The Marigold Scripture

Mara spent the evening on the patio in her back garden. She’d watched as the sun set over the ocean and took a moment to enjoy pure peace. After the strange events of the day, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with a good book until she fell asleep. It was all she needed.

Her eyes kept going back to the brown paper package. Now that she looked at it, it was bigger than jewellery. Whatever he got her, he must have thought it would work as an apology present. Nothing would. Nothing could repair the damage he had caused. She had fixed it herself anyway. But the feeling of hurt remained. A gift? That only pissed her off. There was nothing that would change her mind.

She sat back and nursed a glass of Merlot. She rarely drank but the events of the day called for it. Her eyes again went to the gift. She snorted. Antonio wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t do apology gifts. He said he’d meant to give it to her on their wedding night. There was nothing that she could think of that she could possibly want…except for one thing. But she knew it was impossible. It had been their DREAM to find it.

Quickly draining her glass, she picked up the package and walked indoors, taking care to lock the glass doors behind her. She popped the glass in the dishwasher and was about to head to bed when she knocked the package off the counter, watching it fall with a look of horror on her face.

It simply landed with a loud thud, the package tearing in one corner and revealing a leather-bound book. Her heart thudded. She kneeled down and touched it gently, feeling the worn leather, soft and supple. She could see the beginning of a design on the cover and couldn’t resist any further. She sat on the floor on her knees and tore away the rest of the brown packaging, taking care not to damage the book underneath.

Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets in surprise as she looked at the cover. On the front was a pressed marigold, surrounded by gold leaf patterning and encased under a small panel of glass. Luckily it hadn’t shattered when the book fell. What drew her eye wasn’t the marigold, it was the writing above it. The Marigold Scripture.

It was here! In her home! How? How on earth did that fool find it before her? Granted, she had been upset and healing for the last seven years, but she never stopped searching. Any whisper of its whereabouts, any trace of its history and she was there immediately. So how had Antonio managed to procure it?

She held the book gently, as though afraid it might explode. Well, she knew what her bedtime reading was for tonight.

Comfortable in bed, she rested the book on the pillow next to her. She was afraid to open it, afraid of the secrets it might reveal to her. This book had been a lifetime’s work of searching and she hadn’t even been the one to find it. It had been Antonio. She knew what she had to do tomorrow but her heart was torn. They had started this venture together and she knew that they would have to see it through together, regardless of what had gone on between them.

She held his card in her hand and looked at the embossed writing on it, displaying his phone number. She cringed. The last thing she wanted to do was to speak to him, but she knew she needed to. She would set up a meeting. Strictly business. Cafe Chocolat would be the best place; it was secure and Mrs Devlin would ensure they had the place to themselves away from prying eyes. If anyone got wind of the book she didn’t know what would possibly happen, she only knew that there were a lot of people searching for this book and not all of them had good intentions.

She placed the card on her bedside table and breathed a long sigh, before turning to the book. Perfect. Possibly the most mysterious book sitting on her pillow next to her. Her fingers gently ran over the marigold, knowing it was more than just a symbol; for some people, it was their last hope. She had plans to see this through. It might be the wine talking, but goddammit was she going to see this through, no matter what the cost. And it would all start tomorrow morning, after a lengthy phone call with the man who left her at the altar. How should she start that conversation?

To be continued…

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If you'd like to catch up with Parts One and Two of Cafe Chocolat, here are the links:

Part 1: https://vocal.media/fiction/cafe-chocolat

Part 2: https://vocal.media/fiction/cafe-chocolat-r1cq0a0gas