A Gift From Destiny

The large brass key slipped into the lock of the massive front door and Tamsen felt the tumblers move smoothly. She turned the knob and the oak bastion creaked inward, hinges groaning in protest. Dust motes, disturbed by the breeze, danced an un-choreographed ballet in the early morning sunshine.

She stepped over the threshold and paused to remove the key from the lock, then looked around. Her eyes traveled to the beautiful wood paneling of the foyer and the intricately designed marble entryway.

"Why, it's absolutely stunning!" Her voice echoed slightly and her green eyes were drawn upward, appreciatively gazing at the exquisite crown molding and elaborate crystal chandelier. "A Fresco! I don't recall Mama saying the ceiling had a mural on it."

Tamsen took another step into the room and ran her hand along the wall, looking for the light switch. Her fingers stumbled across it and she flipped it up. The room was instantly bathed in a warm glow, the shadows banished to nothingness by the marvel of electricity. The ornately framed mirror on the wall found Tamsen looking into her own expressive eyes.

She supposed she was thought of as a beauty, with her waist-lenth chocolate tresses, high cheek bones and pert nose, but Tamsen preferred to look beyond the outer surface to what was beneath the skin.

She stepped out of the foyer and into the sitting room to the right of the entryway, wanting to open the dark velvet drapes and allow the sun's rays access to the long unused room. The mahogany mantle, rich in color but lacking luster, lent an air of masculinity to the room.

In direct contrast to the chunky mantelpiece, delicate furniture populated the room. A small settee occupied the area in front of the grand piano. Several dainty wing chairs and a matching brocade sofa were placed strategically around the room. Flowered vases and crystal-ware decidedly proclaimed this a ladies retreat.

Tamsen clapped her hands in delight, instantly drawn to the piano. She lovingly ran her trembling fingertips over the dusty bench, then slowly, reverently, opened it up.

"Oh, Mama, they kept it. All these long years they kept your piano." Tamsen placed her palm against the small brass plate which had her mother's name and date of birth on it, then carefully closed the lid once again.

"Miss Shaw? Where do you want these boxes to go?"

"I'll be right there, Henry." Tamsen stepped away from the piano and headed back into the foyer. "Hm, I've only just arrived and I'm not sure where to put everything just yet." She opened a door to the left and found the library. A strong, musty odor of misuse was clearly evident.

"In here, Henry, just stack all the boxes against that far wall, and put all the plants in the foyer; in front of the hall tree I think."

The moving men, competent and expeditious, carefully stacked the boxes in the library. Within thirty minutes, they completed moving the many houseplants into the foyer as directed. Anxious to do more exploring, she paid the work crew and closed the door firmly behind them.

She walked from room to room, turning on lights and opening curtains as she went, exposing the long darkened house to as much sunshine as she could. The kitchen proved to be spacious and well equipped, with all the modern conveniences one would expect in a house of such grandeur.

Grandmother must have had this updated after Grandfather died, she thought. "I wish I could have known you both," she said to the empty space before her. The warm golden oak cabinetry wrapped around completely modern, cold, stainless steel appliances.

Under a whole year of dust, the beautiful granite counter-tops still gave the appearance of expensive good taste. A lone wine bottle, never opened, lay abandoned in the wine rack.

As she explored, Tamsen thought of her mother, dead now for almost three years, and all the stories she had told about this very house. It had been the stuff of dreams for Tamsen; now it was all hers. The house, the fortune, everything.

She spent the day upstairs, cleaning one of the bedrooms. She decided on one of the front bedrooms which was painted a cheery butter-yellow. It was accented with pretty white trim and would do nicely as her room. It had its own bathroom, a walk-in closet and Tamsen felt sure this must have once been her Mama's room.

After eating dinner, Tamsen watered all of her plants. The largely empty foyer of the morning now resembled an atrium, full of ferns, ficus, flora and fauna.

When she was done, she locked the door then headed upstairs, flicking off the light as she went. As the night passed, Tamsen heard the sounds of the house settling around her. If not for her state of exhaustion, Tamsen would not otherwise have slept.

When morning arrived, she quickly dressed in a pair of old jeans and a pullover sweater, ready to tackle the dust and grime of the long-closed house. She made her way downstairs and suddenly stopped, hand flying to her mouth to stifle the scream she almost let loose.

"Oh, my God! What's happened down here?" Tamsen observed her plants, neatly lined up in rows the night before, now in moderate disarray. Several were overturned, water, plant and potting soil spread about the marble work like so much detritus.

She continued down the spiral stairway, each halting step revealing further disturbance. When she reached the bottom step, the disorder was furthest from her mind. The beautiful hall tree of yesterday, with its shiny brass fittings and expertly carved arms and feet, was nearly twice the size it was the day before!

No longer could one toss a cloak or hat upon its beautifully chiselled arms, nor could a wet arrival deposit a soaked umbrella in its perfectly proportioned basket. The legs, no longer shaped as lions' heads, had grown together into an almost solid tree trunk. The once gracefull arms now resembled a leafless canopy, spreading outward and upward to the high foyer ceiling.

"But, what has happened here?"

"I happened." The voice sounded muffled, old, and thick. Cultured consonants softly blended into smooth vowels.

"Who are you? Show yourself!"

"I am here." The hall tree seemed to move from side to side and Tamsen stepped back, unsure how to address the furniture. Mostly unsure if she should address it.

"What are you and how did you happen to get into my house?"

"I am the cloak tree. I have always been here." The tree ceased its motion and watched Tamsen as she reached the bottom step.

I am going insane. I must be dreaming, that's right. I'm still sleeping and soon I will wake up and everything will be fine.

"I am sorry for the mess, but several pots were not set level last night and the water ran from their reservoirs and onto the floor. One of my brass fittings sits against the power circuit on the wall and when my wood began absorbing the moisture I felt a wonderful warmth spread through me."

Tamsen felt herself sitting down on the bottom step, loose-limbed and dumbfounded. The tree was talking! The tree was talking to her!

"I have spent the whole of the night growing, see how tall I am?"

She did indeed, for its branches now intertwined with the chandelier and its trunk was as large around as she, herself was.

"Amazing. And you can speak. Are you alive? I mean, will you stay alive?"

"I don't know. I am very thirsty, though and there is not much in the way of soil under the flooring, I feel my roots dangling. It is a very unpleasant feeling, having no secure footing beneath oneself."

"I can get you some water, but I'm worried about the flooring. I can't simply pour water all over the floor and hope it doesn't get damaged. Ah! I have it!"

Tamsen ran into the kitchen and brought back a spray bottle full of water in it. She mixed a small bottle of plant food into the water, then began misting the hall tree.

"Why, that feels wonderful! Oh, it's simply invigorating. More around the other side please. I have not felt the touch of water upon my flesh for many years, only the oil of lemon your predecessor was enamored of."

Tamsen acquiesced and continued misting the tree until the bottle was empty. She stepped away and righted a few of her plants as she went. "You knew my grandparents?

"I knew the man and woman who were here before you. If they were your grandparents; yes, I knew them."

"I never got to meet them. Grandfather disowned Mama after she refused to marry the man he picked for her. Then after Grandfather died, Mama died, too!"

"I remember the argument they had. Your mama never waivered or raised her voice to your grandfather, but he was very sad for a long time after she left."

Tamsen felt little comfort when the tree told her that. "I wonder why they never tried to reconcile?"

"Your grandfather was a proud man. If he admitted your mama's choice of husband was better than his, he would be less of a man in his own eyes."

Tamsen finished picking up the debris from the overturned pots and stepped back to view the tree better. "You're budding!"

"Why, so I am." Little green buds were emerging from the branches all above her and Tamsen watched in amazement.

"You grow so quickly! A week like this and the house will fall down around you! What am I going to do?"

"Do not fear, I will simply follow the walls and ceilings of the structure. This has been my home for many years and I do not wish to destroy it."

Tamsen spent the day cleaning and scrubbing, wondering if she was ever going to wake up from her never-ending dream. She continued her conversations with the tree and she had to admit she enjoyed it. The tree was well spoken and the well placed branches overhead had so far caused no damage to any rooms.

By the end of the week, the entire lower level of the house looked stunning beneath the canopy of the hall tree's dark green folliage. Branches gracefully draped around windows and doorways, the banister leading upstairs, the dining room and the music room. The kitchen had huge bay windows and the tree's leaves were greenest in that room.

Even the library no longer smelled musty. Every morning Tamsen would get up and mist down the tree, then once again before she went to bed.

"Do you have a name?"

"No."

"Hm, would you like a name?"

"Do I need one, Tamsen?"

"No, I don't suppose you really do. It's just that when I have a conversation with uh, someone, it's polite to say their name, like you just did."

"I never thought about it. I don't know many names. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Well, sure. Boy or girl names?"

"I think, girl."

Tamsen listed off several names of friends and relatives, then delved into the library for more. Works from Shakespeare to Koontz to King surfaced, but it was the book about mythological gods and godessess which finally produced a name meritorious and worthy of the tree.

"I like that one. It sounds strong and simple. I shall go by that name."

"Very well, Isis it is." Tamsen complimented Isis on her choice of name, then slowly made her way to bed after such a long, satisfying afternoon.

The next day found Tamsen in a contemplative mood. "Isis? I am expecting someone to come over this afternoon. He's, well, he's a good man and he's asked me to marry him. I haven't given him an answer yet. He's coming over to help me with some legal papers."

"A male visitor? There have been no visitors here in a very long while. But if you say he is a good man, then you should marry him."

"Oh, Isis! I wish it were that easy, first there was Mama's passing, and then when I thought I had found Grandmother, her lawyers descend on me and inform me of her death. Then, Grandfather's lawyers tried blocking the first set of lawyers from turning over the estate to me. I have had no time to spend with Kale over the last year and I..." she trailed off into silence, tears sliding down her cheek.

"He has not abandoned you for another, has he?" Isis did not fully understand what a lawyer was, but she understood Tamsen's tears.

"No, nothing like that. It's just, we were raised so differently. He went to the best schools and his parents are very well off. He works in his father's firm and sails a yacht down the coast every summer."

"These are bad things?" asked Isis.

"No, but I went to public school, worked my way through college by waiting tables and I get sea sick just thinking of boats. We spent many afternoons together and he's a wonderful person, not at all like his parents." Tamsen shuddered as she thought about her one and only meeting with Kale's parents.

It was just over a year ago and Kale had invited her to his parents' house for dinner. She had dressed nicely in a silver satin dress, complete with matching shoes and a beautiful silver-spangled wrap which she had purchased from the local thrift mart.

Kale had looked at her as no man ever had before. She felt cherished. Then dinner had been a disaster, his mother and father did not approve of his dinner companion, she was simply too down-to-Earth for their taste.

Kale had then informed them of his intent to marry Tamsen and the scene which followed still made her feel less than human. His father threatened to cut him out of the company and his mother promised to make life a living Hell. Kale had staunchly defended Tamsen and the two eventually left the upscale house in silence.

"So, you see Iris, if I marry him, he will lose his family."

"But it seems he is willing to do that, to spend his life with you Tamsen. If he is not worried, perhaps then neither should you be."

"Isis, you are such a great friend to point that out to me. I have come to accept you as a part of the house and it no longer startles me to hear you speak, but there are many who wouldn't be so accepting. I hope Kale isn't such a person. I don't think I could marry him if he was."

"Do you suggest I do not speak while he is here?"

"Yes, that's it exactly! Only, I hate to ask it of you, Isis, you were silent for so long."

"All right, Tamsen. I will cease speaking when your man is here."

The rest of the long morning, Tamsen finished her cleaning. Her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and faded jeans covered in the last of the dust, she picked up a handful of leaves then sat down on the floor at the base of Isis' trunk.

"We're done, Isis! I have finished cleaning this house and made it mine! Well, ours."

"I have been watching you. It is much nicer now, with the sun coming in and fresh air through the windows. I am happy."

"Really? I'm so glad. I found some of your leaves laying around on the carpet. Are you getting enough water and food?"

"I wasn't, but I am now. My roots have successfully penetrated beneath the house and I have found a fresh source of water. The nutrients in the soil are rich and I am doing well."

"I wish you would have told me! I could have put some tubs of water in the basement for you."

"I am fine, now. But your visitor is approaching the front walk, I shall be quiet."

True enough, the doorbell clanged and Tamsen jumped up to answer the door.

"Kale!" She laughed as he grabbed her into a fierce bear hug. "I'm covered in dirt! You'll ruin your nice clothes, come on in and I'll clean up." Tamsen stepped back and watched the look of surprise flit across Kale's face.

His blue-black hair was perfectly combed until he ran his manicured fingers through it as he stepped across the threshold.

"Is that a tree? In your house? Really growing inside the house?" He walked forward and placed his hands on the large tree trunk, then reached up and pinched off a leaf.

"Hey, don't do that! Yes, it's a real tree growing in my house. Neat, huh?"

"You know, if it was anyone else I'd say 'No' but you always have loved your plants." Kale whistled as he looked above, admiring the way the branches formed a perfect frame for the painting overhead. "How do you keep the branches from encroaching everywhere?"

"Magic!" Tamsen laughed at his quick scowl then propelled him into the kitchen. "Come on, the paperwork is over here. I just need you to look at them and help me fill everything out."

"Sure, sure. I got it, no more questions about the tree. Hey, you got anything good to eat in here, I missed lunch."

"Anything in particular? I have the makings for grilled cheese sandwiches if you're game? Just give me a minute to go get some less, uh, dusty clothes on!" She ran upstairs and found a pretty yellow blouse in the closet, slipped into a comfortable pair of khaki shorts, then ran a washcloth over her face.

Kale was inspecting the bottle of wine when she re-entered the kitchen. "Wine and grilled cheese, my lady?"

Her soft laugh was the only reply as Tamsen pulled out the skillet and ingredients.

"Yeah, grilled cheese is fine. It'll be like old times." He winked at Tamsen then settled in to read the stack of papers on the table.

Over lunch, Kale explained to Tamsen the conditions of Grandmother's will.

"Now, this is where it gets interesting. After your grandfather died, your grandmother became the sole beneficiary of the estate. She changed her will to reflect your mother as her beneficiary. You are your mother's sole beneficiary. So, when your mother passed away before your grandmother, you in effect, then became your grandmother's sole heir."

"I figured that part out, but what I want to know is this here, in the very back."

"Hm. Well, it seems your grandfather did not want your mother to inherit and made provisos that she wouldn't, but it doesn't state that you may not inherit, so the will stands. You, my dear sweet Tamsen, are a real, live heiress!"

"So, it is mine? The house and everything? Grandfather's lawyers can't take it from me?" Her here-to-fore hand-to-mouth existence was something Tamsen was willing to put behind her.

"Not unless you die without an heir. They can't touch you. I, on the other hand, am dying to touch you! Have you thought any more about my proposal, Tamsen."

"Kale, I still don't have an answer for you. I just need a little more time. My family spent their whole lives not speaking to each other and I won't be the cause of a rift in your family. I don't think I could bear it."

"I can wait as long as you need me to." He smoothed the pages of the will together, then paper-clipped everything into one neat stack. "Just promise me this, Tam. When you make your decision, remember you are marrying me and not my mother. She can be a terrible brick when it comes to not getting her way, but I love you and we can work through anything.

"Kale, what would you say if I told you that my tree talks to me?" Tamsen began twirling a long strand of hair through her slender fingers.

"What, this tree here?" he asked as he pointed to the overhanging branches. "I'd say you better not let those attorneys hear you talk like that or they'll have you committed and take away all your new-found possessions!"

"No, really. What would you think about a living, thinking, cognizant life form, capable of communicating with humans?" She pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him at the cozy kitchen table.

"I'd think you've been working too long and too hard this past week trying to clean up this monstrous old house!" Kale softened his words with a dimpled smile as he took her hands in his.

"If you can honestly trust me and believe what I'm saying, Kale, I will give you my answer before you leave today."

"Honey, that's not fair! You want me to believe that you talk to this tree? I know you talk to the tree, heck! You talk to all your plants! I think it's adorable, it's one of the things I love about you."

"No, Kale. The tree talks to me. Her name is Isis. In fact, I want you to say hello to her." Tamsen pulled her hands free, then looked at the canopy of dark greenery above her.

"You want me to talk to the tree?" Kale's eyes also soared upward, indecision plainly written in his dark eyes.

"Yes, talk to the tree. You have asked me to spend my life with you Kale, and if you can't trust me on this then I won't marry you. I can't ask Isis to remain silent for the rest of your life. She's only just found her voice!"

"Fine, I will talk to the tree." Kale stood up, "But you know and I know, I'm more a roses kind of guy." He once again flashed her his bright smile, one arm in the air, the other across his broad chest.

"Roses have thorns, I do not." Isis' deep, resonant voice reverberated throughout the house. The rich, warm tones of her ancient spirit rippled with self-assurance.

"Well of course you don't, you're a tree." Kale whipped his eyes back to Tamsen. She looked pensive as she watched the emotions trail across his face. He lowered his arm to his side and sat back down in his chair.

"Wait, you said Isis, right?" A look of recognition passed through his eyes.

"I am Isis."

"I am Kale."

"I had heard that."

"She had heard that!" Kale broke into an easy laugh. "She has a sense of humor! This is great!"

"Are you all right?" Tamsen looked at him briefly, wondering if she should get a cool cloth for his face.

"Of course I'm all right. Your tree is talking to me! Perfectly natural." Kale slumped down into the chair and sighed. "You know, I have to tell you something, Tam, and I need you to believe me."

"Sure. Go ahead." She rested her chin on her palms, as she wondered what he would say.

"Back in college, I had a diary, you remember it?"

"Yeees." Vague images of a tattered black book sprang into her minds eye. Tamsen wondered what Kale was leading up to.

"Well, the month before I met you, I was out in the student quad area. It was raining hard that day and I got soaked. Well, I was using my diary to protect my head when I was struck by lightning. Actually, my diary was struck by lightning."

Kale stood and paced back and forth for a moment. "After that day, when I opened my diary to enter something, I would sometimes find a sentence or a paragraph already there, in my own penmanship. Entries I never made. Then, I started noticing things."

"What kinds of things?" Isis asked, interested in this self-writing diary.

"Well, for instance, one entry said: Met the girl I'm going to marry today. And I met you that very day." Kale resumed his pacing.

"Your diary tells the future?" Tamsen, who had a living, talking tree in her house, felt the need for clarification.

"No. Yes. Well, it tells some of my future. I can't ask it who's going to win a race or anything, it doesn't work like that. Some weeks go by and not a thing will be there. Then one day, poof! A cryptic entry and I'm off again. You see, the day I met you I also met about fifty other girls and I didn't know who was the right one."

Tamsen couldn't resist teasing, "So, how many of the others did you chase?"

"Well, none, actually." Kale pulled the worn diary from his briefcase. The binding was good but the pages looked worn and aged. He opened it to a water-damaged page, pointing to a particular entry. "See here?" he asked.

Tamsen leaned forward and did see the writing. It was as he had said. He then flipped to about the middle of the book and opened the page. He slid the diary over to her and sat back.

She read quietly for a moment then looked up at Kale. "This is truly amazing!"

"What does it say, Tamsen?" Isis asked politely.

"It says, 'Tamsen agreed to marry me today, and Isis approved.'"

"Turn the page, Tamsen, there's more." he whispered to her from his vantage point across the table.

"Ok." Uh hum, "It says, 'We're going to have a little girl, Isis can't wait to rock the cradle, Tamsen is happy and healthy.' This was written today, Kale!"

"I know. That just appeared before I arrived at your doorstep." He stood up and walked around the table, gently holding her shoulders with his hands.

"What happens when you run out of pages, Kale? This is a three year diary and the first two years are used." She swivelled slightly and pulled him down to her eye level.

"I don't know. I sometimes wonder if the diary has a soul and I just haven't been able to figure it out. So, what's it going to be, Tam? You, me and a baby? Isis to rock the cradle without a fear of a breaking bough?" Kale was on his knees, intently staring into her expressive brown eyes. Hope and love warred with uncertainty as he waited for her reply.

"Oh, Kale! Yes! I will marry you!" She flung his arms around his neck as he picked her up and twirled her around.

And Isis approved.

~ * THE * END * ~