Luciano's Garden of Delights
giggle. “And with the chocolate, we may even experience miracles!”
“Miracles!” Maggie echoed, smiling again. “Apple pie…my favourite dessert…my favourite fruit actually.”
“Mine too,” returned the girl. “But there is one other fruit I’m rather fond of. I’ve never been sure of the name of it, but it is very sweet…and then again…it’s quite hot and…so juicy!”
“How peculiar,” said Maggie. “I can’t imagine what it might be but it sounds tropical and…and very different from apples.”
The girl nodded. “But apples are so good for you and you know what they say? ‘An apple a day keeps the doctor away’. So I suppose they could be called ‘the fruit of life’.”
The old man brought the hot chocolate.
“That smells divine,” said the girl. “I’ll have one as well please.”
He returned to the counter, humming a strange little tune that made Maggie think of fairgrounds.
Maggie touched the marshmallows gently with her spoon, pushing them into the rich brown brew, watching them slowly melt.
“Decadent,” whispered the girl.
Maggie took a spoonful of pink marshmallow and sucked it slowly off the spoon.
“They look like summer clouds floating in a chocolate sky,” the girl said.
The old man placed a second cup of hot chocolate on the table, with an extra fork for the apple slice and a small bowl of marshmallows. “I thought you ladies might like some extra…. on the house of course.”
“How kind,” said the beautiful girl, her eyes sparkling.
His gaze hovered on the girl’s face. “Forgive an old man such foolishness Signorina, but you have lovely eyes.”
The young woman’s eyes crinkled with pleasure. “It’s been said before,” she returned.
Now it was his turn to blush. “Ah! You are right, of course,” he chuckled softly, shrugging his shoulders. “The Signora here…she has the same eyes. It would seem that I am just an old flirt…very old…”
Maggie giggled.
“Very old indeed…but I speak the truth, ladies,” the old flirt went on. “You are both very beautiful women.”
“Indeed we are,” began the younger woman, a mischievous smile dancing about her lips. “And just how old are you, kind sir.”
He waved his hands, drawing a spiral in the air, “I have forgotten.”
The two women laughed together.
“And are you the actual Luciano?” asked Maggie, feeling a wave of confidence come over her. “Of ‘Luciano’s Garden of Delights’.”
“I am,” the dark stranger beamed. “And my son…and my grandson…three of us Lucianos. We take turns you know — in guiding…”
“Bringer of light,” interrupted the girl.
“You know the meaning?” the old man beamed.
“I love names. Names are so important.” She turned to Maggie. “Don’t you think?”
Maggie smiled.
“You know, in some cultures they don’t have proper names until they come of age; only pet names or nicknames,” the girl continued. “It’s as though it’s important to keep the real name a secret until just the right moment.”
“How wonderful,” murmured Maggie.
The café owner bowed very slightly. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Angelo. Angelo Luciano.”
He seemed to grow younger again and as he glanced at the mirror, his eyebrows suddenly lifted in surprise. “I must stop that.” He murmured, and waving a hand before his face his moustache began to grey again. “Beautiful women…they always do it to me.”
“Messenger,” said Maggie softly. “That’s what Angelo means isn’t it?”
The girl smiled. “Ah, so you also know the meaning of names.”
Maggie smiled. “Only some…but I don’t know how I know that one.”
“Well, Angelo has introduced himself,” said the girl. “So it’s my turn. My name is Lily and yours?”
Maggie thought a while, frowning slightly.
“I’m sorry,” said the girl. “I’m being far too personal. You don’t have to tell me your name if you don’t want to.”
“No,” Maggie shook her head. “No, it’s not like that.”
The old man stepped forward, his face full of concern. And she was startled to see that his moustache was now completely white.
“I…I,” Maggie faltered. “I can’t remember my name!”
The two strangers exchanged glances.
“Oh my god! I can’t remember my own name!” Maggie began to tremble as a mysterious double shiver ran up and down her spine.
“Ah, is that all?” said Angelo, picking up a marshmallow and popping it into his mouth.
“Is that all?” gasped Maggie, horrified. “Isn’t that enough?”
“It happens,” said Angelo, smiling broadly. “Perhaps the Universe is suggesting you find another name for yourself.”
Lily put her hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “Do you know where you live?” she began, her green eyes reflecting a depth of compassion that Maggie had never seen in one so young.
Maggie nodded, and in her mind’s eye saw the small house in the little cul-de-sac, with the neatly concreted front courtyard that her husband was so very proud of and the little shrubs that lived in dread of spreading their tiny leaves for fear of the pruning shears. Oh yes, she knew well enough where she lived.
“Yes…” began Maggie. “Yes I do remember where I live.”
A sudden flash of lightening lit up the mirror and Maggie fancied she saw three amber-eyed lionesses prowling through a jungle and shutting and opening her eyes in quick succession saw the mirror now only reflected her face, confused and completely naked and she yearned for a dab of foundation and just a smidgen of lipstick.
A loud clap of thunder roared from beyond the hills.
Maggie glanced up at the clock.
“11.45” she gasped. “I…. I should…I should go now. It’s very late.”
The little red second hand clicked rapidly backwards ten or so seconds and then stopped.
“Your name isn’t Cinderella by any chance?” teased Lily.
“It could be,” said Maggie, smiling unconvincingly. “I think I get blamed for as much as poor Cinders.”
Another flash of silver lit the sky, followed by an almighty bellow that shook the little café as a torrent of rain mixed with hailstones began to pepper the street.
Angelo smiled slightly. “Do you really want to go back to your house?” He called above the din of the storm.
Maggie didn’t answer.
“Or do you want to go home?” yelled Lily turning towards the back door, and as the older woman found herself following the younger, she suddenly began remembering the way. But the way to where? She wondered.
“There’s nothing like the garden in a summer shower,” said Angelo, opening the door. “Ladies before gentlemen!”
“Some summer shower!” gasped Maggie as the door closed with a dull thud behind them, and she found herself looking through a veil of rain at a beautiful garden — a beautiful forest — a beautiful jungle. It was all of these things. It had begun as a little garden and, as she walked through the veil, it had become like the forests of her childhood, filled with oak and beech; the floor carpeted in tiny mushrooms and wildflowers. She shivered as icy water saturated every part of her clothing, clinging to every contour of her body. And then she was in a jungle. Creeping vines embraced great trees that reached to the heavens, the air filled with the pungent fragrance of tropical flowers and the calls of wild birds that flew above her making her yearn for a pair of her own wings. The rain was warm now and the feel of it on her body temptingly delicious, like a tender yet sensual caress.
“I don’t want to go back, Lily,” said Maggie. “I really don’t want to go back to my house…in fact…”
The rain stopped.
The jung
le glistened in the moonlight. Lily had disappeared. Angelo pointed to a little clearing up ahead. His finger was glowing; glowing white as though it were made of clear quartz crystal and Maggie followed the brilliant shaft of light that lit the way.
In the clearing stood two trees and Maggie was astounded to see that one of them was a small apple tree. An apple tree covered in what appeared to be golden apples. She walked up to the little tree and touched one of the apples very gently. It seemed to be pulsating as though each apple contained a tiny heart and it was glowing from within.
“How beautiful,” Maggie gasped.
She turned to the second tree. It was much taller and wider than the first, seeming to touch the very heavens. Around the base of the broad trunk, a large serpent coiled. The tree was heavily laden with fruit and Maggie was mystified to see that each fruit was entirely different in shape and that every fruit was totally unknown to her.
She turned to Angelo. He was glowing all over now. She stared, wonderstruck as the light in his smiling eyes grew brighter and brighter.
“It is up to you signora,” he said, pointing to the tree. “There is no pressure on you at all. It is entirely your choice.’
Maggie felt her heart quicken as her hand reached out to grasp a perfectly round, multi-colored fruit from the tall tree. She barely needed to pluck it; it almost fell into her hand as if it knew exactly where it was going; as if it had chosen her! And as she caught it, the serpent’s head rose to look her straight in the eyes. And as she met the snake’s gaze full on, Lily’s beautiful eyes stared right back! Eyes of sacred jade! And as Maggie sunk her teeth into the bright fruit, she began to