Bella Luna

by Sharon Struth

  Only he couldn’t. Everything she wrote made sense.

  It didn’t stop the hurt. Tears stung Leo’s eyes and an urge to chase Rose so he could avoid another loss tempted him. But he paused. This time what he’d found with a woman was different. She’d left, but she given him something she treasured. A sign of her love and trust.

  He stared at the dog, at this moment watching him carefully. Leo patted the bed. “Come on up.”

  She jumped onto the mattress, plunked down, and leaned against him like she needed his support too. And she did, all while Rose fixed her life.

  The obsession to hold up others who weren’t strong had followed Leo his entire life. To what end? He’d gained nothing…absolutely nothing. Even if he tried to find Rose, it wasn’t what she wanted.

  Maybe the control he’d craved for so long to make things perfect was nothing he could ever really obtain. This moment, this thing going on with Rose, it was a chance to let the hand of fate determine his future.

  He rubbed the dog’s back. As he did, the weight of Rose’s decision to leave Bella struck a deeper chord. Giving Rose space would prove how much he cared for her and respected her wishes. He respected her bravery, because she’d found the courage to walk into the lion’s den on her own.

  Courage. Leo dug deep inside himself to grasp the concept, empowered by the fearlessness of a woman he believed he loved. Fear of loss had owned him most of his life. It found him. It followed him. All because he allowed it.

  Her leaving could own him, too. Or he could make a decision to change.

  It would mean staying afloat and facing another loss, but this time with hope for his future. Live each day with optimism for her return. If she didn’t…What if she didn’t?

  He pushed aside the negative thought. For once, he wouldn’t take someone’s leaving personally. Who knew where it would end, but if it ended well, life just might be sweeter.

  Chapter 25

  Rose exited the town car and stared up at the J. Edger Hoover Building. How she’d managed to put one foot in front of the other this morning remained a mystery.

  The boxy concrete structure served as a perfect symbol of Washington secrecy and bureaucracy. Bob Kirkpatrick exited behind her. Bob was a tall man and ducked to get out, nearly bumping his head of full, gray hair on the door opening.

  A group of reporters waiting near the entrance spotted them and rushed the car. Rose was glad Bob had suggested they come together.

  He buttoned his suit jacket, his overall appearance pulled together and confident. “Remember, don’t say a word to the press. Let’s wait for Dan.”

  She nodded. Hoisting her purse over the shoulder of her suit jacket, she jutted out her chin in outward confidence. The stampede of her heart told the real story.

  “Dr. Richardson, what can you tell us about the allegations made by the FBI?”

  “Dr. Rose? Did you do it? Do you have a statement for your readers?”

  Reporters yelled. Flashbulbs blinked. Rose glanced over her shoulder in time to see Dan Montgomery climb out of the car. He rushed to her side and used his briefcase to block a reporter shoving a microphone in Rose’s face and hollering a question.

  He took her elbow. “Head down and move forward.” The ex-military PI shot her a comforting grin. He wasn’t at all what she’d expected: a bulky man with long hair tied back in a ponytail and a tattoo on the side of his neck. He wore a nice dark suit, white shirt, and striped tie like the lawyer had suggested.

  Walking between them should’ve felt safe, but Rose had never felt more exposed. Since leaving Northbridge the days were one big blur. Meeting with her lawyer. Turning herself in. One day spent in jail, where the lawyer hoped he could get her released on her own recognizance. Then, out of nowhere, someone had posted the $50,000 bail.

  Upon release, she’d gone with Bob to his office to discuss today’s FBI meeting. Once there, he’d handed her an envelope and a wrapped box.

  “This is from the person who posted bail. They’d heard about your arrest on the news.”

  He’d excused himself to grab coffee. Rose opened it privately, curious who’d offered financial help. Inside the envelope had been a note card with a picture of downtown Northbridge and the lake, where peaceful rolling hills protected the town like a fortress. A penetrable fortress.

  Bella and I will wait for you. Remember, a return here holds all the promise of a full moon.

  Leo. The bail money was one thing she couldn’t get and she’d welcomed his support. Her eyes had watered as she opened the black velvet jeweler box. Inside was a silver crescent moon charm. Dotted with little round diamonds, it dangled from a matching silver chain. She would have to ask him about the quote, one she vaguely remembered found on a postcard in the pantry. She’d put the necklace on, her heart filled with gratitude and affection for the man she couldn’t wait to see again.

  Dan tugged at her elbow, guiding her from more pleasant memories and into the daunting FBI building. The throng of reporters followed. She reached up and fingered the necklace. The charm held all the power of a talisman, representing every reason why she’d come forward, and every hope for her future.

  The receptionist swept them off to a conference room. Inside, two men dressed in dark suits and a woman dressed nearly the same sat waiting at a long table made of oak. All three stood. One of the men stepped forward. His perfectly parted hair and don’t-mess-with-me expression made Rose’s stomach jittery.

  “I’m Deputy Director Lewindowsky.” His deep voice meant business. He swept his hand toward the other two people, adding, “Special Agents Susan Moore and Ed Turner.”

  After introductions, they got seated. Rose folded her clammy hands on the table, so at least she wouldn’t appear as nervous as she felt.

  Despite what Dan had uncovered, proving her innocence wasn’t a shoo-in. But if they got lucky, the evidence uncovered by the PI would turn the tables and refocus the investigation on the real culprit—John.

  Director Lewindowsky lifted his smoky gray eyes over the paper in his hands and went straight to her. “Mrs. Richardson, your attorney assures me of your innocence. But the fact remains, you left town. Didn’t even tell your husband. You’d better have a good reason why.”

  She swallowed, but her mouth remained as dry as dust. Fear of someone discovering her past had controlled for too long. If there was ever a time for honesty, it was now.

  “Yes. To me it seemed like a very good reason.”

  “I suggest you tell us, because right now your actions don’t make a great case for you.”

  “Well, Director, after a visit from the FBI, I realized my husband had stolen my inheritance funds. My ex-husband, actually. John and I are divorced, but it’s not known by the public yet.”

  She explained about the confrontation and his threat to tell about her past.

  “Fear of the media isn’t a good reason to run,” the director snapped.

  She held up a hand. “You’re right. Not for most people, but for me it took on a different light. Before I turned eighteen, my life was anything but normal.” All eyes rested on her and her pulse raced, but she kept going. “Back then, I went by another name. Emmaline Rose Holloway.” Her chest pulled tight and she drew in a deep breath and shared the story of her past, her voice at times shaky but always moving forward. While she spoke, their silence and stares left her feeling like she’d walked into a room nude, exposing not only bare skin but a part of her soul.

  “If that was all, I’d never have run. But later that night, I overheard John on the phone talking to someone about me. I listened. I still don’t know who he spoke to, but he wanted them to hurt me, have me mugged—shot—so I’d have more problems than my missing money.”

  A few raised eyebrows appeared around the room, but she ignored them and continued. “I ran away because I couldn’t cope with the idea of being jailed for something I didn’t do, coupled with fear I’d be physically harmed by a man who would�
��ve used the mugging for political gain. He…” Rose paused, still finding what she’d heard surreal. “He planned to use my being shot to help his campaign on gun reform, a boost for the upcoming elections.”

  Director Lewindowsky passed a glance to the special agent.

  He then looked at Rose. “Do you remember the date you overheard your husband on the phone? We can subpoena the phone records to get the number.”

  After, she gave him the date, the man with thinning hair leaned forward. She suddenly recognized him as one of the men she’d seen at Leo’s front door. “Where have you been this past month, Mrs. Richardson?”

  She tensed and thought carefully about her words. “I found a place in Connecticut and ended up renting an apartment in a house near the lake.”

  “Did your landlord know who you were at any point during your stay?”

  She looked him straight in the eye, because this was the one lie she would tell. “I never identified myself to him. I used the name Emma Morris and did everything possible to make sure nobody in town learned who I really am. The people I met there were nice. They welcomed me. Nobody ever knew my real identity. As you can see, I’ve altered my appearance.”

  Her lawyer interrupted. “Perhaps you’d like to see what the private investigator Mrs. Richardson hired has found. If you hear this, you may be more understanding of her case.” The attorney motioned with his hand to Dan. “Why don’t you show them what you’ve got.”

  Her fate rested in the hands of the people around this table. Rose settled back into her seat, her fingers wrapped around the moon charm.

  Chapter 26

  Six months later…

  Rose blinked into the noonday sun as she walked out of the lawyer’s office onto Twelfth Street in downtown DC. The crisp air smelled of late autumn, and early Christmas decorations hung from storefronts even though Thanksgiving wasn’t for two weeks.

  She stepped down the sidewalk, her steps light for once. This morning’s closing on the house she and John had in North Carolina had gone well. The sweet couple that now owned it reminded her of them on the day they’d purchased the place, a rosy future ahead of them. God, she’d been so blinded by what she wanted to believe.

  She crossed F Street, debating if she should go spend a little time at the Smithsonian Museum of American Art, but instead continued toward the Hilton, her home for the next two nights while waiting for one last meeting with the Department of Justice to assist in their case against John.

  Then she’d be free to take care of the one thing she’d been aching to do for six months. Though she and Leo had spoken regularly, she’d asked they not see each other. Besides her worry that he’d be dragged into this by the press, she wanted their reunion to be completely unencumbered by her problems. And she was two days away from being problem-free.

  She hurried down the sidewalk but paused at a newsstand. The current issue of Sophisticate sat on a rack. As she grabbed it, she spotted this week’s Time magazine with an article about last week’s election results. John hadn’t even been able to run for his Senate seat, the one he’d cared about more than the law. The party had ousted him as the facts about the straw donations came to light. Soon he’d face a grand jury.

  Records revealed that the late night phone call had been to his campaign manager, who sang like the proverbial canary once cornered by the authorities. Seemed loyalty to a malicious politician had limits and he’d corroborated the story Rose overheard. She hoped they nailed John. What he’d put her through was horrible. He didn’t deserve even a drop of her sympathy. The only good from this whole mess was meeting Leo and finding a temporary home with friends in the small Connecticut town.

  She paid for the copy of Sophisticate and continued to the hotel, anxious to see her feature piece in the issue. A block later, she neared a Starbucks. She smiled. Caffeine of any kind always made her think of Leo. She went inside. Once she had a latté in hand she found a table near the window, shimmied out of her blazer, and cracked open the magazine.

  Sophisticate and her editor had stuck by her these past six months. Even at the start, when her innocence remained in doubt by some. She was glad because it gave her a chance to really think about the feature story on falling in love. A chance to remember the night she’d fallen for Leo.

  The friends she’d made in Northbridge remained in her heart as she rewrote the article, too. She didn’t need to use what they’d told her. Still, writing it reminded her of how they’d welcomed her to the vineyard and let her into their inner circle.

  Over the course of the past few months, she’d received letters from each of them. Supportive notes, since both her past and present were all over the news. Even though the press learned her real name and tragedy of her parents’ death, the reaction from others wasn’t as bad this time around. Maybe due to the passage of decades. Sophie’s note shared how Leo even brought Bella to the farm one day so their dogs could play.

  Before she started reading, she got out her phone and dialed her editor.

  On the third ring, Mia picked up.

  “Hey. It’s Rose.”

  “How’d it go today?”

  “Fantastic. The house is sold. I have money in the bank. Life is good. Listen, I just passed a newsstand and picked up this month’s issue.”

  “Your feature has a mention on the cover.”

  “I see. Thank you. I wanted to make sure you sent an advance copy to the address I gave you?”

  “Yup. Both addresses. Guess you left behind some friends in Northbridge.”

  “You could say that.”

  Mia laughed. “Or maybe the subject of our article?”

  “I’ll never tell. Listen, I’ve gotta run. We’ll talk soon.”

  She flipped open the magazine to her story.

  A Potion for Modern Day Love

  By Dr. Rose Richardson

  Take one basset hound.

  Add a power outage.

  Answer 40 questions.

  Mix well then sit back and wait.

  “Write an article on this. See if it’s possible.”

  My editor spoke those words as she handed me a study done about a successful experiment on making two people fall in love in one sitting. Was she crazy, I’d wondered? After reading the details, I was certain she was.

  Two strangers falling in love based on a series of questions seemed preposterous. Besides, the notion I might find anything redeeming in the idea of such deep affection took an enormous leap of faith. My own marriage had just toppled around me.

  Would I ever love again? Had I ever really understand unconditional love? With my own issues coming to a head, I searched for other angles to get my job done. All avoided my own feelings on the topic and instead I solicited others.

  Then the strangest thing happened…my new landlord fell in love with my basset hound.

  I had taken refuge from my failed marriage in a rented apartment. My landlord was a man who carried a two-ton chip on his shoulder. He didn’t like me that much and the feeling was mutual.

  As the days passed, though, I watched him take a liking to my cherished basset hound, Bella. Hers was an adoration I understood. She’d wooed me at the shelter with hopeful eyes and a spirit that wouldn’t give up. Same way she’d probably lured him in, too.

  Their romance was two-sided, obvious to me because my loyal companion made no bones about her love for him. “Aren’t animals supposed to have a hidden sense about nasty people?” I’d often think, but Bella’s overtures seemed to soften this man’s soul, scratch away at the chip he carried. In fact, it left me curious about what might have caused the chip.

  And as the pieces dropped, it revealed a man I could like, too.

  Then—believe it or not—on a dark and stormy night, the home’s power went out. Leaving the three of us alone with nothing to do. We played games. We roasted hot dogs over an open fireplace. And when we’d exhausted all possible forms of entertainment, I suggested we give thos
e forty questions a try.

  Rose shut the magazine and closed her eyes. Tears welled. All the tenderness she possessed for Leo was found in the remaining paragraphs. Love had been planted like a seed on that night and buried deep beneath complicated layers of history. Distance created a strange kind of ecosystem, where the seed fully bloomed into something she believed in…a relationship like none she’d ever had before.

  She could only hope Leo read the article Mia had sent.

  * * * *

  Leo left Washington Square Park and strolled along Fifth Avenue with today’s New York Times in one hand and Bella’s leash in the other. She sniffed the scents of the city, her tail held high and gait purposeful.

  He turned onto Ninth Street. The scenery changed to rows of red brick and stucco residential buildings. Towering trees spaced along the sidewalk clung to a few of their autumn leaves, but not as many as a few weeks ago.

  Once at his building, he stopped in the lobby mailboxes to get yesterday’s forgotten mail. They took the stairs to the second story apartment he called home. He’d purchased this place after his wife died. The quiet Greenwich Village neighborhood suited him. Calmer. More artsy.

  Once inside the apartment, he tossed the newspaper and mail on the dining room table. He headed to the galley kitchen and popped a pod into the Nespresso machine. Damn Seth and his birthday gift. Leo loved the contraption, but refused to tell him how much.

  He waited as a frothy cup of coffee appeared in seconds. Nostalgia for his old percolator in Connecticut hit hard and fast. Or maybe it was all the hope he held out for Rose, always making him think about Northbridge.

  He didn’t dwell on the idea. She’d return—when the time was right. In a few days he’d be done with this release tour of his novel. His publisher reported strong pre-orders, several stellar editorial reviews, and fantastic release day sales. All restored his lost confidence after the last book blunder.