Not Just Another Messiah Come Lately

American Messiah (Excerpt)

By

James A. Hall

he aroma of freshly baked bread enticed Jason into opening his eyes. Even that small task required all the strength he could muster. His vision was blurred, as were his thoughts. He strained to make out his surroundings.
"You're finally awake? I told father that you would soon recover. You must be starving," a voice said, sounding as sweet as music. While she was just inches away, something rendered her face a blur.
After setting a bowl of soup down on the nightstand, the young woman pulled one half of the veil aside and fastened it to the bedpost. With the gauzy barrier removed, Jason saw her face for the first time. He was held spellbound by her stylish yet youthful beauty. Her long and flowing tresses, her eyes the color of jade, her satiny soft olive complexion, and warm smile convinced him that he was still dreaming. But, then, not even in his dreams had he seen such beauty.
Her every move had all the grace and subtlety of a Viennese Waltz and the allure of a summer storm. Rendered deaf by her fiery yet reticent beauty, seconds passed before her words began to sink in.
"You're going to have to sit up so that we can get some of this soup into you." With her help, he managed to sit up. With bowl in hand, she slid across the bed until she was at eye level with her patient. As she spoke, she introduced his mouth to spoonfuls of warm vegetable broth.
"I'm Lisa Hale. Father found you a couple of miles from here. He thought that you were dead. But, anyone can see that you are quite alive." Jason, tried to speak between mouthfuls, but was interrupted.
"Don't try to speak. Any questions you may have can wait. For now, just try to rest." After helping Jason back down, she lowered the veil and sped off. Long after she had left the room, the scent of her winsome fragrance lingered in the air, proof that she wasn't a dream. Jason slept the morning away, but by the afternoon he was on his feet.
"I see that you are feeling much better today," Lisa said, looking up from a row of tulips. Jason, leaning against the doorway, surveyed the flight of steps leading down to the garden. "Maybe you shouldn't…" Before she could warn him, Jason was half way to the ground.
Frantically, she rushed to his aid. Acting as a human crutch, she halted his fall. Her athletic and well-proportioned physique supported him in his weakened state. Carefully, she helped him over to one of the two wicker chairs occupying the center of the garden.
With her help, Jason, wincing from the pain, relaxed back into the chair. Muffling his agony, he uttered his first words in what seemed like weeks.
"Where am I?" he asked, his eyes scanning the lavish enclosure. Before she could answer, Jason rattled off a succession of questions. "The house, the garden, how is all this possible? Everything here looks like new. Where are you able to come by these things?"
Ignoring his questions for the moment, Lisa took a handkerchief from her pocket, removed her straw bonnet adorned with a yellow ribbon, and gracefully wiped the sweat from her brow.
"I think we've both earned ourselves a cold drink." In no time, she was back from the house with two perspiring glasses of ice-cold lemonade. She handed Jason a glass and took a seat next to him. "Before I start, what shall we call you?" she inquired while fanning herself with the straw hat.
"I'm called Jason. What I mean is my name is Jason," he stammered. A glowing smile appeared on her face, amused by Jason's uneasiness.
"I like it. It sort of suits you," she said.
"Well, Jason, there's not much to tell. Father found you in the hills above the house and brought you home."
"And, what about your father? Where is he?"
"Father often goes off for long stretches of time on business"
"So, your father is a businessman?"
"You could say that," she replied, seeming to shrink away from the question.
"That brings me to my first question. Where exactly are we?"
"Where exactly I don't know, but father says we are in the mountains of North America." Jason started to laugh until he realized, by the candid look on her face, that she wasn't joking.
"I know that all this might sound a little odd, Jason. Perhaps I should try to explain. My mother died giving birth to me. Father had this house built shortly after her death. He moved us up here far from the world and I have been here ever since. I had several nannies over the years. And of course, there were other servants. However, as I got older I saw no point in keeping them around. I know what you're thinking. How hard it must be living alone all these years."
"It is not as bad as you would think, she said, trying to sound convincing. "After all, I have Father, a beautiful house, the horses, and all the wonderful things that Father brings me back from his trips."
"Father has an enormous collection of films, books and classical music. While I prefer the outdoors, they're marvelous company during the long cold winter months. My favorite movie is Dr. Zhivargo. Have you seen it?"
"No."
"Oh, you must!" Jason had heard of movies, but had never actually seen one.
"Your father must be an extraordinary businessman to be able to afford all of this. What kind of business is he in?"
"Jason, Father will be here in a few days; you can ask him yourself. Those things bore me profusely." Jason decided to store his questions for the time being.
"This lemonade, I don't believe I've had any quite like it," Jason said, changing the subject. "What makes it so sweet?"
"Just sugar," said Lisa. Jason held the glass up to the light, examining its remaining content. With another gulp, he emptied the glass. "Let's get you back in bed," she insisted, taking him by both hands and hauling him to his feet. "I have a surprise for you this evening. So, when you wake, put on the clothes that you find laid out. They should fit."
When Jason awoke, he could see that the sun had gone down. The light emanating from the hall allowed him to make his way to the bathroom. After a long and invigorating shower, he slipped into the clothes that he found folded immaculately across the arm of a chair. He dressed hastily, never bothering to inspect his appearance. Beckoned by the tantalizing aroma, Jason made his way to the dining area.
"Ah, Jason, you're just in time. I was just about to come and wake you. The clothes are a perfect fit. Silk and linen suits you. And, the combination of cream and terracotta brings out the marvelous russet flakes in your eyes. Come, Jason, take your place at the table."
"I'm starting to feel my strength returning. Maybe there is something that I can do."
"Thanks, love, but everything has already been taken care of."
Beaming with delight at his offer, she turned, hurried across the floor and disappeared into the kitchen. The luxurious furnishings were beyond his imagination. Jason suddenly realized that the house was constructed to resemble a compound. From where he stood, he could see glass corridors leading to other sections of the house, undoubtedly to the other bedrooms. The inner garden, visible throughout the house, helped to bring the lush landscape indoors.
Upon closer inspection of the living space, Jason eyed a grand piano, breathtaking works of art and fine furnishings. An erotic fresco, hung in the living area, displayed an orgy of naked bodies swirling in a sea of pleasure.
He suddenly remembered seeing a house very much like it in a discarded magazine and wondering what it would be like to live there. Impossible, it could not be the same house. Maybe my thoughts are still a little fuzzy, he reasoned.
Lisa returned pushing a serving cart loaded with an assortment of silver trays. Jason rose from the chair to assist her, but she politely waved him off. "You look great," he said, watching her every move. Lisa beamed a smile and continued setting the table.
She was wearing a simple yet elegant, black strapless cocktail dress. A string of black pearls graced her neck and her hair was crafted into a bun that was pierced with a chignon in the shape of a snake. The dress fit snuggly at the hips and rose more than slightly when she reached to light the candles, much to Jason's delight.
The table was set with crystal and silver. The center of the table featured a montage of red, yellow and white orchids.
"You'll honor my father by sitting in his place at the head of the table in his absence. As you are his guest and partake of his hospitality, you will reciprocate in this way." Jason complied with her simple, if not odd request. Lisa ceremoniously uncovered the roasted pheasant topped with a burgundy and mushroom sauce; confetti wild rice, tender baby peas and steaming hot parfait dinner rolls. "What do you think?" she asked, her arms sweeping out over the table.
"My mind is still unclear about a lot of things but I'm sure I've never had a meal like this." Lisa smiled approvingly and proceeded to serve the food. She watched intently as Jason devoured several servings in short order, including a number of chocolate cream tortes. After the dessert, she suggested that they move into the living area, where she had a 1787 bottle of Chateau Lafitte chilling.
Jason, with Lisa's urging, lit a fire and they both sat watching the flames roar to life. "You know, I never thanked you for everything that you and your father have done for me."
"You're welcome to stay as long as you like, Jason. Our home is your home," she cooed, stroking his arm.
"That's just it," Jason said. "I am starting to recall tiny bits of my past, nothing concrete, just jumbled flashes. But, I'm sure that there is some place that I am suppose to be. I feel the prod of some great compulsion."
"Maybe that place you're talking about is here, with us," Lisa said, sliding closer to him.
"I must confess, it all seems like a wonderful dream, but…"
"But what?"
"Maybe I should think about returning home, wherever that might be."
Lisa abruptly withdrew her touch and turned away.
"Perhaps it is the wine, but I'm suddenly feeling quite fatigued." Rising quickly from the floor and without so much as word, she hurried from the room. Jason called to her. Only silence. For hours, he sat there in the glow of the crackling fire trying to piece together the floating fragments of his memory.
The next morning, he awoke in front of the huge cobbled fireplace, the flame long since died down. A thin, charred log half covered with ash was a taunting reminder of the night's sour end. Jason searched the house for Lisa in order to apologize. After all, he understood her motive for wanting him to stay. Maybe she was right. The idea of staying, at least until his memory returned, was beginning to appeal to him. After searching the house and garden, Jason decided to try outside.
Still, Lisa was nowhere to be found. Giving up on his search, he decided to stretch his legs by exploring the countryside. Just over a nearby hill, he came upon a wooded area where the sound of running water caught his ear. Following the course of a rock-strewn brook, Jason stumbled upon Lisa swimming in a small water table wedged between two waterfalls. He started to call to her, but something inside stopped him.
Instead, he moved further downhill to a location offering a better view, yet continuing to conceal his presence. Below a chiming waterfall, a small, tranquil pool of water collected before spilling over still another fall.
The cerulean pool, the color of the Caribbean, became the scene of an aqua ballet. She seemed to glide through the water casing out tiny ripples in her wake. Swirling whirlpools materialized across the surface of the water as she plunged. The whirlpools spun off, like planets spinning off into space, until they were no more.
Although he thought of heading back, he was powerless to divert his eyes from Lisa's bare body as she emerged from the water. Standing there, dripping wet, sunlight glistening off her young, firm body, Lisa was a vision of loveliness inscribed indelible in Jason's mind. He watched as she casually pulled her jeans across her seemly thighs, and over her curvaceous hips. Slipping into her powder blue tunic, she didn't bother to dry off. The thin fabric clung to her moist body, windowing her voluptuous breasts.
Tilting her head askance to ring the water from her hair, she followed the path of the stream down the hill and into the thick brush. His heart throbbed and his palms were as slimy the rocks found at the ocean's edge. Like the tiny waterspouts animated by Lisa's sudden descent, his thoughts of leaving dissolved.
When Jason finally reached the house, he heard deep sobbing emulating from within and he ran to investigate. "Lisa…Lisa, is everything alright?" he yelled, shoving open the giant oak doors. Arriving in the living area, he found Lisa crying on the sofa. "What's happened? Has something happened to your father?" Lisa shook her head, but continued to look away. Jason sat down beside her. "Is it something that I've done?" At first, he thought that it was his spying or maybe his talk of leaving. He was about to offer an apology when she spoke.
"No, Jason," she said, turning slowly to look him squarely in the eyes. "You have done nothing wrong. The fault is my own." She hesitated a minute to gather herself as the tears continued to stream down. "Silly me, I have allowed myself to fall in love with you." Shocked by her answer, Jason didn't know what to say.
Instead, he lifted her chin slowly with the bend of his pointer finger, and gazed into her sad, teary eyes. Following their heart's desire, the two fell into a deep and sensual kiss. Their lips became a conduit of molten passion.
Lisa gently retreated from the embrace and rose to her feet, her hair tossed to one side, her eyes smoldering, her legs spread and her hips pointed. She slowly slipped out her tunic. Never taking her eyes off him, she let her jeans drop about her ankles, kicked them aside, and strutted seductively toward him.
Jason, overcome with desire, sprang from the sofa, snatching her up in his arms. As if cradling the most fragile piece of porcelain, Jason lowered her down to the couch. After shedding his clothes, he covered her with his body. Her tender and supple breasts pressed hard against his bulging chest, her long sculptured legs wrapped across the small of his powerfully built back as Jason planted tiny kisses, as soft as the wings on a butterfly, down the ridge of her neck.
His every touch caused her body to erupt. He ran his strong but delicate hands over her squirming body and stroked the tight cords of her smooth and ample thighs. Locked in love's embrace, they tumbled to the floor and rolled along the Persian rug.
Lisa slid her moist tongue from Jason's bear chest down to his navel, catapulting him to breathless heights of carnal bliss. She opened her legs to receive his long muscular frame, inviting him where no man had ever been, their bodies rising and falling, contracting and relaxing to silent melodies of love and lust. Their moans of ecstasy filled the house and fanned the flames of their lovemaking into synchronized cries of rapture. Time and space transcended, the two laid wrapped in each other's arms riding on gossamer wings of earthly pleasure and heavenly delight.
Nothing was the same after that. They became an island unto themselves. Jason and Lisa lived and loved as though they were Earth's last two inhabitants. Jason no longer tried to recall his past or tried to unravel the enigmatic images frequenting his dreams. He had completely surrendered to the idea of living out the rest of his days with her.
His love for Lisa grew with each passing day. Their carefree days were filled with bareback rides through the flourishing countryside, sunset climbs to the top of nearby hills, and picnic lunches among the lilies. Most of their nights were spent nuzzled by a cozy fire, or enjoying midnight swims in the cold-stream waters under the constant watch of Aphrodite, the love goddess. Each day was more joyous than the day before. Life was wondrous, or so it seemed.
Jason was out in the garden selecting a bouquet of African violets for the evening's centerpiece when he heard voices emanating from the house. Jason threw down the flowers and hurried inside.
"Hello Jason, I'm James Hale," a short, partially bald man said, offering his hand to Jason while flashing an infectious smile. "I am glad to see you up and about. I trust that my daughter here has been taking good care of you."
"Oh, yes sir, she has," Jason answered, shooting a puzzled glance over at Lisa while shaking Hale's hand.
"My daughter tells me that you've lost your memory," said Mr. Hale, holding Jason's hand in a firm grip.
"Yes, that's right. I don't remember who I am. It's like my life began the moment you found me."
"Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise. What I wouldn't give to be able to wipe away all my past sins. Not to worry, my boy, you will see things clearly soon enough, I can assure you."

Not Just Another Messiah Come Lately

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

American Messiah (Excerpt)

Not Just Another Messiah Come Lately

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