Read Online Once Upon Another Time by Rosary McQuestion - Free Book Online

as he stretched out his jungle body.
    “Yeah, I know it’s
a rough life but you have to move.”  Lifting him off the chair, I placed him down
on the leather loveseat.
    As I sat at my
computer, thoughts of seeing Matt that morning played in my mind like a looped recording. 
I wondered how it was possible.  My eyes traveled from one bookshelf to
another.  Tucked between the multicolored rows of spines were several photographs
that told the story of my life.  Perched on the shelf between To Kill a
Mockingbird and Dating for Dummies, was a silver framed photograph of Matt and
me on our wedding day.  The intense emotion of the love, excitement, and
happiness from that day suddenly came forth in a rush like a flash flood in a
slot canyon.  It felt as if time had rewound.
    Matt looked
flawless in a black silk tuxedo and blindingly white shirt.  His shoes polished
and his bow tie perfectly straight under his strong, dimpled chin.  Miniature pink
roses and baby’s breath crowned my head, while my hair fell to my shoulders in loose
spirals over a flowing strapless wedding gown.  I was so nervous.  I kept
twisting a tiny stray piece of green floral tape that wrapped the stems on my wedding
bouquet of pink centered white peonies.  But when I looked into Matt’s eyes, a
great calm washed over me. 
    We spoke our vows on
the north gardens of Blithewold Mansion against a spectacular sweeping view of
the Narragansett Bay.  Rows and rows of friends and relatives seated on white
wooden folding chairs with satin bowed backs, cheered and clapped after we were
pronounced husband and wife.      
    As I stared at the
photograph, I half expected something to happen, but what, I didn’t know.  I
reached for my briefcase sitting on the floor to the side of my desk.  Next to
the briefcase, a book laid open with pages face down, LOVE SPIRIT shown in neat
gold letters on the gray linen spine. 
    I leaned over, slipped
my fingers under the book, and flipped it right side up.  The top corner of the
page was dogeared.  I lifted the flap.  The paragraph on the page spoke about a
woman who owned a house haunted by a beautiful spirit.  The woman considered
the house her special refuge during sadness and struggles and that the spirit
inhabiting the house had helped ease her pain. 
    How the book had
found its way to the floor next to my desk, when the wall of built-in shelves
was on the opposite side of the study, I couldn’t imagine.  As I closed the
book and set it on my desk, the familiar soft sound of distant wind chimes
caused my heart to lurch. 
    I looked up and
saw tiny sparkles with shimmering bursts of light swirling in the air like
fairy dust, circling the framed wedding picture that rattled and danced on the
bookshelf like a playful marionette. 
    A smile crossed my
lips as I stood up and stared in amazement, yet more amazing was my cavalier
attitude about swirling fairy dust appearing out of nowhere and the wedding
picture moving all by itself.  I think I had half expected Matt would be there
in my study, making his presence known.  As I waited in anticipation for him to
materialize, all at once, the sparkles shot out through the open French doors
like the tail of a kite and into the flower garden sprinkling the night like
tiny fireflies.  
    My heart rattled
with joy while thinking it was like something out of a fairytale.  I knew it
was Matt, of course, displaying his romantic, playful self, like how he’d
express his love for me through poetry.  His words so beautiful, so meaningful,
that at times they took my breath away.  I saved each and every poem, put them
in a shoebox, and tucked them away in my closet.
    Even in college,
he had a romantic side.  We’d spend long, lazy afternoons at Baker Park
listening to “Unchained Melody” while sipping cheap wine and feeling the grass
between our toes.  Once, Matt damaged the environment by using his car keys to
carve our initials into a tall white oak.  That