The Emerald

The floorboards on the cherry finished stairs creaked as Theodora made her way up the the 12 steps to the second floor of the Mansard style home. A home that has been in her family's possession since their arrival to eastern Massachusetts 1786.

Built by hand by her ancestors. Each stone dragged to the site from the nearby river and split to build the solid foundation with intent to stand strong for future generations. Each tree was chopped down from the overgrowth of pine. Sawed and milled by hand. Pulled by the draft horses and oxen they were able to procure from the surrounding farms and markets. Each plank laid, carefully positioned to withstand weather and storm.

Of course in 1787 when the house was finished it was nothing more than a timber frame made of pine from the land where it was built. With the size of the families growing within, the house grew as well. A three-level masterpiece, resonating from the victorian second empire. Once employing a successful self-sufficient farm is now ten acres of trimmed grass with winding garden paths and tresses. On the backside of the house near the kitchen entrance still lays a quaint herbal and vegetable garden that now services only the occupants within.

A small plot of land six acres over in the back, nestled aside the river, protected by black iron fencing and shrouded by the twisting vines of ivy, sits a reminder of those first few years that took the lives of those ready to sacrifice for their new home. Whether by war, famine, or disease. Their commissioned portraits hang ceremonially on the wall by the stairs Theodora now ascends for the first bedroom on the left.

A gentle hand knocks on the paint-splintered door. The sound was hollow against the weakening wood. It echoed the pain that was clutching her chest, keeping her throat dry. She took a deep breath and knocked again, louder with a firmer hand. Silence answered and her heart thumped wildly against her breast, she turned the crystalline doorknob and stepped her foot into the room. The door creaked as it swayed open, the action moving the air and the smell of vanilla and roses invited her into a dimly lit bedroom with faded cream and red damask wallpaper.

This room like most of the many rooms in this house was a gallery of voiceless faces. Black and white photos that hung in antique frames, welcomed her. Theodora took in the faces of the people forever etched into those frames. Family and friends of whom were strangers to her, except in the stories her grandmother told her. Generations worth of memories hung silently on the walls.

Smaller colored photos in modern frames adorned the Victorian bureau and bedside table. A testament of time as the photos progressed in chromaticity and quality. The photos of people that were kept intimately next to the bed were ones Theodora knew well. Her family. Her mother and father. Her siblings. Her Aunts and Uncles and their children. A photo of her and her sister were nestled in close to a wedding photo of her grandparents.

Theodora picked up the wedding photo of the couple. Though the photo was discolored and faded, she was able to recognize the blue of her grandfather's eyes and her grandmother's hazel. Her grandfather was holding her grandmother from behind and was bent down, nuzzling his nose into her black hair, pulled up in victory rolls that crowned her head and was kept in by her long lace veil.

"Theodora." Her grandmother sighed. The soft voice broke the younger woman from her reverie, and she placed the frame back on the table and sat in the chair next to her grandmother.

"Hi, Nonna." She took her grandmother's hand, and with the other, readjusted the oxygen tube that had slipped from her nose in her sleep. "How was your nap?"

"Fine my dear." Nonna gave a weak smile. "Is Margaret still here?"

"Yea." Theodora gave a disheartening smile. "Aunt Bessie as well."

"They are determined to find it." Nonna's lips curled tightly, her hands balling into fists.

"Find what Nona?" Theodora caressed the hand that was still in hers and waited patiently for Nonna to collect herself. It distressed her to see her grandmother upset. Especially now, she seemed so frail and small.

"The Emerald." Nona sighed and brought a tissue to her nose. Theodora leaned in and assisted her with lifting the oxygen hose from her face.

"Your necklace?" She glanced over to the wedding photo of her grandparents. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry and eye-catching against her grandmother's decolletage. "I thought the necklace was lost after mother died?" Teddy placed the tube back and sat on the side of the bed.

"Yes.., yes" Nonna stared off, her voice barely a whisper being drowned out my the humm of her oxygen. Collecting herself, Nonna reached for another photo on her bedside table and pointed to an old couple holding hands, each situated in elegantly carved high back chairs. “My great-grandfather stole that Emerald back from the King of England in 1827” She chuckled.

Theodora nodded. She knew the story well. A common piece in her grandmother’s arsenal. But when the older woman began speaking, she did not stop her, she allowed her to unfold the story as if she was hearing it for the first time.

“The emerald was a part of our family since an Aunt, so, so many centuries ago was killed for it. That jewel was praised as being a guardian of her soul." Theodora gave a small smile at her grandmothers words. Old Gypsie women and thier superstitions. Nonna still speaking as she smiled through ehr thoughts. "In which has been the heart of our family, passed down from mother to daughter since our gift began. King George IV thought it belonged in the palace with all his other stolen treasures, but when he tore the chain from your Great Grandmother Grenda’s neck, you Great Grandfather Bastien hexed him, and swore on the day he died, he would come to his chamber to retrieve the stone.” Nonna chuckled which was followed by a cough. Theodora waited patiently for the woman to settle herself and offered her some water.

Once Nonna was satisfied and comfortable again, she continued. “And he did. He posed as a doctor and stood right by his bed when the Ol’ King croaked. Snatching the jewel from the King’s personal collection atop his dresser.” Nonna smiled and looked over to Teddy, who was preoccupied by the thread on her grandmother’s shawl.

“Theodora.” Her voice was soft, understanding in her eyes regarding her granddaughter’s solemn distraction.. “Don’t be scared.” She placed her hand over Theodora’s to ease her fidgeting fingers.

“I know.” Teddy quietly whispered. She felt like a child again, watching another mother die in front of her, helpless to the hands of death.

“Theodora.” Nonna took her hand. “You have grown into a beautiful woman, and so talented” Her smile was weak. “Do not allow doubt to break your spirit” She closed her eyes to the breath she took. “You will never be alone my child.” Nonna smiled. “I nostri antenati ci guidano quando ci perdiamo.” in a soft and soothing voice.

Theodora took the framed picture off the bed that Nonna had regaled her story with and reached over to place the picture of her great grandparents back on the bedside table when her hand slipped, and the frame fell from the table through her fingers and the frame snapped, the glass shattered.

Theodora slid off the bed, panicked. “It’s okay Nonna.” crouching down she gingerly picked up the fragile print. “The picture is fine.” She looked it over. “I can go out and get a new frame for this.” She looked up over the side of the bed, holding up the photo. “Nonna, see.” Her smile slowly faded as tears fell. “Nonna?”

Nonna was lying in bed, her face toward her granddaughter with closed eyes. The soft wheezing sound of her breath was gone. Leaving the room eerily quiet.

Once the funeral was over and everyone gave their condolences Theodora went up to her grandmother's room. It was strange stepping over the threshold and not have Nonna welcome her in with a warm smile and a hot teacup. Even the photos on the walls seemed sullen. She sat on the freshly made bed and buried her face into the soft knitted throw. Inhaling the scent of a woman that she will no longer be able to hug. She held onto her pillow and pulled her feet up into the bed. Looking out into the room.

Theodora grew up in this room. Nagging her grandmother about the people on the walls and if they could see her. Nagging her grandmother to speak to them on the board she had painted on her tea table, when she would finally oblige the child, Theodora would lean into the planchette and ask in a whisper to the great Aunt that answered the board, where Nonna hid the good cookies. Theodora’s heart ached, yet she smiled at the memory.

Blinking away the tears she looked over the photos again on the bedside table. The wedding photo of her grandparents, one of her parents. The photo of her Great Grandparents, which she had reframed. And the photo of her and her sister. Theodora let out a startle breathe.

A trend among the photos she had never noticed before jumped out at her and she sat up.

Rearranging the photos starting with her Great grandmother who was not only wearing the necklace but was holding, in her lap, a leather-bound book. In her grandparents' photo, the book was placed flat on the mantle beside her grandmother's head, who was also wearing the necklace. In the wedding photo of her parents. The book was there, and her mother was wearing the emerald piece. In the photo of her and her sister., her grandmother was wearing the jewel again and her arm was casually placed across the mantle above the two children, her hand resting on the same book from the previous book. “Teddy.” A faint whisper came across her mind.

Black heels hooked into the rug under Nonna’s bed and Theodora ran from the room and down the staircase. Bypassing her intrusive Aunts who were now blatantly turning drawer's upside down and haphazardly rearranging closets. The woman stopped what they were doing and looked at each other, then began to follow her.

The young woman slid open the oak doors to the Victorian sitting room. One of the only rooms left in the house besides her grandmother's bedroom was still original to the décor of the houses’ era. On the ornate mantle sat the book from the photos. Theodora went over and lifted it. She and her grandmother have skimmed through these pages a thousand times. As a child, the book was nothing more than ancient languages, horrific drawings, and smelly recipes. She rants her fingers over the words engraved into the ancient leather. “Nunc constat veritas” Theodora had to stop and think, her grandmother insisted she sudy Latin at home and in school. “The truth can now be seen?” Theodora looked at the book contemplating the verse.

“Gimme that!” Bessie grabbed the book from her hands. She looked at the book and flipping it over, thumbing the pages. “It’s nothing but an empty drawing book!” Disgusted she even touched it. She handed it off to her sister Margaret. She took one look at the book and dropped it on the floor.

Theodora looked at the gold leaf pages, face down on the floor, crinkling in place. The book was not empty, it was filled with fascinating information and rituals she would watch in awe as Nonna performed them. Theodora went over and picked the book up. She laughed as she saw the page her careless Aunt dropped it on.

“What's so funny orphan!” Bessie snarled at her.

“I do know where the necklace is.” Theodora ran her hand across the thin, discolored paper, the strange Latin text written in a fine archaic hand. “I summon unto me, my ancestors, the woman of my blood that we may be bound. Guide me, protect me, baptize me in your knowledge from life and from death. Maiden, Mother, Crone. Sacred of all three, so mote it be.” Theodora closed her eyes with a big breath, bringing the book to her chest. A tug at her hand brought her back to attention and she was greeted with warm brown eyes. “Mom?” The book dropped to the floor and the woman into a tight embrace. Tear wetting the fabric that clung to her mother's shoulders. Her mother broke the long embrace, a hand trailing from her shoulder to her hand, gripping it tightly while the other ran her thumbs along her cheeks to wipe away the tears. “Teddy.” The womans voice was soft and whispy.

A shriek came from her Aunt Bessie as Margaret caught her fainting sister. Theodora looked back at her aunts who have stepped back from the scene now flourishing before them. Faint apparitions of familiar faces began to appear. Women that Teddy only knew from the photos and drawings that hung along the walls the house.

Nonna appeared before Teddy. A young woman with long black hair and dancing hazel eyes. An image as if she were staring into a mirror. Teddy’s breath caught in her throat. “I knew you would figure it out.” Nonna smiled. “It’s time for you to carry on the next generation.” Nonna held up the Emerald Necklace and placed it around Teddy's neck.

“Nonna, I can’t” Theodora choked.

“Shhhh.” Her mother reassuringly rubbed the back of her hand. “We will be with you.”

Teddy's chest warmed against the stone that illuminated her face with a brilliant green light. The woman surrounding her swirled and twisted into a crystalline vortex that was absorbed by the Emerald. Speechless, Theodora placed her hands over the Emerald, over her heart. She has been chosen to walk in the footsteps of her the woman before her. She stared down at her Aunts, anger consumed her. They desecrated a sacred house. “LEAVE!” Theodora roared. The older woman scrambled to their feet as Theodora watched them leave. A smile curling her lips as she slammed the door behind them