Shakira went over to a stack of letters on her kitchen counter. She hadn’t packed them, didn’t want them, but couldn’t bring herself to throw them out either. She picked one, walked back and showed him the envelope.
"This is the note I sent telling you, you were going to be a father." She touched her finger to the word "refused" written across the front in bold print.
"Miranda should’ve told me."
"I swore Miranda to secrecy. She’d talk you into contacting me. Yes, I wanted you in my life, but only if you wanted to be there, not out of obligation."
"I’d have come and not out of obligation. Whatever our problems, I’d try to be a good father. I certainly wouldn't have let you deal with the miscarriage by yourself."
"Jack was a big help."
His expression tightened. "Are you sleeping with him?"
Astounded and offended, Shakira debated whether to respond with words or a heavy object and a bash to his skull. "You got some bollocks. Let me give you the two-pronged answer. First, it’s none of your business. Second, do you really think after a miscarriage I’m itching to go hot and sweaty between the sheets?”
On the verge of telling him to leave, “God damn you,” came out instead.
He lifted his palms in mock surrender. "Sorry-"
"Oh no, you don’t. There’s no, King’s X, sorry I asked," she said, forcefully talking over him. She threw the unopened letter down. From another stack on the side counter, she grabbed a handful of magazines. “Hold out your hands."
He did and she laid the magazines one-by-one onto his outstretched arms. All were folded to specific pages.
"You have the balls to question me. Now it’s my turn. Should we start at the beginning? Here you are with a blonde model days after your return." She let him get a good look then flipped the magazine onto the sofa and pointed to the next photo. "This one you're with a redhead from some soap opera." Shakira cocked her head and tossed the magazine, "No one can say you're not egalitarian in your tastes, here we have a brunette wannabe of some kind. Shall I go on?"
Alex took the rest from her and laid the pile on the coffee table. "I can't deny those first weeks I buried myself in as many women as possible. I didn't want to remember the good things between us, the love. I wanted to forget what it felt like to be with you. It didn't work. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone in awhile."
Alex shoved his hands in his pockets. For a man with the confidence of a bull elephant he looked hesitant. Finally, he conceded, "I had no right to ask about Jack. At the end of the day it doesn't matter," he said low and with finality.
If it didn’t matter to him, then why say he was here to ‘claim his wife?’ It was just something he told Jack. Why come other than for retribution for his hurt, the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart?
She wrongly thought herself beyond any pain he could dish out. Shakira held her breath and concentrated on not allowing tears to form while she counted to ten and released the breath. She turned away to wrap the few porcelain figures left unpacked focusing on the mundane task.
"Why are you here, Alex? That was the original question."
"I told you. I've come to claim my wife."
"So, you told Jack. What's the real reason?"
"Isn't that reason real enough?"
"What do you need Alex? Do you need to see the flood of tears? What?"
The fragile figurine slipped from her fingers and landed in a nest of wrapped items. In spite of her efforts, tears brimmed and quivered on top of her lower lashes for a split second then streamed down. She wiped at her runny nose with a piece of packing tissue and reached for another to use on her cheeks.
Gentle hands drew her into his arms and embraced her. He dabbed at her nose, her cheeks and upper lip with a handkerchief. "Don't cry Rocky. I’m sorry I’ve made such a cock-up of this. I know I’ve hurt you. For awhile I meant to. I ached, and I wanted you to ache too, so I sent your notes back unopened. But, I didn’t feel better for it. I didn’t miss you less.
"I wake up some mornings, forget, and roll over expecting to hold my wife...expecting to breathe and have her feminine scent mingled with the scent of warm linens and the musty fragrance of our lovemaking surround me. I miss having her to talk to. Some nights I come home desperate to share a funny moment that occurred. But my wife's not there to enjoy it with me. I long to hear the variance in her laughter, the way she can giggle like a girl, or laugh out loud, throaty and deep. I miss her passion, the way she moves, her soft moans of pleasure. I even miss her snoring. I want my wife back.”
Shakira, hearing words she despaired of ever hearing, stared in shocked silence. She didn’t want to interrupt him. He was on a roll and it sounded great to her.
"I didn't come to fight. I came for answers."
He stopped dabbing at her tears. Still keeping her in his loose embrace, the proud man she always knew returned. The hesitant man of a few minutes ago gone.
"I need a reason to hang on Rocky, or heaven help me, a reason to let go.
"Marry me. Be my wife in this world and have no doubts, this is really, truly married. I was a fool to ever suggest we were anything less." He held her face in his hands and laid a soft kiss on her lips. "I love you, Mrs. Guiscard. Marry me, and let me love you as Mrs. Lancaster."
"Repeat that," Shakira said.
"Which part?"
"All of it."
"Only if you give me four or five decades to do it."
"Only four or five? I'm shooting for six."
Epilogue
Shakira adjusted the velvet band of her headpiece. “How does my hair look in the back?”
"You’re the only woman I know who hasn't planned every detail of her wedding," Miranda said as she tugged a few more strands of Shakira's hair through the headpiece.
"I did most of it, as you know since you were my forced labor,” Shakira said and checked her hair in the mirror. “I love that Alex had my medieval wedding dress copied by the costumers for Ian’s shows. He even remembered the mesh veil."
Shakira pulled the sides of the gown’s skirt out and swung her hips back and forth in front of the full-length mirror. She glanced at Miranda’s reflection. “Do you like your dress?” The costumers had created a medieval dress for Miranda too, in indigo blue and bronze. Basil’s family colors and by extension, Ian’s.
"Yes, except all this material makes me feel fat."
"You look fab. Ian will be dazzled."
"That's only fair. He dazzles me all the time. Of course, between you and Alex, I don't know who has more stars in their eyes." Miranda hugged her friend. "Outside of Ian and me, I can't think of two people more suited to one another. Are you sticking with the plan to live at the cottage?"
"Yes."
"There aren't many women who'd agree to living so far from town, not when they have a fantastic flat in London. Alex has more money than he can ever spend and you have to admit the cottage is on the simple side."
"I don't miss the city. We have our music, which we love, books galore, and conversation. We have fields of green as far as the eye can see and hills dotted with fat sheep. On clear days we have a view of the Vales of Berkeley and Gloucester. What we don't have is smog or the pounding of jack hammers. We have the whinny of happy horses instead of the blare of car horns at all hours." Miranda gave her a curious look. "What?"
"Interesting description, except for a few modern amenities at the cottage, you could be describing Elysian Fields."
Shakira didn't comment.
Miranda sat in the window embrasure. "Ian said you invited Oliver Gordon. Why?"
"Why not? When I had no idea what to do to help Alex, Dr. Gordon gave me direction and hope. Out of gratitude, Alex donated a hundred acres to Oliver's research group, twenty-five in each direction from the outcropping. Lord knows, we don't need to own the tricky lightning attractor. Gordon is no fool. He accepted gleefully and had the good sense not to ask any difficult questions."
Hoof beats sounded on the pavement of the courtyard b
elow, Miranda moved the drapery aside and leaned her head out the window. "Ahh...I think your ride is here," she said with a quirky smile.
"I heard a horse. Something's up, I can tell from your silly grin."
Shakira started for the window, but Miranda stopped her. "I see my ride has also arrived, time for us to go." She hooked Shakira by the elbow and led her out the door before she could get a peek into the courtyard.
"What’s going on?"
Miranda remained silent as they walked outside.
Shakira’s eyes widened at the sight of Thor. "Oh, my God. He can't mean for me to ride Thor to the church. How are you getting there?"
"I'm going ahead in the car. Come on." Miranda urged a doubtful Shakira over to the big stallion.
Attendants assisted Shakira mount and settle into the saddle in spite of her protests. Miranda straightened the skirt of the wedding gown, draping it over Thor’s matching caparison. When she finished, she hurried over to the awaiting limo and drove off. Shakira followed, being led by a tuxedoed young man she recognized as one of Alex’s sound engineers.
In front of the church, six men in tunics of ruby red and grey with a swan emblazoned sat atop of matching black Percherons that included Eclipse. Miranda, who was waiting, shook her head and shrugged.
“I can dismount,” Shakira told the new attendants. She’d wrestled with bulky gowns during her time in the middle ages and grown quite adept at maneuvering in them.
At the top of the steps, she and Miranda were escorted inside behind the horsemen who carried torches into the church. Fascinated, they watched as three knights went to the left and three to the right. Each man stopped beneath a bracketed torch on the side walls and lit it. Then, in unison, the Percherons executed a half-pirouette and the riders exited.
Alex and Ian stood side-by-side at the altar. Alex’s tunic matched the torch bearers, while Ian wore a blue one with a leopard rampant on the front. As Shakira linked her arm through her father’s, Alex set the Guiscard wedding chalices onto the altar, bowed his head to his bride, and stepped back.
End
If you enjoyed Chris Karlsen’s Journey in Time please look for Book 1
Heroes Live Forever available now at Books to Go Now
Heroes Live Forever
Elinor Hawthorne has inherited a house that is haunted by the ghosts of two medieval knights, Basil Manneville and Guy Guiscard. Basil is the man of her dreams, her knight in shining armor. She falls in love with him and he with her. Basil soon realizes she needs to live a normal life, a happy life with a mortal.
A lifetime passes and fate intervenes. Basil, still in love with Elinor, is told she lives again. He’s given another chance at life to find her.
Excerpt:
A man stood a few feet away. At least what was visible looked like a man. He appeared to be a knight, similar to the one in her favorite painting, except semi-transparent. He wore mail and a dark blue surcoat with a leopard embroidered on it in bronze silk. Tall, with shoulder length hair, in the soft lamplight, his eyes were as black as his hair.
“Milady...”
Journey in Time (Knights in Time) Page 30
