What Happens In Italy..._A BWWM Billionaire Romance

by Kendra Riley

  "Or worse," Reese said with a smile.

  "Arrested," laughed Jake. It was their inside joke. They always said that nothing was worse than being arrested, not even death.

  "Where to next?" Jake asked when they had all stopped their chuckling.

  "Far away from this girl and everything that she has tumbling around in your brain," Brian said with a knowing look.

  "You're right," Jake admitted, telling himself it was for the best.

  "Aren't I always?" Brian said as only an older brother could.

  "When do we leave?" he asked, knowing that if he didn't put hundreds of miles and a few state lines between him and Savannah, he would lose his ability to stay away from her.

  "Dawn," Brian said, leaving no room for debate.

  "Where to?" Peter asked.

  "Kentucky," Brian answered without hesitation.

  "Really? What about Florida?" Reese asked. Still barely more than a kid, he always pushed for the states with a coastline. He loved the ocean.

  "No, things are still too hot there for us. That last job didn't go smoothly enough," Brian said, his tone ending all debate.

  "Alright, Kentucky it is," Jake said with a nod.

  On their way to the next job, Jake ducked in to a little shop while the rest of the boys of the boys went to grab pizza and beers. He told them he needed to go to the pharmacy so that they wouldn't ask questions about him heading off on his own.

  There, inside the store, was every kind of stationery a person could imagine. He had never been in such a store before nor had he considered going into one, but he had been serious about his request to write to Savannah. He didn't just want to scribble his words to her o notebook paper stolen from their cheap hotels. He wanted his letters to her to be special in every way possible. He wanted her to know, even before she opened the envelope, that the letter was from him.

  The old woman behind the counter looked at him strangely, but soon approached him. "Is there something I can help you with my boy?" she asked, looking at him skeptically.

  At first he considered telling her that he needed no assistance, but another glance at the multitude of options left him feeling overwhelmed. "Yes Mam," he said with his brightest smile and most charming voice. "My girl and I are going to be apart for a long while. I want to write to her and I want to do it right."

  "Well that might just be the sweetest thing I have ever heard," she gushed as she grinned from ear to ear. "She is a very lucky young lady."

  "No Mam, I'm the lucky one. I will never in my life understand what a sweet, wonderful girl like her saw in me, but I plan to make sure she never regrets her decision," he said, meaning every word he said.

  "With such a handsome face and such a sweet heart, I don't see how she ever could," the woman said, giving him the knowing look of a woman who had once had a young love of her own.

  "I hope not, but distance can do funny things to the heart. I couldn't make her any promises or commitments before I left her. All I could do was swear I would carry her in my heart," he said, thinking sadly make to the moment he had watched Savannah walking away from him.

  "Most girls go their whole lives without a promise as sweet as that one," the woman said, placing her hand gently on his arm when she spoke.

  "She deserves something more. I wish I had not had to leave her," he answered, his hand clenching at the memory of the pain he caused her.

  "How long has she been your girl?" the old woman asked, her eyes gleaming.

  "Just a matter of days. I know how strange it sounds, but I loved her the moment I heard her sing," he explained, taking some comfort in being able to discuss his feelings to openly. The guys would never have understood but this woman seemed to understand everything he was sharing with her, though he couldn't understand how.

  "Do you see that picture up there?" she asked, gesturing to a faded image, framed on the wall. In it, a beautiful girl, no older than 20, with curly hair and the brightest smile he had ever seen, stood in the arms of a man in a World War II uniform. The man wasn't looking at the camera. He was looking down at the girl as though she was his entire world.

  "Yes, Mam," he said, not quite understanding what she was getting at.

  "That was taken on the night I met my husband. The very next day, he shipped off for the war. Everyone said I was crazy, holding out for a man I had known for just one day. It didn't matter to me one bit. I knew that Nelson was the one from the minute we danced together. The whole time he was gone, he wrote me letters. I couldn't even begin to tell you how much they meant to me.

  By the time he got back, I was even more in love with him than I thought humanly possible. Those letters, you see, kept us connected. We got married the very month after he got back and we were happily married for 60 years before he passed away," she said, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

  "I'm so sorry for your loss," Jake said, not sure what else to say. The thought of having that kind of lifetime of love with Savannah was all that he truly wanted in life.

  "Don't be sorry. I got to live a lifetime with my best friend and my true love and it all started with those letters. That's why I opened this shop," she said, looking fondly at the picture on the wall and Jake knew that her thoughts were with her husband.

  "Thank you for sharing your story with me," he replied.

  "And thank you for sharing yours with me. Now, let us find just the right stationary. After all, I want to be a part of the story you tell your grandchildren fifty or sixty years from now," she said, patting his arm encouragingly.

  "I promise, I will always remember you when I tell the story of my love for her," he answered.

  "Well then, in a way my love story with James will live on through the two of you," she whispered as tears welled in her eyes.

  "Yes, Mam," he nodded, overcome with emotion of his own.

  It took them nearly an hour to find stationary that they both deemed perfect. It was cream colored and thick. It felt very formal and, according to Esther, it was masculine without trying too hard. She told him it was classic and that it would last a lifetime. The thought of Savannah keeping his letters with her throughout her life, tied with a ribbon as Esther desired herself doing while James was away, was almost too appealing. In the end, that was what sold him on it.

  As she was wrapping up his purchase, she pulled a fine pen, made of carved wood, from her display case. "I want you to have this," she said with an encouraging smile.

  "I couldn't accept that," he answered, though he appreciated her gracious offer.

  "Don't be silly. Take it as a gift," she insisted.

  "I couldn't. I'm just a stranger to you," he said.

  "My boy, you have given me quite a gift today. You have allowed me to taste again, if only for the afternoon, the sweetness of young love. Let me do this for you," she said as she reached out and took his strong hands in her frail ones.

  "Thank you," he said, squeezing her hands and smiling warmly at her.

  Esther sent him off with enough stationary to write to Savannah for a year and one very fine pen. The moment he got back to the hotel, he didn't return to his foster brothers. Instead, he found a service ladder that led to the roof. There, as he watched the sunset, he began his first letter to Savannah and the thought of being connected to her again, even if only by ink and paper, warmed his heart.

  Chapter8

  In the days following Jake's departure, Savannah felt a kind of loneliness that she had never before experienced. Before his arrival in her life, she had a general restlessness, an inner voice whispering to her that there must be something more for her in life. Now, though, that voice was Jake's and each time she closed her eyes, she saw his sweet smile and felt his strong hands upon her body.

  She had thought the loneliness that consumed her would fade as the days went by, but it only grew stronger. Her parents kept asking her if she was ill and her friends couldn't understand why she shut herself away so totally. All she did was go to her job at the local coffee shop
, go to her classes, and come home.

  If it had not been for her brother's threat that he would tell her parents why she was so upset, she might not even have been able to force herself to do that. He was insistent though. In her heart, she knew he wanted to be sure that she didn't sink too far in to her sadness and she couldn't find the words to tell him that it was already too late for that.

  She returned to the house one evening to find it empty, both of her parents at the church for choir rehearsal. Out of instinct, she cracked open the mailbox and took the contents with her in to the house. It was habit in their family to lay the pile on the back counter, with everyone rummaging through to claim what was theirs. As she laid it down, though, an oddly formal envelope caught her eye. As she pulled it from the pile, she was even more surprised to see that it was addressed to her.

  She ran her hand over the smooth envelope and studied the masculine, decisive handwriting of the address. Her heart began to beat faster as she recalled Jake's promise to write to her. She had forced herself to push the possibility from her mind, sure that he would very quickly forget about her as he continued his travels and met new, more exciting people than her.

  Now, though, as she held the unopened letter in her hand, she could almost sense that it was from him. Not wanting her parents to return early and find her reading a letter from a lover they most definitely wouldn't have approved of, she clutched the letter to her breast and ran quickly to her bedroom.

  Only when she was safely in her room, perched in anticipation on her queen sized bed with the door locked safely behind her, did she open the envelope. The moment she tore it open, she inhaled a scent that was unmistakably Jake. Slowly and methodically, she pulled the pages from the envelope. Ever so gently, she unfolded them, savoring the physical sensation of touching something that he had touched. She ran her hands over the pages as though she was stroking his beloved face as she began to read the letter.

  My dearest Savannah,

  I hope you were sincere when you gave your consent for me to write to you. In truth, even if you had not given me your permission, I would still be writing you this letter. Writing to you is the only way I have of remaining a part of your life and I'm too selfish a man to give up that privilege. I cannot begin to tell you how deeply I have felt your absence in my life, though it has only been a few days.

  I feel as though I was unaware of how grey my world truly is until the brilliance of your beauty became a part of it. Now that I know how glorious life can be, though I only tasted the sweetness for one night, the rest of my life has been cast in shadows. A better man would say that he hopes you're not suffering the same fate, but as I have said I'm a selfish individual. The basest parts of me hope that you long for me as I long for you.

  In the night, when all is quiet and dark, I imagine that I hear you calling out to me. I cannot quite convince myself that it's a hallucination. Perhaps that is because I'm so desperate for it to be the truth. In those moments, I close my eyes and imagine that I'm holding you in my arms once again. It's only then that I can find peace.

  You will likely doubt the sincerity of these claims in the wake of my brief time in your life and my self-imposed departure from your side. I can only tell you that watching you walk away from me was the most difficult thing I have endured in a lifetime filled with loneliness and hardships.

  I think perhaps you have realized on your own, but I must tell you that I'm not the most scrupulous or pious of men. When I think of you, though, you make me long to be better. You make me long to be the kind of man who could be worthy to love a woman such as you. Perhaps one day I will be.

  You likely noticed that there is no return address on the envelope this letter arrived in. That wasn't an oversight on my part.

  It was a deliberate choice to keep you safe. I will not be able to give you a way to contact me. Maybe you will see this as a selfish gesture, keeping you fully in the dark about where I go and what I do. It's my hope, though, that you will see it instead as one of the few truly selfless things I have ever done in my life. It's the only way that I can be sure that you're kept safe from the negative forces in my life. I plan to write often. Should these letter be unwelcome or a burden, please discard them.

  I hope, though, that you will cherish any link that can continue to exist between us as I do. I feel as though there is a wound upon my soul that can only be healed by your sweet touch. Though I don't know when, I promise you that one day we will meet again.

  With all my love,

  Jake

  Savannah wiped away the tears that spilled from her eyes as she read the words over and over again. She could feel the love that he felt for her radiating from the pages. She pressed the letter close to her heart and tried to picture him, off somewhere in the world, laying in his own bed and thinking of her. She had worried that he had forgotten her already, that she was merely a passing fancy. Knowing that he felt the connection as deeply as she did brought her the first peace she had felt since they had parted, though she hated that he was so miserable without her.

  She so loved his smile and his laugh. She hated to think of him unhappy. The worst part was that she couldn't reach out to him. Her first impulse was to be angry with him for taking that away from her, but she understood that he wouldn't have kept her away from him if he didn't think it was the safest thing for her.

  When she had faintly cried all that she could, her head was full with things she wanted to tell him. Instead of dwelling on the sadness, though, she knew that there was one thing she could do. She might not be able to get what she wrote to him, but she could answer him.

  She jumped from her bed and ran to the small desk that sat in the corner of her room. She rummaged in the drawers until she found what she was looking for, a journal that her aunt had given her for her last birthday. She had not yet begun to write in it. The time had never seemed right until just that moment. Now, though, she had the perfect purpose for it. She took her seat, staring out the window in a moment of quiet contemplation before opening the book. It's cover was brown leather, soft and smooth under her fingers. The pages were lined, each with a little flower at the bottom of the page.

  When she finally picked up her pen, the words just flowed from her.

  Jake,

  Receiving your letter was like a beam of sunshine breaking through a dense fog. I have lived in that fog since I walked away from you. I would attempt to explain to you exactly what my life has been like since that day, but I'm certain after reading your letter that you have endured a similar fate since we parted ways. I will venture to say that each day that I live without you is worse than the last. I had nurtured the hope that one day time might heal.

  I know it has not been long, but it has been long enough to show me that I will never live a day upon this earth where I don't miss you.

  If I had less faith in you or loved you less, I would be angry that you will not allow me to write to you. Though we have known each other for a short time, I hope that you know that I will not be dictated to by you. You might have taken away my ability to send my thoughts and feelings to you, but you cannot stop me from writing them down.

  Perhaps, if what you say is true and you will one day return, I will give you this journal. I plan to fill it with responses to the letters that you say you will continue to write to me. It isn't quite the same, knowing that you may never read this.

  Still, my mind is full of things that I want to say to you and I'm afraid I will go mad if I don't say them. It's been consuming me and I cannot allow that. I have long believed that I was destined for a great love, but I cannot let my love for you keep me from living.

  It's more difficult that I imagined, as we lay there in the old church, to live a life without you in it.

  Perhaps writing to you like this will make my life feel more as if you're a part of it. It will be as Though you're here, listening to me recount even the simplest details of my life.

  You spoke in your letter about your being a less tha
n moral man. Perhaps you have been, but I don't think that is the heart of who you're. If you have made choices that have lead you away from the purest parts of your nature, then I would urge you to make different choice, choices that can bring you back to me.

  I promised you during our time together that I wouldn't ask you further questions and I will not break that vow, even in the pages of this journal. I will tell you, though, that no matter what you have done, it does not define you. What defines you is what is in your heart and I have peered in to your heart. I have never seen anything more beautiful than what lies inside of you. Never doubt that.

  Wherever you are, I hope that you're safe and that you're not alone. I have my family and my friends around me. Though there is little that comforts me in your absence, knowing that they are here for me and love me helps me have hope for what is to come. I hope that you have people in your life who make you feel that way. I don't want you to be alone. I hope they are rallying around you now, whoever they might be.

  Let them support you. Perhaps I should take my own advice. I have been pushing everyone away. I have kept going to school though. I have had to, you see. My brother caught me coming in to the house the morning after we were together and he is a cop so it wasn't hard for him to figure things out, especially after the things he had heard about me being seen with a handsome white boy walking around town. He gave me a bit of a hard time, but I think he is finally accepting that I'm not going to marry his friend.