Rifta gave her a salute with his cup, “Your birthday, it was a surprise, yes?” he asked.
“It was a marvelous surprise but we missed you, Rifta,” Toni said.
“No, we see him all the time. You were not missed and you made up for your absence by acting like a clown in front of the daughters,” Mishael said grumpily.
“I watch the party on the security cameras, no? Yes, I did,” Rifta said.
“Oh, you turned on the cameras? Well, then you did get to attend, virtually! How was it?” Toni asked.
“I enjoyed myself. Yes, the food was real. - Good too. Now? I am hungry all over again,” he said. Mishael murmured an agreement.
“I will make something to eat. My girls will want something before they leave for Wilmington. Would you like breakfast or lunch?” Toni asked as she opened the refrigerator to examine the available grub. It was decided: Omelets. Toni called up to the apartment on the house speaker phone. Merry was hungry. Kate was not.
Hugh? Toni asked about him. “Has your Cousin Huram eaten, Mishael?”
“He was gone when I got up,” he answered. Toni began her therapy by turning on the flame beneath the skillet. Next would be cracking, grating and beating or perhaps, merely mixing vigorously.
Rifta said, “I think he goes to Nelson’s.” In response, Toni decided after the cracking, she would be beating and whipping the eggs. “I am up when he came downstairs, yes? He mad... very mad. He throw his shirt down and then he took keys and then…” Rifta snapped his fingers. “He go.” Toni followed Rifta’s glance toward the offending shirt, crumbled on a chair. From where she stood behind the counter, the red lipstick was visible across the room.
Angry, was he?
Had Hugh discovered the reason for last night’s revulsion?
Well, now… wondered Toni but she said, “Hmmm, he will probably have eaten. I will make something extra, just in case.” She gently mixed the eggs after all and called the girls again.
It was a considerably late breakfast and not precisely an early lunch, as they didn’t sit down until after one o’clock. Hugh was a no-show and Rifta finished the extra food Toni had prepared.
Toni unwrapped her gifts before the girls left. There were wind chimes from Ruth; a wristwatch from the Nelsons and a handful of other thoughtful items. One small elongated package caught Toni off-guard. A worn silver tube emerged from the tissue wrapping.
Toni looked at Merry. “Your father’s lucky space pen!” Merry nodded and passed it to Rifta who examined it and then passed it on to Mishael.
“Yes,” she said. “I hiked up to that favorite spot of yours and searched about. I didn’t find it the first time but when I went again taking the dogs with me. Blondie found it,” Merry explained. Besides returning the lost pen, Merry along with Kate bought Toni a gift certificate from one of their favorite clothing boutiques, as they always felt their mother was hopelessly out of step with fashion. Dale and Anna bought her a travel bag, a piece of a practical, expensive set they had been incrementally giving her; Christmas, Mother’s Day and this third piece for her birthday. Rifta and Mishael took them all into the garage to show the prince’s gift for Toni. It was a jet-ski!
“A first-rate surfing coach needs a jet-ski.” Mishael explained seriously but added, “It is a lot of fun, as well.”
A few minutes later, as Kate kissed her mother’s cheek, she said, “Wow, what a summer job… I’ll keep you and them in prayer.” Toni smiled and nodded. She knew if she tried to talk she would cry.
Merry drawing her first word out, said, “Mom… you’ve got it made. See you in August but I’ll e-mail tonight with news about the swell.” Toni kissed Merry’s forehead and then turned back to her doorway. She waved as they disappeared, driving their airport rental car around to the front of the house. Mishael and Rifta had wandered back inside the main house.
Toni needed a nap.
About an hour before sunset, the four of them went to the Beachcomber. It was an awkward drive for Toni but she sensed it was uncomfortable for Hugh too. She wondered at this because he hadn’t seemed ill at ease the night before at dinner.
Lipstick on the collar... That would do it.
As usual, Toni sat in the front with Rifta as he drove. Her face went red as she thought of the unbecoming scene from the previous evening when she tried to press across the gravel barefoot with Hugh then picking her up, and carrying her to her doorstep.
She replayed the entire evening several times but that final drama took the prize, scattering the joy she amassed up until she spotted the red lipstick. Hugh’s final words about remembering her at her own wedding made Toni want to come clean…”Hey, I was the trespasser! It was me! Hot and sweaty, standing in the water. I am not the woman you saw here or there,” she wanted to tell him. Toni decided that the mealtime conversation might be clumsy as she sat across the table from Hugh tonight.
Billie was standing on the boardwalk facing the ocean. Mishael went over and leaned against the rail next to him. Hugh was the last coming up the stairs and when he saw Mishael and Billie, he said, “Rifta, get us a table.” Hugh went over to Mishael but Toni turned and went in with Rifta.
It was crowded and there was a wait. Rifta said, “You should be out there, no?” Suddenly, Toni was aware of her pistol worn this evening under her pink hoodie for easy access. Toni nodded and knew it was true; they had agreed that one of them needed to be near Mishael at all times when away from the house.
The water was almost flat and slate grey from the setting sun behind them. Toni stood before the wooden rail next to Billie. The fishermen on the pier were silhouetted against the sky and two surfers were bobbing gently, hoping for a fantasy set before they came in for the day. She longed to take an extended, meditative walk on the beach and forego dinner but in good conscious she could not.
Later as Toni opened her windows and shut off the air conditioner, following her normal night-time routine, she reflected that the dinner was not as difficult as she expected. Hugh was civil but not cold and Mishael kept the conversation flowing because Billie mentioned an amatuer surfers’ competition that was to be held in August. Mishael’s excitement was more annoying than contagious. The third time asking Toni, if she thought he would be ready to participate “and win” she answered unintentionally with a deep gut-wrenching sigh.
“Mishael, your youth and enthusiasm to learn should most definitely prepare you to be a contestant and perhaps yes, even a winner.” Toni smiled at him and then looked blandly to Hugh as she habitually did numerous times in days gone by for a conformational nod, Hugh was simply watching her. He gave no response verbally or otherwise. Embarrassed by her unspoken reliance on him, she looked away quickly. In hindsight, Toni never guessed or remembered her tell-tale sigh which triggered his contemplative look.
Toni’s thoughts were interrupted with Merry’s text concerning her personal surfer’s report. Summed up, all week until the 4th of July, there would be no swell. A becalmed forecast for surfing.
No matter, Toni was gruelingly efficient in Mishael’s training. Mishael ate it up especially now that the 3rd Forecastle Annual Surf Contest was his aim. It was a windfall situation for Toni because of Mishael’s determination and zeal. There was a transformation in his willingness to take direction and to be taught. His casual desire to learn to surf before his tour concluded was amped-up to a fever pitch. The two day contest would be held a few days before he was due to return to D’Almata. As Mishael’s 18th birthday was the official end of his year abroad and he needed to be home in preparation for the national celebration.
Chapter 17
On July 4th Toni was taking the three men to a restaurant with a deck to watch the renowned Wilmington fireworks. At Billie Cliff’s suggestion, she had made reservations the day she arrived in June. They would have dinner and afterwards, watch the celebration with dessert.
As it had been all week, Toni and Mishael were exhausted by nightfall. The meal was superb and the firework display was wo
nderfully whimsical for Toni. The men enjoyed the sight but especially the bombardment of sound and explosive color at the grand finale. This was too much day for Toni and on the return trip, she slept.
She awoke as the motion light behind the house fell across her face.
Straightening up, Toni said, “Oh, that was quick.”
Rifta chuckled.
Hugh came around and opened her door. He said to Rifta, who stood on the other side of the car, “Help Toni upstairs. She is too tired.” Rifta came around assisting her out of the car and up the steps. When he left, Toni slumped down of the couch and kicked off her shoes. She hadn’t bothered to turn on the light and she would have fallen asleep right then except Merry called.
Toni pulled her feet up on the couch and made herself comfortable while Merry gave her the wave conditions for tomorrow.
“Mom, it looks to be a banner day. It’s about time! Of course, something could change. The tide must be factored but that hurricane forming off Bermuda will be sending some nice size waves your way and you’ll have a steady offshore wind until about 9-9:30 in the morning. After tomorrow the swell will continue to grow… probably out of Mishael’s league,” Merry reported.
Thanking Merry, mother told daughter to go watch the fireworks. Dark was barely descending in Santa Fe. They hung up. Toni set her alarm for 5am. She thought about the previous waveless training that Mishael gladly endured and tomorrow’s promising swell. Planning to get up early and see this banner day unfolding, she fell asleep on the couch.
Toni opened her eyes. Her cell phone lay limply in her hand. She tightened her fingers around it. She was on the couch and the moon shining through her skylight lit up select areas of her small living room. The air conditioner was humming but some other noise had awakened her. She prayed noiselessly. A soft click, and Toni imagined her apartment door ten feet behind her, opening. The couch faced the picture window shielding her from the intruder. Tha-thump, tha-thump drummed her heart.
Could he hear it? she wondered. Without moving her head, she looked at her bag sitting uselessly on the coffee table in front of the couch. Opting to leave the Beretta in it, rather than wear the gun because of her tailored shirt, her jaw went tight.
The narrow beam from a flashlight passed above the sofa across the picture window stopping at her bedroom door. A dark figure went by her and Toni watched as he hesitated outside her bedroom door before pushing it open and going in.
Toni realized that once he came back through the door – not finding her in that bedroom, he would check the other two but logically he would do a cursory visual of the apartment first. He wouldn’t need a flashlight as the moon shone bright, satisfactory in exposing Toni on the couch. Sally from Silver’s Studios told Toni during her brief training session to always prefer flight to fight. Toni earnestly agreed with that advice and in this case, she saw it as doable. Rifta was on duty somewhere and flight could buy her some time but she had to move and do so quickly.
Toni sat up and silently hitched her bag on to her back. Cautiously, she maneuvered around to the side of the couch and crouched down barefoot behind the armrest.
Breathe! Remember to breath… breath quietly, she reminded herself. A moment later, the thin flashlight beam panned the room and kitchen inches above her head. Soundlessly, Toni thanked God. She knew He was helping her and a sense of calm confidence enveloped her. The light disappeared and she counted to three before peeking over the armrest. He had gone down the brief hallway to the back bedroom. Toni got up and crossed barefoot to the open apartment door. She imagined the man turning and seeing her and taking chase, but he didn’t see her. The staircase was dark. The garage below had a gloomy glow from the elongated rectangular windows that ran along the top of the metal garage doors.
Toni left her heels behind knowing they wouldn’t be much help but her flip-flops were always left near the door below for coming and going. She scooped them up when she opened the side door. Closing the door again which she hoped would confuse her pursuer she didn’t stop to put on the flip-flops, realizing she must get away.
The kitchen door would be locked and with this in mind, she hurried along in front of the garage doors being careful to duck under the windows. At the edge and along the side of the garage were a row of large blooming Azaleas. They were partially shadowed from the moonlight. The sand was cool on her feet as she left the pavement to skirt the bushes. At the last flowery shrub, Toni slipped on her flip-flops before stooping to get down on all fours. Pulling her bag around to her chest, she climbed beneath the branches of the Azaleas. There was a small cavity between the upper branches and the exterior garage wall. She leaned back. All was quiet but her own breathing, a moderate surf and also the crickets and frogs from the nearby wooded area.
The reassuring cold metal of the .32 barrel met Toni’s hand as she felt about inside her bag but deciding against it she pulled her phone out, instead. Pushing the shortcut for Rifta, her phone lit up. She hid it with the palm of her hand. It rang and rang. Where was Rifta? She wondered as he never let it ring three times.
Hugh was next on her emergency list. She had never called him but she did have his number. On the third ring he picked up but at that moment someone came within her view. Through the dense foliage and in the moonlight she saw movement a foot or two in front of her bush. She hung up. To her right another man came around the beach side of the building and Toni got a healthy glimpse of him.
Neither man was using flashlights which allowed Toni to remain concealed in shadow and shrubbery; even so, she froze. They stopped after meeting up not ten feet from her. Now, Toni couldn’t see them but she could hear them.
Breathe!
Inside the house, Hugh answered his phone and after putting his reading glasses on, his saw that the caller had been Toni. But she hung up. He looked at the time and thought to call her back. Instead, he got up and pulled on his robe. He went to his bedroom window and looked over at the garage. From here he could see her tiny kitchen window. Sometimes the light would be on but at the moment it was not. Hugh went out his bedroom door and slipped on his sandals that were still in the hallway where he left him before he retired for evening, as was D’Almata custom. Looking, Hugh saw that Mishael’s shoes remained outside of his door, as well.
He had started down the stairs, when Rifta came charging from the back hallway. He pulled up short when he saw Hugh on the steps.
“Rifta, what is the trouble?” Hugh demanded.
“Nothing, yes? Maybe not. Toni, she call,” he responded.
“Well, hurry up then. She called me too,” Hugh said.
At the kitchen door, Rifta hesitated looking through the window but seeing nothing in the moon shadows he went out with Hugh at his heels. The garage door was standing open. The motion lights were disabled. Rifta had a brief scan inside and then he signaled with his head toward the steps.
“Too late. I take short look around out here,” he said to Hugh. Not liking his meaning, Hugh pushed past him and took the steps two at a time. Rifta called after him in a loud whisper, “Quiet coming down, yes!”
Hugh entered the carriage house apartment cautiously. He switched on the light but the glare caused him to flick it off again. “Toni, uh are you alright?” Hugh called softly. He went into the bedroom and even in the dark he could see that the bed was not slept in. The other bedroom doors were opened and he hurriedly checked these.
Hugh called Mishael. Like most royals, Hugh hated personal publicity and he would call the police only as a last resort. “Get up!” Hugh ordered Mishael and then he gave the prince a briefing on what was happening. Hugh went downstairs and through the door. He stood in the moonlight for a moment before he heard the distinctive grunting and cuffing of someone fighting. Looking right where the driveway curved around to the front of the house, Hugh saw the scuffle. Three men tumbled in and out of the shadows. Bosnian curses mixed with English grunted forth from the fight. Hugh ran towards them and when he was near he shouted, “The police
have been called and I have a gun.” He used this ruse once before and it had worked. Once again, his ploy succeeded.
One of the dark figures pushed another one, yelling, “Leave her! Let’s go!” Another figure who emerged momentarily out of the shadows before shaking off Rifta, Hugh saw was wearing blue-jeans and his T-shirt was ripped. The second man darted after the other. Rifta would have followed but Hugh called him off. Halting in the gravel, the Bosnian doubled over to get his breath. Hugh ignored him and began methodically pacing back and forth. It didn’t take long before he found Toni lying silently in the shadowed grass. There was a sweatshirt tied tightly over her head and shoulders. For a moment Hugh tried to unknot it but opted to take her inside first.
“Come on Rifta. I found her,” Hugh called over his shoulder.
Hugh laid Toni on a couch and when the lights came on Mishael came down stairs. Hugh asked for his knife and Mishael brought it forth. The sweatshirt was cut away. Toni looked abnormally pale. She was unconscious.
Using a D’Almata expletive that would have peeled moss from the old castle walls, Hugh yelled at Mishael, “Get her a cushion!”
Rifta had taken off his shirt and was wiping his face with it. He tossed his bloody T-shirt next to the gutted sweatshirt on the floor. “Let me see. I know, yes. Get water,” he told Hugh.
Hugh hurried to the kitchen while Rifta checked Toni’s vitals. There were scratches on her right arm. Mishael brought a sofa pillow from another couch.
Hugh returning with bottled water, grabbed the pillow and flung it across the room. He yelled again at Mishael, “She is not a troll. Get a small cushion!”
Rifta stood up. “Give water… a little bit. She okay. She wake up,” he said to Hugh and then hurried off to the back office.
Rifta manipulated the outside surveillance cameras. He spotted the two men as they left the property. They were jogging along about twenty feet apart. First the one and then the other disappeared from the camera’s eye. He scanned the rest of the property. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Rifta plucked up another shirt and then rejoined the others.
Cynic, Surfer, Saint (Scenic Route to Paradise #1) Page 14
