Autumn Hearts (Updated Regularly)

Chapter 01 : Your presence still lingers here.

"Everyone believes the world's greatest lie..." says the mysterious old man.

"What is the world's greatest lie?" the little boy asks.

The old man replies, "It's this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what's happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate. That's the world's greatest lie."

~ Paulo Coelho.

Penelope Ross stood under the gorgeous, arched pergola and looked at her picturesque five thousand square feet home from far. It stood between a large garden with magnolias and frangipanis. Bright and airy, full of flowers and with a spacious green outdoor space. This brick and cedar two story house was antique. It had two sections. The original unit separated the kitchen. It had four bedrooms, a large living area, state-of-the-art kitchen, and a screening room. She never got enough of this beloved place. Penelope smiled and continued walking. White and pink roses were in full bloom. She made a mental note to add yellow rose. Lavender cotton was planted in the diamond shape at places. Out of nowhere, a colorful butterfly fluttered and sat on lipstick red peonies.She took a long, deep breath and filled her nostrils with baked-apple smell. Groves of cypress pines flanked one side while the crab apple trees surrounded the other side. She took out her sandals and started walking bare feet. The grass whispered under her bare feet. Far away, a bobbing robin gave a call. Another one joined him lilting in an age old rhythm. Blackbird participated in the chorus too. Sun's harsh rays lashed at her without showing mercy. She shadowed her eyes with the crook of her hand when a patch of pink and red tulips demanded her attention. Penelope bent and touched the long stemmed, cup size flower. She rubbed the petal on her skin, hoping to steal sweet, fruity fragrance.

Wide and open path gently sloped into a narrow way. She stopped when a thorn cut her foot. She rolled the sleeves of her gray sweater and took it out gingerly. With a sigh, she wore her foot wear. A gush of wind enveloped her and she shivered and covered her hands again.It was just ten o'clock. But the backing wind brought a granite sky and within no time, the air turned clammy. Gusts of wind knocked the steel shutters of windows. It was as if someone was banging the tin containers. She noticed that one window of her bedroom was open. Will Amelia close it before the room turned icy chill? Smoke was coming out from one of the chimneys. Thought of warm fire place cheered her. Penelope rubbed her hands and started to walk fast on trodden broken twigs and fallen leaves.

"Penelope, Penelope, where are you? Amelia, have you seen her?" Audrey's rich voice chased her.

Penelope liked her sister in law but today she was not in the mood to discuss why she was not signing any new pictures since last six months. Older than her by four years but thirty pounds heavier, with hair worn in a tight bun, plucked eyebrows, sulky mouth and too much make up, Audrey still considered herself hot stuff. The female had never married and stayed with her in the Beverly Mansion.

"I should have been the actress in the family". Audrey was fond of saying this to everyone. But Penelope kept her peace. Because she was family. They never fought. Audrey loved her. That mattered.

Penelope thought of entering the home from the back door but then she gave up. Her stomach growled after a long walk and Amelia would have kept breakfast ready.

She crossed the stone bridge in no time, not looking anywhere and entered open plan living room. Her most favorite room, which was a reflection of what she was. Graceful, yet fragile. Its neutral palette never failed to soothe her senses. There was very less furniture. White Belgium sofa occupied one corner and beige colored dining table another. But each chair, each vase was in harmony with one another. The air was filled with the sweet scent of lilac and red roses brought from the garden She had painted the entire room with a white color. One wall was converted into French windows, which faced the garden. She loved to look out at springtime while sipping her tea. Her eyes went to the looming, cloud capped mountain in the distance and she again shivered. The fog was coiling around like a snake. Gray as the mountain itself. It was enough to dampen her mood. She turned her face, not wanting to look at the depressing site.