Eliza Grande Part 4 (of 4)

(For those of you who have been awesome enough to have been reading this 4 part blog all month, the end is here. For those new here, please reads the first three parts of the story before reading any further on this installment. If you like what you've read, please leave comments and share with your friends. Thanks.)

I arrived back at my San Francisco home around 1 PM and immediately went to work.  I opened the attaché case and pulled out the hefty thousand some page manuscript from within.  The title page alone took me by surprise:
                The Greatest Adventure
                by Anderson Peter Hart
                I put the title page aside and was again surprised to read the dedication on the next page:           To my loving wife
                Thank you for finding me so I could find you
                You have all my love
                ALWAYS
                From there, I knew reading this manuscript was going to change my life forever.  I turned to the next page…

*

                The sun was just starting to rise over San Francisco four days later when I finally finished reading the massive manuscript.  I put aside the final page and sat there on my couch for a long time, just staring into space, and contemplating all that I had just experienced.  The Greatest Adventure was everything its title claimed it to be.  It was everything Lance had raved it was.  It was also undeniably written in my voice.  It was my work—it was my story, though I had no memory of writing it.  I had no memory of experiencing any of the things I had written about in the hefty manuscript, but I knew it all to be true just the same.
                The Greatest Adventure was the story of one man’s extraordinary life.  He was a writer, millionaire, philanthropist, time traveler, wizard, world and other dimensional explorer.  In life he was always whimsical and romantic, and in a pinch he could even be heroic.  He had a wife and four children, and lived (when not adventuring through time and space) on his private luxury estate, hidden in a remote part of the Napa Valley.  It was a story about a man I could undeniably relate to, but who’s life I hadn’t actually lived.
                I turned my phone back on, and, ignoring all the missed voice messages from Lance, I sent him a quick text that just said: Make it all happen.
                Then I turned my phone back off and stood up, stretching all the ache and tiredness from my body.  I was seriously considering breakfast when there was a knock at the door.  I was quick to answer it and not at all surprised to see the now familiar sight of Orense standing there on my front porch.           “Good morning Mr. Gurn…”
                “Call me Mr. Hart,” I cut him short.  “I know you want to.”
                “Good morning, Mr. Hart,” the other man actually smiled, and there was warmth and friendship in his jovial expression.  “I trust that you were already up.”
                “I sure was,” I smiled back.  “Take off your hat and glasses.”
                “Sir…?”
                “I know what you’re hiding.  I just read the book.  Show me.  Show me so I know I’m not crazy right now.”
                “Of course, Mr. Hart,” Orense removed his hat, revealing his pointed ears, and took off his sunglasses, letting me finally see his eyes and the slanted Elven eyebrows that resided above them.  “I trust this is what you expected to see?”
                “It is, and it isn’t,” I couldn’t help laughing.  “The character in the book was an Elf.  I had to find out if you were him or not.”
                “He and I are one and the same, sir,” the Elven chauffer put his hat and glasses back on quickly, before anyone else might catch a glimpse of his peculiar features.  “You did, or should I say will do, a fine job writing about me in your book.”  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope which he handed quickly to me.  “This is from Eliza.  She had to leave today.  This is not her time, you might by now understand.  She had to get back to the children and grandchildren, but she knew you’d need to have what’s in that envelope.”
                I tore open the envelope and poured the contents into my hand: a single gold key.         “What’s this for?” I asked after inspecting the key for a long moment.
                “It is so you can unlock the past, and the future,” Orense explained.  “As you and Eliza once did.  As no doubt you both will again, and again.”
                I put the key safely in my pocket and smiled at the dark skinned Elf.  “Take me home, Orense.  I have much to do.”

*

                Several hours later, I was back at the Grande-Hart Estate, out in the garden with the late afternoon sun stretching my shadow out far in front of me.  I sat down on a bench, utterly exhausted, and out of ideas.  I had tried the golden key on every lock in and outside the house I could find without success.  I sighed deeply and shook my head in defeat.  What good was a key to my future if I couldn’t use it?  I was contemplating going back into the house and calling it a day, when I finally noticed something very strange in the brick wall near where I sat… there was a crack in one brick, just the right size for a key.
                I stood up and moved quickly over to the wall.  My hand shaking with anticipation as I inserted the golden key into the crack and turned it slowly…
                A wash of white light blinded me for a moment and then… nothing happened.  I was in the very same spot, holding the very same key.  I turned around, intent on calling for Orense and demanding he help me figure out where and how to use this darn key, when I saw her.  The young woman standing before me now, dressed like someone from the 1920’s, complete with gloves and flapper hat, was undeniably Eliza Grande—easily seventy some years younger, but most definitely her.
                She was by far the most beautiful human being I had ever laid eyes on, and it was love at first sight… well second sight, I guess.
                “Please tell me that you’re Anderson Hart,” she said to me in a worn out, and nearly defeated voice.  “I’ve been searching all over this ducky big estate looking for him, and if you’re not him, I’m likely to go daffy, simply daffy!”
                “I am Anderson Hart,” I assured her; offering my hand for her to shake.
                “Oh thank all the angles in Heaven!” she cheered as she ignored my offered hand, and jumped into my arms, hugging me like no one had ever hugged me before.  “If I had driven all the way out here on my last tank of petrol, with no money to buy more, and hadn’t found you, I don’t know what I’d have done, Mr. Hart.  I’m so glad to have finally found you.”
                “I’m glad you found me too… Ms. Grande… isn’t it?” I tried not to reveal I knew too much.           “Yes, I am Eliza Grande,” she stepped back and finally shook my hand.  “Sorry if I scared you just now.  It has just been a very long day, you understand.”
                “I think I do,” I smiled at her knowingly.
                “So when do we get started?” she asked me.
                “How do you mean?” I asked.
                “Well, the lady at the employment center said you’d hired me to be your typist for your writing,” Eliza explained.  “When would you like to get started?”
                “Maybe later,” I told her, as I drank in her loveliness with my eyes.  “Why don’t we have something to eat first?”
                “You have read my mind!” Eliza exclaimed as she unexpectedly, but again very enthusiastically, hugged me again.  “I am simply famished!”
                “So am I, Eliza Grande,” I said, as I warmly and lovingly hugged her back.  “So am I.”

The End