“Yeah he’s wonderful, but his daddy right now is in the dog house.”
She asked why.
“We just had our—our first fight,” I sobbed. “I really don’t want to discuss it right now. I need a—a nap.” Okay, technically this wasn’t our first fight, but it was the first one where no one influenced the reason we were fighting. This was strictly an issue between the two of us. “I’m okay. I’m going to stay out in the apartment for a while, at least until he and I can see eye to eye on a couple things. Love you, Mom. Bye.”
I crawled onto the bed, put a pillow between my knees, one under my head and another one hugged to my breast with Micah’s undershirt pressed to my cheek as I inhaled and closed my eyes. When I woke up, I was thinking I had slept until evening, but it didn’t take too long being conscious to know why it was dark outside as I heard the rumble of nearby thunder. The wind had picked up, and I was wishing I was in the main house, but the rain was already falling and the lightening was popping so I’d just have to stay where I was until the storm blew over.
I was still unbelievably upset as I kept seeing Micah standing there with his guns strapped to his sides and that cold look in his eyes. The lightning struck somewhere nearby and I flinched. The thunder clapped so hard that the windows shook. The one light that had been on when I lay down flickered and then went out. The power was off. I curled into a smaller ball and rubbed my little buddy, wondering how loud the thunder had been when it reached his tender ears.
His tiny hand pushed back against my skin as if he were reaching out to make sure he wasn’t alone.
“It’s okay, little guy, Momma is here for you,” I cooed. Trying to sound calm and soothing when I was hurting and afraid myself.
“And so is Daddy,” came a voice not far over my shoulder.
I didn’t mean to jerk, but he honestly scared me. “Ow!” I was certain it didn’t re-tear the weak muscle, but I did pull it too quickly and was painfully reminded that it hadn’t been healed for very long.
I felt his weight come down on the bed, “Did you pull that muscle again?”
I had a grimace on my face as I rubbed it, “No, just moved it too fast.”
He nuzzled into my neck as his warm hand came around and rubbed it, “I’m sorry, Annalisa.”
I wasn’t sure if he was apologizing about scaring me or if this was about our argument.
“You’re right, baby—the guns have to go, but—”
“There can’t be any buts to this, Micah.”
“It’s not that. I’ll have to either give them to Dad or David, because of—of ballistics.”
I rolled over to look at him.
“They aren’t registered, but they certainly match a lot of unsolved cases. If I turned them into the police, I’m afraid they’d throw away the key on me.”
“Do you really mean it? You’re getting rid of all of them?”
“You’re right. I always thought of them as one of my strengths, but I’m starting to understand they’re part of a weakness inside me. I don’t want them to come between us—nothing should come between us. I want to keep my promises.”
The lightning cracked close by again and I involuntarily twitched.
He gathered me against his body and sighed, “You don’t like the lightening?”
“I love it when I can watch it from a distance. But, when it’s this close, it’s pretty scary.”
“I guess sometimes God has to bring what’s dangerous close enough to remind us that we should be scared—then He reminds us He’s here, too.”
“I love you, Micah. I know making a change isn’t easy for you, but I want you to know that it means so much to me that you’re willing to do it.”
“Before I met you, if someone said I’d be getting rid of my guns, it would have been the same as if they told me I was going to get rid of my arms. Am I willing to do this? No, but I guess I’m learning that becoming this new person means doing what isn’t easy. I’m going to change for you, for our son, and for me.”
There was another brilliant flash outside the French doors and a tremendous boom as the lightning must have hit somewhere in our yard. I let out a little squeal and ducked so deep against his chest muscles I nearly pushed him onto his back. “I’m really glad you decided to come out here, because I’d be terrified if you weren’t.”
He gave a soft laugh, wrapping both arms around me and one leg over me as he cocooned me with his body, “It didn’t take me long to get out here after I watched the weather and saw what was coming. I have an obsession about protecting you, even from Mother Nature. That’s why, when you began to tell me about Jonathan, it raised the hair on the back of my neck and all I could think about was about your prayer, and us being separated again. I went a little over-board.”
“I’d say.”
“But, I still don’t like him. Something isn’t right.”
“Like what?”
“His name for instance.”
“What’s wrong with his nam—” Another burst of lightning, ended my question, but not Micah’s response.
“Rossi is the most common name in Italy. It’s like his name is John Doe.”
“I really do think he’s an architect.”
“Maybe he is, but please, for me, be cautious.”
The rain began pouring in torrents against the building as the lightning seemed to move farther away.
He kissed me slow and deep and then smiled, “It’s going to rain for at least an hour or two. I can think of a few things to take your mind off the storm.”
“Show me,” I teased as I let my hand slide down past his brakes.
The storm was forgotten.
CHAPTER Nine
Micah made good on his newest promise early the next morning as he called the airport and scheduled a private flight home. He was taking his small arsenal out of the house and delivering them to his father. He actually said he would prefer them to be in David’s hands, but since he was trying to convince his brother to give up the life of a hitman, he decided his father would be the better keeper; at least until he could arrange to have someone melt them down. He certainly didn’t want something to happen and have his father get blamed for murder.
The plane wouldn’t be ready until ten and I was telling him I wanted to go with him, but he absolutely refused due to the nature of what he was transporting.
“I’ve been with you when they were in the trunk,” I reminded him.
“Yes, but that couldn’t be helped at the time. I’ll be careful and I’ll be back around six tonight, unless Dad keeps me later, but I’ll call if that happens.” He kissed me and backed out of the garage in my Aston Martin because he couldn’t fit everything into the Vet.
Around eleven o’clock a Federal Express truck pulled up to the house and the driver stepped out with a large cylinder; the house plans had arrived. I called Jonathan and told him that I had them, but we’d have to arrange another day to meet because Micah had the only car he’d allow me to drive (other than Mom’s, but she wasn’t home).
“I could stop by and pick them up, if you like?”
Micah wouldn’t like him showing up here while I was home alone, but Mom would be returning around three, so I told him that would be fine if he could stop by around three-thirty or four o’clock. Mom made it home a little after three and Jonathan pulled in promptly at three-thirty.
“Beautiful home,” he remarked as he climbed out of the Ferrari.
“It’s my mother’s, but thank you. Come on in and I’ll introduce you.”
He nodded and followed me inside. I had the plans out of the tube and unfurled on the dining room table. After introductions, he looked them over and confirmed the changes we wanted. The original plans were for thirty-eight-hundred square feet and four bedrooms with two of the bedrooms sharing a bath. We wanted to add about two-thousand square feet to the plan, an extra bedroom and for each bedroom to be a suite with its own bath.
“Did you two decide about the guest houses?”
he asked as he accepted a bottled water that my mother offered him.
“We decided on two, one is a two bedroom and the other is a three. I’ve ordered the plans and they should be here in a day or two. Can you draw something to give me an idea of the arrangement you were talking about? I haven’t quite got how this common courtyard is going to work.”
“Of course,” he said as he rolled up the plans and placed them back into the mailing tube. “Let me have the plan book so I can get some dimensions and I will put together a site plan. If you and Micah want to keep me as your architect, I really need to go out and see the property as soon as possible so I can get an idea of the landscape.”
We were walking out to his car as we discussed when we might be able to meet there.
“It’s a bit of a drive,” I warned him. “It’s about two and a half hours north of here.”
He gave me a sly smile, “I do not mind driving. And, in my car, the drive might not take that long. You should give it a try.”
I laughed, “Yes, a fast car can make a difference—unless you have a husband who thinks horsepower and motherhood don’t mix.”
“If he does not approve of your Aston Martin, I doubt he would like me tempting you with my Ferrari.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t like that at all. But it’s not my Aston Martin that he doesn’t like me driving.”
I could see the confusion on his face.
“It’s my other car that he doesn’t approve of—a car that I’m afraid would leave your Ferrari in the dust.”
“The Enzo is one of the fastest cars in the world, Leese,” he chided softly.
“Yes, it is one of the fastest, but it’s not the fastest—I have a Shelby Ultimate Aero in that garage.” I stated, pointing to the end door. “And, other than some of the non-street-legal cars on the racing circuit, I can beat anything on the road.”
“Mamma mia! A Shelby? I am a bit of a sports car connoisseur. Would you mind if I took a look at it?”
“Not at all. Just give me a minute to grab my keys.”
Minutes later he was practically salivating over my ‘baby.’ I cranked it up so he could listen to the engine purr—he was clearly impressed.
“I have had my car up to 210 on the Autobahn. How much speed have you gotten out of her?”
“I got it up to 242 on a military airstrip. If I’d had a little more runway, I’d have maxed out over 250.”
“I can see why your husband wants it to stay in the garage, but what good is such a perfect piece of machinery if it is unused? Surely you can control your need for speed around town.”
“I think he’s more worried about me finding someone who wants to race, actually,” I laughed.
“You race?” The surprise was evident.
“Not really, but our first date I ended up racing his car against a—a friend. Ever since then he is certain that if I get behind the wheel, I’ll find someone to challenge me.”
“Well, if he changes his mind and gives you a little freedom with this car, I would love to see what it can do—no racing, of course. That, I agree, in your condition, would be foolish.”
“You know I actually hate it when people call pregnancy a ‘condition.’ It makes it sound like I have a disease.”
“My apology. So you prefer if I say preg—pregnant or expecting?” He blushed slightly.
“Guys have a little trouble with the ‘pregnant’ word, so expecting is okay.”
“My wife said the same thing when she was expecting our daughter—not that she disliked the word condition, but she said I stuttered when I said she was pregnant.”
I had noticed when we met in the bookstore that he didn’t have a ring on his hand, so it caught me off guard when he mentioned his wife.
“I didn’t realize you were married. Is she here in the States?”
He didn’t reply. He turned off the engine and handed me back my keys. His eyes were filling with tears as he stood and lowered the door, “I—I should be going.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, not sure if it was a good idea to be too personable, but he seemed so upset that it was only natural to reach out and touch his arm.
“I am a widower,” he answered quietly.
“I’m so sorry. Was it recent?” Unless Jonathan was older than he looked, surely they couldn’t have been married very long.
“Eight months ago, but,” he said, quickly wiping his eyes and walking out of the garage toward his car, “it feels like it was yesterday. I came here to the U.S. to get away from the memories.”
“So you’re raising your daughter alone?” I didn’t want to be nosy, but he mentioned a daughter.
“No. They were both—both killed by a drunk driver,” he choked out.
Wow—what do you say to someone that has gone through such a tragedy? Sorry was simply too mundane, plain, and inefficient. “It must be so difficult for you to deal with that kind of loss; I can’t even imagine.”
A look crossed his face that I could only describe as intrigued.
“You are the first person to say it that way. Everyone else states it in the past tense; it must have been so difficult. But you said it correctly; it is something that I deal with every day.” He sat down in his car, laying the plan book on the passenger’s seat. “I will call you as soon as I have the renderings ready,” he said softly. “Ciao, Leese.” But there was no energy in the words to tell me goodbye.
Micah didn’t make it in until after nine. When I told him about the plans and Jonathan coming over to pick them up, he wasn’t happy with me.
“I told you to be careful,” he reminded me as we sat on the edge of our bed preparing to undress for a long and relaxing shower.
“I was careful. I didn’t invite him while I was here alone and I didn’t offer to meet him somewhere. I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. He mentioned his wife and—”
“And you believe he’s married?”
He was asking it as a question, but the tone of his voice was telling me that if I did he would be disappointed. “Micah, he’s a widower. He said his wife and daughter were killed by a drunk driver in Italy and he came to the States to get away from the memories. Why would anyone make up that kind of story?”
“To get a beautiful young woman to let her guard down,” he stated, lifting my chin. “A good liar will have you believing anything he says.”
“I don’t think he was lying.”
“My point exactly.”
I thought of Jonathan as sincere, but for some reason Micah still didn’t trust him, and I wasn’t going to simply ignore my husband’s feelings on the matter. “If you are this suspicious about him, then we’ll hire someone else.”
He was studying me for such a long while that I wondered what he was thinking. It seemed like it had been forever since I had gazed intently into his beautiful face, the creamy skin, the gently waved brown hair, the scar above his right eyebrow, and the one across his perfectly shaped chin, but there were also two newer scars that were only about eight months old. There was a vertical scar within his right eyebrow and a hair-thin line along the cheekbone under his left eye. I cupped his face and allowed my thumb to caress the one on his cheek. His long black lashes closed slowly over the limpid green pools and then reopened.
“These are Ryan’s, aren’t they?” I raised my lips to kiss the scar in his eyebrow.
“Yeah, and I’d take a million more of them if I could make yours go away.”
“Mine don’t bother me anymore.”
“They still bother me,” he said it so quietly that it seemed he was speaking only to himself. “Leese, we’ll keep Jonathan a little bit longer. I’ve got someone checking to make sure he’s legit. But, if I find one flaw, he’s done; we’ll hire someone local.”
“Agreed,” I sighed.
“I was expecting more of a fight out of you over this,” he admitted.
“Why? I barely know him.”
“You don’t find him attractive?”
I n
ever saw that line coming. I blinked once, tilted my chin down, and gave him a hard look. Was this whole ‘I’m in the mafia and carry a big gun’ thing because of jealousy? Was Jonathan a good-looking guy? Yeah, but I hadn’t given that a thought until now. How could Micah think that I would even be looking at another guy for those reasons when I had him? My husband wasn’t handsome; he was beautiful, and stunning and—
“Leese?” he had a strange lilt to his voice.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Is that what this has all been about?”
“No,” he responded, but it was a little sheepish. “I just thought that maybe—”
“Micah Gavarreen! Did you honestly think… I didn’t approach him, he approached me!”
“That I can understand why, but—”
“Oh, yeah, sure. I’m one hot, pregnant momma,” I snapped.
He had me down on my back on the mattress in a flash, hovering just above me. “You have no idea what you look like, do you? One smile from your beautiful face sends a tingle through me every time. That sexy, shy glance you do when you’re feeling insecure is like someone removing all the air from my lungs. The expression of wonder that comes over you when the baby moves inside you, is so pure and innocent. I just fall to pieces when I watch you grab someone’s hand to let them touch your stomach because I can’t grasp how much you love the experience of my child inside you. I ask myself every day; why me? Then I see someone like Jonathan, or Ryan, or the guy who bags our groceries, or the stranger who holds a door open for you, or whoever and I wonder when are you going to wake up and realize I’m not worthy to be the person you chose to spend forever with?”
“You know you don’t have the market cornered on jealousy,” I softly answered. “I can’t even imagine you being friends with a woman without falling apart. I see it in women’s faces all the time when we go out together, and it kills me. Don’t you notice the blush that comes over them when you say hello or turn your head their direction? They’re all looking at you and wishing I’d drop dead so someone else could have a turn. I can almost hear their thoughts when they see us and their thinking they’d carry your baby, too—if you’d only ask. But as far as Jonathan goes, no I’m not attracted to him. And you’re right; I’m a sucker for a sad story. I just can’t see any reason for someone to tell that kind of lie.”
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