Finding Justice (Dancing Moon Ranch Book 12)

by Patricia Watters

  "You're not. Come on in," Julia replied. "Where are Sergei and Irina?"

  "With Mom. She has them in a lineup with all the grandkids, decorating cookies for the big tree." After Maddy stomped the snow off her boots and brushed it from her shoulders, she stepped inside. Immediately, her attention was drawn to the table, which was again set for two.

  "Come on in and sit down," Julia said, wanting to draw Maddy's attention away from the table and what it implied. After they were sitting on the couch, she said, "The little girl, Irina. Why doesn't she talk?"

  "We're not sure," Maddy replied. "The social worker who brought the kids here didn't have information about her background, so we assume she's either deaf or very hard of hearing, and because the kids have been moved around so much, and Irina only just started first grade in September, she's slipped through the foster-care program cracks. For now, we just want them to have a nice Christmas with children to play with, except the kids here don't know how to interact with Irina, so they tend to stay clear of her."

  "That's sad," Julia said. "Maybe you could leave her with me for a while, and Sergei too. I could set up a game on the computer for him to play, and maybe teach Irina a little sign language. I learned to sign when I was in middle school, along with half the girls in my class, so we could talk to each other during class and drive the teacher a little crazy, but I still have the book we all used, and it would come back. If Irina's deaf, she'll understand what I'm trying to tell her, and it could be a way of communicating."

  "I'll talk to Mom since the kids are in her care, but I'm sure she'd be okay with it." Again, Maddy's eyes went to the table, then back to Julia, as she said, "About last night. I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

  "It was fine," Julia replied. "I'm glad Sergei was so excited about my games. I don't get to talk to kids like that, and Irina seemed to take to me. It was nice."

  "That's not what I meant," Maddy said. "I meant I'm sorry about interrupting you and Mario. You apparently do know him."

  "I wasn't sure at first, but yes, I know him," Julia replied.

  "Then I take it you like him."

  "He's an exceptional man," Julia said. "No one here really knows him."

  "Then you must have been in a relationship with him in the past," Maddy replied.

  "No, I spent six hours trapped with him in the building after the bombing," Julia said. "He heard me crying for help and rushed in, and when he couldn't dig me out of the rubble, and the building started shifting, he threw his body over mine to protect me, then dug me out of the debris in pitch blackness. He didn't have to stay. He had time to get out before the opening was closed off, but he risked his life for a stranger instead. You don't find many men willing to do that. But please don't say anything to him about my phobias. I'm confident I can overcome them in the next few months, and if he and I stay connected, maybe something will develop."

  "Then you really like him that way?" Maddy asked.

  "Like I said, he's an exceptional man."

  "If he's really the man you say he is, learning about your phobias won't make a difference to him because he'd want to help you," Maddy said.

  "It makes a difference to me. I don't want to be his pity project."

  "So you plan to stay in this cabin until he's gone?"

  "I don't know. I never expected to see him again and I'm unprepared."

  "Then I have a suggestion," Maddy said. "I understand about your panic attacks and how you're afraid of having one when people are around, so you could come to my arena while the guests are on the afternoon trail ride and we'd get you up on a horse again, sort of a first step."

  "Maybe after Christmas," Julia said.

  "You mean after Mario's gone," Maddy replied.

  "I just want to spend time with him here in the cabin, where I know I'll be okay," Julia said. "It's only for another week, then he'll be gone. After that, we'll stay in touch and I'll honestly try to beat this thing, which will mean getting out and doing things, like riding. I know it sounds like I'm making excuses, and maybe I am, but coming here and seeing Mario again… well, it's made me have a reason to try harder, but I just need more time."

  Julia realized she was again falling back on her timeworn excuse, but she couldn't see it any other way at the moment.

  "Okay, then I have another suggestion," Maddy said. "If the snow keeps up through tomorrow, Dad plans to hook up the horse and sleigh and take some of the guests for a sleigh ride. The sleigh only holds six, so you wouldn't be in a crowd, and you and Mario could sit nice and close during the ride, all snuggly and warm under a big blanket."

  Julia looked out the window where snow was falling heavily. There was a time when she would have jumped at the chance to ride in a horse-drawn sleigh with a man who stirred her feelings, and although she tried to convince herself she could do it, the image of sitting beneath a blanket with people in the sleigh pressed against her, even if Mario was one of them, triggered the timeworn memory of being buried alive, and she knew the ogre was still working his will. "I'll give it some thought," she said, even knowing she wouldn't.

  "I'm sorry I called Mario a jerk. I'm embarrassed now," Maddy said. "He was right to call me down for going to Las Vegas. I ignored his rules when it came to protecting his witnesses, and it could have put Billy and Jeremy in jeopardy. I'd like to think I'm older and wiser, now that I'm married."

  Julia reached out and patted Maddy's hand. "I'm sure you are, and maybe you could get to know Mario while he's here."

  Maddy let out an ironic snort. "Like that's going to happen. He thinks I'm a little twit, and with good reason, but I'll stop giving him dirty looks and maybe smile at him the next time we pass and make him wonder what's going on."

  Julia glanced out the window when she saw her car pulling in, and knew Mario had arrived with the groceries. "You can practice your smile now because he's here."

  "How do you know?" Maddy asked.

  "He just drove up in my car, and it's filled with groceries. He did my shopping."

  "Are you serious? Mario grocery shopping?"

  Julia couldn't help the wide smile, not at Maddy's surprise to find that Mario was, beneath it all, a basic man, but because his presence made her day seemed suddenly brighter.

  "Maybe I'll just duck out the back window, since there's no back door," Maddy said.

  "Too late." Julia opened the door to find Mario walking from the car, with grocery bags in the crook or each arm, and grinning at her like he was glad to see her too. Then he looked beyond her and spotted Maddy, and the grin faded.

  Julia opened the door wider and stepped back for him to pass, and after he'd stomped the snow from his shoes, he walked in and set the bags on the kitchen counter.

  "I'll just be on my way," Maddy said, then darted through the door and was gone.

  "What was that all about?" Mario asked.

  Julia shrugged. "Maddy was curious. She couldn't believe someone actually wanted to socialize with the macho, male, take-control, U.S. Marshal—her words to describe you yesterday—who read her the riot act after she broke all his rules and went to Las Vegas."

  Mario laughed. "I did that alright, and I've been on her shit list ever since."

  "Not anymore," Julia said.

  "Why? What did you tell her?"

  "That's for me to know and you to wonder," Julia said. "Meanwhile, I'd better put the frozen food in the freezer and hope there's enough room, otherwise I'll stash it in my grandfather's freezer. Did you get everything done you wanted while you were in Portland?"

  "Mostly," Mario replied. "I still have paperwork to complete, and I need to touch base with Jeremy and Billy, which I'll do after unloading your car."

  "You don't need to do that," Julia said. "Take care of the things you have to do. Just don't eat any sandwiches before coming tonight. I'm going to stuff you with sausages and sauerkraut."

  "Don't stuff me too full because I intend to show you some self-defense moves," Mario said, "so wear something you can move
around in, like a T-shirt and sweats."

  Julia wasn't ready for any of this. She let out a little soft chuckle, which was more nerves than humor, and said, "This isn't exactly a high-crime area so maybe we could skip the self-defense, at least for tonight."

  "I'm only talking about teaching you a few basic moves that might save your life one day, when you find yourself bringing a 190-pound stalker to his knees, leaving him wondering what happened, instead of you becoming his victim."

  Julia started to use the non-existent back problem as an excuse, then decided she had the rest of the afternoon to work on mind over matter, or more aptly, her will over the ogre's will. "Well, maybe just a few basic moves," she said, and immediately started programming herself for the kind of contact she'd been avoiding most of her adult life.

  ***

  Plodding through deepening snow while walking toward the lodge, where Mario had hoped to find Jeremy and Billy, his thoughts were where they'd been most of the time since arriving at the ranch and finding Julia staring at him from across the great room.

  Over the years he'd thought about her—something would trigger memories of those six hours together, maybe breaking news about an earthquake where people were trapped, or he'd see a blue-eyed blond looking like a Barbie doll, who'd be about the age Julia would have been, and be tempted to strike up a conversation, though he didn't know what he'd hoped to accomplish because he assumed she was married. But finding her again had him doing things counter to his long-range plans, like having dinner with her instead of cutting things off. She'd made it plain she liked him, and the Christmas decoration hanging on his door confirmed it, which touched him in a way he hadn't expected.

  He'd never had a woman do personal things for him, mainly because the women who'd wandered in and out of his life weren't the kind of women who stayed around, which worked for him too, because there was no place in his life for a wife and family. Yet, his life had never seemed so empty, with no place to call home, and no one to go home to. Being alone had never bothered him in the past. He could come and go and do what he wanted and not be obligated to anyone. But for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure that's what he wanted.

  Before entering the lodge he stomped the snow from his boots and brushed it from his head and shoulders. On stepping inside, he took a moment to scan the room for Jeremy and Billy, but saw no sign of them, nor were there any guests around, so he figured everyone was in the barn having square-dance lessons, as advertised in the schedule of activities. He was a little surprised to see the Russian orphans—the girl, Irina, sitting on a couch playing a video game, and the boy, Sergei, on his knees on the carpet, shooting marbles.

  "Marshal Moretti?"

  Mario looked towards the front desk and spotted Grace Hansen coming out of the office.

  Acknowledging her, he said, "I'm looking for Jeremy and Billy."

  "They went to town to buy clothes for the kids and they'll be back later this afternoon," Grace replied. "I hope you'll take advantage of some of the activities we have to offer while you're here, like trail rides, so you can see the country, but Adam said you haven't been on any of the rides yet, and Jayne tells me you didn’t come to the lodge for dinner last night."

  "I've had business in Portland, and I'm not much on socializing," Mario said, not wanting to explain to Grace Hansen where he'd had dinner the night before and would be having again tonight. "I might head out with the trail riders tomorrow, though."

  "Please do. I also encourage you to go on the sleigh ride," Grace said. "The sleigh holds six, but only four have signed up to go, probably because of the snow. It's just not letting up."

  Mario glanced out the window where snow continued to build, blanketing everything in white, then he looked to where the boy was shooting a marble, which took him back thirty-five years, to a bare-dirt playground in an area of Chicago once known as Little Sicily.

  Grace caught the direction of his gaze, and walking over to where Irina was sitting on the couch, she placed her hand on Irina's shoulder, causing the little girl to look up in surprise. "The kids didn't want to learn square dancing, and Sergei likes shooting marbles, so I'm keeping them here, and they'll be decorating a gingerbread house when I get it put together, speaking of which, I'd better do that now, before the guests start filing in for dinner."

  After Grace left the room, Mario stood watching Sergei for a few minutes, before saying, "Have you been playing marbles long?"

  Sergei looked up. "Maybe a couple of years," he replied.

  "You want to learn how to beat your opponents every time?" Mario asked.

  That got Sergei's attention. Then he gave a little shrug, and replied, "I win a lot. I won all the marbles in that bag." He pointed to a worn denim bag with drawstrings.

  "That's good," Mario said. "I can give you some pointers on shooting that'll get you even more marbles, if you want."

  Sergei looked at Mario, baffled. "You play marbles?"

  "I did when I was a kid," Mario replied. "Has anyone given you any instruction?"

  Sergei shook his head. "I learned it all on my own."

  "You're doing real well then, but if you want to win consistently, you need to learn how to hold your shooting hand."

  Sergei's brows gathered, as he said, "Can you teach me?"

  "Sure." Crouching on one knee, Mario held out his hand, and said, "First off, you want the right hold. By holding your shooter with your index finger you lose some of the control. So do this with me. Using your thumb and index finger, form your shooting hand into a gun, like this, then tuck your thumb behind your curved middle finger, not your index finger."

  Sergei looked at Mario's hand, then adjusted his own hand, and said, "Like this?"

  "That's it. Now place your shooter by your thumb knuckle and wrap your index finger loosely around it to hold your shooter in place. This way you're not shooting off your index finger, you're shooting off your middle finger. So, go ahead and shoot."

  Sergei shot, and the marble went askew. "That's okay," Mario said. "Start practicing consistently that way, and in a week you'll begin to get the hang of it. But it all boils down to practicing. You want to get good at anything, you have to practice."

  "I practice a lot," Sergei said. "That's how I won all those marbles."

  "Good. Keep practicing your basic shot to stay ahead, but there are a number of ways to position your shooting hand, especially when you're on the ground, aiming to shoot. You can put the back of your hand flat on the ground and brace yourself with your left hand. Then line up your body with the direction you're aiming and get your head down low to the ground, so you can see the line of the shot. When you're absolutely ready, flick your thumb and shoot."

  "Can you show me that too?" Sergei asked.

  Mario glanced around, and seeing no one, he said, "Sure. Make a grouping of thirteen marbles in a circle about a foot wide, like you're setting up for playing Ringer, and we'll pretend there's a ten foot circle around them."

  While Sergei arranged the marbles, Mario removed his jacket and flopped it over a recliner, then lowered himself to the carpet and lay prone, while hoping the guests wouldn't start filing in after the square dance lessons were over, and find Maddy's macho, male, take-control, U.S. Marshal reverting to pre-adolescence.

  "The marbles are ready," Sergei announced.

  "You have another shooter I can use?" Mario asked.

  "Sure, you can use my crystallie. I won it off an older guy at school." Sergei dug in his bag of marbles and retrieved a clear crystal marble, bigger than the others, and handed it to Mario.

  On taking the marble, Mario said, "Okay, position yourself beside me and do what I do."

  After Sergei was lying prone on his stomach, he glanced at Mario, and said, "No one ever showed me how to do this."

  Mario smiled at the boy. "Then I'm glad I can help. So let's position our hands, and you watch closely and do what I do, and get your head low enough to the floor so you can see the line of the shot, then give yo
ur shooter a good flick, like this." Mario shot, and the group of marbles scattered, sending several marbles out of the invisible ring while leaving his shooter inside.

  Sergei's head shot up. "Wow! That was awesome!"

  "Actually, I'm a little out of practice after thirty years," Mario said.

  "Is that when you last played?" Sergei asked.

  Mario nodded. "I was fourteen and I'd just won the National Marbles Tournament in Wildwood, New Jersey, but after that I went on to other things." Other things like entering witness protection after Roberta testified in court, and ultimately, the man who'd funded his trip to the marbles tournament, went to prison.

  "Did you get a prize?" Sergei asked.

  "Sure, I got a big trophy with my name on it, a scholarship that helped me go to college, and induction into the National Marbles Hall of Fame.

  "If I ever won like that I'd never quit," Sergei said. "I'd keep going back."

  "Once you hit fifteen, you're no longer eligible for that tournament," Mario said. "That's the cut-off age. How old are you now?"

  "Ten."

  "Then you have a lot of years left to practice," Mario said. "Marbles is a great game. It teaches strategy, thinking, and taking your time, all things you need later in life."

  "How do you get to go to the tournament?" Sergei asked. "I don't have parents, and they keep moving us around."

  "You keep practicing and getting better and letting people know what your goal is. If you're good enough at something, a sponsor will put up the money to get you where you need to go. But to get that good, you need to hone your accuracy by practicing."

  "Then after I'm fifteen I can't compete anymore?" Sergei asked.

  "Not in the National Marbles Tournament, but there's the Mason Cup in Maryland where players in their seventies still compete, and there are other tournaments around the country."

  "Wow, I want to do all that!" Sergei said, with enthusiasm.

  "Then you have to practice. One good way is to make a box up against a wall and shoot into it from one foot away, then two feet, then three feet, and keep backing up. Then you refine your accuracy by placing a marble in an area a few inches wide and working on your aim..."