Turning Point

By Susan Lynn Pelletier

A return to Seagull's Perch is the last thing Angelique intended to do, but the request from her great-great-grandmother to be there to celebrate her 105th birthday could not be ignored. Arriving home with her two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, she's faced with her mother, whom she hasn't spoken to in three years. Also entering back into her life is her ex-fianc seeking forgiveness and to become a part of her and her daughter's life.

Angelique seeks to reconcile the past so she can move forward with her future. Her great-great-grandmother is aware that for her time is running out. The family all gather to listen to Varvara telling her story. She delivers a colorful history of events that spans over ten decades. Beginning with her birth in Russia, to her life on an estate in France, and finally to the present, living on the shores of Rhode Island.

Turning Point is an intimate look into one woman's life. A compelling tale of love, loss, joy, and sorrow. Through her faith and courage she overcomes many obstacles. In the end, this strong and courageous woman's love bonds five generations of family together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503586703

Susan Lynn Pelletier

Susan L. Pelletier was born on December 22, 1953, in Oxford, Massachusetts. She is one of six sisters and has one brother. Ms. Pelletier began her love of the ocean as a child vacationing on Cape Cod with her family. My Dad, her first poem, was written when she was nine years old. Of her many interests, she is an avid reader and loves arranging flowers from her large perennial gardens and singing in her church choir. Ms. Pelletier resides in Charlton, Massachusetts. Married for over forty years to her high school sweetheart, she has one daughter and two sons. Her pride and joy is her four grandsons and one granddaughter. Turning Point, her first novel, combines her Armenian heritage with her love of history.

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Copyright © 2015 by Susan Lynn Pelletier.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015911504

ISBN:   Hardcover   978-1-5035-8672-7

   Softcover   978-1-5035-8671-0

   eBook   978-1-5035-8670-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 08/25/2015

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

To Tom, for giving me the idea for this story, I hope you’re smiling down from heaven.

To all the Oxford Middle School staff that encouraged me to get started.

I am grateful to Christ Church in Westerly for allowing me access to the church and answering all my questions.

My appreciation: to Linda and Mike Colby for sharing your cancer story with me.

A thank you goes to Ocean House and its staff; for giving me an exclusive tour of its facilities.

A thank you; to my niece Michelle who arranged for Dharmendra Acharya to take the back cover picture of me.

To Stephanie Jarvis Campbell: editor extraordinaire whose advice and proof-reading provided unmeasurable help.

To Jan and Karen: who came to my rescue when I needed them. I appreciate and thank them for their time and expertise.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to:

My husband, Gaetan, who for over forty years, has been the love of my life.

My children: Juliane, Timothy, and Nicholas and their spouses, for all the support and encouragement you have given me.

My grandchildren: they have brought a smile to my face and joy into my heart every day.

My sisters and brother: who have shared life’s journey with me.

And to Jan, no words can express how much your friendship means to me. Without you I wouldn’t know Westerly, Rhode Island and all its charm.

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Angelique’s hands were sweating as she gripped the steering wheel and drove south on I-95. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she checked on the sleeping child strapped snuggly in her car seat. She rolled her tense shoulders backward to try to relieve some of the stiffness, and then taking a deep breath of air, she settled down for the ride ahead.

She was going home, and with a sigh, Angelique realized how she longed for this moment and yet dreaded the upcoming confrontation with her mother, whom she hadn’t to spoken to in the past three years. There was a lot of history that led up to the estrangement and the time had come for it to end. Her thoughts drifted to her great-great-grandmother, Varvara, the matriarch of the family, who at age 104 had sent out the request for the whole family to come home for the Easter weekend. No one ignored a command from Mémère. Angelique admitted to herself that she owed a lot to the grand lady who was her great-great-grandmother. Just about everything in her life revolved around the lessons she learned from Varvara. Now Varvara was going to record her life’s story and wanted Vari to be among the children listening to it.

The approaching exit brought her thoughts back to the present as she quickly left the highway. With only a short distance left, she crossed Route 1 and drove toward Watch Hill. She could smell the strong scent of salt on the air, and the seagulls were calling out their welcome.

Coming over the rise, the vista of Watch Hill within the town of Westerly, Rhode Island, spread before Angelique with the vast blue Atlantic in the background. She never got over the pleasure of seeing the ocean. As she drove past the harbor, she marveled at its stark emptiness. She envisioned what it would look like in just a few months, when it would be filled with yachts and fishing boats. She drove down Bay Street, noticing that most of the stores were still closed. As she passed Puffin’s, she reminded herself she needed to go there in search of a birthday present for Mémère and was glad to see that it was open. Continuing on, she drove past the Flying Horse Carousel, built in 1876 and a registered National Historic Landmark. It was still all boarded up, but soon the horses would return and children’s laughter would again be heard coming from inside the carousel. As Angelique continued up the road, the driveway to the family’s home, Seagull’s Perch, appeared with its large arborvitaes on each side. They always appeared like large green welcoming arms. Her tires rumbled as she drove over the seashell driveway and made her way to the parking spaces next to the large three-car garage. She had grown up in the apartment above it.

Angelique pulled into a parking space and paused to contain the feelings that only the old family home could create. The large, beautiful, white mansion was positioned high on a bluff; its many windows provided spectacular views of the Atlantic Ocean. Surrounded by large wraparound porches, it gracefully stretched out in historic grandeur. The morning sun’s rays made each glass pane twinkle like diamonds. It was built in the mid-1800s by Angelique’s ancestor who was a sea captain and merchant. The home had three stories and twenty rooms, twelve of them bedrooms. On top of the mansion was a glass-enclosed widow’s perch. Angelique remembered the numerous times she and her cousins ran through the many hallways and bedrooms during the family holidays and long summer vacations she had spent in the old house. She smiled to herself and looked at the small girl in the back seat. Strong feelings of love for her daughter stirred in her stomach.

Gracefully exiting the car, she opened the back door and helped her daughter out. Holding the little girl’s hand, she walked up the stairs to the spacious wraparound porch. White wicker furniture with bright yellow and blue cushions was scattered in carefree abandonment across the spacious covered porch. Memories of lost conversations and long games of Hand and Foot with cousins skittered through her thoughts, but were interrupted when the door opened to reveal a tall, thin woman.

Victoria. She wore her hair pulled back and tied up with a ribbon, looking more like a 25-year-old than a grandmother in her forties; she was dressed in black leggings and a bright yellow top that was cinched at the waist with a wide leather belt. She obviously had just finished her morning dance routine. The woman looked from Angelique to the little girl, who was now hiding behind her mother’s leg, and there was a brief softening in Victoria’s eyes when they fell on the child, but the tone wasn’t soft when she addressed Angelique.

So, you decided to come home.

Hello to you, too, Mother.

Don’t use that tone of voice…

The pending argument was interrupted by the arrival of a tall, attractive man dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. Coming behind him were three small dogs yapping, with excited woofs, their tiny feet sliding to a stop in front of Angelique and her daughter Vari.

Uncle Marc! Vari jumped up and down with her arms raised. Uppa! Uppa! In one swoop, Vari was tossed high in the air, bubbling giggles echoing around the great entrance hall. The dogs, wanting in on the fun, ran around in circles, alternating between high jumps in the air and their own form of yapping laughter.

I’m glad you made it. How was the ride? Marc asked Angelique. Did you hit the traffic in Providence?

Well, come inside. Victoria said. You two always did stick together.

Yes, replied Marc. Mother, let’s not start arguing. I think you’d like to meet your grandchild. Still holding Vari in his arms, he turned and said, Mother this little munchkin is Vari. Vari, this is your grandma.

Vari peeked around Mark’s shoulder and gave a cherub smile. She greeted Victoria with a quiet hello.

Well, hello to you, too, replied Victoria as she looked at Vari for the first time. Her features softened as she gazed at her granddaughter.

The two siblings exchanged understanding looks. They had several conversations about Vari and their mother meeting and how it would go.

Standing in the foyer, Angelique looked around her old home. The main floor consisted of the grand entranceway, where they were standing; its main feature was the curved grand staircase and black-and-white marbled floor. The stairway was a favorite amongst the children; on every floor there was a section that was open and you could either look up to the third-floor ceiling or down to the first floor. There were many family pictures of children’s faces looking over the railings on every landing.

Throughout the house you could see a continuous run of crown molding circling the ceilings. Ornate moldings could be found on the doorway and windows’ trim, giving the house an air of elegance. She glanced off to the left to where the formal dining room was. She let out a sigh of relief, noting that nothing had changed. It was decorated in Victorian style with a twelve-foot ceiling, floor-to-ceiling windows and a beautiful hardwood floor. The room was extremely attractive with its delft blue walls and fancy white trim. An ornately carved white marble arched fireplace stood along one wall with glass cased china closets on each side. The room was furnished with delicate Victorian furniture and a blue Oriental carpet-covered floor. Switching to the right of the foyer, she glanced into the library/office. It, too, had not changed; its walls were covered from floor to ceiling with shelves of books, and a large oversized oak desk was centered in the middle of the floor. Black leather furniture gave the room a rich masculine feel, and the oak fireplace in the corner always gave the room a touch of warmth. She knew every inch of the house, for she had lived in one part or the other for most of her life. Just thinking of it made her anxious to see it all again. It had been a long three years, and she was glad to finally be home.

Marc interrupted her thoughts, asking her to join the rest of the family that was gathered in the great room.

I need to get my things from the car, said Angelique.

I’ll help later, Angel, Marc said. Come say hello to everyone. They’ve been waiting to see you. He started walking, with Vari on his shoulders, and Angelique had no choice but to follow. Victoria did the same.

The back of the house, which faced the ocean, contained the family room and great room. These two rooms had panoramic views of the ocean, and on a clear day, you could see Block Island and parts of Long Island. News of Angelique’s arrival traveled fast through the house, and a calliope of noise spilled out of the family room. When Victoria and Angelique entered the great room, a hushed silence fell upon the family as they watched and waited to see what would happen. Then, from the other side of the room, a voice spoke out.

Angel, I’m glad you accepted my invitation.

Tears filled up Angelique’s eyes as she gazed at the woman slowly being pushed to the front of the group. Her great-great-grandmother, the matriarch of the family, was now sitting in a wheelchair. That was new— when Angelique had last seen her, she was still strong, vibrant, and dancing. Now, as Angelique looked, she saw how fragile her great-great-grandmother had become. Varvara was once a tall woman, but it seemed a small portion of her had disappeared. She looked so tiny sitting in the chair. Angelique noticed that her once strong hands now were covered with paper-thin skin that exposed the blue veins underneath, giving them the appearance of being delicate and fragile.

Angelique leaned close and kissed her on both cheeks. Her great-great-grandmother was savvy and they had kept in touch through e-mail, video chatting, and texting but that couldn’t compare to being in the same room and being able to hug and kiss her. Thinking back, Angelique realized that lately Varvara had only used texting to communicate with her. Obviously, hiding her weaken condition.

Welcome home, Angel. Thank you for coming. Now, Marc, put that child down so I can greet my namesake.

Gently placing Vari down in front of the wheelchair, Marc stepped back.

Vari, come say hello to Mémère’, who I told you we were coming to see, Angelique said, standing behind her daughter.

Varvara looked at the small child and reached out to touch the dark curls that surrounded her cherub-like face.

"Are you the ballerina in my pictures?’ Vari asked in a whisper.

Looking up questioningly at Angelique, who nodded, Varvara answered, Yes.

My ballerina is young and you’re old, Vari said.

This brought a few gasps and some laughter from the family that had gathered behind Varvara in the great room.

I was young once, many years ago. Chuckling, Varvara wiped a tear from her eye with her handkerchief and commented that Vari must take after her.

And what is your name, may I ask? Varvara said to Vari.

My name is Varvara Jan Haroutunian, answered Vari proudly.

That’s my name, too! said Varvara.

At this statement, Vari made a funny face and looked questioningly at her mother.

With laughter, Angelique nodded, saying, You are named after her, Vari!

Vari again made a funny face, but, like most two-and a half-year-olds, had lost interest in the conversation. She had spotted the dogs sitting near the windows and wandered off to pat them.

Varvara began looking very tired and, nodding to the nurse, she slowly was wheeled out of the room. Angelique, come see me tomorrow morning after practice. Please bring the child with you, Varvara’s voice from the hallway.

Everyone started talking at once. Angelique’s grandparents came forward and hugged both Angelique and Vari.

I’m so glad you have come home, said Jan.

Who is this girl? Do I know you? asked Tim as his eyes twinkled with laughter.

Gampa Tim. It’s me. Vari shouted.

How can you be Vari, she’s just a little baby, teased, Tim.

I growed-up. Vari said.

Laughter at the exchange came from the rest of the group. Greetings from cousins and hugs and kisses from Aunt Sasha and Uncle Bermont made Angelique feel at home. Vari had been playing with the dogs until she noticed that in the corner was a toy box around which sat several children. She ran over and sat down and joined in to play with a girl with blonde hair. Angelique noticed familiar sounds coming from the kitchen, just off the great room: She walked over and saw the familiar scene of her aunts, Karen and Christina, preparing lunch. The only thing different was the kitchen had been completely renovated with new stainless steel appliances, a five—burner gas stove, black granite countertops, and a center island that held a microwave, a warming drawer and, in its corner, a small wash sink. Both aunts stopped what they were doing and engulfed Angelique in warm welcoming hugs and kisses.

Lunch will be ready in a few minutes. It’s good to see you back home, Angelique! Aunt Karen said as she quickly gave Angelique another kiss and went back to working on lunch.

Angelique continued to look around her old home. Off the kitchen, the porch had been converted into a breakfast nook and sunroom. She glanced over to check on Vari, who was still playing with the other children in the corner, and she hadn’t noticed that Marc had come up behind her.

It’s amazing how fast little ones adjust to their surroundings, Marc whispered into Angelique’s ear. I need to talk to you as soon as possible. Can you meet me after we eat?

I need to get my things from my car. Why don’t we meet out front on the porch? without waiting for an answer she asked, How long has Mémère been in the wheelchair? All the times we talked on Skype she was at her desk, and when we went out to eat for Vari’s second birthday, she was walking with just her cane. It’s just a little unnerving to see her in it. It makes her look old.

Ever since she had pneumonia she has had trouble, but she caught a cold last winter, and since then she seems to get tired very easily. What can you expect? She’s almost one hundred and five.

Over the next hour, Angelique reacquainted herself with the family. Though she had kept in contact with several members over the last three years, she wasn’t up to date with all the family news. From the many cousins and her aunts and uncles, she soon learned about the changes that had happened since she had been gone, including a few new cousins that had been born. This news was received with interest because, not only did she love babies, but also they would provide playmates for Vari. Leaving the great room, Angelique quietly walked down the hall and stepped out onto the porch. She found Marc pacing back and forth and overheard him talking on his cell.

I haven’t told her yet. She just arrived. You need to be patient. Yeah, I know you’ve been waiting a long time. Noticing Angelique, he said, Got to go, and quickly hung up.

Marc, who were you talking to?

With a guilty look on his face, Marc tried to appear nonchalant, but he failed.

Who were you talking to? Angelique, now agitated, repeated.

Now, don’t get angry with me. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I was going to…

Just stop it, Marc, and tell me.

Yves is in town. He’s looking over Tempest and Belle Rose. He wants to see you!

Angelique stared at Marc, as her face showed astonishment and then anger. Red-faced, she stamped her foot and angrily shouted. Well, I don’t think I want to see him. He walked away from me. He’s the one who said he didn’t want me! He can’t just decide he’s changed his mind and expect I would welcome him back into my life!

There were circumstances, Sis.

Circumstances,’ she scoffed! What circumstances?"

Three years ago. She believed Yves was the answer to all her dreams. That summer, graduating from Johnson & Wales University, and traveling to France to visit her great-uncle’s home. Just thinking about Bellaire, her uncle’s estate, extracted an aah! It was a horse breeding and equestrian training center in Normandy. Back then, she had two loves-dancing and horses. Detailed plans were made to spend the next twelve weeks learning all she could from the trainers and breeders that worked there. She also was training for a dressage competition and needed some help on a routine. At the end of the summer she was to audition for the `Ecole Françoise, the French School of Ballet.

She had arrived at Bellaire in June. She could hardly keep her excitement of being in France for the first time in check. She landed at the Paris airport and was met by her Aunt Sasha and Uncle Bermont. Arriving late in the evening, she didn’t see much of her surroundings as she was driven to Bellaire. Even though she was on vacation, she kept up her daily routine. Rising early, she made her way out to the barn to the dance studio. It was a family tradition; ballet was in their blood, so when entering the studio, she wasn’t surprised to find it was already occupied with her cousins Becca and Rachael. Coming up behind her were her Uncle Bermont and her Aunt Sasha. As greetings were exchanged, all were going through the motions of warming up and stretching. Rachael stepped over to the stereo and started the music, Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. All began working at the barre on the ritualized routine. From infancy, girl or boy, all children were taught plies in first position, grande plies followed by repetitions in second, fourth, and fifth position, relevés, pirouettes, tendus, échappés and more. This was the start to each day and was danced with finesse and grace by all.

An hour later, mopping her brow with her towel, Angelique left the barn and turned to head back to the house. Catching her breath in surprise and wonder, Angelique couldn’t help but stare. Coming toward her was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was leading the mare, Belle Tara, in from the exercise ring, taking her back into the barn. What prompted Angelique to stare was his face. He had a large forehead with arched eyebrows, strong cheekbones, and a slight cleft in his chin. His nose was long and slightly bent, and his lips were full. The most striking feature was his eyes. They were a soft brown color with flecks of gold and were surrounded with beautiful, long, curly eyelashes. Their color reminded her of the after-dinner cognac that her Uncle Bermont had, and, like cognac, seeing this man gave her a warm feeling in her stomach. His hair was a rich chestnut brown, and his bronzed skin glistened as the sunlight reflected off his broad shoulders. A strong muscular chest, lightly covered with hair, tapered down to a slim waist. His legs were long and muscled. The muscles in his arms bulged as he controlled the excited mare. Everything combined made an exciting specimen of a man.

Hello, he said in a deep, rich voice as he guided the horse away from the group of girls.

B… bon… Bonjour, Angelique stuttered. The words were barely out of her mouth before he disappeared into the barn. Walking back toward the house through the gardens, Angelique was joined by her two cousins, who chuckled as they listened to her muttering to herself. "Stupid. … Bonjour … Dumb! What an impression I made. Who is he….?

Angelique put her thoughts into words and, turning to her cousins asked, Who is he?

Yves is the new trainer Grand-Papa hired last fall. He is actually connected to the family, the great-grandson of Varvara’s uncle, Rachael quickly informed Angelique. He studied under the famous trainer Willi Schultheis and is wonderful with the horses. He even rode Grand-Papa’s Mystique Rose! Rebecca added. Grand-Papa was pleased as he had broken his arm and couldn’t exercise Mystique Rose himself. Yves is the one who will be working with you this summer.

Isn’t he gorgeous? piped up Rebecca. We are all gaga over him.

Angelique was suddenly startled out of her reverie when she saw snapping fingers in front of her face.

Earth to Angel, Earth to Angel! Where did you drift off to? asked Marc.

Reviewing the past, Angelique said, shrugging her shoulders.

You dwell too much on the past! Put it behind you and move on. You can’t change it! It was what it was.

I can’t forget the past! Why don’t any of you understand? I had everything, and then mother’s interference and Yves’ compliance destroyed it all. I have had almost three years of struggle. Having Vari all by myself was not easy, and I’ll not forget that! Her eyes glared at Marc.

Yes, I know, but she is also part of the future, and she deserves to know her dad. Angelique, talk to him; at least try to work through the problems. You aren’t happy and neither is he. I miss my smiling sister, Angel.

Marc’s words made Angelique stop yelling, and she sadly smiled back at him. She knew that Marc and Yves had business dealings together, but the siblings had usually avoided discussions about Yves when they were together. Now that Yves couldn’t be avoided, she took a deep breath and asked.

How has he been and why is he here?

He has a slight limp from the accident and sometimes has to walk with a cane. There was some damage done to his left eye, and he sometimes has to wear an eye patch over it. All in all, he has healed better than expected. In the beginning, they didn’t believe he would live at all.

Angelique had learned of Yves accident just before she returned to the States. She had gone to the hospital for one last plea, but Yves had refused to see her. She had told no one about the visit. She had been told by Marc the complete story. How three years ago, Yves had been kicked by a horse and had shattered his femur. During a horse competition, he had observed a child that had wandered away from her mother and had entered a horse stall. Yves had acted quickly, jumping into the stall. He got between the child and the startled horse and been kicked in the process. He also took a glancing blow to his head. For months doctors thought he wouldn’t ever walk again.

Angelique asked again: Why is he here now, Marc?

Marc explained that Yves was doing business with him,