Page 8 of The White Enchantress

“Are you sure youdon’t want to join us, Leo?” I ask as we unload our luggage from the car at the train station.

“Undoubtedly certain, my lady. Someone will need to keep an eye on the place while the contractors are at the house.”

All week long, I have been meeting with the contractor I hired. Since my mother and Uncle Aldon had already restored the old Victorian house to its former glory, it only needs a few tweaks to become a bed and breakfast.

“However, you must promise me that you will lay low,” Leo says, holding my attention with all seriousness in his eyes. “Americans might not know who you are, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get recognized. Call me immediately if you require my services.”

“And what services do you provide, Leo?” Josh asks sarcastically. The glare he receives from Leo wipes the smile right off his face. “I’m only joking. Jesus.”

“Don’t worry, Leo, nothing will happen to us. I’ve been to the city a million times. If anyone recognizes me, I know some placesto lay low. But, of course, I will give you a call.” I give him a bone-crushing hug before turning toward the train rolling into the station bound for New York City.

After Josh and I settle ourselves into our seats, my mind thinks back to the Victorian house I grew up in. It’s filled with memories of my mom, which doesn’t upset me as it had years ago. And I know mama would have adored all the upgrades I’ve planned with our contractor, Hank. He is the same contractor who worked with my mom twenty years ago.

Hank not only knows everything behind the walls but also has many memories of me from when I was an infant to my toddler years. I love hearing his stories about how my mother would strap me onto her body and offer to help with anything that wouldn’t disturb me too much.

Supposedly I’d fall asleep to the sound of a table saw in an instant. The sounds of hammering and drilling were lullabies. And as I grew older, my mom would teach me how to use these tools, paint, and put up wallpaper. I have vague memories of all this as the renovations were completed by the time I was four or five. But hearing them from Hank, they feel like real, tangible memories from a past that had begun to fade away.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Josh asks, bringing me back to the train as we approach New York City.

“Just memories of when I was young, helping my mom renovate our house when I could barely feed myself with a fork.” We laugh together.

“I love seeing you happy. Remember when we met? You were a blubbering mess.”

“Hey, I had every right to be.”

“You did.” Josh pulls me into a hug, speaking into my hair. “You were sad for a very long time, Guin. I know the grief of losing your mother will always weigh your heart down. But what you are doing now, turning your home into a place where many families can make their own happy memories, it’s a beautiful thing.”

I settle into the crook of his neck as Josh’s arm wraps around my waist. We both sit in silence, staring out the window until the train enters the dark tunnel leading underneath the Hudson River. “We should start collecting our things,” I say.

Since we are only staying for a short week, I hadn’t bothered to bring more than a small bag and purse. But I want to grab Josh’s guitar before the other travelers try to remove their items off the rack above our heads.

With our bags and Josh’s guitar safely in our possession, all we can do is wait. The train takes its time rolling through the tunnel, making its final stop at the underground platform at Penn Station. We follow the masses of people at a snail’s pace until finally exiting the train.

I grab Josh’s hand as we both step onto the platform, silently guiding him upstairs and out into the stale city air. Penn Station is always crowded with people during the day. The sidewalk outside isn’t much of a difference. Since the hotel is only a few blocks up, I continue pulling Josh along until we can walk side-by-side. Hedoesn’t let go of my hand when I loosened my grip, but I don’t mind.

As we walk through Times Square, Josh can’t help but look up at all the digital screens advertising Broadway shows, movies, newscasts and more. Acting like the classic awe-struck tourist. When we reach an intersection, I have to pull him back because he isn’t paying attention to the traffic signs. I point up to the right corner of the square, explaining that we’ll be staying at that hotel.

“We are staying in a hotel right in Times Square? Fucking awesome.”

“Come on, let’s cross over up there, by the TKTS booth. We can buy tickets for another show later at that booth.”

“I thought you already bought us tickets forOklahoma!”

“I did, but we are here for five days. We can see more than one show. I’ve left openings in our itinerary for at least a Wednesday matinee and another evening show on Tuesday if we want.”

“Fucking awesome!” Josh repeats. “I really want to seeHadestown.”

“Yes! I’ve listened to the soundtrack. It’s amazing. The off-broadway recording at least. Did you know that the guy who originated the role of Orpheus is playing Curly now? So we’ll get to see him tomorrow. His voice is butter.”

“Guin, you are doing that thing where you go off on a rant and I don’t understand a word you are saying.”

I shrug, pulling him past a family getting their picture taken with a knock-off Ninja Turtle. This is the weirdest city in the world, but I love it.

After checking in to our hotel and changing out of our traveling clothes, we walk toward Hell’s Kitchen for an early dinner. Since the open mic night we are performing at is in the same neighborhood, Josh brings along his guitar. Josh and I brainstorm songs to include in the set as we wait for our food to arrive. We are allowed ten minutes, at least three songs.

“I have a surprise for you,” Josh says after taking a sip of his coke. “I learned a song from that weird Yiddish musical you like so muchandput together some guitar chords, which was actually not too difficult. Would you want to give that a try tonight even though we haven’t practiced it together?”

“‘It Doesn’t Matter’ fromA Night in the Old Marketplace?“ I ask excitedly. When he nods, I jump up and down like a giddy little girl. “Yes!”

---