Picturesque

Chapter 8: The Donnelley Estate

The house stood up a hill upon a long stretch of a red paved driveway. Wide, green trees guarded the driveway which opened up into a large stretch of perfectly landscaped lawn. I was hunching up in the backseat, my arms holding onto the passenger headrest as I gazed through the front window. I could see workers in the front yard—a man pushing a lawn mower over the grass, a woman knelt near a flowerbed with white gloves on her hands, a man carrying a bag of mulch across the circle driveway.

But the house itself was the main attraction. The colonial magnitude of it was striking, with its ivory face and pristinely white French windows. I could spot a few palm trees towering from the sides of the house, and a few of the upper windows had flowered leaves hanging down from the sills. The remaining sunlight of the evening blended through the trees and struck the house in golden specks and sparkles. The closer we got, the bigger the house seemed. Right when it looked like it ended, you could see another chunk or block or circle of architecture.

I wasn't sure if I was just delirious from being in the car for so long, but when Neil drove the car into the circle driveway, it felt as if the house loomed upwards all at once and stretched over me protectively. A few of the windows where the setting sun did not reach had golden light emanating comfortably from them. It felt like I was being driven into the mouth of paradise.

"Boy, oh boy," Neil sighed as he parked near the front steps and turned the engine off. "What a drive, huh?"

"Thank you, Neil," I told him sincerely. "You've been a very great driver."

"Well, chauffeuring is my job, Miss Becca," he said before stepping out of the car. I had already opened my door, desperate to feel my feet touch the ground, and when he saw that I was getting out myself, he jogged quickly over to open my door wider and offer a hand to me.

Smiling sheepishly, I took his hand and stepped out. The ground felt shaky underneath my feet, my body still in belief that I was in a moving car. My knees wobbled as my blood rushed down my body, and I hadn't realized how close I was to falling right over until Neil rushed to wrap an arm around me.

"Steady there, Miss," Neil chuckled, struggling to hold me up while not being too offensive in the way he touched me. "Long trips can take a toll on the balance."

"Sorry," I whispered, giving an airy laugh that sounded a little wheezy. I took a deep breath, clutching Neil's arm, and looked around me. Seeing the house from the car felt a bit like watching a movie. Now, standing in front of it, unembraced by the vehicle and standing in the open Californian air whose humidity was quite different from Louisianan humidity, felt quite like stepping into a movie screen.

"No worries, Miss Becca. Come on, let's get you into the house. I'll bring your bags in after."

With Neil's steady arm keeping me balanced, I walked with him like a newborn calf up the many red brick steps leading to the front porch which was upholstered by ivory columns.

"I'm very sorry," I said again, feeling my face heat in embarrassment at the fact that Neil had to help me up the steps as if I was a shaky old woman.

"You don't need to apologize, Miss Becca," he laughed gently. "You've just been halfway across the country. Who's to say walking in Louisiana is the same as walking in California?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at his remark which I knew was a way of gently mocking and comforting me at the same time. I was feeling quite disoriented—my head was pounding, and my heart felt weak in my chest. It felt like a dream where you are trying to run but keep getting failed by your own legs, and you only feel halfway conscious.

When we got to the front door, Neil opened it and helped me inside. My shoes met a black and white checkered marble floor, and when I lifted my eyes, I saw a golden chandelier twinkling above me. The entry hall was bordered by a grand staircase that squared the ceiling, and the walls were such a clean shade of white that I felt I would stain them by touching them. It felt awfully silent in the house, and when I glanced back outside, I saw that the sun had finally disappeared and introduced nighttime, although there was still a light orange streak in the lower half of the sky.