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LIGHT OF THE ATMA – THE SPARK WITHIN

HER NAME MAN – HER NAME!

month passed like the blink of an eye, and Michael was itching to be on his way to somewhere new and different, when the doorbell of his ritzy hotel room was rung. A man employed by Michael to be his butler, walked across the room and answered it. A bellboy handed him an envelope.

“This just came for you Sir,” the butler informed. “Thank you Hank.”

Michael opened it and grinned as he read an invitation to a dinner party the mayor was having. ‘I guess I should go,’ he thought to himself. It was anyone’s guess if Michael would actually attend. He would not go of course if something better were to come his way or if anxiety to leave grew deeper.

He questioned his own motives for attending the get-together as he stood in the middle of a crowd of bored old men watching the mayor make a fool of himself. Michael laughed at the mayor’s suit and thought:  ‘He really degrades that material.’

Michael had been to a thousand and one of these kinds of galas thrown with  only one thing in mind, self- aggrandizement for the host or hostess. In this case it was for the mayor’s political considerations. It was his way of exploring the field.

With intentions to leave, Michael excused himself from the crowd and moved across the room headed toward the coat closet.  He was brought to an unexpected stop when his eyes landed upon a woman of entrancing beauty sitting at the other side of the hall. He stared at her from within the crowd and became transfixed. Her beauty, he thought, excelled that of any woman he had ever seen.

With near franticness pumping in his heart, he searched the room for the mayor. He found His Honor amongst another cluster of men who were bunched up in a corner smoking and puffing away on their cigars looking like factory stacks that darken the day sky.

Michael pulled him out of the group and discreetly pointed out the woman with only his description. The mayor smiled widely; and being the politician he was, praised, “You not only have excellent taste my boy, but good timing as well.”

“Yes, yes!” Michael acknowledged in a huffy, impatient sort of way. “Who is she?”

“She -” the mayor said with some fascination of how Michael took interest in her,  “is the daughter of the most prominent doctor in New England.”

“Her name man, her name?!” “Her name my boy, is Margaret Wellington.” “Margaret…” Michael sang with his tone, “what a beautiful name .” “Ah . . .uhm, yesss,” the mayor droned out, noticing Michael’s infatuation. “You said something about timing?”

“Well my boy, this is her social maiden voyage, as you might say. No one to speak of has really ever seen her before this, uhm except for those who personally know the doctor, of course.”

“Of course…her father. Which one is he?” The mayor looked around the room. “There he is, Dr. Thomas Wellington, Professor of Medicine and the top surgeon in these parts, if not any part of the country. He’s a very influential man in many circles – a good man to get to know.”

“Is he protective of his daughter?” “Uhm . . .extremely!” “Then introduce me to him!”

The mayor and Michael walked over to the group of men who were talking, and in an authoritative voice, the mayor interrupted their conversation. “Gentlemen,” he announced, “I want to introduce you to a man who makes life for all of us, a little easier to cope with. This, Gentlemen, is Michael Smith, baron of the textile industry and master of a great shipping firm.”

“So, you’re the man we’ve heard so much about,” the men raved in their own chummy way as they gathered around him.

After a long, boring hour of chatting about nonsense, puffing up everyone’s pride and promising gifts of exquisite bolts of fabrics for them and their wives, Michael centered his attention on the physician and isolated him from the crowd.

“Tom, I’m giving a special dinner party next month; a charity event for the hospital.” “For the hospital?” A wondering expression came over the doctor’s face. “Yes . . .the mayor and I have been discussing the importance of a new wing.” “New wing?”

“Yes…a complete surgical center with the newest and latest of everything to help men of medicine help those who need their help. I was wondering if you would like to attend, and give a speech?”

“Well,  for such a cause, I’d be delighted!”

“Good then, and oh, uh this will be a family affair. Do bring your wife and children. We want to stress the compassionate  and familiar side of our business lives, don’t we?”

“Indeed,” Tom agreed. “I haven’t any small children, but I do have a daughter.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact she is here with me tonight,” and he spun his head around searching for her. “Ah – there she is,” and he pointed to her.

“Where is she?” Michael responded, pretending not to find her in the crowd.

“Never mind,” Tom excused. ” Come, let me introduce you,” and they walked over to the group of women who were sitting about in a nest-like fashion chatting among themselves.

“My dear,” her father spoke up, getting her attention, “I would like to introduce you to Mr. Michael Smith.” Her eyes ascended to meet his as she stood up. She extended her hand to him; and he, taking hold of it so gently, bent down and drew it to his lips and kissed it.

The women sitting with her grew envious, and the seeds of gossip were planted as they saw the romantic look toward her flash in this most eligible bachelor’s brilliant blue eyes. Margaret blushed with embarrassment. Michael stood tall and spoke to her father as he kept his gaze steadily on her. “You aren’t going to deny us of your daughter’s charm at the charity ball, now are you?”

“Of course not,” Tom assured.

“Miss Wellington, you would do us the honor of attending? We should not be denied the grace of your presence.” As Margaret nodded, Michael smiled then cast his gaze toward the cluster of her friends. “Nor, should we be denied the pleasure of any of these other blossoms whose beauty would humiliate the most delectable of flowers.” All the women giggled under their breath and waved their hand-fans vigorously in front of their faces, each one fancying herself as the lucky one to land him as her own.

“I would love to stay and chat more,” Michael sighed with a mock regret, “but the hour is getting late and I do have a busy day tomorrow. I was only stopping by,” and he looked at the doctor. “If it weren’t for you Tom, I dare say this boring get-together would have been a total waste.”

AND SO IT BEGAN

here was no doubt that Michael fell in love with Margaret the moment he saw her, the only question was:  how deep was that love?

Michael was the first man Margaret had ever formally met. Perhaps the innocence about her was the thing that attracted him so. She was nearly ten years his junior, thoroughly cultured but completely inexperienced in worldly affairs, especially when it came to affairs of the heart and men’s ways. And of this, Michael took every advantage by sweeping her off of her feet as much as he could with his devastating charm.

Everything a woman could ask for in the looks of a man, Michael had. Everything other men respected in a man, Michael seemed to be. Thus, his magnetic charisma affected Margaret’s parents as much as his affection, entranced her. Margaret was totally beguiled by his pretense and fell deeply in love with him.

Soon their engagement was announced to the ecstatic delight of her mother, Martha and the pride of her father. They both thought Michael was the perfect man for their daughter. Not only was he likeable, popular, powerful and wealthy, but the fact that he cherished their daughter was the highlight of their life.

Margaret’s mother, Martha, was a kindhearted woman who appreciated the warm and simplistic values of life. She believed that adherence to these simple values inspired the loyalties of life, which a woman in the modern age definitely needed.

Martha’s strong sense of virtue was tempered in her by the sweet expression of unconditional love that came from her own mother, Priscillawho received her values from her mother, Lilywhose heart and ways were as soft as the petals of the flower after which she was named.

And Margaret? Well Margaret was the brilliant white diamond among the precious gems of women that cultured her. Each virtuous facet was meticulously cut by the refined muliebrity of her mother who then carefully polished her ways until they were absolutely flawless; but as lustrous as Margaret was with these shining qualities, she was helplessly ignorant of men’s schemes and wicked ways.

FROM THAT TIME ON HOWEVER

royal-type wedding was planned. When the awaited date came, scores of people attended. A multitude of eyes shed tears of joy and the backs of Michael and his father-in-law were slapped with many congratulations…. And so the beautiful Margaret and her handsome husband were ready to start their life together.

After their honeymoon, Michael bought a lovely Victorian house in Boston as a little surprise for Margaret. Needless to say, she was more than content with this amazing present from him.

From that time on however, she saw little of her husband; for he was an extremely busy man and spared only a sparse amount of his time for her. There were those rare instances though, when some social event demanded their togetherness. Margaret accepted this lifestyle without question and kept herself very busy with other women friends in social affairs.

Of her husband’s real personality? She knew very little, so she always took in every word that was spoken by him as though it was coming from a fully truthful man. The real tragedy was that Michael himself was taken by his own self-made illusions just as much as everyone else was.

Michael heard from many knowledgeable men, that Chicago was the gateway to the West. On impulse, he took a train to see it. Like the modern-day explorer he was, he surveyed the Chicago terrain and found an attractive section of land adjacent to Lake Michigan. Within days he was the owner of a one thousand-acre parcel, which included the desired littoral rights.

Michael’s love for the sea seemed at times greater than his love of life, which made the city on Lake Michigan just the right spot for his new home and shipping enterprise. ‘Life here in Chicago is going to be grand,’ he thought to himself. He stood on the shore looking over the lake and pictured to himself all the business advantages living in Chicago would bring him.

He turned and walked back over his land. ‘Right here,’ he thought, ‘I will build a mansion that will make men sit up and take notice!’ He went back to Boston with dreams soaring higher than a kite, but mentioned nothing of his plans to Margaret. He hired ‘Old World’ craftsmen to build his palace-like mansion. He sat with them in closed-door meetings drawing up the blueprints.

Michael not only had a flare for the good life, he also had a penchant for the intriguing. He conveyed to the architects his wishes for a plexus of secret passageways that would allow him to easily slip from any room in the mansion to any other room of his choice.

“Tactics – that’s what’s important,” he told his chief architect. “Sometimes it’s worth a million dollars just to be able to avoid someone. Sometimes its worth goes up when you want something – depending! You know?” Thus, the builders and designers he had specifically brought in, began constructing his stately mansion.

A NEW SCENE IN LIFE BEGINS

As the job in Chicago was nearing completion, Margaret found she was expectant. The joy in her life lifted to supreme heights. The move from Boston to Chicago would now have to wait another year; by then, their new home would be totally complete if all went as planned. ‘All the better,’ Michael thought.

In due time, the baby was born. Margaret’s heart filled with that special joy and love only a mother could experience. Michael, of course, was a man filled with the pride of having a son, whom he decided would be named Michael Peter Smith. Margaret consented without any objection, feeling her husband’s wishes were also her wishes.

As the next few months passed, Michael grew impatient to show Margaret her new home. It was now completely finished and all sixty rooms were totally furnished. It was a present with which he desired so much to surprise her. Under some pretext, he convinced her to accompany him to Chicago. They stayed with some of Michael’s friends, Mr. and Mrs. John Bradbury, for a couple of days so Michael could sneak up to the mansion and preview it for himself before showing it to her.

Standing on the steps of his mansion with John, he remarked to him, “I want you to know how much I appreciate you and your wife overseeing the decorating of our home.”

“Think nothing of it,” John assured. “It was more of a pleasure than a toil.”

Michael spent the days rearranging the furniture to his liking and purchasing some last-minute decorations. Soon, he was ready to surprise his wife. Francine Bradbury and Margaret were sitting on the rug in the middle of the parlor watching the baby crawl around.

“Margaret, your son is a pure delight!”

“Oh Francine you’ve been the perfect hostess. You’ve not complained at Peter’s crying at all.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve held a baby in my arms and I tell you it has only brought back the fondest memories.” Francine’s eyes watered from the sorrow that time imposes. She cried, “What I wouldn’t give to have a baby.”

Margaret was confused. “But I thought… ”

“Oh, no. I never had any of my own. I did take care of my sister’s boy though. It’s not as if I can’t have any. It’s John you know. He felt a child would be too much of a burden.”

Margaret stared at her strangely. “Francine, it’s you who will have to take care of the child, not he.”

“Oh, it’s not the burden of care, so much as the noise. John values his serenity.” “Is that why he has stayed at the men’s club these past days?” “Well, he says he has business, but I believe it’s children; they make him nervous.”

Before the conversation could develop more, Michael’s carriage pulled to a stop at the front of the estate. “Oh, it’s Michael,” Margaret announced as she peeked out the window, “and he has flowers!”

As Michael entered, he handed the bouquet to Francine. “For me?” she questioned with surprise as she glimpsed at Margaret, then back at him. “Oh how beautiful!” and she took them, then rushed off to find a suitable vase.

“Bringing flowers to another man’s wife, in front of your own?” Margaret chided with a jest. “Looking for a divorce so soon?”

“Nothing so terrible,” he replied with a coy smile. “It’s just my gratitude to her for being such a wonderful hostess.”

“Well-l-l-l,” she relented, “since you put it that way.” Michael drew Margaret close to him and held her in his arms; at that moment Francine re-entered the room. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked.

“Yes,” Michael answered, “but I’ll forgive you if you’ll be a dear and watch Peter while Margaret and I go somewhere.” Francine immediately knew what Michael had in mind and was a barrelful of assurances.

IT’S VERY STRIKING, ISN’T IT?

Their carriage rolled along with such grace and ease, it was as if the clouds descended from the heavens and made a road for them to ride upon. Margaret, in love with the day, and life itself, slipped her arm through her husband’s arm and cuddled close. “Where are you taking me?” her voice was soft and sweet.

“Oh, you’ll see,” he answered.

Soon the mansion came into view. “Look at that place on the hill,” she remarked. “It’s very striking, isn’t it?”

“It just so happens,” he announced, “that’s exactly where we’re headed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me we were calling on folks? I would have dressed for it. You’ll embarrass me!”

“Not at all,” he assured. “The people who live there are the nicest people anyone would ever want to know, you’ll see.” Michael and Margaret alighted from the carriage and rang the doorbell which summoned the butler he had just hired. “Will you announce us?” Michael asked with a wink in his eye.

“Certainly Sir.” A servant attended to their coats and hats, then escorted them into a very large reception room. Michael excused himself on a pretext and laughed as he and his butler, Charles, were about to play the joke on his wife. A few minutes had passed before Charles entered the reception room. “Madame,” he announced, “the master of the house!”

When Michael turned the corner, Margaret stared at him with a puzzled expression. “Ta da ,” he sang out. She was still bewildered. “Don’t you see my dear?” he announced to her. “We are the people who live here.”

“What?!” she gasped, flinging her hands to her bosom as she fell into a nearby chair. “Wait,” she insisted. It took her a few minutes to regain her breath. She gazed about the room, then looked at her husband whose eyes were fixed on her. “This is ours? We live here?” Needless to say, she fell in love with the gift, so much so, that tears of joy fell from her eyes as she sat there in happiness. Michael watched her every expression and felt completely satisfied by her sincere responses. It was worth it!’ he thought to himself. ‘It was really worth it!’

Margaret’s feelings for him deepened that very moment, feelings which were revealed in her gaze. A trickle of real happiness rippled through Michael’s heart, but the material bliss from the pride he was experiencing pushed aside that true happiness and commanded his full attention once again. As happy as Margaret was at that moment, sadness for her was looming on the horizon, because from that time on, Michael was to be no home body.

More often than Margaret liked, the flair for business and the desire for the sea arose in him prompting him to leave her and Peter home alone again and again, sometimes even for years at a time.

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