There was one more suggestion in which he was correct, though she dismissed his advice. She had insisted on seeing herself in a mirror. She was devastated, yet once again he was her rock. When she saw the cuts and bruises and felt the wire holding her jaw together, she crumbled. His strong arms caught and held her while she bathed him with her tears.
Through it all he was there, even after the worst day.
A week had gone by since she initially caught a glimpse of herself. She thought she could prove to herself she was strong by facing herself, head-on, in the mirror. Carter had been gone for several hours and she was feeling better.
She merely wanted to see the progress and report to him how confident she was in the healing that had already taken place. Maintaining an aggressive air, she showered, washed her hair, and attempted to brush her teeth. She wanted to look better when he returned. She thought she’d done pretty well—until she once again looked in the mirror.
That damned mirror!
Not much had changed since the first time and it reminded her she wasn’t the pretty girl she used to be. Defeated more this time than the first, she made her way to the hospital bed and curled into a ball. As she tightened her knees to her chest, she rocked and cried. She had no idea how long she stayed like that, but she cried herself to sleep. He saw her tear stained pillow when he returned. As he went to get a cool cloth for her face, she awoke. She stayed in the same position, trying to make herself as small as she could. Asking him to go home, she begged him not to look at her. He was undaunted by her request, went to the bed, and picked her up. He sat in the reclining hospital chair, holding her on his lap. Defeated, she turned her face into his chest and wept until she had no more tears.
“Are you finished?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She hiccupped and sounded stuffy, talking through her nose. He chuckled low. She felt the rumble in his chest.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, agitated.
He pulled her into him, her legs dangling over his thigh.
“You,” he answered.
She stiffened in his arms. Knowing this could go down an ugly path, he took control of the conversation.
“Now don’t be like that,” he warned. “I’m only laughing at your stuffy nose, nothing else.”
She refused to look at him.
“How can you stand it? I feel so ugly right now,” she said through her wire clenched teeth. “I can barely stand to look at myself.”
“How can I stand it?” he repeated. “I think I’m holding the most beautiful woman in my arms right now—and the reason I think so is because you’re alive.”
He felt her fresh tears silently dampening his shirt, yet still she wouldn’t look at him.
“Aimee…” he began, his voice on the brink of emotion, “I was there. I’ll never forget how you looked when I found you. I thought you were dead. I didn’t give a shit what you looked like. The minute I saw you take in a breath nothing else mattered to me. I never saw anything as beautiful as when your chest rose. It meant I had a chance to get you back. As far as cuts and bruises, I honestly don’t give a shit now. All I know is I have you. You’re alive. It’s enough for me.” He stroked her arm with his thumb.
Finally, she tilted her chin up. Her eyes held questions.
“It doesn’t bother you, really?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Time will heal those, but if it makes you feel better to hear it, I’m sure when the cuts and bruises heal you’ll be the same as you were.”
Her shoulders relaxed and she lay her head against his shoulder.
“I don’t think so, Carter,” she whispered. “I’ll never be the same.”
The next day, she asked him to bring a mirror. She waited for him before attempting to look at herself again. When he arrived they took inventory of her injuries together. On closer inspection she took exception to some of her features. Everything was still a bit swollen and the discolored skin had taken on lighter hues. Her nose still looked like it belonged on someone else, but her eyes were no longer slits. For each gash and stitch they’d catalogued, he reminded her of the hopeful expectations of the doctors.
After that day it was easier to stay away from the mirrors.
It had been about four weeks ago, and again he had been correct. As she healed and the bruising faded, she looked more and more like herself and had begun to feel it as well. Carter arranged for a night discharge and he brought her home. He’d been with her every day, choosing to work from his office. As her ribs healed she was able to navigate better. She encouraged him to get out for some air. Instead, he’d gone out to do a little work today. He was hesitant to leave, but she insisted. The battle was only partially won. She had Cody shadowing her every move and Marcus was working in Carter’s office. She shook her head at the absurdity, but he argued it was because she wasn’t strong enough.
Well, she was strong enough for this!
She’d gotten dressed today. A smile crossed her lips as she anticipated his reaction. She wanted to surprise him by fixing her hair, putting on a little make-up, and dressing in something other than sweats or pajamas.
It was amazing how much better the little things made her feel!
Thankfully, the Master suite was on the first floor. It saved the energy she’d expend by going up and down stairs. It was a big deal to someone whose hand had healed enough to pour her own juice and make a piece of toast. Although she tired easily, she’d thrown on some yoga pants, a warm sweater, and slipper boots. Pulling her hair up into an easy ponytail, she thought she looked more like she was going skiing rather than recuperating. It was the first real surge of encouragement she’d felt and she hoped her progress would have the same effect on him.
As she waited, it occurred to her it was near Christmas. Time had slipped away from her and she longed for a bright holiday. Looking out the bedroom window, she thought the view seemed more a picture from Currier & Ives. Christmas in the mountains was beautiful! Snow nestled on the boughs of the evergreens. The lake had frozen in some of the shallow parts, leaving just enough water for the birds to skittle down to take a drink. The two Adirondack chairs sat at the edge of the pier had a few inches of fresh white powder on the arms and seats. Except for memories of the attack, she loved it here and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
Although she was propped up in the bed to enjoy the view, she needed to get up and stretch her legs. Making her way to the living room she saw that Carter or Marcus had gotten a fire going. It warmed her all the way to the inside, and the first thing which came to mind was hot chocolate.
Hot chocolate… mmm. A great idea!
She leisurely piddled around in the kitchen. She hadn’t cooked or baked anything in months, but she soon found everything she needed and had a pot going on the stove. Soon the house smelled heavenly, thick with the aroma of cocoa. As she stirred and stared down into the warming liquid, her thoughts drifted as she compared the color to Carter’s eyes. They were such a warm brown, a shade which drew you in. When she looked into them, they made her feel safe… loved. His eyes mirrored what he felt. It was hard to explain how they changed. Though they stayed much the same color all the time, they altered with his mood, going between inviting or intense. Over the past few months she had gotten to know those looks well.
She turned off the burner and poured herself a large mug, plopping a few marshmallows in for good measure. Cody followed right by her side as she made her way to the sofa. Thank God she was okay. It was unbelievable how the dog had saved her. She’d purposely put herself in harm’s way when she went after their attacker. A bond was now forged between them. They’d recovered together. When Carter brought Aimee home from the hospital she insisted he help her to sit on the floor so she could run her hands through Cody’s fur, petting as much as the girl wanted. He joined them, carefully watching so Cody wouldn’t unknowingly harm her.
The three of them must have been a sight, sitting on the floor, and a lump
formed in his throat when she cried into Cody’s fur saying “thank you” over and over. Now, wherever you found Aimee, Cody wasn’t far behind.
The same could be said about Aimee and Carter.
She couldn’t think of a day without him in it. They talked, listened to music, he even massaged her. She liked everything about him, but what she loved was his darkness. It was intense. It also balanced her light. He was a serious person by nature. Everything he thought about, he thought about deeply. She relied on him to help her think far more seriously than she had in the past. His shadowed thoughts enticed and challenged her. She helped him to relax his apprehensive personality. Most nights they discussed a myriad of topics followed by lighthearted debates. Laughter helped to further their healing.
She had been waiting on the sofa, when Cody began to dance. Aimee knew exactly what that meant.
“You want to go out, baby girl?” she asked.
The dog answered by prancing on her paws.
Carter had cleared a path through the snow for Cody. Aimee grabbed a throw to ward against the chilly air. As she and Cody made their way through the kitchen, she opened the back door, following the dog down the few steps to the yard. Cody took off, running through the snow into the bushes. Aimee pulled the covering around her as she took in the view. It was so beautiful and so quiet, the kind of cushioning silence you only experience when clouds and snow combine and embrace the atmosphere. She had always enjoyed the feeling of solitude a fresh snow could entice, but unexpectedly a chill went up her spine as her hair raised in warning. A slow tightening had begun to weave its way around her recovering ribs. Oxygen was becoming a precious commodity as she struggled to take a breath, and an uneasy vertigo threatened.
Then, all at once, an unexpected assault converged and forcefully slammed her in her weakened state.
Fear.
Smothering.
Blanketing.
Encompassing.
Fear.
He clasped his hands together as beads of sweat formed on his brow. Mr. Dietz had been intimidated by Manny Vallega on his previous visits, but today he was doubly so. As Manny took the seat in front of the attorney, his companion leaned against the wall. Mr. Dietz had never met this man, but he was intimidating as he postured himself in a threatening stance. He folded his arms across his chest, with his legs crossed at the ankles. Though Mr. Dietz waited to be introduced, no introduction was offered. The man made him very uneasy. There was something about him that was familiar, and he wondered if he was the hooded man who threw him against his car and threatened dire consequences if he didn’t cooperate with Manny. He’d always considered himself an intuitive man, and if he were to take a guess, the man was either Manny’s bodyguard or some type of an enforcer.
Mr. Vallega wasted no time and began dictating orders with regard to Ms. Franzi’s—or should he say Mrs. Vallega’s—holdings. His directives were absolute. Directions were given with an expectation of unquestioned compliance. Mr. Dietz held to the belief that Marisol was his client. His loyalty was to her.
“You do understand, Mr. Dietz, all of the property must be liquidated?” Manny queried.
It was an opportunity to voice his concerns, so the attorney sucked in a long breath in an attempt to quiet his uneasiness.
“Mr. Vallega… I understand it’s your wish, but Ms. Franzi was very particular with the selection of her properties and adamant her wishes were followed to the letter. Although I have no doubt you believe this action might be best, in light of the circumstances, wouldn’t she expect to make a profit? If I am to represent her interests, it will take some time to list and sell the properties. As you know, this isn’t a seller’s market.”
Manny morphed from businessman to executioner. His henchman’s formerly relaxed posture responded aggressively. Their orchestrated intimidation appeared well rehearsed and Mr. Dietz struggled with the massive lump which had formed in his throat.
Manny’s eyes moved slowly. They formed slits, as his glare bored into Mr. Dietz. His voice intensified and his words became more succinct. As Manny prepared to slay him with words, the other man removed a knife from his belt. Manny stood, placing both hands on the desk as he towered over it.
“Are you suggesting my wife is better served by an attorney’s opinion rather than her own husband’s? If so, Mr. Dietz, you are implying you are more competent than I.” He slammed his fist on the desk causing the man behind it to jump. His tone grew sinister as he asked the enforcer a question, never turning away from the man on whom all of his anger was directed.
“Blade, do you agree with Mr. Dietz’s implication?”
Blade. The identity of the second man was revealed. The cowering man wisely decided to appease Manny. If he wasn’t successful, he had no doubt he might suffer injury. It didn’t take a genius to know the name “Blade” revealed how he would extract compliance.
Mr. Dietz shifted uneasily in his chair, then gave Manny his full attention. He cautiously kept Blade in his peripheral view. .
“No, Mr. Vallega,” he cowardly conceded. “I meant no disrespect. I simply recanted wishes Ms. Franzi shared with me. She seemed as insistent to build a property folio, as you are for its liquidation. I meant no disrespect. I merely intended to clarify my previous instructions.” He took a sideward glance at Blade, who scowled at him, before turning his attention back to Manny.
“If I offended you, please accept my apology. That was never my intent,” he justified.
Having regained control, Manny took his seat.
Blade made his way around the desk, confirming the grievous position in which Mr. Dietz now found himself.
“I find myself constantly clarifying for you,” Manny stated as he crossed his arms.
“Your interest in my wife’s well-being has now come to an end. Her wishes are no longer your concern, they are mine, and I will decide what actions will, or will not be, of benefit to her. Have I made myself clear?” He tilted his head in Blade’s direction. “…or do I need to convince you?” he asked.
Blade lifted the knife and placed the tip of it under his chin. A drop of blood inched its way down until it dripped off the handle onto his forearm. He sneered, his expression holding Mr. Dietz in his place with malignant fear.
“I understand perfectly, Mr. Vallega,” he said, a tremor in his voice. “I will do whatever you want. The business holdings of your wife are, rightfully, your concern. You have Power of Attorney. That gives you the right.”
Manny’s demeanor took a complete turn.
“Wonderful!” He clapped his hands together expressing his delight. He then stood, indicating this meeting had come to a conclusion. He continued talking as he made his way to the office door.
“Please have the properties sold within two weeks,” he said.
Shocked, Mr. Dietz sat openmouthed at the unrealistic expectation.
“I can’t do it in that amount of time! Two weeks? Mr. Vallega, how do you…” he started.
Manny stopped long enough to give him a hard look.
“Another problem Mr. Dietz?” he asked. “If I were you, I would rethink your answer.”
Manny and Blade waited for a response.
“No sir,” he meekly replied. “It won’t be a problem.”
“Good. Then we won’t have a problem,” Manny answered.
Breathe.
Just… breathe.
It was the one action she needed to take and yet her body wouldn’t obey. Her weakened lungs continued to expunge air. She was under attack- only this time the monster came from within. The entity which tortured her took no physical form, instead alternating its attack by decimating some sensations and exacerbating others.
She was in hell.
She… was… in… hell!
A deathly cocktail of fear and incapacitation was slowly snaking its way through her body. Beginning at her head, a vertigo slapped viciously. She’d lost her grip on the blanket. It seemed to flutter to the ground in slow motion as she held to the
railing. Frozen in place, both by frigid air and cowardice, a crisp dose of fear invaded her body. It twisted like an icy knife deep inside her chest. Unannounced and unwelcome, it was a sneak attack—a sucker punch. Seconds dragged like hours and became the enemy as she fought the anxiety and panic. They blistered reality, igniting every cell until they blazed with agitation.
Her mind told her to run, but there was no escaping this intimate fear. The past months of healing became insignificant and worthless as the terror held her in its grip. She didn’t know what was happening—only that it WAS happening. All at once, helplessness mixed with hopelessness to create a deadly poison. It infected her. It burned away the fragile shell of security and held her common sense hostage. She could process only one thought.
She was going to die.
Struggling against the magnitude of the moment, her mind writhed in agony. Any semblance of peace Carter had helped her to cultivate now fell away. She was asphyxiated by the effects of adrenaline. Irrational fear molested and bitch- slapped her into submission. It ripped and tore at her confidence, destroying what little remained piece by piece Dread punched relentlessly at her diaphragm and made her vomit. As excessive perspiration met cold air she shivered, yet her head burned. Common sense translated to nonsense. She was unable to hold a rational thought as the predator divided and multiplied. She couldn’t hold a collective, consoling thought. Unable to decipher what was real or unreal the beast destroyed reason. It left realistic comprehension in tatters.
Finally, she was able to suck in a long breath. The frosty air made her lungs burn, but she continued to gasp, afraid she would get no more. Pulling herself up the steps, the door became her goal. Safety could be found on the other side.
Here/Now Page 19
