IntrotoMZ

Madam Zelda and the Ladies in Waiting

There was a thumping sound coming from the front of the vehicle, a kind of wumph-wumph-wumph sound. Amelia’s first thought was, “Flat tire!” but there was no wobble in the steering wheel, no tug to the passenger side. After a few minutes, the noise faded into the background grumble of the engine.

“I need to get that checked,” she thought aloud; however, she knew that when she turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car, strange engine sounds would be the furthest thing from her mind.

“It’s like some kind of denial,” her thoughts continued, “a block to automotive repair. Lord knows if I relied on a horse for transportation, the poor thing would probably starve.” Amelia smiled and continued to think out loud. “Well, at least I remember to get gasoline when I need it, and ever since I burned up the engine on the old Plymouth station wagon, I’m pretty good about getting the oil changed.” Satisfied with her thoughts, Amelia turned up the radio a bit and reminded herself to call the mechanic one of these days.

Wumph-wumph-wumph. The sound had a kind of rhythm to it. Like the feelings Amelia had been feeling lately, these surprising feelings and thoughts surfaced unexpectedly like the noise coming from the engine. Grief-grief-grief, pain-pain-pain, why-why-why. An overwhelming and prevailing sense of desperation, of feeling trapped in life.

Yet there wasn’t any thing “wrong” She had it all: a beautiful baby, a hard-working husband, a job where she was well paid and highly regarded.

“Sometimes, I think I’m losing my mind,” she thought to herself. “Often, I’m certain of it.” Amelia watched the exit signs as she passed them, and glancing at the directions she had scribbled down, she read them out loud to help focus her mind.

”I’m coming up on number 155, Angel Fire, now a left turn, and three miles to Lighthouse Lane, then the second driveway on the right.” She let out a deep, exasperated sigh.

“Well, I hope this helps – Madam Zelda indeed.” When Amelia’s friend and coworker Marcy had told her about this amazing, magical woman, Zelda, she had gone back and forth between hope and skepticism.

“Madam Zelda sounds like one of those fortune tellers from the carnival. Is she for real?” she had asked.

“Oh, yes, she’s real, all right, and insightful and powerful! Her methods can be a bit unusual, but it’s always an enchanting experience,” Marcy had replied.

“What exactly does she do?” queried Amelia.

“It’s hard to explain; it’s been a little different each visit. Don’t worry, you’ll see,” Marcy had assured her.

Amelia’s car pulled in the driveway heading south down the long dirt trek. The driveway wound in and out among tall pine trees and a ancient oaks with trunks so big it would take three people to reach around the whole of them. As she crested a hill, a large log cabin filled the view from her windshield. She parked her car a good distance away and was treated to a walk through a thriving and eclectic garden.

Off in the distance on the opposite side of the house, she could see a hint of blue: a lake. There was a magical feeling to the garden, enhanced by a small waterfall, which could be heard from the western corner. There was a rock garden, a path defined with small pebbles and brilliant flowers that danced in the breeze.

She stood marveling at the beauty when out of the corner of her eye she saw some movement and heard a musical humming. A woman was on all fours working in the garden. She was wearing a long skirt with a short-sleeved blouse and she looked to be in her early forties with silver gold hair that cascaded around her shoulders. Amelia cleared her throat. The gardener glanced up, smiled and got to her feet.

“Amelia!” she crooned, with a smile in her voice and a sparkle in her eyes. Amelia couldn’t help but return her smile, as the woman seemed to sing her name.

“Do I know you?” Amelia questioned.

The woman’s smile deepened, wrinkling her nose.

“We’ve not been introduced, but Zelda told me Amelia was coming, and here you are!” The woman embraced her, and Amelia found herself enfolded in a spicy aromatic mixture of basil and lemon, roses and peppermint.

“I am Lilley, and this is ‘The Enchanted Cabin,’” she said with a chuckle. “Come with me!”

She took Amelia’s arm, and they walked along the winding path through the garden under a rose trellis that groaned under the heavy load of brilliant pink blossoms. Tiny yellow flowers bobbed in the breeze. They stopped to pick some fresh mint for lemonade. Amelia found it almost too beautiful, too perfect.

What is this place all about? she thought to herself. Then, she asked the lady who escorted her, “Lilley, do you work for Madam Zelda?”

“I do,” nodded Lilley.

“And what to you do for her?”

Lilley looked directly at Amelia and with a sparkle in her eyes, answered, “Oh, a little of this and a bit of that, you know.”

“I see,” nodded Amelia, feeling reassured in spite of the fact that she had no idea what this and that could be.

The steps to the front porch creaked, and the screen door twanged on the spring hinges as they walked through the front door.

“Come in and have a seat.” Lilley gestured toward a big cushy chair the color of sea foam. Amelia eased into the chair as Lilley pushed the ottoman up, and gently lifting Amelia’s feet and slipping off her shoes, she rested her legs comfortably on top.

“There’s a wrap there if you get chilly. Just relax while I get the lemonade.”

Amelia snuggled into the chair and took in her surroundings. There was music coming from a distant room in the house. It sounded sweet and complicated – something by Mozart or Beethoven – a symphony that could carry one away if it were louder, but its softness was a far-away background. A fluffy cat sauntered into the room and jumped up on the footrest with a dainty “yow” as if asking permission to rub noses.

“Hello, kitty,” she said, putting out her hand, and then, she laughed at the purring bundle of fur that leaped into her lap. Absently petting the cat, she continued to survey the room.

Large windows looked out on the gardens and a large lake down the hill. It was a warm and comfortable room. Large leather binders bursting with paper were stacked on every surface, causing Ameila to wonder at their purpose. They looked like some kind of complicated ledger system.

Certainly they aren’t doing the accounting by hand, not in this age of computers? she thought to herself. She looked closely at a pile on the table by her elbow and noticed titles etched in gold on the spines of the books. She squinted and read: Middleground, Victim of Circumstance, The Army of Shadows, Step into Knowing.

“What curious titles,” she thought, the idea of financial records dissipating. She read another stack: The Ladies In Waiting, Walking on the Moon, Echo Cavern Talks Back.

Amelia felt an itching in her fingertips, wanting to reach out and open up one of the intriguing books. She lifted the purring kitty from its perch and leaned forward.

Just as her fingers touched the binder closest to her, Lilley breezed in with a tray of lemonade, garnished with fresh mint. A bowl of cherries and a plate of cookies completed the snack.

“What are all these books?” Amelia asked as soon as the tray was safely deposited on one of the shorter stacks of books.

“Oh, these are Madam Zelda’s chronicles.”

“Chronicles?”

“Yes, her records, so to speak, the stories, problems and advice she has given over the years. You are here today for her advice and guidance.” Lilley spoke with assurance.

“Well, yes, of course,” Amelia responded, glancing around the room, questions filling her head. “What about confidentiality? Anyone could read these books sitting out like this. What about secrets and feeling safe in sharing your deepest feelings? What about all these books sitting around unguarded…how old is Madam Zelda, anyway? She must be ancient to have filled all these books!” The words tumbled from her lips as she leaned forward.

“Whoa, easy, take a deep breath…breathe in, breathe out…yes, there you go,” Lilley guided in a slow and calm tone. Amelia breathed and leaned back in her chair, calmer but still filled with questions.

“Double-spaced,” Lilley announced.

“Huh?” Amelia looked puzzled.

“Double-spaced,” Lilley repeated. “All the pages in these chronicles are double-spaced. It takes up more pages—oh, yes, and here and there are sketches, letters, notes—you know,” Lilley clarified.

Amelia nodded. “But what about…?”

“And of course all of the names and places are changed,” Lilley said, answering the formulating question.

“Oh, I see, to protect the innocent…”

“Hardly, Lilley scoffed.

“To protect the guilty, then?” Amelia asked.

“No, no, no. No one needs protection. It’s just that we, and I mean all of us in the world, are “one.” Same human family, same creator, we all have a lot in common. Certainly you’ve heard that, yes? You realize that?”

“Well, I guess so…” Amelia nodded and felt reassured, even though she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around everything that Lilley was saying.

“You see, when one person has a problem or a question or needs advice, their story might help someone else,” stated Lilley.

“Oh, I think I understand,” said Amelia, beginning to.

“The names are changed so that you might find your life and your answer and your guidance in the experiences of someone else, who is really you anyway, because we are all one. You see, very simple.” Lilley grinned.

“What if someone recognizes me through my story?” Amelia asked skeptically.

“Not possible. Everyone gets an imaginary, nonsensical name, at least three syllables, with a color and a sound thrown in, and the names change frequently. Like Sparklenuckle, Rubyrussel, Yarrowsing and Stargusher, to name a few. And the places are changed as well,” explained Lilly.

“What do you mean the places are changed?” asked Amelia.

“Well, Madam does a lot of traveling with her clients…”

Amelia waited inquisitively.

“The past, the future, the mountains, the moon; it’s not something I can explain,” Lilly said with a shrug.

“Okay, well, how old is she? How long has she been advising?” Amelia explored another avenue.

“Hmmm, I don’t rightly know. I met her several years ago. I thought she was an outrageous, kind of saucy Marilyn Monroe type. She had on a red dress with a short skirt, and boy did she turn some heads with those long legs of hers.”

“Oh! She’s young, then?” Amelia was surprised.

“Well, I wouldn’t say Madam Zelda is young. She can look very youthful, very much the maiden, but then, she can also look very much the old gypsy woman, and then, there are times she has a softness about her that is neither old nor young. One never knows, really.”

Her mind completely boggled, Amelia exclaimed,

“She sounds magical! Is she even real?”

Lilly chuckled,

“Oh, she is real all right. Someone created this mess of paperwork, and it sure wasn’t me. I keep the garden and organize the chronicles. I love my life.”

Amelia was more intrigued.

“So when do I get to meet her?”

“Madam Zelda arrives in her own time,” Lilly stated. “You were told to plan the afternoon, yes?”

“Well, yes,” Amelia responded, wondering how this could take all day.

“Then, enjoy your lemonade and choose a chronicle or two to read. They are very entertaining. Would you like one of these?” Lilly inquired as she lifted the tray of lemonade to allow access to the books stacked underneath.

Amelia took the book from the top of the pile. The top book was larger than the tray and about three inches thick. In golden letters across the burgundy cover it said Ladies in Waiting .

Lilly nodded approvingly and said,

“I was one once.”

“What?” Amelia asked, a bit confused.

“I was one – a lady in waiting. Not truly living, just waiting for life to happen. Waiting for someone to rescue me. The trouble with that is if you wait long enough, life will pass you right by. And it can be a pretty miserable wait at that. Waiting can be a way of life if you choose, and I think that’s what makes the difference. That one chooses. Choice is such an incredible gift and sometimes we just don't even realize its there, that all we need to do is to choose something else."

Lilley paused, sighed and continued, "Well, here I am, rambling on. Do make yourself at home. I’ll be in the garden if anyone needs me,” She said with a smile, and disappeared out the door through which she had come.

Amelia smiled to herself and shook her head as if to clear it.

“I’m not really sure what all that meant,” she thought, “but something seems important…is it the waiting or the choosing? I don’t know, but I think I will take a look.”

She smiled, realizing that it would be very hard NOT to read one of these books. She felt excited by the prospect and more alive than she had felt in a long time.

She opened the book on her lap, holding her breath, half expecting a cloud of dust to come out. But the book was clean and colorful and the print was easy for Amelia to read.

And so she did.