by Alexie Aaron
Father David choked on his ice tea, and I put my head in my hands. "Won't work," I mumbled.
"Why?"
"They know me there. They know Luke," I explained. True we were divorced, but I was just there with him being all chummy.
"Okay, then he can be your brother. Uncle David," Harry nodded his head as the name rolled off his tongue.
I looked at Luke expecting him to support me in the argument. He just looked thankful he wasn't included in Harry's plans. "How about I take the rest of you up so you could see the area for yourselves," he volunteered. "Of course,” he said as he looked at his group, “we will need a bigger plane, and it could get expensive."
"Don't you worry none about money. I have money," Betty spoke up. "Lots of it." She smiled.
"So you're going too?" I asked surprised.
She nodded, and her eyes lit up as the waitress arrived with our meals.
"You better have a lot of money," I said as I handed her the check. "Luke eats a lot of ribs."
Chapter Twenty
I vaguely remember a phrase, "When the going gets tough the tough get going," and the amendment to it, "the women go shopping." In my case, it was band night, so I went to band practice. I tried not to think of the trip to the airport in the morning. Just the thought of jump school was, well, scary.
I pulled into the parking lot and squeezed my roadster between a giant SUV and an extended cab pickup truck. Feeling like a lone ranch house amongst skyscrapers, I exited the car and navigated gingerly between the parked giants to extract my instrument and things from the car. I didn't like the way the large vehicles blocked the parking lot’s lights, and I made a mental note that next time it would be better to opt out of the close parking space for a safer one farther away.
I picked up my gear and walked smack into a wall. It was a human wall, male, smelled of Eternity cologne, and - as my face was pressed firmly into a nice set of pectoral muscles - a tall man.
"Excuse me, I didn't see you," I said as I craned my neck upwards trying to identify the wall.
"Sorry, my fault," the wall answered back with Dwayne's voice.
"Dwayne," I said stepping back. "Am I that late?" I realized that I just pointed out that Dwayne never got to band on time - he always cruised in just after warm-up - but it was rude of me to say so.
"Well, no, you're not late, and yes I’m always a bit behind time. Nice of you to notice though." He smiled and his eyes twinkled. "Actually, I was hoping to have a chance to talk to you about how your trip to the school went."
"Walk me into the building, and I will tell you about how a day starting out with charity ended up with me in jail."
His eyebrows shot up and he backed out of the way. "Jail?"
I gave him a sketchy representation of the events, editing out the priests and the diamonds.
"Is Mr. Williams okay?"
"Father."
"What, oh yes, I forgot he was a priest. How is he? I feel so bad that he got hurt, especially since it involved my charity."
"I guess he's recuperating. I haven't heard anything."
"Is he in the hospital? Home?" he questioned.
"I don't know. Why?" I felt a prickling in my spine.
"I guess I just wanted to send him a card or something. I feel responsible for his accident."
"Why, you didn't tell him to go walking around an abandoned mill did you?" I said, stopping to adjust my handhold on my instrument case.
"No, but maybe I should have gone with him. Why was he over there?"
"Don't know."
"Why were you over there?"
Gee, now the prickling was more like a full assault that screamed, “BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY.” "A little boy told me about a man praying in the mill, and I thought I would check it out, after all it could have been a ghost." I grinned.
"You're interested in ghosts?"
"Yes, Dwayne, I am. Haunted houses too. Don't spread it around because most people here think I’m a bit nuts as it is, and I don't want to confirm their suspicions." I smiled at him. "Oh, I was thinking that if you wanted to send a card to Michael you probably could do it through the foundation. Do you have the address?"
"I think Williams left me a business card. Thanks for the suggestion. What did you think of the school?"
"I loved it. I do want to be involved with helping out those kids if I can find the time. I don't know how you do it."
"You make the time if the cause is a good one."
"I guess you're right." We had arrived at the outside entrance to the practice room. I waited for him to open the door, as any good gentleman should.
"Well, I hope you can find the time between ghost hunts. Oh, one more thing," He leveled his shoulders and stared down at me. "Make sure when you're hunting ghosts, you don't become one yourself."
Was this a veiled threat or just my imagination? I just nodded dumbly and pushed past him and opened my own damn door. I breathed a sigh of relief as walked into the band room, into the florescent light and into the safety of my friends.
~
I didn't play well that night. It wasn't that the music was challenging but that I couldn't pull my mind out of the day’s events. Plus, I had the unnerving feeling that Dwayne's eyes were burning a hole through my stand. I had raised it because I didn't want to see his face during the rehearsal. If I was wrong and totally imagined his role in Michael's accident, I didn't want my facial expression to hurt this guy, and if he were part of this, I didn't want him to know that I suspected him.
It didn't make sense that good old Dwayne would be mixed up with terrorists. He had been giving his time to the migrant workers’ kids since before I had been in the band. I never met a person like him before who didn't seem to have an agenda. There are volunteers that do charity work because they feel that they have to and people who feel it is the right thing to do. They arrive at events and give their all and leave as soon as the clock says to. They don't seek recognition nor do they get hurt when their name is left off a thank you list. And then there are the ones that give money and time for the glory of themselves. They’re usually the ones holding office and the ones quick to bristle if their name is mispronounced, or heaven help you, misspelled on a thank you plaque!
Dwayne genuinely liked the children he was providing for, and he was kind. I guess that’s why I couldn't fathom the ghost remark. Maybe he was being funny, and my sense of humor was off sick for the evening. I made up my mind to say something light and funny to him, but I couldn't find him at break. Bernice corralled me after practice, and by the time I left the building Dwayne had already gone. As I lugged my gear to the car I was pleased to find the two mountainous vehicles no longer flanking my little blue car. This perked me up a bit, and as I stored my instrument, music and stand, I started humming the last piece of music we worked on, “Memory” from Cats.
I waited until I was in the car before singing the words. My singing voice is not one of my assets. As I drove out of the parking lot I poured my heart into the words, not bothered at all by not knowing most of them.
My cell phone's ring didn't break up my solo. I just kept singing as I answered the phone.
"…alone in the moonlight..."
"Me too. Wanna come over?" a familiar male voice answered.
"Michael?"
"Yup. The warden’s away, and the priests have gone to play."
"You sound like you’re enjoying the painkillers."
"Indeed, I want to see you," his voice slowed as it dropped deeper.
"I don't know. It's late and you're off limits."
"Harry's taken Betty and my aunt to the opera."
I started to laugh. "Wait, you're telling me that Horrible Harry is dating your aunt?"
"Appears so."
"And you're?"
"All alone in the moonlight."
"K, I'll call home, and if all's well there I’ll come over," I told him and dialed home. There was no answer there so I called Luke's cell. He picked up on the fourth ri
ng.
"How'd band go?" he said loudly to combat the whining of a jet engine.
"I was a dud tonight. Where are you?" I asked.
"Stephen called. We're going to Tel Aviv tonight. I left you a note on the computer, didn't want to interrupt your band practice. So you’re on your own with the jump school tomorrow."
"Me and the boys I guess. I'm not going to jump. I decided that I would probably lose a shoe and spend all day looking for it."
"I think that's a sound decision. Your shoe budget is killing your retirement fund."
I started to tell him about Michael's phone call, but I could tell he was distracted. I wished him good luck on the trip and to let me know when he was coming back. He wished me luck in return and told me to stay out of trouble and keep my shoes on.
Harry was out, Noelle was a six-hour time zone away, and my son Alex, well, he was living his own life. I wondered if it was the loneliness that had me turning east towards Michael instead of west towards home, or was it something deeper?
Chapter Twenty-one
I sat in the car as the guard called Michael to confirm that I was a guest. I wasn't on any list. I wasn't exactly dressed for Palm Beach. Blue jeans and a t-shirt were just fine for band practice but maybe too slummy to get by the gates of the Palm Beach communities. I wondered if Harry in his jeep and his Brooks Brothers attire had any trouble. Probably not. Harry never had a problem fitting in. It must be the actor in him.
The guard came back out and gave me directions to the high-rise Michael resided in. He told me where to park and suggested I put the top up on the BMW because rain was on the way. I smiled sweetly and drove away.
"He could have at least added little lady," I said aloud.
I parked the car, put the top up and locked up. "Seedy neighborhood," I said as I patted the back of my car.
The truth was I was jealous. The place was secure and posh. The lobby was spacious and the elevator large and mirrored. I checked out my looks and quickly gave up on taming my curls. Hell, this was just Michael. Father Michael. The doors opened to a small foyer with two doors facing me. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know which condo the Williamses were in. I knew that the view was of the Intercostal instead of the Atlantic, but how was I supposed to tell from inside the building?
I was headed for the wrong door when Michael opened the right one.
"Running away?"
He stood on crutches, barely dressed and looked so handsome that my jaw dropped open. His black hair was messy, and he wasn't attired in his priest duds. He wore a pair of shorts that actually complimented his leg cast. The Hawaiian shirt he had on was hanging open, and all I could see was a wonderful expanse of tight abs and dark chest hair.
"You gonna stand there all night?" He actually winked at me.
"No, what's going on, Father?" I said as I moved past him into the condo.
"Figured I owed you an explanation," he said as he closed and locked the door. "I made some Manhattans. They're out there on the balcony."
"You're drinking on painkillers? Booze and pills equals projectile vomiting," I said, shaking my head.
"I wonder how you know that," he asked but didn't expect an answer. "Actually I made them for you."
"Plying me with drinks, what would your aunt say?" I walked through a tastefully decorated living room and out onto a balcony that was equipped with a wet bar, several chaise lounges and a beautiful view of West Palm Beach across the Intercostal Waterway. "Wow."
"I thought you'd like it. Aunt Diane never does anything by halves."
"Which would include a proper disembowelment if she caught me here with you." I turned to him and asked, "Why does she hate me so much?"
Michael eased himself down and motioned towards the tray, and I dropped several ice cubes in a glass, added a cherry and poured the previously mixed drink over ice.
"She isn't used to any competition for my affection, and she can tell I love you."
"Whoa big fella, the pills have scrambled your eggs."
"Not sexually, honestly, we tried that."
I thought back to Cornwall and the kiss I planted on the priest. No sexual chemistry but...
"I love you. I can't help that, just thought you should know." He sat back and closed his eyes.
I downed my drink and poured another before answering. "Is that why you wanted to talk to me?"
"You're not going to say it, are you?"
"What?"
"You're not going to tell me that you love me too," he said gruffly.
"No, because."
"Because what?" he demanded.
"I care for you, but if I tell you I love you then karma hell breaks loose. I'm still married according to your church, and you're a priest, unless that’s a lie?"
"So, you're not going to say it."
"Nope," I said, sitting back in my own chaise lounge.
"Stubborn."
I just raised my hand and dropped it into my lap. "So, you wanna tell me what the hell you were doing in that mill."
"I thought Father…"
"No. Not second hand, from you," I snapped. Anger is a good way to push down feelings. "And why the hell did you involve me?"
"Because I knew I could count on you. Harry was a surprise, but I knew you would find me. We have this connection." He sat up and twisted around until he faced me. "Something terrible is going down, and it's in your backyard, Cin. How was I going to stay out of it if it meant you would be in danger?"
"Ah, Michael, you put me in danger. You could have said 'time to move.’"
He laughed at me. "And you would have said, time to bleep myself."
"True. So where do we go from here?"
"I guess we sit back and watch the stars." He smiled and arranged himself back into the lounge.
"You wanna play marbles?" I said, pulling the pouch of diamonds and marbles out of my pocket.
"They're not marbles," he said offhandedly.
"Duh, do you think I’m that stupid? Oh wait. Yes you do." I got up and put my drink down and walked over and sat next to him on the chair. "They're old diamonds, very real. Although they're not terrorist diamonds, they still do seem dangerous to me."
"They could be yours. All you have to do is leave Harry."
“Harry isn’t mine. I’d drive off and leave him in a field somewhere, but he would just find his way back,” I said, trying to lighten up the moment. Was he serious? What kind of mind game was he playing with me?
“I noticed the ex-husband is in the picture.”
“Not by my choice. Those painkillers are awesome. First of all, Luke stays until he can afford to move on. And Harry, well, it isn't as if I sought out Harry."
"He found you. He found you when I was away," he said with genuine regret.
"Harry is like a son and..."
"He never leaves you, does he?"
Michael brushed my hair away from my face. I felt a warmth spread through me. Was this hell fire come to claim me? "No, he never leaves. He is annoying and..."
"He never leaves. Luke will leave again. Noelle left and, hell, Alex yo-yos around, but basically he has left the nest. But I fear Harry is forever."
"Now I'm depressed." I got up and went over and sat in my chair and reached for my drink. I pulled out the cherry and contemplated whether this counted as my serving of fruit for the day. "But what has that to do with us?"
"You and I could be a spectacular team. I could give up the collar, and we could kick some serious butt out there in the world. But it would mean leaving Harry."
I don’t know why I didn’t mention my children, band and, yes, Harry, but I didn’t. I just sat there staring at my cherry. Sure it sounded like fun, and glancing past the red orb at Michael, I knew I wouldn’t mind the view so much. But. I dropped the cherry back into my drink. I thought of all the things I should say but thought better of them. I was tired, drunk and very vulnerable. I was on the brink of becoming every bit the woman Aunt Diane thought I was. But I didn’t want to be
her, so I opened the little pouch and pulled out a cat's eye marble before handing him the rest. "You hang on to these, they're too dangerous," I said and rolled the marble around in my palm.
"That's my prized cat's eye."
"Nope, it’s mine." I put it in my pocket, sat back. He didn’t say anything more. We just stared at the stars until I sobered up and went home to my "memories...all alone in the moonlight..."
Chapter Twenty-two
The morning started off peacefully until Harry got up and decided to recap, musically, the opera he went to the evening before. Fortunately, he was in the shower. Unfortunately, it was a German opera. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that the opera didn't have its merits, it was that Harry's German was very phlegmy.
I was just about to pound on the bathroom door to get him to stop when the doorbell rang. Expecting Father David, I just pulled the door open and was surprised by Buslowski.
"I know you're up to something, and I want in," he said as he brushed past me.
"Well, good morning to you," I said as I craned my neck outside looking for any lurking priests before shutting the door. I turned to find that he was already in the kitchen helping himself to coffee and my omelet. "It's egg substitute," I warned him, but he just grunted and started eating.
"Toast," he demanded.
"Excuse me, but I don't remember opening a diner."
"Do you have to be so difficult?" He got up.
I raised my hand. “I'll get it." I didn't want him rooting around in my pantry. God only knows what Harry may have tucked away in there. "I notice you're not in your work clothes."
"So," he said with equal parts sarcasm and acid.
"So, why are you here?" I said as I popped two pieces of wheat bread in the toaster.
Harry finished off his shower with an aria.
"What the hell was that?" Buslowski looked around.
"I think a gator got a cat," I said, reaching for the butter. "Harry went to the opera last night."
