Mystical Emona: Soul's Journey

Together Forever

February 14, present year

Our love is yesterday, today, and forever.

Sitting at an antique roll-top desk, Stefan Tarrant scrawled the words onto the handmade greeting card, depicting the view from the bedroom window—Boston Harbor, alive with the Tall Ships, their white sails unfurling in the breeze. He shook his head, laughing silently as he looked from the writing to his hands. How could he paint such breathtaking images, and yet write with such disgrace? He hoped Katherine could decipher the words their eight years of marriage had inspired.

He gazed at the bed where his wife lay, the curls of her shoulder-length blond hair tousled from the night’s sleep. Her slow, steady breathing assured him she still slumbered. With the stealth of a cat, he tiptoed toward her to place the card on the nightstand. The heat of passion burned him as his eyes lingered on her figure, her chest rising and falling with each breath. The straps of her creamy, lacy nightgown had slipped, revealing her slender shoulders. Lower down, it had bunched up around her waist, exposing the belly button he loved to explore. He ran his fingers along her cheeks and down her throat.

Shifting her position, she turned on her side. Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled, placing her hand over his. Happy anniversary. You’re up early.

Shh. He touched her lips. It’s bad luck to break tradition.

He returned to his side of the bed and crawled beneath the covers, scooting closer to her. Why did the cookie go to the doctor?

She groaned. Can’t you at least tell a new joke?

With a shake of his head, he wiggled his fingers for her to answer.

Because he felt crummy. She leaned closer to whisper into his ear, exaggerating the words with a French accent. Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.

He obliged her with the requested kisses, unlike the first time she had challenged him with those words. They had met at a beauty pageant in Paris years ago, where seventeen-year-old Katherine Armand was a contestant. He and his college friends watched from the back row. When she smiled at him, his stomach flip-flopped. Afterward, she sought him out to introduce herself. He’d been so tongue-tied, he responded with the stupid cookie joke. She giggled when she answered with the punchline, afterward reciting the beautiful verse from the Song of Solomon. Glancing over her shoulder several times as she walked away, she smiled, while he stared with his mouth agape. The whirlwind romance that followed led them to the altar a year later.

Stefan’s lips and hands now traversed her body. He kissed her nose. Katherine?

Mmmm. With dilated pupils and parted lips, she trailed her fingertips down his chest.

He leaned toward her and nibbled her earlobe. Let’s have another baby. Sonia’s already in school. She needs a little brother.

Her breathing accelerated. When?

I was thinking now.

Snuggling closer, she lifted her face, brushed her lips against his, and whispered, Yes.

***

The bell above the door of the out-of-the-way antique shop in historic Salem jingled when Stefan opened it. A blast of warm air whooshed around him as he entered the dark, misty room, pungent from fragrant candles and incense. Dusty shelves overflowed with bizarre figurines and bottles containing strange, unidentifiable concoctions. This was his last hope to find a special gift for Katherine.

He picked up an hourglass. Two black-robed grim reapers stood opposite each other; their hands rested on a bar in the middle, while their scythes lay at their sides. He turned the glass over. The fine white sand trickled down, filling the bottom globe.

Raising his eyebrows, he chuckled, the corners of his mouth curling into a playful grin. Certainly not a gift for Katherine.

A woman with white hair, peppered with black, appeared at his side. She lifted her soft-gray, catlike eyes to him. Hello, she said with a thick Eastern European accent. May I help you look for something?

I hope you can. He crammed the bizarre item back on the shelf in a hurry. I’m looking for a bracelet or a ring, something unusual. My wife loves antiques.

You’ve come to the right place. She reached out to reposition the hourglass, revealing a flower tattooed on her age-spotted hand. The jewelry is at the back.

Hindered by the cramped aisles, he followed her at a snail’s pace. From one of the shelves, he fingered a small glass bottle decorated with gold and pearls in the shape of a heart. The amber liquid inside sparkled. He laughed after reading the label: Love Potion. When he unscrewed the cover, the liquid remedy revealed its aphrodisiacs—vanilla, citrus, and something sweet-smelling, perhaps honey.

The woman looked over her shoulder. Her eyes glittered like the liquid. Please look around; don’t be afraid. An amused tone crept into her voice. We have many love potions. That one is our most popular with women of all ages. It brings new desire into a relationship. One of its main ingredients is orange, which acts like a magnet to attract men and bring the wearer eternal love and happiness.

She removed the cap from another bottle. Spearmint and woodsy scents drifted out. Or perhaps you’d be interested in a love potion designed for men. This one stimulates both body and mind. It produces a mood of creative playfulness.

Chuckling again, he put the bottle back on the shelf. Katherine would be amused when he told her about it. I don’t need it yet, but maybe for our fiftieth anniversary.

The woman continued to the back. I have the perfect piece of jewelry for you. Let me see where I put it. She looked inside a few cupboards. Here it is. After dusting the top of a blue velvet box, she opened it. Yes, yes, this is it. I think this is what you’ve been searching for. She handed it to him.

The box held an exquisite golden ring with an unusual blue stone, a luminous star with six rays spreading out from its center. A golden crown, embedded with small blue chips, surrounded its outer edge. Stefan picked it up, holding it in his palm. It radiated warmth. How unusual. The image in the stone wavered while he examined it; black eyes stared back at him. He jerked his head up to look at the shopkeeper.

Is something wrong? A smile flitted across her face.

He glanced at the stone again. Only a blue star. No. I thought I saw ... It was nothing. Stefan shook his head. Despite the warmth of the shop, the tiny hairs on his arms stood up.

I need to get more sleep. My eyes are playing tricks on me.

The woman spoke with soft words. The ring is quite old. The gentleman who sold it to me claimed it’ll guide its owner to his true love.

I’ll take it. It’s the perfect gift for my true love, my wife.

***

The clock tower struck seven when the limo pulled up to Katherine’s favorite French restaurant, situated by the waterfront in the Back Bay. The familiar cacophony of the city greeted Stefan as he got out. Scents of American, French, and Italian cuisine wafted around him in the brisk wintery air. Tiny snowflakes, driven by the wind gusts, shimmered in the headlights of the passing vehicles. He extended his hand to his wife. As she stretched her long legs from the vehicle, her black pumps clicked on the walkway. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he escorted her inside.

In the marble-tiled foyer, he relieved her of her coat, and handed it, along with his leather jacket, to the attendant, tipping the youth. While they waited to be seated, Stefan traced his finger along the heart cutout on the back of her chiffon dress, its red complementing her royal blue eyes.

My lovely Valentine, such a perfect rose. He leaned closer, kissing her cheeks and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

The maître d’ led them to the small, informal dining room. The steady rhythm of Katherine’s heels softened as they moved from the dark hardwood floor to a periwinkle-blue area rug on the way to their window-side table. A bottle of champagne chilling on ice awaited them.

In the lounge next to the dining area, a musician played a saxophone. The lights of the sconces lining the walls reflected off the instrument. At other tables, couples laughed, conversed, or gazed into each other’s eyes, celebrating the day dedicated to lovers.

After they placed their orders, Stefan stood and bowed to Katherine. Dance with me, my beautiful wife. They’re playing—

Don’t say it. She laughed. That’s so cliché.

A slow waltz.

Tapping him on the shoulder, she shook her head. You’re hopeless. That’s not what you were going to say.

The notes of the saxophone sprinkled them like a gentle summer rain as they connected soul to soul. Katherine’s sensual body moved in time with his, heating his blood. Amber light from the chandelier frolicked across her—a nymph dancing under the moon’s glow. He breathed in the citrus scent of her perfume as the song ended.

I’m ravished. He released her hand. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he drew her closer to him. Maybe we should continue this dance at home.

You’re insatiable. She smiled as she pushed him away and dragged him back to the table where their food was being served. I’m not leaving here without trying my grilled lobster and a taste of your cider-glazed duck.

Perhaps I’ll have some oyster stew to start. He winked. It might work as well as the love potion the woman in the antique store wanted to sell me.

Katherine tilted her head. A love potion in an antique shop?

Now that you mention it, that was rather strange. He pulled out her chair, and pushed it in as she sat.

After he seated himself, the waiter popped the cork and poured the champagne.

Stefan raised his glass. A toast to the lovely lady I want to spend forever with.

À ta santé. She clinked glasses with him, the sound melding with the notes of the jazz music. To the love of my life. Thank you for bringing me so much happiness. I knew the moment I saw you that we were meant to be together.

Stefan reached across the table, took hold of her hand, and brought it to his lips. I have a special gift for you. He released her hand, withdrew a box from his jacket pocket, and kneeled in front of her. For the woman I would marry all over again. He opened the box and removed the ring.

Katherine blinked away a tear. Mon cher, it’s beautiful. She leaned forward to kiss him. I’m sure if our next child is a son, he’ll grow to be tall, dark, and handsome like his father.

Now who’s using clichés? Stefan chuckled. It’s a mystical blue star, shining like your eyes. It even has some ancient writing on the band.

He placed it on her finger. It fit as if it had been made for her.

***

The wind howled around the bay, blowing biting snow into their faces. Several inches had accumulated by the time Stefan and Katherine left the restaurant. A mixture of sand and rock salt covered the icy walkway, but drifts continued to grow. They hurried into the shelter of the warm limo. He wrapped his arm around her as she nestled close to him.

The wheels spun as the driver merged into the congested traffic.

Stefan grew drowsy and closed his eyes. As he listened to the soothing beat of the wipers thumping against the windshield, he counted the stops along Boylston Street. Now turn left onto Berkeley. More stop and go, until finally a right onto Storrow Drive.

He caressed Katherine’s hair. Not much longer now, love. We’ll be home soon to continue our celebration.

Get out of my way! The driver blasted the horn.

Stefan’s eyes flew open as the car swerved, then skidded across the intersection like a bobsled racing down a hill. Katherine screamed. He tightened his arms around her. Twin beams of light shone through the window, growing larger. Metal crunched and glass shattered. Katherine was wrenched away from him. The limo spun in circles, finally slamming into a guardrail.

He opened his eyes. Katherine?

Excruciating pain shot up his shoulder when he twisted his body. Her head, leaning against the smashed window, lay at a crooked angle. With the seatbelt restraining her body, her shoulders slumped forward.

Katherine? Stefan whispered. Please say something.

He touched her cheek, as white as the snow outside. A red trickle flowed from her ear, matting her curls. Her eyes remained closed.

Katherine! He shouted her name until his voice grew hoarse. Then his lips mouthed the word over and over.

The blustery storm spread its arms around them, coating the vehicle white. Snowflakes drifted through the shattered windows, chilling him. A blue light, flashing like a beacon to guide weary travelers home, reflected off the ring, illuminating the darkness like a newborn star.

Road to Emona

March 25, one year later

Gravel and torn-up asphalt pelted Stefan’s car like a hailstorm as he drove along the narrow road that wound around the slope of the mountain toward his destination—Emona. The secluded village by the Black Sea, a summer haven for artists and actors, would soon be his new home. The arrangements having been made ahead of time, all that remained was his signature on the official documents. He had one final chance to back out of the deal if he didn’t like the house. That wasn’t likely. He had fallen in love with the charming cottage from its online pictures.

He glanced at the dashboard clock. Not late yet. He still had a few hours before the agent was scheduled to show him the property. After he checked into the hotel, he would call his daughter Sonia to let her know he had arrived.

After his wife died, he had been in no condition to take care of his seven-year-old. Thankful when Katherine’s parents invited him and Sonia to live with them in Rouen, France, he agreed. Now, not wanting to disrupt his daughter’s life after she had finally adjusted to being without her mother, he would let her stay there for the duration of the school year. She would join him as soon as he was settled here and found a reputable private school equal to the one she now attended. It was time for them to begin their own life.

He had already spent a year agonizing over Katherine’s death. A year drinking to excess. A year isolating himself from everyone he knew. On what would have been their anniversary, in a fit of rage, he destroyed everything in his room. After he pulled out a drawer and hurled it, a golden ring bounced back toward him. The last gift he had bought for Katherine. He picked it up and slumped down the wall, crying the tears he had held back since her death. The ring began his healing. Now he hoped Emona would lighten the scars.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he paid little heed to his surroundings. A movement in the forest made him focus a moment too late. Something black darted across the road, and he slammed on the brakes. The car buckled, veered off course, and plunged into a deep rut. He cringed when metal scraped against rock.

Damn animal, he muttered, his heart racing.

He looked out the side window. With a sharp intake of breath, he gripped the steering wheel. A rocky beach lay at the base of the cliff. The driver’s side tires had missed careening over the edge by no more than a foot. Stefan exhaled slowly and released his death grip on the steering wheel, allowing color to return to his knuckles. With a shaky hand, he wiped away the sweat dripping down his brow.

Easing out of the rut, he pulled off to the side, a safe distance from the cliff. He got out and surveyed the damage to the car. One more dent creased the fender, but all else appeared intact. He continued his drive through the dense forest with greater caution. Small patches of light filtered through the branches hanging over the road, chasing away the shadows. When the tree line ended, he stopped to view the vista.

The brilliant sun shone in a sky so blue it merged with the cerulean waters. A lighthouse, perched like a seagull on a buoy, overlooked the rocky coast. The mountain range, still covered in snow, hugged the village nestled in the valley; no more than thirty or forty houses lay scattered like orange-capped, white mushrooms springing up among the brush in the surrounding wilderness.

Hope lit his spirit and chased away his shadows of doubt. This is where I belong. Here I can find solitude and ... and perhaps inspiration.

A dazzling white falcon sitting in a tree chanted, Kak kak kak.

Hello to you, too. Stefan grabbed his camera and snapped a few shots. Setting it down, he snatched up his sketchpad and charcoal from the seat beside him and drew the bird with a few quick strokes. He scrutinized the image. Not too bad after a year away from his hobby.

He sketched a few more images, tossed the booklet onto the passenger seat, and continued down the road. After a few sharp bends, the road straightened, and the village lay ahead. Quaint wasn’t the first word he thought when he caught sight of the Hotel Emona, more like enchanting. Dominating the center of the village, the four-story building demonstrated exquisite architecture, with its mix of balconies and windows, including curved walls sporting ceiling-to-floor glass.

Although modern, the hotel’s décor mirrored the neighboring small houses—a white, cracked-daub façade and a brownish-red, terracotta-tiled roof, with bordering shrubs and flowers. The impressive structure lent the village a quaint character after all.

Stefan chuckled at the street signs attached to fences around some houses. Surely such a small village didn’t require posted names to find its occupants. Shaking his head, he started toward the hotel, but the sun glinted off something on the opposite side of the street. A bronze statue of a young woman stood atop a fountain built into the terraced hill.

With time to spare, he walked over to inspect it. Curly hair tumbled around her face as she leaned forward under the weight of an amphora on her shoulders, her hands grasping its handles. Her face tilted downward, smiling at him, as if welcoming him home to Emona. The look on her face reminded him of Katherine. His eyes misted. He wished she was alive to share this adventure.

He sat on the fountain’s low wall and ran his hands over the rough-hewn stones. Water gushing from three brass pipes that extended over a deep marble basin soothed his anxiety about leaving everything familiar to him for this remote spot.

The relief carvings on the front of the basin intrigued him as much as the statue. Small swags of flowers encircled a medallion, where two horses pranced beneath a crescent moon, with a three-headed snake coiling around a tree branch.

He leaned forward, cupped his palms under one of the pipes, and drank deeply of the sparkling water. His heart told him this was home. He never wanted to leave—again.

He jumped up. What did I mean—again?



The fragrance of expensive tobacco drifted around Nikola Karanov as he puffed on a cigar in his penthouse living room. Stretching out his legs on the green-motif Persian rug in front of the white leather couch, he leaned back to admire his favorite room. He had paid an interior designer well to oversee the details. All the furniture except his grand piano had been made in his own shop.

The drapes at the sides of the tall windows along one wall were pulled back, giving him a grand view of boats sailing in and out of the harbor. This evening, the calm water sparkled with reddish-violet colors. On many other occasions, the unpredictable sea could explode into a violent storm with no warning.

A light breeze through the open windows brought with it the salty smell of the seashore mixed with enticing aromas from bakeries and restaurants along the pedestrian street. The motion of the air against the stubble on his cheeks made them tingle, reminding him he needed to shave and make himself presentable before he met Elena for dinner.

Thinking about her flooded him with desire. He longed to run his fingers through her shoulder-length chocolate hair and gaze into her serious dark eyes. They shared a love of art and culture, and so much more—but as friends, and it wasn’t enough for him.

He wanted to bring passion to her life, but he hadn’t found the right way to express how much he loved everything about her. Her impeccable style of dressing that highlighted her body’s slender build. Her passion for fashionable and sometimes outrageous hats. Most of all, her intellect, strong will, and dedication to her art gallery. She ran her life on a schedule, and business was a top priority. So much alike, they were perfect for each other.

Why couldn’t she see that? Would she have shown a romantic interest in him if he was tall and handsome like his father, instead of only having his greenish-gray eyes? And if he didn’t have that deep-red curly mop and those cursed freckles swarming his cheeks and nose? How he hated them. They didn’t seem to bother other women, but Elena wouldn’t allow anyone to make an emotional claim on her life.

Scowling, he recalled how everyone had called him Carrot Top his freshman year in college after students loaded his bed with the offending vegetable. He had never been able to eat them again.

Nikola put out his cigar and headed to the bathroom for a shower. The warm water calmed him, erasing the detestable taunts. He shaved and splashed on some Clive Christian X for Men cologne. Filled with spicy scents, including a touch of cinnamon, it had become his favorite indulgence, next to his special blend of cigars.

From his wardrobe, he pulled out a sophisticated linen suit he had bought during his last trip to Monaco. It wasn’t quite right for the evening, so he replaced it. Instead, he chose an Armani, tailored in pale grays and soft whites, its light material perfect for Varna’s warm spring weather.

He grabbed his car keys from the glass table and headed for the door, but stopped when the phone rang. His realtor. Nikola debated letting it go to voicemail, but decided he should answer.

Mr. Karanov, good evening. The deal on the house in Emona has been finalized.

Fantastic. Nikola set his keys down and grabbed a pen and paper. I love the house, but with my busy schedule, I never have time to go there. He tapped the paper with the pen. What do you need from me?

If you sign the documents releasing the property from the estate, you won’t have to attend the closing tomorrow. I’ll fax them over now.

Nikola hung up and glanced at his watch. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late meeting Elena. He poured himself a whiskey and paced the room until the fax spewed out pages. When he read the buyer’s name, his breathing became shallow. He hurled the papers, scattering them across the room, then clutched the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. Gulping the rest of his whiskey, he poured another one. Memories flashed by like frames of an old movie.

"Stefan. My old friend Stefan is the buyer." He spit the words out. The man who destroyed his happiness. The man who stole Katherine from him.

Katherine. Nikola’s countenance softened when he thought of her dancing blue eyes and her beautiful smile. He would have another chance to see her soon.

Vortex in Blue

March 25

A streak of light, like a dazzling comet, scorched a fading trail along the long corridor. Brief glimpses of drawings depicting momentous events in the lives of Carina and her sisters flickered in the glow of the torches as the young woman, her golden hair streaming behind her, flew past.

Excitement enflaming the blood coursing through her veins, Carina reached the first of three caverns, where they offered sacrifices to their goddess. She and her sisters had been blessed above the other samodivi when Bendis entrusted them with the guardianship of her temple.

She paused for the briefest moment, forever in awe of the room’s splendors. Nature’s jewels clinging to the ceiling winked their rosy, azure, and snowy eyes in the flickering torchlight, wishing her fortitude and fortune. The aqua vitae murmured in agreement as it traversed toward the waterfall, promising to wait there to ponder her fate with her.

Today, she mustn’t tarry. Her destination waited below where she and Morena resided. She must deliver the long-awaited news.

He has the blue-star. The power of the ring drew me to him.

She burst into the chamber with the ferocity of a fire blazing out of control. One moment, the flash of her white robe gleamed off the thin layers of hammered gold that covered the fluted columns as she twirled around them with her hands outstretched.

The next instant, she dashed past the marble relief of the Bendideia, a torch-relay competition performed on horseback. She tossed a kiss to the lead athlete who reminded her of Dushan. So tall and muscular. Such an alluring smile. Her own race took her past sculptures and frescoes of Bendis. The vibrant reds, blacks, greens, and blues blurred as Carina sprinted past. This time she didn’t stop to admire the blond, curly hair of the goddess that hung down her full figure, or the deep-set eyes, prominent cheek bones, and full lips that contributed to her regal beauty.

Once, twice, thrice, the whir of white flared up by the columns as Carina wove between them in her zealous dance. After spinning around the room several more times, she collapsed at her sister’s feet.

Ceasing to pluck the strings of the outi, Morena laid the instrument down and smoothed Carina’s unruly hair. What excites you so much?

She whispered with a ragged breath, Dushan has returned. At last, we’ll be together forever.

How do you know? A sea of flames as resplendent as Morena’s auburn hair ignited in her black eyes. Others have owned the ring and haven’t been the chosen one.

Carina clutched her hands over her heart. When I watched him arrive today, something deep within me stirred. I have no doubt the mortal who now carries the ring is my beloved. I haven’t been so alive since Deyan stole the blue-star.

Be careful. Morena’s body tensed as she grasped Carina’s arms. I don’t want to lose you to an ill-fated love as we did Vedra. She, too, spoke such words of certainty.

Morena had never been in love. She wouldn’t understand how souls cried out to one another, how they healed each other with a single word or touch. Even so, remembering their elder sister’s heartbreak, a flicker of doubt flashed through Carina’s mind. The mortal Vedra loved had stolen her belt. Carina and Morena punished him, but the oracle of death and destruction held fast. The sisters had wept, holding each other in sorrow, knowing Vedra’s power would drain as she aged.

Carina narrowed her eyes. She pushed away Morena. After scrambling to her feet, she threw back her shoulders and thrust her fists on her hips. "Vedra was deceived. That mortal wasn’t her true love. I know the man who arrived today is my Dushan."

Sister. Morena spoke softly, but said no more.

Tears welling in her eyes, Carina held her head high as she stormed away, retreating to the lowest of the three caverns. High above, a thin trail of sunlight streamed down by the waterfall. A torrent of aqua vitae, wending its way through the cave, cascaded with a deafening roar into the sparkling emerald and topaz pool. Where the falls collided with it, the waters churned with a force as strong as her impassioned emotions.

A misty spray soaked her while she sat on the boulders that had fallen over the eons, creating a place where she could kick her feet in the cool, life-restoring water. The colors swirling in the pool reminded her of her sapphire ring. She could visualize Dushan’s face in it.

How happy they had been. One day, lying in the meadow, looking up at the clouds, they planned their wedding. They decided to build a home and raise children in that spot. It was there he had given her the ring. Would she ever be reunited with him to fulfill those dreams?

Saddened by her memories, Carina sang a love song to her kamoles, her beloved.

––––––––

Dear sorrowful heart rejoice,

May ’morrow love prevail,

Answering your silent pleas,

Painting you with warmth.

I’ve silently prayed the moon,

Goddess of pearl white,

Guide my dear ashore.

May his heart never quiver,

Please, still his fearful core.

Dancing notes will break our silence,

Turn our yearning to songs.

May his ring find my finger,

And all our fears drown.

I’ve been searching for paradise.

He’s been longing for my soul.

––––––––

As the last note echoed over the pool, she looked around. Could she bear to leave this place so dear to her for so many millennia? With the arrival of spring today, the gate to the other side of the moon had opened. She was free to enter the mortal realm and remain there until the onset of winter when the gate closed. Yearning to be reunited with her love and feel the warmth of his embrace, she made her decision to go to him.

He would prove his love for her and end the ring’s curse.

After the realtor showed him the house, Stefan signed the papers, asking if they could close the following day. The realtor informed him he would check with the owner, but he didn’t anticipate any problems.

On the way out, Stefan gazed one more time at the single-story, wood-and-brick house. It resembled those in the village, with dark-wooden shuttered windows. A swing swayed in the breeze on the open porch. Countless women must have sat there, looking out to sea, anxiously waiting for their loved ones to return from fishing in the Black Sea.

He passed through an unkempt garden, desolate like an abandoned lover. Cranesbill overgrew the boxwoods, scraggly rose bushes skulked along the old wooden gate, and vines suffocated the stone wall. With its grout in need of repair, several stones had fallen unattended on the ground. Even the cement around the stones in the path leading from the gate to the house was fraught with cracks and holes.

It needed work, but it was perfect—remote, yet close to the village center; small, yet large enough for him to have a studio and a room for Sonia. And it came furnished, with even the tools in the shed. Well-worn items were better than nothing to start with.

He had already fallen in love with the studio. It reminded him of the family room in his grandfather’s cottage in Vermont where he spent many of his childhood summers. Weathered exposed beams on the high ceiling and the dark-stained floors made a striking contrast to the white walls, appealing to his artistic eye. On a cold day, a fire blazing on the hearth of the large open fieldstone fireplace would inspire him while he worked into early morning hours creating paintings to place on the now-bare walls. He could set his family photos on the sturdy beam used as a mantel.

His stomach grumbled as he approached the hotel. He increased his pace, bounding onto the terrace, in a hurry to get lunch. Two elderly men sitting at a table glanced up from their game of backgammon. Smiles filled their sun-creased faces. He nodded to them as he entered the hotel.

Mrs. Pavlova, he called to a plump, middle-aged woman walking around the reception area, holding what looked like a candle.

She paused to meet his eyes, as if searching his soul. Yes, Mr. Tarrant?

He sniffed the air. Incense? I’m going to become your newest resident.

Wonderful. The hotel owner set the object on the counter, wiped her fingers on her red apron, then clasped his hands. But call me Maria, please.

Maria it is. And call me Stefan.

This is a perfect day to hear this. It’s Blagovets, which means ‘Good news.’ It’s the day the Archangel told Mary she would give birth to the Savior.

Stefan glanced at the burning candle.

Maria followed his gaze. "That’s a kandilo. I’m purifying the hotel. It cleanses all the evil that settled in the rooms over the winter. Women have done this for generations. Later on we rake up leaves to burn them. People jump over the fires for protection."

Is she serious?

Her sides shook, and she covered her mouth. Finally losing the battle, she laughed with so much energy he thought it could be heard in the village square. Please forgive me. I was imagining what you would have thought if you had arrived here earlier this morning.

This morning? He rubbed his forehead. Why?

Right after sunrise, women walk around the outside of their houses banging pans. She turned her rosy face toward him. To drive all the snakes from their dens. I’m sure you’ve never seen anything quite like that.

You’re right. He laughed. You might have driven me away, too.

"I’m keeping