The Future Scrolls

by Fern Michaels

  “That’s because yours is made of cast iron.”

  “It would appear that you have been outvoted, Maria,” Alex laughed. “So it is home for now. Perhaps another time you lovely ladies will give me the honor of your company for dinner.”

  “Just say when, Papa,” Maria giggled as she settled back on the bench.

  On the ride home, Maria napped and Alex and Dani sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts. After seeing them into the house, Alex said, “I must be on my way. Thank you for spending such an enjoyable day with me.” His eyes penetrated deeply, questioning.

  She supposed he was worried that what he had said about Valerie had spoiled the day for Dani.

  “I had a lovely time, Alex,” she reassured him, smiling into his dark, luminous eyes. “I know Maria did.”

  “Good night, querida, and you too, little one.”

  Twelve

  Alexander Mendeneres left the large, old house on Hollow Road and when he left he removed, if not bodily then spiritually, a part of Dani that would be forever his.

  If Dani was more quiet and serious, there was no one to notice. Maria and the boys were intent on their own fun-filled days. For the most part, the evenings were spent watching television and waiting for the phone to ring. For the time being, Dani would be content just to hear Alex’s voice.

  It was the middle of October, one of those rare Indian summer days. Maria’s emergency haircut had lengthened a bit and waved about her head in beguiling, soft curls, bringing the shimmering brown eyes into prominence.

  They were raking the brilliant autumn leaves into a huge pile to be burned that evening when, finally unable to stand it a moment longer, Dani looked down and demanded bluntly, “Tell me of your mother, Maria.” As soon as the words were spoken, she wished they hadn’t been uttered. The small face clouded, but the words rushed out as though a dam had finally broken.

  “My mother is very beautiful. Everyone says so. But she is not beautiful inside like my grandmother and Papa, and you, too, Dani. She doesn’t love me.” At Dani’s stricken look, she hastened to add, “It is so. She told me herself. My mother said I ruined her figure and that I was an ugly child. My mother also hates my father. He did everything to make my mother happy. My grandmother said he spent a fortune on clothes and jewels for her. My mother would ask what good they were when there were only peasants to see her wearing them. All my mother did was scream at my father. He would look so sad all the time. Then one day my Papa was talking to my grandmother in the library . . .”

  Maria’s voice held a faint tremor and her face drew into downcast lines. Dani knew that Maria would never fully come to grips with her situation if she didn’t confide in someone. Through Maria’s words and expressions, Dani was drawn deeper into the web of the child’s misery.

  “I was going down our mosaic corridor on my way to the library when I saw my mother eavesdropping at the door. She grabbed my arm and shook me till I thought my teeth would rattle. She called me a little sneak and said I gave her the creeps. It was she who was doing the sneaking.” Maria’s face was rigid with fear as she recalled the scene. “I told her I was only going to the library for a book. Then when she became more upset, I asked her why she was listening at the door. She said I was a liar and that she wasn’t listening at the door. I told her it was a sin to tell a lie and that I saw her. Oh, Dani, her face was so hateful,” Maria shuddered.

  “Honey, I’m sorry I asked you. I can see it upsets you to talk about it. Why don’t we forget it for now? Perhaps some other time when you feel more up to it.”

  Maria didn’t seem to hear Dani’s voice for she continued, “That is when she hit me. A fierce blow to the side of the head. I fell and tried to clear my head but everything was blurred. I could barely see. I sat crouched on the floor and my mother stared down at me. I was so afraid. She told me that if I said even one word to my father of what happened she would take me away and I would never see Papa and my grandmother again. I did not say yes and I did not say no. My head hurt so bad I could not talk. When I did not answer her, she kicked me in the side with the toe of her sandal. I almost threw up, Dani—that’s how bad the pain was. Then I saw my father come out of the study just as I noticed a shadow start to form in the corner of the hall. The Monk was coming to help me, but when he saw my father he went away. He knew my father would take care of me.”

  “Good Lord,” Dani exclaimed. “Did you tell your father how she abused you?”

  Maria shook her head, the dark curls bobbing. “I would not tell; I thought she would do what she said—take me away. I would die if I did not have my papa,” Maria said simply. “Anyway, my mother pretended that she had just arrived, that I was running down the hall and tripped and fell, striking my head on the doorway. Then my mother told another lie. She said I was running from the Monk. That was when I could see that Papa knew she was lying. I would never run from the Monk. The Monk protects me.”

  “Then what happened?” Dani asked breathlessly.

  “Papa carried me to bed and asked me what happened. I lied to him, Dani,” Maria said defensively. “That was the only time I ever told Papa a lie. I told him I was all right. I almost died of fright when my mother pretended concern and said she would stay with me. She said I just had a bad fright and I needed rest. She said she would stay with me till I fell asleep. My papa was upset, but Grandmother led him away and said my mother was right, I needed rest.”

  “Maria, you should have told your father. He would have known what to do.”

  “I was afraid. I did not like the look in my mother’s eyes at that moment. After everyone left, she said I had done well and she was proud of me. I lay very quiet and prayed that she would go away. She did not. She just kept standing by my bed and watching me. Then all of a sudden, she grabbed one of my curls and wound it around her finger. At first, I thought she was just touching my hair like Grandmother does sometimes. That is not what she was doing. She twisted my hair and pulled it with all her might. I truly thought my head was going to come off. Then I knew I had to play the trick because I could not stand the pain and, in truth, I could not stand to look at my mother.”

  “What trick did you play?”

  “I pretended I saw the Monk. I hope Brother Gian will one day forgive me. But I did not know what else to do. I started to cry and whine; you know the way little children do. I said that Mama did not mean to hurt me and to spare her. I said a lot of things that I do not remember now. She demanded to know what I was babbling about. I just kept my eyes on the corner of the room and kept talking. I just said whatever popped into my head. At first it was the trick; then it was real. The room started to get dark, very slowly at first, and the draperies moved in the breeze that came from nowhere. The wind became stronger and my mother’s hair was blowing wildly as were her skirts. The wind was only centered around her. She ran screaming from the room saying I was demented and she would take steps to have me locked away.”

  “Oh you poor baby,” Dani crooned, clutching the child to her breast. “How you must have suffered. If only you had told your father.”

  “I guess I fell asleep then, for when I woke,” Maria said to a misty-eyed Dani, “I tried my best to be brave, but the pain in my ear was so bad all I did was cry.”

  Dani could picture the brave little girl lying exhausted and white upon her pillow.

  “I wondered how badly I was hurt,” Maria said matter-of-factly, “because I could not hear anything at all. It was strange, Dani; my own voice sounded husky and far away to me. I stayed in bed, hoping no one would know how badly my ear hurt. But I became very ill and Papa took me to the hospital. I think my father knows what really happened. Sometimes I would see him looking at me as if he knew I had told a lie. I asked one of the doctors at the hospital if I talked when I was sick. He said quite cheerfully that I did not shut up for five minutes. But I did not mean for him to know.”

  “If he does, I’m sure that he understands. Your Papa is a very wise man. Maria, tell me
more of the Monk of Mendeneres.”

  “The Mendeneres Monk is Brother Gian. They say he was a scribe to a heavenly angel. He was put into a dungeon and suffered greatly. Doctor Mendeneres, an ancestor of mine, befriended him when no one else would help him. That is why he protects the Mendenereses. He watches over us, so nothing evil will happen. My mother is evil. The Monk knows this. Many times when she is near me, I see his shadow. The Monk is the only thing that my mother is afraid of. She knows she is not a true Mendeneres. Do not think because he let Valerie hit me that he was not protecting me. He only comes when I want him. It is a sort of mental thing. If I cannot handle the situation then he comes. I do not call him for every little thing. It must be important. He knows I was not really playing the trick. I needed him desperately.”

  Dani blinked. Who was she to dispute the child? Her blood boiled for this faceless woman. Quickly she gathered the child to her and hugged her.

  “Try not to mind too much, Maria. Your father loves you dearly, as do I and your grandmother.”

  “Do you know the secret?”

  “No, Maria, I do not,” Dani lied. The child had enough to bear without adding that to her other list of things to worry about.

  “That is why she left,” Maria said. “My mother heard my papa and grandmother. Now she knows the secret. Dani, I don’t want to go back to Argentina. Can’t I stay here with you? Could you adopt me? I will help you all I can. I’m small and I don’t take up much room and, since Danny said that I was getting fat, I will diet and not eat much food. Please, Dani, can I stay with you?”

  Shocked, Dani stared at the child, her jaw dropping. “But what of your father? Think how he will feel if you don’t return with him. He loves you, Maria, more than life itself. He told me so.”

  “I know that,” the child said pathetically. “But I do not want to go back; I want to stay here. Could you marry my father?” she asked seriously.

  “Maria,” Dani said softly, “you know that is impossible. You must learn that there are many things in this life that can’t be changed and that we have to accept things and situations for what they are. I told you it was all part of growing up. I would truly love to have you live with me, but that can’t be. We’re only together now because I’m helping your father. Right now he has some problems that he has to solve. When he has completed his task, I’ll have to return to the city and my job. I hope you understand. I told you once before that it was all right to dream, but that reality had to set in sooner or later. Perhaps, in a few years’ time, I can come to Argentina on a vacation and see you. By then, you’ll be a teenager and quite grown up.” Dani looked at the child and knew she understood the words for what they were.

  “While you were sleeping last night, I called my father. I told him that I did not want to return to Argentina with him and that I wanted to stay here with you.”

  “Maria, you didn’t?” Shocked, Dani could only stare at the wide-eyed child.

  “I will run away if I have to go back. I will not go,” the child said stubbornly.

  “Maria, what did your father say?”

  “He said nothing, Dani. He did not answer me.”

  “I should think so. You probably shocked him speechless. Maria, that was a very thoughtless thing for you to do. Think how he must feel. He loves you so much. You must have hurt him very deeply.”

  “I don’t care. I have been hurt many times. No one cares when I am hurt.”

  “Maria, I don’t think that’s true. Your mother has hurt you. Not your father. You can’t take your frustrations out on the one person who loves you above all else. Poor baby,” Dani crooned, holding the child close to her. “These are the years when you need a mother the most, and I fear I am a poor substitute. Listen to me, Maria; you love me; I understand that, and I love you, too. This . . . this feeling that you have about wanting to stay here with me is a result of... of not having a real mother like Kelly and the boys do, but you have something just as good. You have a father who loves you. I’m not saying that the boys’ fathers don’t love them, but it is in a different way. Your father has had to be both a mother and father to you even when your mother was in Argentina. I am sure that he has spent more time with you than any of the boys’ fathers do with them. I don’t think I’m explaining this very well,” Dani said pitifully. “I guess one of the reasons is that I’m not a mother.”

  “Oh, Dani, how I wish you were my mother,” the child said sadly.

  And I wish it were so myself, Dani thought.

  Alexander Mendeneres stood quietly by a huge boxwood shrub and listened with aching heart to the words of his daughter. He listened in amazement at the tall, lovely girl’s words as she praised him. He drew his eyes into slits and peered at the sun. He looked around the quiet yard and at the lush pile of brilliant leaves. Again he looked at this stunning American woman who had returned his kiss so passionately. No, she wasn’t a girl. She was a woman. Was this mission of his worthwhile? He now had some small yet serious doubts. His mind was weary and so was his body. All he wanted was to be left in peace and be able to return to his country and to fulfill his mission. Suddenly, he felt like a fool standing hiding and spying behind a shrub. He should have known that Dani would take care of the situation. He was just about to turn and leave when Maria spotted him.

  “Papa!” she screeched and ran to him. “Oh, I am so sorry I said what I did. Truly, I love you, more than anyone in this whole world. Oh, Papa, I am so sorry. Dani has explained everything to me.”

  Alexander Mendeneres cradled his only daughter to him and sought Dani’s eyes. They stared at each other, holding each other’s gaze—Dani’s full of tears and Alexander’s full of love and longing.

  Unable to keep her gaze locked on him, Dani bent down to pick up the rake to resume cleaning the yard. A large, glistening tear fell on her hand. When she looked up again he was gone and Maria was waving at the car as it backed out of the driveway.

  “I have an idea,” Dani said with forced brightness. “Let’s picnic. It will be good for both of us. We can finish the yard tomorrow.”

  “I would like a picnic,” Maria cried happily. As the limousine drew away, a sporty compact pulled in. “It’s Stash; can he go with us?”

  “Why not?”

  “Hiya, ladies,” Stash called.

  Maria threw herself into his burly arms, crushing against his body and squealing, “We are going on a picnic and you are coming.”

  “Next to beautiful girls, there’s nothing I like better.”

  “Come on, I’ll get the basket,” Dani laughed. “You can help me, Maria.”

  “I’ll help,” Stash volunteered.

  “Oh, no, you won’t, that kitchen isn’t big enough for the three of us. Sit down and we’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  Stash grumbled good-naturedly and lumbered into the living room. He sought out his favorite chair next to the hearth and, as always, whenever he visited, felt the pervading peace of the cottage surround him. It was a place where a man could kick off his shoes, put up his feet and belong, if one could belong to a house. As with most men, the sofa’s muted colors as well as the rest of the room escaped his eyes. His appreciation was sensory. The soft leather of the deep chair was soft and yielding beneath him. The faint aroma of long-dead fires misted toward him, surrounded him with a feeling of ease and good living. It was a place for all time.

  Dani stuck her head in the door. “Let’s go; we have enough food here for an army. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I’m starved,” Stash laughed as he grabbed Maria in one arm and the bulging picnic basket in the other. “Let’s go!”

  Alex stood outside his wife Valerie’s apartment door, with his hand poised to knock. He hesitated a moment, gathering his wits. When he had left the little house in the country, he had driven at breakneck speed, unmindful of the traffic. When he heard Maria profess her love for Dani and reveal the cruelty which Val had employed against her, his blood boiled. His conscience pursued him along the hi
ghways until he found himself here, just a wooden panel away from the object of his daughter’s fears.

  Thoughts flashed through his mind and he was aware of his wrongdoing, his part in the whole scenario. How could he have been deceived by Valerie? Had her beauty been so overwhelming that he had been blind to her selfishness? He acknowledged the stark, naked facts and they hurt, cutting him as if he were bleeding. He had waited long enough, played the game too well. Now he must dash everything and, for Maria’s sake, confront Valerie and make her understand that under no conditions would she gain their child.

  How valiant his thoughts seemed, how humble, how chagrined when he forced himself to admit he would do anything and everything possible to gain those scrolls even at a deep, personal loss to himself. Perhaps, ultimately, the loss of Maria herself. Yet, now there was no doubt that, once he had retrieved the scrolls, he would move heaven and earth to keep his daughter. As he rapped sharply on the door, the dark, recrimination-filled eyes of Dani Arnold flashed before him.

  The door swung open and Valerie stood with her back to the soft lamplight, amazement written on her face. “Alex, what are you doing here? I thought I told you I’d get in touch with you!”

  “You did, Val, but this has gone on long enough.” He advanced on her, forcing her to move backward into the apartment.

  “Get out of here, Alex; get out now!”

  “Not this time, Val. I’ve already spent too much of my life doing your bidding. Now it’s your turn to listen to me!”

  His eyes hopscotched around the apartment and he was glad that Eugene was nowhere to be found.

  Val placed herself brazenly in front of him, allowing her perfectly penciled mouth to draw into a sneer. “That’s right, Alex; he isn’t here. Isn’t that what you were afraid of? That he’ll help me?”

  Her snide tone infuriated Alex even more, and he roared, “You underestimate me, Valerie. I’m not afraid of Eugene. Remember how many times I’ve bailed him out of a scrape because he’s spineless. I know Eugene’s weakness too well ever to be afraid of him.”