by Blue Saffire
I wink at her. Leave it to my wife to pick at the heart of my thoughts. It’s only a matter of time before we’re all involved.
chapter Eight
Pain Beyond
Sam
I remember the day I watched Tasha bury her fiancé. I recall standing in the distance, watching not able to comprehend the pain she must have been in. I remember watching and just wanting to be a shoulder for her to cry on.
Never in a million years, did I think I would be the one standing here needing someone to be there for me. Someone to tell me that this is all a bad dream. All of my family and friends are here, but not one of them understands what this feels like for me.
On that very day that I watched her bury her fiancé, I made a promise to myself that would never disappoint anyone again, but here I stand. My daughters clinging to a leg each. My son in my arms. All as we stand before my wife’s casket.
It is starting to mist a little. Not that it matters much. For the sun to shine, feels like a mockery. No, it should rain. It should pour down raining in honor of my wife.
The woman I’ve loved and cherished for the last eight years is being laid to rest. The mother of my children, the woman I shared my home with. The woman I give my name and my heart to.
Ellen’s death already mocks me, there is no need for the sky to mock this day, as well, with rays of sunlight. This day laughs at me with contempt. I feel like the head stones around me are pointing the finger.
You didn’t save her. Ellen is gone because of you. Some Don you are, you can’t even protect what’s yours. She knew you couldn’t protect her. That’s what’s in those letters. She wants you to know how disappointed she is in you.
I want to scream back at all the accusations, but they’re right. I’m at war with who I am as I stand here. I don’t feel as if I’m worthy of either man I’ve supposedly become. Not Sam, and certainly not LaSalle. LaSalle would have saved his wife. He would have made it in time.
I look across my wife’s casket and I’m corrected. There is one person here that may just understand this. Her eyes are fixed on the casket, but the look on her face says she’s not here.
A part of me wonders if she is at Carlton’s funeral, or if she is back on that glass filled sidewalk. In the moment, when she realized she too was out of bullets. I know the look on her face. Whichever she is thinking of, she is once again blaming herself.
I look away as anger fills me. This is solely my fault. As a man that prides himself on knowing everything, I should have known so many things that I wasn’t aware of.
I draw in a breath as my anger consumes me. Does no one in my life believe that I’ll do as I say? They all believed me incapable of keeping them safe. That must be it. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be standing here.
As if knowing I’m about to break, Rita takes Sammy from my arms. He goes willingly, which I’m grateful for. In keeping her word, Tasha, or rather Monique helped to get Sammy to leave the hospital.
She shouldn’t even be here. She was just released from the hospital this morning. It’s been three days, since she woke up in the hospital.
Czar informed me that she refused to go to the hotel suite I arranged for her. She demanded to be brought to the funeral. When I’d gone to demand he take her to settle in as I had ordered, Camille was the one that said I should just let her come.
She made a good point that Monique would be the one most capable of getting Sammy to settle if he had a hard time. I’m grateful to Cam. I hadn’t thought of that, and she was right.
Sammy has been all over the place all day. Monique had to sit with me and my girls in the front to keep him calm. I was relieved when she tapped me on the shoulder and nodded at the space beside me.
I consider Monique a friend. We have only spent brief moments together, but she knows more about me than most. Camille and Bobby are the only other two people that know me, the real me, half as well. Yet, still, I think Monique knows more than the two combined.
The night I stitched her side up, I felt like I gained a friend. There was a bond that forged between us. She would go off and be normal and I would steal pieces of a normal life with my wife and one day our family.
Too bad none of the ever happened.
Having her take the seat beside me, brought comfort to more than just Sammy. I know deep down inside, the one person that could even remotely come close to understanding what I’m going through was in the seat right next to me. She’s been here before.
When she wrapped her arms tightly around my son and brought him to a low humming, as she whispered in his ear, I envied him. I wish my world could be soothed so easily. My mother has wrapped her arms around me plenty since I’ve lost my wife.
My brothers have taken turns trying to comfort me. Even my father has offered an embrace or two. I can’t even begin to name all of the other friends and family that have offered a pat on the shoulder or a hug of sympathy.
None of those have been able to ease or erase the giant hole that’s been blown through my chest. I feel hollowed out, lost, wrecked. Yet, I don’t have the luxury of falling apart.
For one, I have a family to run, and I don’t just mean the one in my home, my three small children. The hand has been played. I’m the Don of the Locatelli family. Here I stand, but out there in my real world, I’ve set in motion the moves that will grant me and all that have followed me a war.
I can’t mourn what’s blown up in my face because I’ve set the timer off on another bomb. Make that two. My mind replays the phone call I had this morning with Misha. The phone call that has changed my original plans.
“I consider you friend, LaSalle. Always have. I know you have threatened my life more than once, but I always know friendship we have would unruffle our feathers in past,” Misha paused on the other end, but I knew he wasn’t finished.
“We are much alike in many different ways. This is why I have hard time understanding this with Tasha. You knew she was mine, how does my friend end up engaged to my woman?”
I snorted into the phone. I know Misha. He knew before calling that today was the day I would be burying my wife. That was his intention to catch me off my game.
“I already told you it was not something we planned. Honestly, Misha, you were engaged with a family. I didn’t think we would have a problem,” I rumbled back into the phone.
“Bullshit, my friend. Can I still call you that? Don’t answer,” Misha purrs, in an unaffected tone. “I will see for myself. I smell lie somewhere, I will find.”
With that Misha hung up the phone. I hissed at the dial tone and nearly throw my phone across the room. Instead, I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut.
“Fucking great,” I huffed, before absentmindedly starting to rearrange my plans.
Yes, I have more on my plate than a grieving man should. Even as I stand here I know I have a shit ton of problems I need to address. I ball my fist to keep from yelling out.
It’s not lost on me that my friend, Misha isn’t here. I didn’t expect him to be. I know the wounds of his own loss are still too fresh. I look over at Monique once again. Having her here doesn’t make this any better.
I have to handle this all with care. She deserves a life. A life outside of all of this. If we have to play the game to remove Misha’s interest, so be it. In my eyes, it is already done.
We have no choice but to move forward. I have too much riding on this Alliance. The Alliance. My shoulders give a slight shake as I hold back a sob. I’d been more focused on the Alliance than my own family.
“Yer not going to blame ye self for all of this,” Logan’s voice hits my ear in a stern whisper. My eyes harden as the casket begins the lower into the ground. “Our bed be made, now we lie in them, but yer not going to lose ye self on my watch.”
I swallow thickly and nod my head. This is my final goodbye. I kiss the rose that’s been clinched tightly in my right hand. When I toss it on top of the casket the sky opens and it begins to pour. I feel my
knees weaken, but I pull it together.
I’m being watched. It is only a matter of time before I am tested. I try to grab hold of my uncle’s whispered words. ‘You will rise from the ashes.’
We shall see.
~B~
Monique
I blink back the tears as everyone starts to toss roses on the casket and walk away. I can’t stop seeing her face. I can’t stop seeing Carlton. I failed to save two people that I cared about. Two people that meant something to me were murdered before my eyes.
My anger has caused me to see red. My futile promises of the past are haunting me and taunting me to take action. As if, not getting to Ellen was a result of me not following through on the promises I made so long ago.
My heart aches. As I held Sammy in my arms in the cathedral I couldn’t help but wonder why Ellen didn’t do things differently. Why allow all this pain when she could see it coming?
I’ve mused over this question for the last four days, since LaSalle shared the truth about Ellen with me. I just don’t understand. I wonder what she knew, as I play all of my interactions with her over and over again. I just can’t help wondering what she knew.
I liked Ellen. I can say I was beginning to consider her a friend. I wish she would have shared some insight on all of this with me. I want to understand it all.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” a voice says softly beside me.
I look up to see Camille standing next to me, holding her own large umbrella over her head. I hadn’t noticed her move over to this side. She’d been over with Sam and his family. I wrinkle my brows, as I look into her light amber eyes.
“I can see the wheels turning. Ellen made sure this played out just as she saw it. She’s been preparing us all,” Camille says with trembling lips.
“But why?”
Camille shrugs. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain it as well as she had,” Camille gives a watery smile. “I was so angry with her for putting me in that position. You know, Sam’s my friend too. But, listening to her explain it all, I understood, but I could never explain it.”
“You knew,” I wrinkle my brows and narrow my eyes at Camille.
I like Camille, but right now, I won’t lie when I say I want to slap the shit out of her. How could she keep this from LaSalle? Why wouldn’t she say something?
Camille shifts on her heels, as she looks down at the wet ground. She gives a small nod. She gives a heavy sigh and looks back up at me.
“I think you’ll understand or at least, I hope I’ll understand why I kept her secret, as it all unravels,” Camille licks her lips and looks around. “You don’t know me that well, but I’m going to ask you to trust me. For Ellen, she asked me to do something for her. I need you to just trust me.”
I look at this woman long and hard. Again, I wonder what’s in those letters. I hadn’t talked to LaSalle in the last few days, so I don’t know if he ever opened them.
I nod my head cautiously. I take note of the tension that seems to leave her shoulders. I wait to see where she is going next.
She bites her lip, then draws in a breath to speak. “In just a few seconds, Logan is going to come over here and ask you to follow him. He is going to lead you to the Limo with Sam and the children. Monique, don’t fight it, don’t argue. Sam and those babies need you more than you know,” I go to speak, but Camille lifts a hand.
“It will make sense. Sam hasn’t opened the letters. I’m working on that one. When he does, we’ll all be out of the dark. Ellen planned this out as best she could, she knew some things, but not all.
“We’ll be filling in the blanks from here, but I need you to hang in there. Trust me and the process. I know you are strong willed. I think that was Ellen’s purpose in introducing you to the girls. For us to learn you, so we can help.”
“Help with what,” I growl in frustration.
Camille shifts on her feet uneasily. I can feel my own heels starting to sink to the wet ground. I narrow my eyes further, folding my arms across my chest, as I hold up my own umbrella. I can feel my pressure rising.
“Help you take care of her family. Um, well, more than that. Help you win her husband,” Camille says and winces.
I stumble back, on a gasp, feeling like I’ve just been burned. I don’t know what these people are playing at, but I’m starting to get weirded out. Daddy did ask me to follow him back to Arizona. I just might take him up on his offer.
I never doubted LaSalle when he said his wife was clairvoyant. I’ve been around a few gifted people before. I know it’s not impossible. However, now this shit is just starting to freak me out.
“Are you crazy,” I hiss low. “So, you’re going to stand here and tell me that that woman asked you to help me take her husband and her family.”
I point a shaky finger towards the ground where Ellen’s casket hasn’t even settled. Yup, this heifer has me twisted. I used to like Camille, but this right here, is just some foolishness.
LaSalle is a friend. A friend that has done more for me than I will ever know and the things I do know of have been beyond what anyone could ask. I still bear the scar of where he stitched me up that night.
LaSalle has seen me the most naked any man has ever and never once did he make me feel uncomfortable. Ignoring the chemistry between us, he sat there and stitched up my side without trying to take advantage of the situation or disrespecting his marriage.
LaSalle has always been a gentleman with me. He has never stepped out of pocket. Just the thought of Ellen thinking that I should pursue her husband in the wake of her death, gives me the creeps.
Set aside the fact that I am attracted to him and have thought about him many times over the years. It feels so wrong. My stomach sink and turns when I remember my own dreams. My throat burns. I could never.
Those dreams. I shake them away. I would never prey on LaSalle in this time of his life. Not to mention, Ellen was becoming my friend and I’m having a hard ass time believing she was plotting all that time to give me her family.
Oh shit.
My mind races back to the last time I was with Ellen, in Clive’s shop. The words that came out of her mouth. The anger that came from out of nowhere.
“Yes, she’s taken already. I know her fiancé, and I don’t think he would like the way you’ve been staring at her,” Ellen growled.
I think back further to Ellen’s mixed emotional response to Sammy placing her ring on my finger. I found it to be odd that day, but she was acting strange the entire session and again when we arrived at Clive’s workshop.
“Oh, my God, Ellen, I’m so sorry.”
“For what,” Ellen laughed lightly. “It fits perfectly. It looks stunning on your finger.”
“Isn’t this bad luck or something,” I frowned.
“Not in this case,” Ellen said cryptically. “Sammy is a special boy. He knows what he is doing. Wear it. It’s not going to hurt anyone to indulge him.”
I blink hard to clear the memory. I can’t believe this woman saw all of this and had a plan all this time. This is insane.
Oh shit.
I groan and place a hand over my aching head. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I huff.
“Is everything alright, Lass. You should have gone straight to rest,” Logan says, through his heavy Irish accent, as he walks up, just as Ellen said he would.
I met Logan in the hospital. He was there whenever Czar, LaSalle, or Logan’s younger brother, Dylan weren’t. I have felt like I’ve had a babysitter around the clock, since waking up.
“No, I’m fine,” I wave him off.
He nods. “Let’s get you to the car. Plans have changed. You’ll be staying with Sam,” Logan says as more of a command than a request.
I look at Camille like she is crazy. She returns my look with pleading eyes. I go to protest, but a strong wind turns up the umbrella I’ve been holding. I yelp, but Logan is right there to cover me with his umbrella.
“That be our sign to get mov
ing. Let’s go, ladies. We need to get all the wee ones fed,” Logan orders.
I clamp my mouth shut and follow Camille and Logan to the parked cars still waiting for us. Logan helps me into the back of the Limo. I slide in and Sammy climbs into my lap immediately.
LaSalle is seated across from me with one girl on each of his sides, snuggled into their father. Sam has his gaze fixed outside of the window. His jaw is set tight.
“Misha was in touch this morning. As I thought, he’s not going to just let this go. He’s suspicious. Bobby has informed me that Misha has already had someone look into my divorce from my wife,” Sam says without looking at me.
I gasp, “What, you can’t be serious? So, he knows the truth then?”
LaSalle shakes his head and looks at me. His face looks hard and dark in the dim lighting of the back of the car. It is storming heavily now as the car carries us forward.
The rain is pounding on the roof as hard as my heart is pounding within my chest. I never wanted LaSalle to get himself in the middle of this. Czar and I seem to always pull him into our mess.
“He knows nothing and it will remain that way,” LaSalle grimaces. “It seems that Ellen filed for a divorce a few weeks ago, because I sure as hell didn’t. All the proof we need is already there. It was the reason I went with the divorce story. Bobby found the filed divorce with his signature on some of the documents.”
My mouth falls open and my head whips back. “You’re kidding. Do you think this was all a part of her plan?” I ask, thinking of Camille’s words at the cemetery.
LaSalle shrugs. “I’m still working my way around all of that,” he sighs.
I want to mention the letters again, but I see the hurt already resting in his eyes. I let it go for now, as my brain takes in all of the pieces I now have. My head is hurting with all of this information.
Ellen was a seer, she planned how this would all work out, there is a divorce on file for her and LaSalle, and Misha is digging. My lips curl as that thought enters my head. What doesn’t that bastard get?
