Valora saw a curious box in the upper left hand side of the closet while rummaging for items to display in her house. The box looked to be made of bamboo matting. Black strips of ebony wood held the matting in place. A brass hinge fastened the lid, with a piece of bone locking the hinge.  

            “Consuello, would you help me with this box?”

            “Si, Senora.” Consuello put down the Chinese figurine she wrapped along with the others in a cardboard box for storage, and walked over to where Valora stood on a stepladder. She reached out and took the offered box.

            “Muy bonita,” Consuello said, gazing at the top of the box.

            The lid had two carved wood dragons facing each other. Their mouths held a full moon in Mother of Pearl.

            “I don’t remember this box, perhaps Tim bought it and forgot to tell me.”

            She unfastened the sliver of bone from the hinge and opened the box. Inside she saw a board with numbers and letters.

“It must be some kind of antique parlor game,” she said, lifting the board from the box. She looked back into the container for the board, and saw a small heart shaped black disk with a brilliant stone set at the point.

“I think I know what this is,” Valora said, as they gazed at the two items pulled from the box.

“How lovely!” Valora placed the planchette on top of the board and stood back. “I can’t wait to show the girls tomorrow.”

Standing back, both women gazed at the board in front of them. The planchette began to move on its own.

“Santa Maria, Madre de Dios.” Conselo crossed herself, and then kissed her fingertips touching them to the crucifix hanging from her neck.

Without help from either of them, they watched in fascination as the platform spelled out –H-E-L-L-O-V-A-L-O-R-A.

“Perfect! Absolutely perfect,” Valora said, gazing out over the backyard.

The sycamore laid a tapestry of autumn leaves on a carpet of green grass, underneath boughs, heavy with fall color sat a table and four chairs. The table, covered in burnt gold cloth, held a gold chintz tea set. Napkins, printed with small roses, folded inside brass rings, sat next to matching white plates with yellow rims. Roses from the garden filled a red vase in the center. The table sat on the west side of the yard, giving a view of the shrubs and trees that put the horizon somewhere in the distance. An October breeze mellowed the afternoon heat, and caused a colored glass chime to tinkle sharp-edged notes in the dappled sunlight. French lavender, planted under the rose bushes, scented the garden with a countryside nosegay.   

Valora opened the patio door and walked to the kitchen. The egg and watercress were ready to assemble into sandwiches; the kettle set to go the moment guests arrived. The front doorbell rang a low bell tone. Valora looked around on her way to answer, glad that she paid the maid for the extra hours of polishing and arranging.

She opened the door with a smile, “Doris, you’re right on time, as usual. Come in, please. What a pretty dress you have. New?”

“Valora, you look wonderful. I bought it last week, on sale. How did you arrange the weather to be so nice?”

“Magic, my dear, pure magic. You look radiant! I wish I had your red hair. It goes so well with the dress.”

            “You can. Maggie, at the salon, is great with getting the right tint. Just make sure you tip her well if you want the same color next time.”

“Tim would say, my hair was classic Cadillac black with chrome highlights, but now there is more chrome on the Cadillac. Let me go into the kitchen and put the kettle on.”

“Your house is charming- so comfortable, and well arranged.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ve never grown tired of the Oriental pieces my Tim and I collected.” Valora raised her voice as she talked while putting the sandwiches together. “When Alice and Beatrice get here, I’ll have tea ready for us in the backyard.”

A ring at the front door interrupted. “Well, that was quick.” Valora went to the front door.” Well isn’t this a surprise? Come in, please.”

“I picked up Beatrice on my way over. No sense in cluttering the street with more cars,” Alice said, as the two women walked in.

“Very good of you. Doris arrived just a minute ago. Why don’t we go to the backyard. It’s lovely today- I thought we would have tea under the sycamore.”

“Great! I’ve been indoors all day. Valora, can we help?” Beatrice asked, while looking about the living room.

“Tell you what. Why don’t you grab the sandwich plate, I’ll take the tea, Alice, if you’ll grab the dessert platter, and Doris can hold the patio door open.” The women gathered the platters and tea on their march to the great tree.

“Any special place you would like us to sit?” Alice asked, looking about.

“Why don’t you three sit over there, facing the roses. I’ll sit here, facing the sycamore.”      

The friends settled in their chairs while Valora poured tea, asking if they wanted sugar and milk. Once she saw everyone was cared for, she sat down with a sigh. “Can you imagine we’re all here again! The unofficial club of ‘Widows in Waiting’.”

Doris smiled at Valora. Raising her cup of tea she said, “I had a date two weeks ago.”

“Really, dear? How exciting.” Alice then took a bite from her sandwich.

“I put an ad in one those computer dating services, with my photo. The one that Sam took of me when we were in Maui, before his heart attack.”

“Oh, that’s a lovely photo of you, too.” Beatrice raised her teacup for a sip.

“Yes. Well, a charming man answered the ad. He was so handsome in his photo, and glowed with wit in his bio. We had quite a conversation on the phone.” Doris looked around before saying anything else. “Well, when he came to pick me up I got quite a surprise. He had no shoes on, completely barefoot, with his hair braided, and a beard down to his waist. I was dressed for a dinner date. He wanted to forage for food, being a naturalist, as he called it.”

The wide-eyed women looked at each other before breaking into laughter. Once they settled down Valora asked, “What about his photo?”

“Who knows? It certainly wasn’t the same person who rang my doorbell. I told him I wasn’t the foraging type and there was no reason to go any further. He began to speak as I shut and locked the door.”

“I thought of a dating service, but I’m not sure if I want to meet anyone,” Valora said, then picked up the platter of sandwiches to pass around. The tea of Golden Monkey poured out for a second time while chimes, from the colored glass, played in the wind.

“I met a man this month myself.” Beatrice nodded while accepting a second sugar for her tea, “At the farmers market on Fourth.”

“I love that market. Tuesdays isn’t it?” Alice asked.

“Yes, Tuesdays. We reached for the same tomato, and it ended with him buying me the tomato.”

“How nice,” Valora said, passing a tray of treats.

“He asked me if I would like to have lunch with him and I said, why not.” Beatrice reached for an éclair. “It was quite a lunch, too.” She took a bite of the pastry and sip of tea. “He ordered a martini, dry, up with an olive. After which he had a bottle of wine with his Monte Cristo sandwich.”

“Dear me, did he offer you any wine?” Doris asked.

“Yes. I ordered smoked salmon in penne with a delightful cream dill sauce. Remember Bob’s cream dill? All that cholesterol. I think it’s what did him in. Anyway, I had two sips of wine before he reached over, after finishing the bottle, and drained my glass.”

“How terrible!” Valora sat back a bit looking around the table to see the others’ reactions.

“No. It gets worse. When the bill came, he said he must have left his wallet back at the farmers market and rushed out of the restaurant, leaving me with the bill.”

“Dreadful. What an awful man. That’s why I have doubts about dating again. It’s been so long anyway,” Valora said.

“Are you going to stay widowed?” Alice asked.

            “I keep feeling, and I know this is silly, that one day, Tim will walk through that front door. Sometimes I feel he is still here.”

            The women said nothing for a moment. The breeze blew on the crisp dry leaves and tinkled the glass chimes.

            “Alice, where did you get that eye shade?” Beatrice asked.

            “Like it? The clerk at Robinson’s said it pops.”

“With your looks, and blonde hair, you don’t need to pop,” Beatrice said. “Speaking of popping, I have got to go on a diet. I’m growing out of my housecoat.” Beatrice took another bite from her éclair.

            “Tim was so wonderful. Really, I don’t know who could take his place. I miss him terribly at times.” Valora saw the downwards glance, their signal not to talk of lonely beds.

“You are all going to laugh, but I met someone as well this month.” Alice drew her sweater about her shoulders. “We had two dates; our third will be this Saturday.”

“Wonderful!” Doris said, placing her fork on the side of her plate.

“Where did you meet him?” Beatrice asked, reaching for another éclair.

“The library. In fact, you all know him. He’s the Librarian at Main and Second.”

The women looked at each other. Valora was hoping someone would say something first. After an uncomfortable silence, Valora said, “Larry is very sweet. Does he still live with the florist? Don, I think his name is. They have that Victorian, just a block from the library. Don puts a beautiful arrangement of flowers in the front window.

“Oh! The florist? Of course, what a silly cow I am.” Alice glanced down a moment then picked up her head, and looked at the garden. “You have done such a wonderful planting Valora, it looks like a Japanese print.”

“My Tim did most of it. He loved Asia, and the garden takes care of itself for the most part.”

“I couldn’t get Ralph to pick up after the dog, let alone plant anything but his ass,” Alice said.

“Would anyone like another cup of tea?” Valora raised the nearly empty pot. The women shook their heads as a gust of wind blew down a few large leaves from the sycamore onto the table, making the glass chimes ring in force. The sun fell below the edge of the tree line, cooling the air.

“Dear me, perhaps we should go into the house. I was cleaning the other day, and ran across the most interesting discovery. I think it belonged to Tim. A parlor game of sorts, and it appears very old.”

“I love parlor games. Which one is it?” Alice asked as she picked up a tray.

“Ouija. It’s a kind of fortune teller in a box.”

“I heard they’re dangerous,” Beatrice said, while lifting the dessert tray.

“I suppose you could fall and cut yourself on the edge of the board, but outside of that I don’t see what harm they could cause.”

“What fun! Ouija, shall he be rich, or handsome, or both?” asked Alice.

“For you, dear, let’s hope he is not gay,” said Doris. Laughter rose from the women while Valora stacked the platters and cups to bring into the kitchen.

The breeze bustled around the girls on their way to the house; it shuddered the chimes to tinkle a tune to the night in the brisk fall air. A moon waxed in the east, as the sun waned in the west, setting the clouds on fire in a deep purple sky. 

“Just set the plates down, I’ll clean them later. Let’s go to the parlor; I have the board ready, and our favorite drink.”

The parlor sat at a side entrance to the front door, giving a view of the street with the walkway going to the porch. Lace curtains hung straight down, like a widow’s veil, covering the paned glass in a window box. An oak table sat in the middle of the room, covered in green felt, with four cushioned folding chairs. Bookcases, filled top to bottom, sat opposite paintings of Chinese concubines, lying on cushions, smoking opium pipes. A teak board sat in the middle of the table, carved Oriental dragons twisting around the sides. The face laid in intricate inlays of wood, spelling out the alphabet, and the numbers zero to nine. On one side, a circle with “yes”, and on the other, a circle with “no”. A small platform, made of a black onyx disk, seated with a fire opal fastened at its point, rested on three mother-of-pearl legs. The platform stood guard on top of the inlayed wood board.

“Valora, what a wonderful antique. I’ve never seen anything like it. Look how the dragons’ heads come together, their tails entwined at the corners, holding the board up. What a delight!” Alice said.

“The usual, Ladies? Bourbon and ginger ale?”

“Please. We’ll need a little courage for this adventure, I’m sure,” Doris said, as she took a seat with the others.

“What do we do?” Alice asked, when handed her glass.

“Well, I tinkered with it the other day, so I’m going to let you have a go at it tonight. I’ll write down what Ouija spells out. What you do, is place one finger from each hand on that onyx disk. Where the opal at the end of the platform points, I’ll write the letter, or number down on this paper. Now you just let yourselves relax, let your mind empty, and allow the disk to flow where it wants. No pushing! Now who wants to ask Ouija a question?”

The ladies looked at each other, took a sip of their drinks and placed two fingertips each on the onyx platform.

“Ouija. Are you there?” Alice asked.

The dais moved across the board, first to the “no”, then back to the “yes”, and stopped.

“Doris, you’re pushing,” Beatrice said.

“No I’m not, you are.”

“Ladies please, no talking,” Valora said.

“What was my Grandfather’s middle name?’ Alice asked.

The onyx moved across the board, first to one letter, then another. The women stared at the little platform while Valora wrote down the letters where the planchette stopped.

“What did the board spell, Valora?” Beatrice asked.

“Victor.”

“My God! Nobody knows that but me.”

“You probably pushed it there. I felt someone pushing the platform,” Doris said.

“Girls, please, someone else ask a question.”

“Will we meet someone special?” Doris asked.

The disk pointed to “yes”.

“Will all of us meet someone special?” Beatrice asked.

The platform moved around and came back to “yes”.

“What fun! Who will we meet, Ouija?” Alice asked.

The onyx moved from one letter to the next, stopping here then circling around and stopping there, until the platform moved no more.

“Let’s see, I’ll break it up first. I have it! ‘Love’s flame never dies, will knock late, on moon’s bright night’,” Valora said.

“What do you suppose that means?” Doris asked.

“Ouija, tell us more,” Beatrice asked.

The black onyx rested, its fire opal refracted light inside the stone making it appear alive. The dais moved forward then reversed, it stopped, then slowly moved to “no”, then back to “yes”. Valora looked at the women, their gaze transfixed on the fire opal and its wanderings across the board. The platform stayed still for a moment, and then began the message. The blazing gem pointed while Valora wrote.

“Wait a minute while I break up the words. Here we are. ‘To those who wait a gift will come. To those who can’t, a surprise’.”

“I don’t get it. Perhaps an old flame from high school?”

“That’s what you get when you keep pushing Beatrice!” Alice exclaimed.

“You know what’s strange? I was pushing, but it didn’t seem to matter how hard I pushed, the disk didn’t budge the way I wanted it to go.”

“Well somebody was pushing it,” Doris said, and then lifted her glass to finish her drink.

“I suppose time will tell,” Valora said as she gathered the drinks. “We’ll have something to talk about at our next get together.”

“Well, it was wonderful seeing everyone again. We’ll have it at my place next time. Thanks so much, Valora, for a fun evening!” Beatrice said, while Valora escorted the women to the door.

“Good night. Drive safe. I’ll call you all soon.” She waved goodbye to her friends at the front door.

Valora gathered glasses, and tidied her house. Before turning the lights out next to her bedside, she turned to the picture on her nightstand. It was a photograph of a young couple on their wedding day. Valora reached over to the photograph and with her fingertips, touched her beloved in the photo, “Goodnight my love.”

The sun rose warming the autumn morning. People went about their business as usual in the seaside town of Santa Monica. Young couples made wedding plans with promises of abiding love and devotion. Old people walked familiar paths, some together, some alone. Young folk gathered in parks to play with children, and hold hands. The elderly went to the cemetery to lay flowers, and offer prayers at a loved one’s tomb. As the day passed to evening, a blue moon rose out of the east on Hallow-eve. A giant red orb emerged, so great and powerful that people stopped and stared at the night sky to see such wonder. As it climbed into the evening sky, it contracted and brightened to a brilliant white globe, throwing shades of night on the streets and walkways of the town.

A few miles away, Beatrice had just climbed into bed, after finishing the final piece of chocolate cake, when she heard a knock at the door.

“Who the hell could that be?” Walking to the front door, she asked, “Who is it?”

“I’m back Beatrice, open up.”

Beatrice opened a crack in the door. An unholy smell of grave rot choked her as the door pushed opened. She stared in disbelief, gagging on cake that came up from her stomach.

“Not exactly what you expected, is it dear?” A smile wormed across a yellow face. The lips pulled back revealed teeth stuck into jawbones; eyes bulged from sunken sockets. One ear looked chewed by rats, the other missing. The thing moved into the house dressed in suit and tie, as Beatrice fell backwards.

“What’s the matter dear? You don’t recognize me? It’s your Bobby. The one who cooked for you, slaved for you, while you sat on your big fat ass.” The living corpse reached out a yellow finger and touched the side of Beatrice’s face. “So kind of you to think of me while I was gone. Loved the flowers I never got, and thanks for paying the nuns to say a rosary. Shall I fix something? You must be starved.”

Doris sat reading a travel magazine when she heard a knock at the door.

“It’s late, who is it?”

“Pack your bags. You just won a trip to the Caribbean.”

“Who in hell is this?” Doris flung the door open with force, and then raised her hands to her mouth.

“Don’t you recognize me? It’s Sam, your loving husband.”                                                      

The body of a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a pair of dirty shorts and sandals stood clutching a straw hat. His nose partially ripped and left hanging to one side. One eye dangled from its socket, moving in unison with the other, as the cadaver looked around. A hole in the cheek showed blackened teeth stuck to the side of the tongue.

“It didn’t take you long to go on that cruise did it? Thanks for thinking of me while you screwed your way to Borneo and back.”

Alice turned on the nightly news, walked backed to her Barcalounger, and popped opened a beer. A knock at the front door went ignored. The second knock came loud and strong.

“Hold your horses asshole.” Alice threw back the door, “Well! What is it?” she yelled.

A blackened face, with greenish pustulant sores, stared at her with a grin. Stark orange hairs fell in front of eyes of jelled gray matter. A hand protruded from a black coat sleeve torn at the shoulder, as its bony fingers reached out with claw like nails, grasped Alice by the throat and squeezed.

“I liked the way you took your time calling the hospital, my dear. Was the martini dry enough? Perhaps my heart attack was just too unsettling for you, while trying to paint your nails, and dial for help.” Ralph squeezed Alice’s throat, watching her eyes bulge, and her tongue jut out. Her face turned blue, as the corpse grasp snapped the neck bones through her flesh.

            A knock came from the door of Valora’s home, faint at first, then louder. “Just a moment please. Who is it?” Valora looked through a peephole in the front door.

“I’m home Valora, like I promised.”

Valora opened the door, slightly at first, then threw the door open wide when she recognized the stranger.

“Tim, you came back to me, like you said on the Ouija board!”

“It was your love and devotion that brought me, Valora, without you, I wouldn’t be.”

“Tim, you look just like the day you left.”

“You, my love, look beautiful as always.”

The moon trekked across the night sky, then slipped into the horizon, bearing pale yellow light. The sun’s rays, timid at first, grew brighter in an azure sky. Morning doves flew to a garden bath and dipped their beaks in mirrored water. The scent of roses, opening their blooms, full of mist, grew heady with the day’s new dawn. Valora reached over, and gave her husband a tender kiss, to waken the lips of her one true love. 

The End