Evangeline felt a fleeting pang of guilt for not visiting her aging aunt more often, as the former released her from her lavender embrace. She could, if she wanted to, justify her negligence with hundreds of reasons that filled up her own life, rendering her days full of commitments unexpected and varied, but when one came down to it, it would be best to be humble and seek forgiveness in this case.

Aunt Lotte looked her usual flamboyant self in her platinum hair gathered up in a bun, teased to cover the balding spots on her skull. She was as statuesque in her satin caftan as always, although a tad smaller looking than the last time Evangeline had seen her. Perhaps it just felt so to her. Setting always makes a difference, she thought, eying the high ceilings, and the massive fireplace of the parlor filled with all sorts of antique furniture.

"I had planned for our tea in the rose garden, but these rains. . . " her aunt was complaining.

Yes, it had been raining non stop for the last three days. Not pouring, not drizzling, but at a calm, constant, determined steadiness the raindrops had been pacing themselves to unravel yet another cycle of May glory in everything they touched along their measured descent.

"I have a special surprise for you today, dear." Her aunt settled herself on her favorite armchair.

Evangeline's ears perked up. "Oh, really, and what might that be my dear Aunt?"

"Come, sit by me and let me tell you all about Captain Eamonn. He is going to join us any minute now."

An unfamiliar, far away look which Evangeline had never seen before had already conquered her aunt's eyes. Well, that wasn't quite true; she had seen it once - at the memorial service for Uncle Albert. Ever since, her aunt hadn't been quite the same, although she seemed to soldier on bravely on her own for the last three years.

Evangeline remembered in that brief instant, which strikes one's memory like lightning does a tree limb, how occasionally her aunt would be talking to her absent uncle as if he were present, or answering an imaginary telephone call and carry on a brief conversation with him. She was glad to hear that the latter must have finally moved on with the company of the expected guest, this Captain Eamonn, they were about to receive for tea.

"He is a retired ship's captain," the aunt was saying. Then as if she had caught the ambiguity in her speech she immediately corrected herself, “He is the retired one, not the ship, dear. On the mantle piece, you'll see the authentic replica of the ship he captained."

Evangeline knew that replica well. It had been sitting there as the center piece - next to the silver urn which housed Uncle Albert's remains for the last three years. She got up to look at it at a closer proximity, for now it carried a different significance. Uncle Albert and Aunt Lotte had spent their honeymoon on this ship, cruising in the Mediterranean. A lavish story that was repeated perhaps a hundred times and woven into the childhood memories of Evangeline and her brother. She remembered how she and Winston loved sitting on each knee and listening to their uncle as he'd tell them his stories, and fantasize themselves sailing on that ship with magnificent sails.

"Oh, you are finally here, my dear Captain. I hope the rains did not interfere with your traveling. . ."

Evangeline heard her aunt welcoming her guest. She must have been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't heard his entrance. She lifted her head up to look at his reflection in the mirror above the mantle piece before being introduced to him. Oddly, all she could see was Aunt Lotte, standing up and gesturing with her hands as if she were pointing someone to a seat near the sofa, as she continued in a jovial voice. "I invited my niece to join us for tea and to introduce to you this afternoon."

The grim understanding of the moment hit Evangeline like a thunderbolt. She turned around in a sudden flash of movement to verify with her eyes that mirrors could indeed lie and that the space behind her - what was her reality - did contain an actual Captain being escorted by her aunt to the best seat in the room. Yet, all she could see, alas, was Aunt Lotte, slowly making her way, poised as if she were holding onto the arm of her imaginary gentleman, towards the seating area.

Evangeline was mortified; frozen in her space not only by that which validated the tiny seed of doubt in her mind, but also by having - at that instant of shock - involuntarily knocked down the silver urn and its contents to the floor in her sudden move. This had brought Prince, the house pet into life, sniffing in his feline curiosity, but Aunt Lotte, unaware of Evangeline's crime, rang for tea as she continued her conversation with her imaginary guest.

Then as if she were waking up briefly from a reverie, she motioned her niece, "Come here dear, I like you to meet my new friend, the Captain."

Evangeline, who had just spilled her uncle all over the floor didn't quite know what to do.

"Yes, Aunt Lotte, as soon as I collect Uncle Albert," the words come out of her lips in her shock.

Her aunt, however, did not seem to be perturbed in the least. "Leave him there, dear, I'll have the maid return him to his place."

Living in a make believe world, for which she took her cues from her aunt, Evangeline had a rather odd but somewhat pleasant visit that afternoon with Aunt Lotte and her imaginary gentleman caller. She tried to take as many mental notes as she could to share with Juliet when they met next for their luncheon. She was also grateful to her aunt's maid Annie, who saved her from possible nightmares after spilling her uncle's ashes. Her words would always ring in her ears.

“Don't be distressed Miss Evangeline, you're not the first one. I keep filling that urn with ashes from the fireplace every time it gets knocked down by someone. Lady Charlotte doesn't know any better. But she's no worse for it.”

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Füsun Atalay ~ Copyright © Will of my Own - 2011