Postcards from Abby Read online

  Abby had a way of forcing you to live outside of your comfort zone, take risks and enjoy the end results. I also realized that I didn’t have to travel all around the world to get to experience a little of what she was experiencing-right in my own backyard. My children also got to know their ‘fairy’ godmother through these little adventures and I was so grateful that they remained connected to her. Abby always made it a point of being present in their lives in ways other than being physically there. The memories she gave us have stayed with me always.

  Chapter Six

  Tia sits back in the seat, closing her eyes to breathe in the fresh air that sweeps past her from the open car window. There is something very familiar about it. It has been years since she has been back to Muros but it all comes flooding back in a minute with the feel of the wind on her skin and the smell of the ocean.

  Tia opens her eyes and stares at the mountains that seem to follow the car, right besides her. She is smiling without being aware of it. She is home at last. The summers she spent with her dad here were the best in her life.

  She remembers the sense of freedom she felt back then and the adventures she experienced as a kid, swimming in the ocean, going on picnics in the woods and at night, dancing to the sounds of a local band trying to belt out a Rod Stewart song at the local fiesta held in honor of the village patron saint. Tia loves all of those traditions and is reminded of them now. It all comes back to her in the back seat of that cab-the memories are strong and vivid and they surround her. They include memories of her grandmother, of roosters with bright feathers and sharp claws that cut her legs when they chased her across the field, and the taste of ham thinly sliced. They include the laughter of her cousins, the smell of red wine and they include thoughts of Jack. She cannot possibly think back to her summers without thinking of him.

  Tia wonders if any of her father’s family is still living in Muros. She had lost contact with most of them after her father’s death. She hasn’t been back to visit since then. It just didn’t feel the same to Tia without him.

  The cab pulls onto a dirt road, one that jolts her with sharp turns and a steady climb up the side of a large hill. The terrain changes from dust to rocks. Tia holds on tight to the handle by the car window, trying to keep her balance as the cab swerves from one side to the other.

  She instinctively knows the way. She has visited the Rioja Inn many times with her father and now she has come to see Abby. Back then, it was a very charming bed and breakfast type of resort where locals and tourists alike came to dine and vacation. She wonders if it has changed much since that time.

  Tia’s father knew the Rioja family very well. In fact, Tia’s father played cards with Joachim Rioja Sr. many nights at the only taverna in town. The taverna was where men could escape after dinner to play cards or a game of dominos, drink wine, smoke cigarettes and talk about futbol without the distraction of their wives. The only times Tia went inside was to deliver messages from her mother telling her father it was time to go home.

  Joachim Riojas Sr.’s father had built the Inn sixty years ago. Joachim had two sons, his oldest son and namesake was a very handsome and shy young boy who Tia spent many afternoons with. The youngest, Manuel was more of a thrill seeker and didn’t seem to share the same sense of responsibility that his older brother did. Tia heard later on, shortly after her own father’s death, that Joachim Rioja Sr. had also died. She wonders who he left the Inn to tend and if it might be Jack.

  By now, the cab pulls onto the road leading up to the Rioja Inn and Tia can see it in the distance. She catches her breath. It is even more beautiful than she remembers. She immediately recognizes the huge white washed Spanish styled mansion with red tiled roof and a wrap around veranda. The house sits right on the edge of a small rocky cliff with sweeping views of the Atlantic Ocean. Right below the cliff is a small trail leading to a beach lined with colorful umbrellas where, underneath, hotel guests sit taking in the warm breeze and the last rays of sun for the day. How many times had she run down that road to meet her friends or Jack?

  The taxi stops in front and Tia, after thanking the driver in Spanish and paying the fare, climbs up the stairs and into the main lobby. The lobby is just as beautiful as the outside but without the feeling of grandeur or luxurious decadence she has seen often in some of the best hotels in New York City. It feels intimate and cozy with a fireplace in the center of the lobby that has not yet been lit because of the season. On either side of the room are massive floor to ceiling windows that bring the natural lighting of the outside indoors and creates a feeling of warmth and relaxation. The details of everything from the color schemes of the furniture, to the glow of candles, to the array of floral arrangements are all perfectly in tune to the theme of nature and serenity and Tia wonders who is behind all of this.

  Tia walks over to the reception desk where there stands, behind the counter, a very pretty young woman with long dark brown hair and an olive complexion very typical of Spaniards in this region. Looking up to see Tia approaching, the woman, whose nametag reads Grisel, greets her with a smile and Tia suddenly feels her age. Fresh faced and eager, Tia is reminded of how tired she actually feels and she can feel the energy draining from her bones. In her best Spanish accent, Tia asks the young Grisel which room Abigail Peters is staying in. Apparently the way she has phrased her sentence gives Tia away because Grisel answers her in broken English.

  “One moment, please.”

  Grisel disappears behind a back door, only to return a few minutes later with a handsome older man. Handsome he definitely is, Tia can’t help but notice. With the few moments she has, Tia looks him over carefully. He is taller than Grisel, of medium build with dark brown hair that has a hint of grey along the sideburns. He has a natural weathered look to him as if he has spent the better parts of his days in the sun and has been rewarded with a warm glow. Lastly, Tia notices his eyes. It is hard to ignore. It is a dark brown, almost black and it springs out from under his thick long eyelashes. Tia turns away as her eyes met his for the first time. She feels her skin hot and is certain that she is blushing. Tia can’t quite understand her reaction. She hasn’t looked at a man-any man for that matter-in that way since Michael and even then, she doesn’t remember Michael having such an impact as this man is having on her now. Tia tries hard to regain her composure as he approaches.

  “You are looking for Miss Peters?” He speaks English fluently with a hint of an accent.

  “Yes, I am a friend of hers. She wrote to me saying that she was staying here.”

  He smiles warmly and Tia returns the smile with her own, unable to stop herself.

  “You must be Señora Gables, then.”

  “Señorita Vale. Gables was my married name. But you can call me Tia.”

  He looks confused, staring at Tia as if trying to uncover a hidden truth to her. The silence becomes unbearable and Tia doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

  He finally breaks the silence with a simple question, barely audible, as if he is asking the question to himself, “Tiadora Vale?”

  “Yes, that’s right. Can you tell me if Abby is here?” Tia asks again, wishing to stay on topic while at the same time, fighting off feelings of an undeniably strong attraction she is feeling towards this stranger standing before her.

  As if coming out of a fog, he shakes his head, and he smiles slightly, his eyes shifting downward as if embarrassed, “I’m sorry, Señorita Vale. Abigail Peters is staying here but she went out this morning and has not returned yet.”

  Tia is disappointed. After all this time, she is anxious to see Abby. Under normal circumstances, it would be a very happy reunion, a long time coming. Under these extraordinary circumstances, Tia feels as if every minute spent waiting is one less minute she has with her.

  The man breaks her train of thought, “Why don’t I show you to your room and you can get yourself settled while you wait for Ms. Peters to return. You are in Room 203 on the second floor. I will make sure to have your luggage sent
up right away. If you will follow me.”

  Tia nods and she follows him to the back of the lobby, up a grand spiraling staircase. Tia looks up to see a large chandelier hanging from the center of a high vaulted ceiling that reaches to the second floor. The chandelier seems at odds with the rest of the lobby. It looks gaudy and opulent. Yet, it’s that same chandelier that triggers images of the Inn back when she was a young adult. Tia realizes that although renovations were done to the lobby, the chandelier, for whatever reason, was spared the makeover. She is glad it was. She feels connected to the place. The man interrupts her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry about the elevators. They are under repair. We never had a need for them until now. With this boom of guests, we have run into some problems with them. It should be fixed by tomorrow. In the meantime, we are installing a few more but they won’t be running until next month.”

  “Well then it’s lucky for me that I am on the second floor.” Tia smiles and he responds in kind. She feels a small jump in her stomach as his eyes met hers.

  “So where are you from?” the man asks, trying to make small talk as they climb their way up one more flight of stairs.

  “New York.”

  “Beautiful city.”

  “Have you been there?”

  “Twice on business. Is this your first time visiting Muros?”

  “No, I’ve actually been here many times, long ago though.”

  They finally reach the second floor and walk across a small hallway to Room 203. He pulls out a keycard, opens the door and gives her the card. His hand feels warm against hers. Tia can’t shake the feeling that she knows him from somewhere. There is something so familiar and just like that chandelier; she feels a strong, unexplainable connection to him.

  “Look at me, such stupid thoughts. Tia, it’s been years and you are not a teenager anymore. You are a middle-aged woman. Yes, he is very handsome but you are a mother of two kids, a divorcee. Get over it. That ship has sailed a long time ago.” Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his voice.

  “If you need anything, please let me know.”

  Tia reaches into her pant’s pocket to pull out a few dollar bills to give to him, wishing she had thought ahead of time to stop at the airport to exchange currency. He shakes his head and closes her hand with the money still inside. Tia can’t get past the feel of his hand as it brushes against hers.

  “No need. It was my pleasure. Remember, if you need anything, let me know.”

  “Who should I ask for?”

  “Joachim.”

  “Joachim?” Tia is frozen in the moment, her mind racing through her past. Could it be? She squints, staring at the handsome face with dark hair and bright eyes that stares back at her. All that Tia remembers of her Jack seems, at first, at odds with the man standing in front of her. Yet, the more she looks, the more she sees the young boy from her past. And then he flashes her that smile and she knows.

  “Yes, Joachim Riojas.” He bows slightly. “The proprietor at your service.”

  “Joachim Riojas?” she repeats, as if only to satisfy her curiosity. She wonders if he would remember her, remember those sunny summer days that they had spent together so many years ago. But, his next words answer that question for her.

  “Yes, Tia,” he says softly, his eyes meeting hers. “But you can call me Jack.”

  Chapter Seven

  Tia’s mind is reeling over her encounter with Jack. After he spoke his name, he simply smiled and walked away, leaving her with so many questions and no one there to answer them. So very confused and still feeling the effects of the long flight and the beginning haziness of jet lag, Tia pushes the thoughts of him out of her mind to think about later. After all, she traveled so far and so long to see the one person that mattered to her at that moment-Abby. There is no time to waste thinking about other things. So after she is finished packing, Tia takes a long hot shower, dresses and walks over to Abby’s room to see if she has returned. It is early evening.

  Scared, Tia stands outside the door of Abby’s room and takes a deep breath, preparing herself for what is right behind there. She knocks and hears her friend’s familiar voice as she tells Tia to come in. When Tia does, she isn’t expecting to see Abby as she is. Tia reminds herself not to cry. Despite the weariness she is feeling, coupled with the surprise of seeing Abby so fragile, she wills herself not to break down.

  Abby has grown old, much older than what Tia had expected. Whether it is the illness taking its toll or the years that have passed since she last saw her, she can’t tell. She pretends this is all normal and puts on a big smile, walking over to where Abby is sitting on a chair with her legs and barefoot feet draped over a large ottoman. She is wearing a colorful tunic with white pants and her hair is in a soft braid hanging on the side of her left shoulder. She has not a single trace of makeup on and Tia can clearly see the dark rings under her eyes and the wrinkles around her mouth and forehead. To her, Abby looks exhausted. However, as soon as she speaks, it is as if no time has passed between the two of them. Abby may look different, but it is clear from her voice that she is still intact, forceful and full of life, Tia thinks. Her body may be frail, but she is as strong as she has ever been as she calls out to Tia in a playful manner.

  “Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Abby says, a smile trying to light up her face. But Tia can see that it is forced. “Is that really you, Tia, or are the drugs kicking in? Am I hallucinating?”

  “You have to be on some powerful drugs to hallucinate me away.” Tia teases back, not wanting to be different around her. She reaches down and hugs Abby, holding her tight, wrapping her arms around her tiny frame. When she starts to pull back, Abby takes both of her hands and holds Tia’s face in them, her eyes inches from hers.

  “I can’t believe you’re finally here,” Abby whispers, a soft glow in her eyes. Yes, Tia thinks, despite the outer appearance, this woman is her Abby.

  Tia swings around and sits in the chair next to Abby. “I came as fast as I could, once I got your postcard.”

  “Fast as you could?” Abby laughs. The sound seems surreal coming from the wisp of a woman that sits before her. “Try twenty years! All this time I have been begging you to come see me and it takes me dying for you to pack that suitcase.”

  “Come on, Abby, that’s not fair,” Tia says but knows that Abby is speaking the truth. It still hurts her to hear it, though.

  Abby shakes a finger at her friend. “If I would have known back then, I would have told you I was dying years ago.”

  “That would have been a lie,” Tia says lightly.

  “No, it wouldn’t. When it comes right down to it, aren’t we all dying a little bit each day?”

  Tia knows better than to argue with Abby. She knows she would end up on the losing side of the argument as she always did when they were kids. Abby has a way of twisting, turning and moving words around to prove her point. She could convince a deaf person that they are able to hear if she had to.

  A moment of awkward silence befalls them. Tia isn’t certain how to break the ice. What does one say to a dying person one hasn’t seen in twenty years, she thinks. So she says the only thing that comes to her mind. “You look good.”

  Abby frowns and waves her hand dismissively at Tia. “Now who’s lying?”

  Tia sighs. Abby was never one to put up with fluff. Clearly that hadn’t changed. “Seriously. How are you feeling?”

  “Like crap but why complain.”

  Tia takes Abby’s hands in her own and looks at her, tears welling up in her eyes.

  “Now, don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?” Tia tries hard to stifle the lump that is settling in the back of her throat. But it’s there and it hurts.

  “Like I’m going to kick the bucket right here and now. I’ve got time left so don’t go killing me off just yet.”

  “How much time?” Tia knows the only way to talk to Abby is to get right to the point. The more straightforward the question,
the more honest the answer. There is no beating around the bush with her.

  “Doctors tell me all kinds of stories but what do they know?” Now it’s Abby’s turn to hesitate. Tia watches her, wondering what she is thinking and feeling. But Abby doesn’t give any indicators. Instead, she sighs, “One doctor told me that I should have been dead months ago. Now, I think they have me down to a few more weeks or two months at best. Who knows?” She waives her hand as if she is talking about carelessly leaving the window down in her car during a thunderstorm rather than about her life.

  “Weeks?” Tia’s voice catches. Twenty years of postcards and she might only have a few weeks to spend with Abby?

  For the first time in the conversation, Tia can see a bit of uneasiness in Abby’s gaze, a serious look that quickly changes to a smile, a grimace of pain, which quickly returns to a perfect posture. “Did you think I was kidding in that postcard?”

  Tia doesn’t know what to say.

  Finally, Abby speaks and her voice is devoid of humor. “I have a brain tumor that is malignant.”

  Brain tumor? Tia feels the tears again threatening to fall down her cheeks. “When did you first find out about this?”

  “Two months ago.”

  “And you didn’t tell me? You couldn’t pick up the phone?” Anger is rising up within Tia to think that Abby knew about her illness months ago and didn’t tell her about it.

  “For what? Unless you have the cure for brain cancer, you couldn’t do anything more for me than all of these people walking around in their little white lab coats. Tia, you have kids, a life back home. I didn’t want to get in the way of that until I had no choice.”

  “But a postcard, Abby. Really?”

  “I know a phone call would have been quicker but the postcard,” Abby pauses again. There is a wistful look in her eyes as she stares past Tia. Tia knows that Abby is thinking about the twenty years of memories that she had written and mailed. “Yes, a postcard. It just felt right to me.”