August 12, 2006

The flowers she carries she bought from a shop in the Grove Arcade Public Market, where the giant stone griffins guard the north entrance. She finds that she does quite a bit of her shopping in the Arcade these days, ever since she and her husband moved into a condo in a newly-constructed building less than a block away from it.

She met Derek Paint in June, 2004 when her bruises and bites were almost healed. He was trying to make sense of a map as he stood by the fountain in Pack Square in the heart of the city, having just moved to town. He was lost. It wasn't unusual, because Asheville's baffling street system defeats many. She offered directions. He asked her to dinner. They married in July, 2005. Derek is a full-blooded Cherokee Indian from the reservation sixty miles west of Asheville. His skin is the color of copper, and he wears his hair in a silken black braid that hangs down to his waist. He is a computer programmer for the Asheville Savings Bank, while Augusta is now the director of the Visitor's Center.

When they first began dating, people would stare, and Augusta wondered why. Later, her friend Rafaela gently pointed out that when someone as beautiful as Augusta is having dinner with someone as handsome as Derek, people are going to look. They can't help it.

"You look like a model, and he looks like some sort of movie star. People probably think someone's filming a movie here in town again."

Tonight, she will meet Derek at the Asheville Community Theater, where they will see a play. After, they plan to walk through downtown, admiring the beautiful buildings, and the statues and sculptures that seem to stand on every corner. Asheville is a romantic city. Derek is a romantic man, and without a doubt the kindest and most loving man Augusta has ever had the pleasure of knowing. They often tell one another that they are answered prayers. He prayed to find someone like her. She prayed to find someone like him.

Augusta has something she wants to tell Derek. She wears a gown of yellow silk that she made herself. It is embroidered with bluebirds and cardinals that look real enough to take flight. The silk shimmers as she walks, and the people she passes on the sidewalk think she looks like the ghost of something lovely.

She told her grandmother over lunch today, and Louisa Jackson began to cry and flutter her hands. Later they went for a walk in her garden as soon as the hottest part of the day had passed. It takes longer than Augusta had planned, and she entrusts her grandmother to call her parents in Arkansas to tell them the news, because she has to hurry home to get dressed and run her errand before she meets Derek. Later, probably tomorrow, she'll call her parents herself, and then she will call her brothers.

The Basilica of St. Lawrence stands at the intersection of Haywood and Flint streets downtown, across Flint from the Asheville Civic Center. The church was built in 1909 and was the last masterpiece of Rafael Guastavino, who is buried in a crypt inside. It is a magnificent and stunning work of art and sports a massive dome inside that makes one dizzy to look up and see it soaring overhead.

The basilica is separated from the parish house next door by a narrow brick walkway. Augusta turns to follow the walkway, descends the stairs, and walks on. A statue stands behind the church, overlooking from its high hillside the traffic passing by on Flint Street and on I-240 a block away.

Christ stands in marble, arms outstretched, silent and stoic. A plaque with a single word embossed is affixed to the statue's base, and word is this: UNBORN.

Augusta kneels and lays her flowers at the statue's feet. She looks up at His face, and sees that here in the shade of a handful of spruce trees, speckles of moss grow in the folds of Christ's robes, and in his beard and hair.

I know she's with You. Please tell her I love her.

Then she stands and smooths her dress, glancing at the buildings and trees that rise around her. Mountains green and cool with forest ring the city, and houses look down from their slopes. It seems as though when you look out at the city or its mountains, the city and its mountains look back.

The sun is shining, and a warm breeze blows. It's later than it looks, what with a sun that sets so late in the summer. Augusta walks away. She doesn't want to be late, and it will feel wonderful to step inside the cool theater. Supper afterward will be wonderful too.

Then, she will take Derek's hand and lead him to Pack Square, and there by the fountain where they met, she will tell him that he is soon to be a father.

The End