoroughness that could
kill the impatient. The first album I look through holds pictures of Rose and
my grandfather in their young age.

“How old were you here?”

Rose glances over the desk to answer my question.
“Oh, we had just gotten married. I was 19, your grandfather 22 at the time. An
older man,” she smiles proudly. We spent a lot of time in Greece out of
curiosity. That’s where all of this came from.” Her hands sweep through the
air, gesturing around the room.

I look back into the book. “You’re beautiful. You
look so much like my mom here.” I finger the photograph gently.

“I always thought she resembled someone who could
be my daughter. Your mom never agreed.” Rose laughs again. “Was your mom
stubborn with you as well?”

Smiling, I nod as I remember. “Oh yes.”

“Are you?”

I laugh now, unable to help myself. “Yes. My mom
always said that whatever I wanted I would make happen. She said I was like her
that way.”

The rest of the book is filled with photos of
Greece. This intrigues me. Toward the back of the book were pictures of the
original Summer Estates. It looked just as I pictured the house all of these
years. Such an important time in my mother’s life and she never shared those
memories with me.
Were they too painful? Did she ever miss Rose?
I can’t
help but think now that maybe my mom did love Rose just as much as Rose loved
her. Sadness creeps into my heart. We were happy together, but besides our time
together and the odd night out, my mother really just kept to herself.

I turn through the pages of the photo album. The
pictures reveal how magnificent the old house was even back in the day. The
vast open windows that spread along all sides of the house are what make it
brilliant.

“Wow, to think you had to rebuild your entire home
after all that time is – sad.”

Rose nods. “We were fortunate enough to salvage
what we did out of the fire but it’s just not the same. It took almost a year
to rebuild, but we were determined to design something that we could see
ourselves in for the rest of our lives. The one thing your grandfather and I
wanted more than anything was to have a wing that resembled the original look
of the home.”

I nod my head, taking this moment to look around
again. “You did a good job. Has it gotten any easier? Life without him I mean.”

Rose closes her eyes, her chest expands and with a
release she opens them again. “You probably wonder why I keep so busy with the
city. It’s something I’m passionate about but it’s also a way to not constantly
think of what I’ve lost over the years. Your grandfather and I were
inseparable. When I start to think of him and sadness takes hold of me, I
immediately try to remember the good times and my sadness becomes joy at the
memory of our lives together.”

As she speaks I can see myself in her and hear
myself speak these same words. Although there are pieces of my life that will
never be filled again after the passing of my mother, I’m learning more about myself
sitting here with Rose. In that, I find some peace.

The next three books that Rose gives to me are
filled with my mom’s teen years. I spend even more time flipping through the
books and have many questions for Rose. I ask about my mom’s friends and what
she did in her spare time. I find out that she was a cheerleader. My mom, a
cheerleader! I never would have believed it, but I can see it for myself. My
mom stands there in her long green and black skirt and matching sweater.

I’m halfway through the photo album when I begin to
recognize a familiar face appearing throughout the book, next to my mother.
Hugging her. Kissing her cheek. Holding her hand. Studying back-to-back.
Chasing her into the water. I realize all too slowly that this must be my father.
I’ve never seen a photo of him. An unfamiliar pang in my heart hits me.

“Did your mom tell you how they met?”

My eyes are still glued to his picture when I nod.
Where
is he now?
A secret part of me, deep down, where no one would ever know,
wondered why he didn’t show up after my mom passed. If he had an issue with my
mom then wouldn’t he want to be there for me?

When my mom had told me the story of how she met my
dad, I always thought it was odd. To this day, I know there is more to the
story than she lets on because Grace never wanted to explain the details of
their breakup. All she would say was that she did what was best for me at the
time and she didn’t regret a thing.

While looking at the last album in my hands, things
get too overwhelming. I set the book down and take a few moments to calm myself
down.

Rose gives me space for a moment and then asks the
question that’s been lingering in the air. “If you have questions about your
father Katrina, I can answer anything you want to know.”

I know she is being sincere as she offers this to
me, but it’s not what I want. Not now. It’s almost been 16 years without
knowing him, so there has to be a good reason why he hasn’t been in my life.
And although I do have questions, I choose to dismiss them for now.

I politely shake my head in answer to her question
and look away. I’m grateful for Rose’s ability to move on with no additional
questions or prying.

Rose walks me around the room. She begins to show
me the statues from her trips to Greece. I pinpoint my favorite statues right
away of Greek goddesses. Greek Goddess, Hera, stands with a peacock below her
gold skirt, a crown atop her head, and real gold wraps around her body. I
remember this from school too, but the bronze nameplate on the stand below the
marble figure confirms that I am correct.

Inside the glass cases are ancient artifacts and
Rose points out the pendants one by one. The Greek Owl, Cross, Horse, Sun and
dozens more. All of them have stories that Rose explains briefly, but I am
barely listening. I am too curious at this point in her fascination with Greek
culture. When she finishes her story telling, I ask.

“Why were you two so obsessed with all of this
stuff? I mean, it’s beautiful, but why such a collection?”

There is something unsettling in Rose’s features,
but she explains evenly. “Because, it’s in our blood. It’s a part of our
ancestry. Your grandfather and I just wanted to understand it all, as you
should. We wanted to understand ourselves and where we came from.”

Suddenly, Rose becomes more animated. “If you look
at our name, for instance, you’ll learn that Summer stems from S-O-M-E-R in old
English times. After the Norman Conquest all names were changed to Norman
French names. Your mom didn’t realize this when her and Paul named you but even
your name has a deeper meaning, which relates to our ancestry. Katrina derives
from the Greek Goddess Hecate.”

“Who was Hecate?”

“She was associated with witchcraft and other forms
of the underworld. But she was also known as a guardian, protector of
everything newly born. Unfortunately the reputation of Hecate has been greatly
misconstrued over time. But if you do the research, you’ll discover that the
only evil she ever inflicted was to save herself and her family from harm.”

“So what does your name mean?”

“Kind.” Rose shrugs. “Not so fancy, I know. But I
think it has a nice ring to it.” She winks at me. “Come, sit. There is more to
discuss.”

“What is that?” My eyes are locked on a glass case
in the corner of the room near the window. It rotates slowly as the sunlight
streams in on it, making the facets of the bulky, odd-shaped crystals glow. If
you were to pluck one of the rocks from the other crystals it would look
exactly like the necklace from my dream – a thin rectangular dagger.

Rose is almost hesitant before answering this one.
My eyes are glued to the glass case in wonderment. “That is an amethyst
crystal.”

I don’t know much about rocks, but I have seen
pictures of amethysts before and they’ve always been purple. “Green?”

Her eyes widen. “You recognize it?”

I hesitate, but shake my head. I don’t want to
bring up my dreams for fear that Rose will laugh. But now it makes sense. Maybe
my mom had something like this laying around the house. That would mean I’ve
seen it before and that’s why they’ve been appearing in my dreams. “Is it
special?”

Rose nods, widely. “Yes, dear. It’s a very rare and
precious stone. Our family has held that crystal in our family for hundreds of
years. It is a symbol for the spiritual world. Being gifted with this stone is
said to attract prosperity through strength of mind, emotions and will. The
stone carries healing powers too.”

The thought of a stone containing all of these
powers seems ridiculous but there is a part of me that longs for all of these
traits.

Rose places a hand on my shoulder, as if reading my
mind. “Have a seat, dear.”

I take my seat, across from her again, waiting
silently for her speak. My eyes are transfixed on the crystal. “Have you given
much thought to your birthday? Next week is the big day.”

Surprised, I search my grandmother’s face,
wondering why this year she is taking an interest in my birthday after 16
years. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a big day. You’re turning 16. It marks
a big time for change in a young lady.”

I shake my head, frowning. “I don’t think I’m up
for anything this year. I’m in no mood to celebrate, and I have no friends
here. Please, don’t go to any trouble for me.” Not that I have friends back
home, I think sadly.

Rose breaks through my thoughts. “Don’t be silly,”
she says incredulously. “Do you realize what a celebration this day is? Not
only is it your 16
^th
birthday but the day of the Summer Solstice. As
a Summer, you have a special right to celebrate this day, especially because of
your birthdate.”

“But I’ve never celebrated it before.”

“This is the perfect
time to start!” The determination on Rose’s face is apparent. The sight of this
is overwhelming, taking me back one year ago to another memory of my mother.

It
was one week from my 15
^th
birthday when I was assigned a project at
school that required me to know my blood type. I had never known my blood type;
I had never needed to know. That day I came home from school and searched my
mom’s office for my hospital records. I searched everything, curious now to see
it all. I started looking over my birth certificate and read the name of my
father, a name that I already knew but never wanted to look at again. There it
was, staring me in the face on the birth certificate, I almost threw it down but
something else caught my eye. It was the date of my birth that threw me. I read
over it for what seemed like hours, trying to figure out why the date was
different from the date that I’d celebrated for the past 14 years, I was angry.
At first, I confronted my mom with the idea that I was adopted or abducted by
her at birth, anything to explain the lie. She comforted me and eventually told
me the truth about myself. I was not born on June 20
^th
, but June 21
^st
.
She explained that she was superstitious and the date of my actual birthday was
the day of the Summer Solstice. She never did explain things further, even
after all of the demanding and begging. She left it at that and over the course
of the year I struggled to forget it but something about the lie nagged at me.

My mom had kept
the secret of my real birthdate from me for my entire life. I’ve never actually
celebrated my birthday on its actual day and here my grandmother is determined
to have a celebration.

“Rose, thank you for the thought but I do not want
a 16
^th
birthday party. I’m sorry.”

Rose frowns. “Katrina, I know things are hard right
now. I know that. But this is important. I know you won’t understand why now.
And I understand that with your mom passing, you aren’t in the mood for a
celebration. But you are a part of this family and this is a day worth
celebrating, no matter what.” She
sighs. “And besides, it’s my birthday too.”