"The house is so beautiful Dad."
Michaela stood there on the upper balcony, looking across at the avenue of maple trees, stretching as they did towards the distant roadway. Not far short of twilight now, the cool breeze made her shiver. She turned and glanced up at her father, whose hands rested gently on her shoulders.
"Do you really think we will be able to get it?"
The man inclined his head. Her words interrupted his thought-processes. In terms of "being beautiful," was not the vision of youthful innocence cuddled now in his arms, the alpha and omega of achievable feminine beauty? That he loved her to distraction was merely how it was. She alone had provided the solace and will to go on, after his wife had lost her protracted encounter with cervical cancer not sixteen months earlier. Eighteen now and in her final year of High School, she was everything a parent might hope for - academically proficient, domestically accomplished and socially desirable. One might even add -- genetically flawless. Occasionally, Daniel Peterson was lost for words in his daughter's presence.
"Well if the Bank comes through for us sweetheart, I think we can pull this off." he replied. "My contract with the studio has been renewed for two years and so long as we don't overspend, yeah I figure we'll manage.....struggling like everyone else I guess."
The girl looked up at her father. How many daughters the world over, could ever have been so fortunate, she pondered momentarily. Pulling his arms tightly around her shoulders, she stared at the tranquil vista. Just across from Tulsy Crescent that fronted Bear Creek Park, some small children were playing in the recent snowfall, seemingly reluctant to follow their mother to the park's exit gate. Michaela's instincts left her in no doubt that this is where she and her father were supposed to be.
Not a week later, Daniel's loan was approved.
Decentralizing from the apartment in Vancouver to White Rock in Surrey County seemed akin to moving into the White House after a lifetime's residency in a cramped trailer-park. The triple-story nineteenth century white-gabled home, complete with five bedrooms, three bathrooms and a triple garage, sat on a two-acre tract well back from the road. Fully restored and undeniably spacious beyond their needs, something about "Linton Mews" transcended practicality and if the truth be known, the owners had been very keen to sell, being happy enough with Daniel's initial offer which in other circumstances would have met with a likely rejection.
The gardens had been professionally established, although it would be spring before their aromatic charms and symmetry could be fully appreciated. For now though, Michaela was content to wander the intricate pathways, always pausing by the water fountain to admire the features of the great dragon that straddled its vanquished prey. Frozen-up for the duration currently, she knew exactly how the tableau must appear with water gushing from the beast's mouth. If heaven existed, it had a hard act to follow!
Given her exemplary academic history, there was no problem with Michaela's re-location to the local High School - Earl Marriott on 16th Avenue - for her graduating year. She engendered acceptance by her peers from day one, especially from members of the opposite sex. More than likely the grades of several besotted young males nose-dived that first semester.
Inevitably winter found itself in recess, the nights became a little warmer and Michaela's garden wanderings soon developed into a night-time routine. She would take her time crossing the walkways and garden trails, allowing the various scents to waft in and out of her consciousness.
It was a Friday evening late April that first she became aware of a subtle shift in reality. Having eaten out at "Tangiers on Eighteenth," with her father and subsequently outlasting a re-run of "Little Miss Sunshine" - a favorite of theirs, she found herself unable to further repel sleep. Kissing her father goodnight, she adjourned to the bedroom and having earlier changed into those rather becoming floral-print pyjamas, she slid under the covers.
The small bedside clock was showing but a minute or so after one o-clock when she opened her eyes. Neither frightened nor even vaguely alarmed, she simply knew that something had tripped her waking mechanism. For a few moments she sat there listening -- to complete silence! As her eyes gradually adjusted, she noticed that the bay window to the right of her pillow was open slightly. She was sure she had closed it before getting into bed. Alighting from her comfort-zone she crossed the carpet and looked out upon an almost surrealistic moonlit vista. The lightest of evening mists hung about the trees and it seemed to her as if the syllables of her name were being whispered in the farthest reaches of the garden. Drawing her robe around herself she craned her head forward trying to pick up the least sound but was forced to confront the fact there was really nothing there, and yet......
Closing the window she clambered back into bed, becoming aware for the first time that her pulse rate was now slightly higher than normal.
One might nominate few things in life more conducive to blissful relaxation than being ensconced beneath the covers of a comfortable bed on a chilly night. Michaela was but moments from reaching her second REM stage of the evening when she felt the gentlest of pressure upon her right breast. Opening her eyes on the instant she lay there unmoving, the sensation no longer in evidence. But for the beating of her heart, the room was as silent as the night itself. Slowly she brought her own hand up to her chest. She had felt the intimate touch and knew this was no instance of unfettered imagination at work.
For maybe twenty minutes the girl lay still, awaiting further evidence of the phenomenon, but none was forthcoming. Disappointed, rather than concerned, her consciousness ebbed away finally. It was however with bemused interest that upon waking the next morning, she noticed the top two buttons of her pyjama top were now undone. Had she subconsciously done this herself mid-sleep or was there another explanation? A flush though came to her cheeks as she gazed downwards at her now partially exposed breasts. Distractedly she re-buttoned her top.
Concentration at school was a problem for the entire day. Several times she found herself staring out at the distant playing fields, looking for what exactly she had no idea.
Daniel noticed his daughter's apparent preoccupation during dinner.
"Anything wrong sweetheart?" he asked. "You seem miles away tonight."
"Oh sorry dad," she replied, smiling at him. "No, really, I'm fine...just a little tired I guess. Mind if I go to bed a bit earlier tonight? -- got some homework I have to finish up too."
"Sure honey," he said, "See you at breakfast then."
Kissing him lightly on the cheek she picked up her back-pack and made her way upstairs.
Try as she might, she simply could not concentrate on the essay. For some reason she was feeling expectant. Someone or something was waiting for her. Where she knew not, why she had even less inkling. All she was cognizant of is that she needed to be ready somehow. Having changed, she once more crossed to the bay window and opening it, looked out upon the tranquil setting. A very gentle breeze was inducing movement in the upper branches of the maples and again she was sure she could hear her name but imperceptibly whispered on the wind, though just the one time.
She closed the window and walking to her bed, climbed in beneath the covers. Snuggling up in a fetal position, she hugged the small teddy bear that had comforted her whilst at the same time sharing her every life-experience since childhood. Try as she might to stay awake, the shutters were lowered involuntarily and within ten minutes she was fast asleep.
