American Messiah (Excerpt 3)
Calls from his men went ignored, as his grief was inconsolable. Jason’s rifle and backpack slid from his grip and landed on the scorched earth. His men feared that he was lost to them forever. Floating on a sea of misery, Jason drifted aimlessly, giving no thought to his safety. Over hills, down steep gullies and across open fields he journeyed, without encountering so much as a farmhouse.
Four days he walked, following no particular schedule, to a nameless destination, perhaps, searching for an oasis in a desert of despair.
One day passed into the next, the coils of night and day entwine into a single strain. His boots caked with mud, his pants shredded by the coarse underbrush, and his shirt flapping like a flag in the wind, Jason finally succumbed to his self-induced deprivation.
Totally exhausted and battling to continue on, he stumbled over a fallen branch. The ground should have broken his fall; instead, a great hole opened to swallow me. Down he fell, tumbling down through the thick darkness, his tired arms flailing. His descent lasted until he and the cold dark void were one.
The aroma of freshly baked bread enticed Jason into opening his eyes. Even that small task required all the strength he could muster. His vision was blurred, as were his thoughts. He strained to make out his surroundings.
“You’re finally awake? I told father that you would soon recover. You must be starving,” a voice said, sounding as sweet as music. While she was just inches away, something rendered her face a blur.
After setting a bowl of soup down on the nightstand, the young woman pulled one half of the veil aside and fastened it to the bedpost. With the gauzy barrier removed, Jason saw her face for the first time. He was held spellbound by her stylish yet youthful beauty. Her long and flowing tresses, her eyes the color of jade, her satiny soft olive skin, and warm smile convinced him that he was still dreaming. But, then, not even in his dreams had he seen such beauty.
Her every move had all the grace and subtlety of a Viennese Waltz and the allure of a summer storm. Rendered deaf by her fiery yet reticent beauty, seconds passed before her words began to sink in.
“You’re going to have to sit up so that we can get some of this soup into you.” With her help, he managed to sit up. With bowl in hand, she slid across the bed until she was at eye level with her patient. As she spoke, she introduced his mouth to spoonfuls of warm vegetable broth.
“I’m Lisa Hale. Father found you a couple of miles from here. He thought that you were dead. But, anyone can see that you are quite alive.” Jason, tried to speak between mouthfuls, but was interrupted.
“Don’t try to speak. Any questions you may have can wait. For now, just try to rest.” After helping Jason back down, she lowered the veil and sped off. Long after she had left the room, the scent of her winsome fragrance lingered in the air, proof that she wasn’t a dream. Jason slept the morning away, but by the afternoon he was on his feet.
“I see that you are feeling much better today,” Lisa said, looking up from a row of tulips. Jason, leaning against the doorway, surveyed the flight of steps leading down to the garden. “Maybe you shouldn’t…” Before she could stop him, Jason was halfway to the ground.
Frantically, Lisa rushed to his aid. Acting as a human crutch, she halted his fall. Her athletic and well-proportioned physique supported him in his weakened state. Carefully, she helped him over to one of the two wicker chairs occupying the center of the garden.
With her help, Jason, wincing from the pain, relaxed back into the chair. Muffling his agony, he uttered his first words in what seemed like weeks.
“Where am I,” he asked, his eyes scanning the lavish enclosure. Before she could answer, Jason rattled off a succession of questions. “The house, the garden, how is all this possible? Everything here looks like new. Where are you able to come by these things?”
Lisa took a handkerchief from her pocket, removed her straw bonnet adorned with a yellow ribbon, and gracefully wiped the sweat from her brow.
“I think we’ve both earned ourselves a cold drink.” In no time, she was back from the house with two perspiring glasses of ice-cold lemonade. She handed Jason a glass and took a seat next to him. “Before I start, what shall we call you,” she inquired while fanning herself with the straw hat.
“I‘m called Jason. What I mean is my name is Jason,” he stammered. She smiled, amused by Jason’s uneasiness.
“I like it. It sort of suits you,” she said.
“Well, Jason, there’s not much to tell. Father found you in the hills above the house and brought you home.”
“And what about your father? Where is he?”
“Father’s often gone for long stretches of time on business”
“So, your father is a businessman?”
“You could say that,” she replied, seeming to shrink away from the question.
“That brings me to my first question. Where exactly are we?”
“Where exactly I don’t know, but father says we are in the mountains of North America.” Jason started to laugh until he realized, by the candid look on her face, that she wasn’t joking.
“I know that all this might sound a little odd, Jason. Perhaps I should try to explain.
“My mother was Creole. She and father met in New Orleans. Unfortunately, she died giving birth to me. Father had this house built shortly after her death. He moved us up here far from the world and I have been here ever since. I had several nannies over the years. And of course, there were other servants. However, as I got older I saw no point in keeping them around. I know what you’re thinking. It must have been difficult living alone all these years.
“It is not as bad as you would think, she said, trying to sound convincing. “After all, I have a beautiful house, a stable of horses, and father’s many magnificent gifts.”
“Father has an enormous collection of films, books and classical music. While I prefer the outdoors, they’re marvelous company during the long cold winter months. My favorite movie is Dr. Zhivargo. Have you seen it?”
“No.”
“Oh, you must!” Jason had heard of movies, but had never actually seen one.
”Your father must be an extraordinary businessman to be able to afford all of this. What kind of business is he in?”
“Jason, father will be here in a few days; you can ask him yourself. Those things bore me profusely.” Jason decided to store his questions for the time being.
“This lemonade, I don’t believe I’ve had any quite like it,” Jason declared, changing the subject. “What makes it so sweet?”
“Just sugar,” said Lisa. Jason held the glass up to the light, examining its remaining content. With another gulp, he emptied the glass. “Let’s get you back in bed,” she insisted, taking him by both hands and hauling him to his feet. “I have a surprise for you this evening. So, when you wake, put on the clothes that you find laid out. They should fit.”
When Jason awoke, he could see that the sun had gone down. The light emanating from the hall allowed him to make his way to the bathroom. After a long and invigorating shower, he slipped into the clothes that he found folded immaculately across the arm of a chair. He dressed hastily, never bothering to inspect his appearance. Beckoned by the tantalizing aroma, Jason made his way to the dining area.
“Ah, Jason, you’re just in time. I was just about to come and wake you. The clothes are a perfect fit. Silk and linen suits you. And, the combination of cream and terracotta brings out the marvelous russet flakes in your eyes. Come, Jason; take your place at the table.”
“I’m starting to feel my strength returning. Maybe there is something that I can do.”
“Thanks, love, but everything has already been taken care of.”
Beaming with delight at his offer, she turned, hurried across the floor and disappeared into the kitchen. The luxurious furnishings were beyond his imagination. Jason suddenly realized that the house was constructed to resemble a compound. From where he stood, he could see glass corridors leading to other sections of the house, undoubtedly to the other bedrooms. The inner garden, visible throughout the house, helped to bring the lush landscape indoors.
Upon closer inspection of the living space, Jason eyed a grand piano, breathtaking works of art and fine furnishings. An erotic fresco, hung in the living area, displayed an orgy of naked bodies swirling in a sea of pleasure.
He suddenly remembered seeing a house very much like it in a discarded magazine and wondering what it would be like to live there. Impossible, it could not be the same house. Maybe my thoughts are still a little fuzzy, he reasoned.
Lisa returned with a serving cart loaded with an assortment of silver trays. Jason rose from the chair to assist her, but she politely waved him off. “You look great,” he said, drinking in her every move. Lisa beamed a smile and continued setting the table.
She was wearing a simple yet elegant, black strapless cocktail dress. A string of black pearls graced her neck and her hair was crafted into a bun that was pierced with a chignon in the shape of a snake. The dress fit snuggly at the hips and rose more than slightly when she reached to light the candles. All to Jason delight.
The table was set with crystal and silver. The center of the table featured a montage of red, yellow and white orchids.
“You’ll honor my father by occupying his seat at the head of the table. As you are his guest and partake of his hospitality, you will reciprocate in this way.” Jason complied with her simple yet peculiar request. Lisa ceremoniously uncovered the roasted pheasant topped with a burgundy and mushroom sauce; confetti wild rice, tender baby peas and steaming hot parfait dinner rolls. “What do you think,” she asked, her arms sweeping out over the table.
“My mind is still unclear about a lot of things, but I’m sure I’ve never had a meal like this.” Lisa smiled approvingly and proceeded to serve the food. She watched intently as Jason devoured several servings in short order, including a number of chocolate cream tortes. After the dessert, Lisa suggested that they move into the living area, where she had a rare bottle of Chateau Lafitte chilling.
Jason, with Lisa’s urging, lit a fire and they both sat watching the flames roar to life. “You know, I never thanked you for everything that you and your father have done for me.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Jason. Our home is your home,” she cooed, stroking his arm.
“That’s just it,” Jason said. “I am starting to recall tiny bits of my past, nothing concrete, just chaotic flashes. But, I’m sure that there is some place that I should be. I feel the prod of some great compulsion.”
“But you would be so happy here, with us,” said Lisa, sliding closer to him.
“I must confess, it all seems like a wonderful dream, but…”
“But what?”
“Maybe I should think about returning home, wherever that might be.” Lisa abruptly withdrew her touch and turned away.
“Perhaps it is the wine, but I’m suddenly feeling quite fatigued.” Rising quickly from the couch and without so much as word, she strolled from the room. Jason called to her. Only silence. For hours, he sat there in the glow of the crackling fire trying to piece together the jumbled fragments of his past.
The next morning, he awoke in front of the huge cobbled fireplace, the flame long since died down. A charred log, half covered with ash, was a taunting reminder of the night’s sour ending.
Jason searched the house for Lisa in order to apologize. After all, he understood her motive for wanting him to stay. Maybe she was right. The idea of staying, at least until his memory returned, was beginning to appeal to him. After searching the house and garden, Jason decided to try outside. Still, no Lisa.
Giving up on his search, he decided to stretch his legs by exploring the countryside. Just over a nearby hill, he came upon a wooded area where the sound of running water caught his ear. Following the course of a rock-strewn brook, Jason stumbled upon Lisa swimming in a small water table wedged between two waterfalls. He started to call to her, but something inside stopped him.
Instead, he moved further downhill to a location offering a better view, yet continuing to conceal his presence. Below a chiming waterfall, a small, tranquil pool of water collected before spilling over still another fall.
The cerulean pool, the color of the Caribbean, became the scene of an aqua ballet. Lisa seemed to glide through the water; casing out tiny ripples in her wake. Swirling whirlpools materialized across the surface of the water as she plunged. The whirlpools spun off, like planets spinning off into space, until they were no more.
Although he thought of heading back, he was powerless to divert his eyes from Lisa’s bare body as she emerged from the water. Standing there, dripping wet, sunlight glistening off her young, firm body, Lisa was a vision of loveliness inscribed indelible in Jason’s mind. He watched as she casually pulled her jeans across her seemly thighs, and over her curvaceous hips. Slipping into her powder blue tunic, she didn’t bother to dry off. The thin fabric clung to her moist body, windowing her voluptuous breasts.
Tilting her head askance to ring the water from her hair, she followed the path of the stream down the hill and into the thick brush. Jason’s heart throbbed, and his palms were as clammy as the rocks found at the ocean’s edge. Like the tiny waterspouts animated by Lisa’s sudden descent, his thoughts of leaving dissolved. When Jason finally reached the house, he heard deep sobbing emulating from within and he ran to investigate.
“Lisa…Lisa, is everything alright,” he yelled, shoving open the giant oak doors. Arriving in the living area, he found Lisa crying on the sofa. “What’s happen? Has something happened to your father?” Lisa shook her head, but continued to look away. Jason sat down beside her. “Is it something that I’ve done? At first, he thought that it was his spying or maybe his talk of leaving. He was about to offer an apology.
“No, Jason,” she said, turning slowly to face him. “You have done nothing wrong. The fault is my own.” She hesitated a minute to compose herself as the tears continued to stream down. “Silly me, I have allowed myself to fall in love with you.” Shocked by her answer, Jason didn’t know what to say.
Instead, he lifted her chin slowly with the bend of his pointer finger, and gazed into her wistful eyes. Following their heart’s desire, the two fell into a deep and sensual kiss. Their lips became a conduit of molten passion.
Lisa gently retreated from the embrace and rose to her feet, her hair tossed to one side, her eyes smoldering, her legs spread and her hips pointed. She slowly slipped out her tunic. Never taking her eyes off him, she let her jeans drop about her ankles, kicked them aside, and strutted seductively toward him.
Jason, overcome with desire, sprang from the sofa, snatching her up in his arms. As if cradling the most fragile piece of porcelain, Jason lowered her down to the couch. After shedding his clothes, he covered her with his body. Her supple breasts pressed hard against his bulging chest, her long sculptured legs wrapped across the small of his powerfully built back as he planted tiny kisses, as soft as the wings on a butterfly, down the ridge of her neck.
His every touch caused her body to erupt. He ran his strong but delicate hands over her squirming body and stroked the tight cords of her smooth and ample thighs. Locked in love’s embrace, they tumbled to the floor and rolled along the Persian rug.
Lisa slid her moist tongue from Jason’s bear chest down to his navel, catapulting him to breathless heights of carnal bliss. She opened her legs to receive his long muscular frame, inviting him where no man had ever been, their bodies rising and falling, contracting and relaxing to silent melodies of love and lust.
Their moans of ecstasy filled the house and fanned the flames of their lovemaking into synchronized cries of rapture. Time and space transcended, the two laid wrapped in each other’s arms riding on gossamer wings of earthly pleasure and heavenly delight.
Nothing was the same after that. They became an island unto themselves. Jason and Lisa lived and loved as though they were Earth’s last two inhabitants. Jason no longer tried to recall his past or tried to unravel the enigmatic images frequenting his dreams. He had completely surrendered to the idea of living out the rest of his days with her.
His love for Lisa grew with each passing day. Their carefree days were filled with bareback rides through the flourishing countryside; sunset climbs to the top of nearby hills, and picnic lunches among the lilies. Most of their nights were spent nuzzled by a cozy fire, or enjoying midnight swims in the cold-stream waters under the constant watch of Aphrodite, the love goddess. Each day was more joyous than the day before. Life was wondrous, or so it seemed.
Jason was out in the garden selecting a bouquet of African violets for the evening’s centerpiece when he heard voices emanating from the house. Jason threw down the flowers and raced inside.
“Hello, Jason. I’m James Hale,” a short, partially bald man said, offering his hand to Jason while flashing an infectious smile. “I am glad to see you up and about. I trust that my daughter has been taking good care of you.”
“Oh, yes sir, she has,” Jason answered, shooting a puzzled glance over at Lisa while shaking Hale’s hand.
“Lisa tells me that you’ve lost your memory,” said Mr. Hale, holding Jason’s hand in a firm grip.
“Yes, that’s right. I don’t remember who I am. It’s like my life began the moment you found me.”
“Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise. What I wouldn’t give to be able to wipe away all my past sins. Not to worry, my boy, you will see things clearly soon enough, I can assure you.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Jason said, for the sake of appeasing his host. Her father was nothing like he expected, he thought to himself. He was anticipating a captain of industry or CEO type. The kind he had read about, although he couldn’t remember where. In contrast, Mr. Hale looked quite ordinary, mousy even, in his black, horn-rimmed glasses. He stood there in his creased blue seersucker and slightly oblique bowtie with the look of a retired book dealer.
“Mr. Hale, I am deeply in your debt. If you had not come along when you did... Well, I’m lucky you did. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Anything?”
“Anything!”
A cryptic smile came over Mr. Hale’s face. “Have you found our humble abode to your liking, Jason?”
“Oh yes, everything has been great. I have never seen anything like it, or at least I don’t think I have. But, how have you come by all this when the world is in such ruin, if you don’t mind me asking?” Mr. Hale let out a boisterous laugh.
“Let’s just say that there are many in positions of influence that are indebted to me.”
“Would the rulers of New America be included on that list?”
“Yes, I guess you could say that I’ve done business with them from time to time. After all I’m a businessman; not a politician.” Jason seemed to run out of questions for the moment.
“Lisa tells me that you two are in love,” Mr. Hale blurted out, summoning Lisa to his side with an outstretched arm. In no time, she was by her father’s side; the two were all smiles. “Ahhh, to be young and in love,” shifting his gaze from Lisa to Jason.
“I want you to know that the two of you have my most heartfelt blessing. I think that this occasion calls for a toast,” the lord of the manor insisted. Jason agreed as he strayed over to the window looking out over the garden.
Then a thought occurred to him. How odd it was that it had not rained since he’d arrived, but the flowers were not the least bit dry or withered. His thoughts were interrupted when Lisa came and handed him a brandy. Taking him by the hand, she led him to the sofa, where they sat side by side, her shoulder resting back against his chest.
After Mr. Hale’s toast, Jason continued to make small talk with his host; however, thoughts of the flowers lingered. Jason’s eyes searched the room for an imperfection, some dust or a stain. Instead, everything was perfect.
Maybe a little too perfect, he thought.
The next day Lisa and Jason picked up where they left off. They started the day with a ride over to the next valley. Before long, he was drawn to other irregularities.
To start, he had not eyed a single bird flying overhead, witnessed any insects buzzing about the blossoms, or spied a single fish darting about in the eddies. Then, there was the house. No one came or went, but it stayed well stocked. And, when they returned from their long rides, not a single thing was out of place. He remembered flinging a wet towel on the bed and returned to find it replaced by a fresh one.
In addition, there was Mr. Hale. Oddly, the old man was nowhere to be found except at after dusk. Jason could not help feel that behind Mr. Hale’s affable appearance and natural charm, something sinister lurked.
Lisa noticed that Jason was becoming a little distant and tried with her womanly charms to loosen his pensive mood.
At diner Jason avoided eye contact with his festive host, but observed his every move out of the corner of his eye. Lisa tried to veil Jason’s emotional exodus with the details of their most recent trek, but Hale saw through her.
“Seems like you have something on your mind, young man,” Mr. Hale inquired as he poured a second glass of vintage Cognac. Lisa looked on anxiously.
“What about the raiders and the slavers. If you’re not concerned about you own life, what about your daughter’s life,” Jason asked. The little man let out a laugh with Lisa joining in, reluctantly.
“I’m delighted that you’re that concerned for our safety, but there’s nothing to be concerned about, I can assure you,” Hale said, looking away for the first time. Deciding to risk it, Jason asked the question that had been in the back of his mind since Lisa first spoke his name.
Maybe it was the reverence in her voice when she spoke of him. Perhaps, the answer was in his eyes. They never exposed anything about his true nature.
“Sir, just who are you,” Jason asked, staring directly into those boarded up windows that passed for eyes. After a protracted silence, Mr. Hale sat down his glass.
“You may not want to know.”
“Who the hell are you,” Jason yelled. Lisa, startled by her lover’s tone, squirmed in her seat, her eyes glued to her father. As the old man rose from his chair, Jason witnessed a change come over the old man’s face.
Gone was the affable old book dealer. His back straightened and his shoulders drew back, making him appear years younger. What had been lifeless eyes now encased a stare as cold as the Arctic winds.
Right before Jason’s eyes, the old man transformed into the image of a teen-age boy.
“What’s up, dude? Do you know where I can cop some good shit,” the boy asked, holding up a joint to his lips, his patronizing laugh mocking Jason. Jason was rendered mute by his fears.
Mr. Hale morphed through a series of eclectic figures, leaving Jason clutching the arms of the chair. He felt his world had just been pulled out from under him. Back into his original form, the old man came from behind the table and strolled toward Jason.
