The Choice ( a serial work of fiction ) Part 6

I awoke to see the sun streaming through the slotted vent windows that surrounded the sun porch where I had fallen asleep. A perky blonde weather girl was absolutely delighted that to the North of where I assumed myself to be , strong thunderstorm warnings were in effect until 9am. Her bouncy attitude was more than I could take , given my situation. I pulled myself off of the recliner, grabbed my tea mug and headed towards the kitchen, shutting the tv off as I went. Never one much for breakfast foods, I found some bread on the top of the refrigerator and some chipolte cheddar cheese inside . I found a small fry pan beneath the sink and placed it on the smallest burner. I located the coffee maker as well as the coffee. I had been expected for many of the brands were those with which I was already familiar. The coffee steamed through the filter and into the glass carafe below. The sandwich sizzled as the bread toasted nicely - good omen. I did not burn the sandwich today. I went into the dining room and took the small salad plate which I had examined yesterday. There was something homey about that plate.
Seated at the yellow formica table , I looked out of the back window that faced me. In the daylight, I could see a two car garage , a rock lined garden to the right . Three tall lilac bushes stood in the center of the garden . Surrounding them were purple iris, pansies, ribbon grass , roses of lilac grey, yellow with pink edges, brilliant reds , white and orange. Just beyond the garden was a brace of trees, and through a small gap in the tree line, I made out a small blue hill which was crowned with a radio tower of some kind. I thought that scene was perfectly framed. Still further to the right , was an old fashioned laundry pole. The garden continued around the corner , and morphed from flowers to herbs then what appeared to be vegetables. I recognized some of them , tomatoes, beans , carrots, peppers…there were other leafy things out there, that would bear further investigation later on for I did not recognize them from the window. It was obvious that the property was well cared . The grass was well cut and had no dandelions or weeds in evidence. Everything appeared to be in perfect order according to some intense planning. I wondered about the house, its owners and what purpose this place served in the bigger picture of what was. I was made welcome here, that was evident.
A mother rabbit and her three bunnies raided the garden. I watched them from the a smaller window over the kitchen sink as I washed my dishes and placed them in the drainer to dry. Running between the rose bushes, into the leafy vegetation , they provided a sense of security. Reaching for a red and white dishtowel on a nearby rack, I wiped the dishes dry . Darting through the garden , they sampled here and there- stopping for larger tastes of things that they appeared to enjoy. The baying of a neighborhood hound alerted the rabbits who scuttled for the brace then disappeared. I returned to the kitchen , poured myself a second cup of coffee . I returned the dish to the dining room cupboard . I went out of the archway and up the stairs to the right.
I turned right into the bedroom which my uncle had informed me , just the night before was to be mine while I stayed here. The mahogany rice carved bed had a white chenille bedspread and many pillow. There were 2 lamps in the room , a large touchier to the left and a smaller table lamp to the right of the mahogany nightstand. A small boudoir chair upholstered in white and pink roses sat to the right of the touchier with a small needle pointed footstool in front of it. Beyond that lay a window seat with pale rose chintz cushions. The window faced out to the front of the house , over the well kept lawn and to the street, which was quiet. To the left of the window seat was a glass doored, again mahogany , book case with many books inside including a full set of encyclopedia . To Its right , was the hot air register, curley piped reminder of an era gone by. Above that , was a small window which faced a tall row of juniper trees and through the row, the neighbor’s house next door. My eyes continued scanning to the right, where a large dark double dresser stood. It had two crystal boudoir lamps on it and was crowned by a very large mirror that showed the entire room. This was followed by two shallow closets with yet another window a short distance between them .This one facing the back garden and window seat. Its cushions matched that of its sister across the room. The wallpaper was white with tiny pink roses bordered by a ribbon scroll in darker burgundy at the top.
I placed my suitcases on the bed and began unpacking . Drawers , closets filled up quickly. I placed my Goddess statue on the dresser top , reminding myself that I needed to ask Maria about the crystal ball the next chance that I got. I put my shampoo and cosmetics in the bathroom which was next door to my bedroom. Clean clothes were laid on the bed. I found two doors to the left of the bathroom. Opening the first, I found towels of many colors. The one directly across the small landing , held toilet paper, cleaning supplies and toiletries. I removed two bath towels , a hand towel and a couple of face cloths. They did not match but it did not matter. A hot shower was in order, then I would look around outside a little. If my uncle was to return , it was not likely to be this early. The steam filled the room as I scrubbed away the grime of the journey and previous night. I wrapped my hair in a towel and hung the other, damp from my body , over the edge of the tub.
Dressing quickly , recovering my coffee cup, the contents still drinkable although somewhat cooled, I decided to check out the books in the bookcase. There were many titles by many authors. There was an unusually large grouping of Louisa May Alcott which extended beyond "Little Men" and "Little Women" to her lesser known works "Under the Lilacs" as well as Rose in Bloom. The encyclopedia were quite old as well, giving practical instruction on how to make candles and soap with lye. I loved the smell of the old books. I thought that was the smell of wisdom and experience. I continued on down the shelves to stories by HG Wells, Jules Verne, Dumas, Zane Grey and George Orwell. Assorted books on politics, philosophy , history , economics shared space with these. There was a family bible on the bottom shelf and a book of Masonic rites. I pulled out the large bible and looked at the family tree in the center. Someone had cared a great deal to keep track until about fifty years ago, then all of the entries stopped. I wondered why. I returned it to its original place. There would be time to check this out later in more depth. I certainly intended to check out the rather large tome on Richard the Third and the murder of the 2 princes as well as the one proclaiming "Rasputin , the Holy Devil".