Once inside, he was taken with the beauty of the artist herself. He couldn’t take his eyes off her full lips as she spoke about a piece she’d created. Portrait of a Woman, she called it. A large piece, abstract and twenty inches high, it swirled into many shapes capturing the feminine. A woman called by the wind. Lord purchased the piece that evening. Lord remembers her tossing her long black hair to one side as she nervously flattened a crease on her taffeta dress. And he remembers her talking about bears.
What happened after that first meeting was pure magic. The signs were everywhere. The day after meeting her, Lord came across a historical story about the lost grizzly bears of Saskatchewan in an ecology magazine. Then the movie The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams randomly appeared on a local television channel, and next a friend at work introduced him to something called a “grizzly” cocktail after a long week at work: bourbon, lemonade and an energy drink.
Only three days after they’d met, and there had been so many bear signs. Lord decided it was time to act. Even though it was after 9 p.m., and after more than a few grizzly cocktails, he dialled the phone with shaking hands, using the number from the business card that he’d picked up at the art exhibit. “As Lord of this manor,” he said into the receiver, “I invite you to dinner tomorrow.” After a pause he added, “Been thinking about you since we met.” He said all this without slurring.
Wren phoned back the next day and ended up talking to Lord about what her style of art represented to him. “Perseverance,” he proclaimed, “and always believing and never fitting into a box. Very bold. I love your lines.” He understands, she thought, and surprised herself by agreeing to the dinner invitation.
Less than twenty-four hours later, Wren found herself checking out her reflection in the rear-view mirror of her vehicle and hoping that she hadn’t sprayed on too much perfume. She insisted that they meet at the popular Cathedral Village restaurant in Regina rather than having him pick her up at her home, just in case her first impression of him was inaccurate. By the time she entered, Wren noticed that Lord was already there, sitting near the end of the dining area with a clear view of the front door. He was holding flowers—not roses, but a brightly coloured bouquet, the kind anyone can buy at a local grocery store. Lord did not take his eyes off her as Wren walked toward him. “You look lovely tonight,” he said.
Wren had spent the entire afternoon primping and selecting an outfit, applying and reapplying makeup, and trying to figure out which accessories to wear. In the end, she was both stunning and elegant, wearing a simple black dress, long-sleeved but with an exaggerated neckline that subtly covered her cleavage, leaving room for the imagination. She wore simple jewellery, silver rhinestone-studded earrings and a choker-length silver chain that displayed a heart-shaped pendant. She decided not to wear lipstick that night, instead just dabbing on a clear gloss that outlined the shape of her lips. “Thank you,” she tittered. “So good to see you again.”
“I hope you don’t mind or think it is too forward, but I bought you some flowers,” Lord said, handing over the bouquet.
“Not too forward at all. Thank you.” Wren sniffed their sweet fragrance before adding, “I can’t remember the last time anyone gave me flowers. Oh, I mean, unless you count my sister who sends an arrangement each year on our birthday.”
Puzzled, Lord asked, “What you mean our birthday?”
Wren’s explanation led to much more conversation around getting to know more about each other. They talked about family, art, design and music before the waitress came to take their order.
“I will have your twelve-ounce filet mignon, medium-well, and a baked potato. Just butter as a garnish please, no side of vegetables,” said Lord. Wren ordered a medley of sides that included hummus, tzatziki, goat cheese and figs. Lord found it funny these were all things he’d never even tried. After the meal, Lord insisted on walking Wren back to her car in the parking lot at the back of the building and just off an alleyway. “Just want to make sure you’re safe,” he said as he led her to her car. Lord held Wren’s small hand and the two made plans to see each other again in a week’s time.
“I can’t wait for a week,” Lord complained over the phone at about eight o’clock the next morning. “I’m sitting here, alone in my apartment and drinking a nice, hot coffee and thinking wouldn’t it be so much nicer to be sitting here with you.”
“Me too,” said Wren. Lord suggested the two meet up again for dinner that night, but this time at Lord’s home, and Wren agreed. Lord lived in a comfortable highrise apartment at the corner of College Avenue and Broad Street in Regina. Lord explained with great affection that one point in history it was where the edge of the city began. His apartment had a great view looking to the west, including an impressive sunset each evening and nearby Wascana Park.
Earlier that day, he’d stopped at a deli on the way home to pick up a ready-made barbeque chicken, some fresh ciabatta bread, smoked gouda and soft brie cheeses, and a side of quinoa salad—foods he’d never imagined bringing home prior to seeing what Wren ordered the night before.
They embraced that night and shared their first kiss. Lord recognized something in Wren as he touched her hair. Holding her face in both his hands, his lips were drawn toward hers. She returned the gentle touch and put her arms around his shoulders, a warm intertwining that offered a promise of something sacred and timeless. Their next kiss held purpose and went deeper: an unspoken pledge that they’d take care of each other’s hearts with commitment that can carry and protect for eternity.
That’s the story of how they met, and how they ended up living at the historic farmhouse today. They married at city hall less than three months after their first meeting at Wren’s art show. Raven will be their first overnight visitor since becoming a married couple. There is magic when the twins are together, just as there is magic between Wren and her groom.
The farmhouse and its property had been bequeathed to both girls years ago—that sad day when Kohkum passed at the same time her granddaughters had been accepted to university. She wanted to ensure that love and tradition of the farmhouse would carry on, connection and pride of past and present, long after she’d gone to the spirit world. Kohkum’s wish.
The farmhouse sat empty for some time while the girls made their ways in the world. But the magic returned when the newlyweds decided to make it their home. It was like the very land smiled and applauded. The hollyhocks grew taller and the perennial purple irises grew in abundance, thick like ground cover. The creeping ivy extended all the way past the trellis and toward the second-floor master bedroom window.
*
Wren is so excited that Raven is visiting. Good medicine. She looks forward to the dim light of the fireflies as the twins watch from the veranda—fairies dancing, they would say when they were little. They’ll listen to the lowly sound of trains in the distance and coyotes singing, crickets chirping and frogs calling out in what Wren remembers as a sweet melody. They will eat bannock, and honey made from bees that had pollinated the several varieties of wildflowers the girls used to pick. They’d give a bouquet of those wildflowers to their kohkum, so many years ago. In leaving the property to her granddaughters, Kohkum’s wish was for love, a love that will fold its safety around new beginnings.
RECONCILING THE PAST
Lord carries a curse. Or at least he’s been told he carries a curse. He cannot bring himself to tell Wren that he feels an unease with Raven coming to stay the weekend in their home, their sacred space. He thinks, It’s amazing I invited Wren for dinner at my home at all. That I invited someone in. Lord keeps remembering voices from the past. His mother’s voice, and how she raised him to be afraid of anyone visiting. “They carry germs,” she’d tell him. “You never know where their hands have been. Best not to take a chance.”