Authors: Cristiane Serruya
“Oh, aye? When she does, call me over,” Alistair joked and laughed at Alice’s humph.
“Your sister is a wonderful wife, a gentle, and exceptional mother.” Leonard smiled angelically, first at his wife then at Alistair. “But, thank God, she is not this crazy!”
“Ah! I heard that!” Sophia exclaimed, from her place beside Alistair.
“Isn’t that what you are?” He raised a blond eyebrow and made a point, looking around at the small party she had planned and organized with so much love.
“She is crazy, Leo,” Alistair grinned at her, pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.
“Boys!” Lachlann admonished. “Stop teasing Sophia.”
Sophia smiled at her protective and dear father-in-law, who had fully dressed as Merlin to please Gabriela. She whispered loudly to him, “To you, I confess. I’m crazy. Definitively. Crazy in love with your son.”
Ells Halls.
Saturday, February 26
th
, 2011.
2.59 p.m.
There was no sunshine through the clouds and the snow of the previous days still covered in a thin lay the path.
Still, the morning had dawned in tranquil hues of pink, tingeing the thin clouds that smudged the pale gray sky at the outlying edge of the grove.
The green foliage and woodland creatures foraging in the bramble made a completely different scene from the dark one the death of Nathalie’s anniversary.
Alistair had his arm over Sophia’s shoulders while they walked through the grove. Without realizing it, he had started squeezing it around her neck as they approached the crypt and the catacombs entrance.
She was almost certain he would have been suffocating her if her daughter hadn’t suddenly halted as she saw the large and tall old white limestone crypt, making them almost stumble on her.
“Are you sure it is here?” She looked up confused at Alistair. “It’s a house!”
While the crypt was smaller, reserved for the Marquises and their wives, the wide, tall, underground catacombs held tombs of miscellaneous relatives.
“Here is the crypt,” said Sophia gently. “Down below are the catacombs.”
“These are not ca-ta-tombs,” Gabriela replied, slowly testing the difficult word, looking at her mother. “I know real ca-ta-bom—” And just like her mother, the little girl stomped her little foot on the ground. “
Cata pente, cata caveira
, search
qualquer coisa
.”
Despite herself, Sophia burst out laughing.
“
Cata caveira
?” Alistair raised an eyebrow at his wife.
What the hell is that?
Without explaining the mix of languages Gabriela did, Sophia dropped to her haunches, smiling. “All right, little girl. You don’t pick up or search for combs, skulls or whatever in catacombs. Not every cata-
combs
is the same. Catacombs is an underground cemetery.”
“But, Mama, in Rome there were skulls. I thought you said they were tombs for the skulls. Skulls have hair that needs combing.”
Oh, my!
Stifling another laughter, she replied, “Hmm… yes. I guess you are partially right. But I also explained how the word changed to catacombs and stayed like this.”
Sophia saw her daughter tilt her head to the side trying to remember the lesson in the Roman catacombs and chided herself.
She was only three, Sophia. Come on.
Her smile grew tender. “Seems I forgot to. I’ll tell you later, okay?”
“Okay.” Gabriela ran to the entrance but stopped when Alistair shouted for her to wait for them. To kill time, she started looking for four-leaved clovers.
Alistair turned to Sophia, horrified. His ink-black eyebrows were high on his forehead. “Tell me you didn’t take Gabriela to the Roman catacombs.”
“I did. Don’t ask me why. I was crazy in the head.” She flicked an elegant hand in the air, dismissing the issue.
More than you can ever know.
You certainly were.
He was shocked. “What did she think of it?”
Sophia grinned. “She thought it was funny, she was only three. I was depressed and alone. I took a week off in Rome with the girls. Of course, Valentina invented something weird and we went along with it. They made Gabriela and I laugh with their boos and explanations of skulls needing combing and other odd things.”
Those crazy twins.
“Spare me these sisters of yours.” He rolled his eyes heavenward and motioned with his head to the entrance beside the crypt. “Shall we?”
She realized she was stalling because she was scared. Of what he could do and of how she would behave. She was also in love with the dead little girl and she would have to control herself too.
Sophia knew that in the soft sunlight that slanted in through small glass windows above, the catacombs were a completely different place from the one she found Alistair in on Nathalie’s anniversary. They were tall and wide, all done in white washed limestone. Even its rushed daily echo had a serenity that was incompatible with grief.
They had been there together for the whole two previous weekends, making their way to the very end of it; each time passing the iron fence which separated the adult tombs area from where the children were buried, working together until Nathalie’s grave was a beautiful, gentle grave, appropriate for a sweet little girl.
Alistair had been silent for the first hours and then he started to talk. Small details at first until the dam broke. He told her all about Nathalie’s preferences; laughed remembering funny stories; worked with her in a companionable silence; cried for long hours with his head burrowed on her stomach; cursed when she cut her hand gluing an angel over a sharp point, and fought with her when she continued working with a mere shrug.
And they bonded even more.
The day before, when they arrived, they went there to glue the plaque.
That had been the hardest part to do.
He wrote and re-wrote his words until he thought he was finally done.
Just to start it all over again.
He wrote long letters and beautiful poems. But in the end, he convinced himself it was best to keep it simple.
Those last days had been exhausting. Draining. And renewing.
But yet, there was his ever-lasting ache.
“You will not be alone,” she assured him quietly. “You don’t have to
feel
it all alone.”
“It still hurts so much.”
“I think it will always,” she whispered, winding her arms around him, trying to understand the sorrow and ache and feeling unable. One thing she was sure about, he needed her help. “I will be here for you.”
Her love, caresses and fierce whisper made its way through body, settling his nerves. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “I’m okay, Sophia. I’ve cried enough these last few days.” His healing hand framed her face and she leaned on it, closing her eyes, in that gesture of trust that moved him so much. “I’ve been feeling so many emotions lately that I’m sure I’ve been on a high-speed roller-coaster. You, you’ve been my security belt. You have no idea how much I love you, Beauty. I think you’ve found a way to dry my tears. At least, the torrential ones.”
All right.
She gripped his hand in hers, squeezing. “Gabriela, Angel, let’s go.”
“‘
So young and gone to Heaven, my angel called Nathalie rests here in peace. Sleep well, my sweet one, sleep well. Alive in my heart, your light is. I will always love you. Your father, Alistair Connor.
’”
“She was an angel?” Gabriela asked her mother as she eyed the little angels and camellias.
As you are.
Sophia blinked to whisk away the tears and cleared her throat. “She is your Daddy’s angel, as Gabriel is yours. So, from now on, you have two guardian angels in Heaven, Gabriela. Your father and your older sister.”
Oh, Sophia.
Another silent tear rolled down his face as he stood beside Gabriela.
“That’s nice… Two guardian angels,” Gabriela whispered softly, as if she understood the seriousness of the whole moment. She put her hand in Alistair’s and offered, “I can share my father with you so you’ll also have two.”
He clamped down his lips to stifle a sob.
How I love you all.
Suddenly, an epiphany hit Alistair, leaving him dizzy with an explosion of inner light and warmth.
He could hear the wise souls recite Shakespeare’s
Macbeth
for him:
‘Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.’
He closed his eyes as an incredible peace took hold of his soul.
Here. Here lies my invincible summer.
In my overt love for Mother, Nathalie, Gabriela and Sophia. For my whole family.
In my ever-lasting capacity to love, and respect for the ones that really loved me, and the ones that still do, not letting my heart break, not leaving me alone. Not letting me down.
For you all, my invincible summer will always shine.
Atwood House.
11.41 p.m.
The full moon made the shadow of the tall and broad man even longer and thinner as he crossed the back garden. The warm breath from his mouth formed clouds in the air. Before anyone could see, he located the device on the house wi-fi system and unplugged it, shoving it in his pocket.
He passed a hand over his cropped hair, thinking of how he was going to unplug all the other devices from the TV and telephone lines.
Silently, he strode to the door at the back of the garden and punched in the code.
When he closed it behind him, a beep sounded on the control panel guarded by the outside bodyguard, who immediately scanned the videos.
The outside bodyguard saw an orange slash of body heat against the purple background. A grown male was moving away from the house. He typed on his computer and breathed relieved.
It was just Devon going out.
Chapter 27
Atwood House.
Tuesday, March 1
st
, 2011.
8.09 a.m.
Alistair and halted in the middle of the room.
He looked at his Patek Philipe watch and at the bed, frowning. He had not got the wrong impression. It really was Sophia’s body under the covers, still soundly asleep.
He threw his jacket on the armchair and in two steps had a hand over her forehead. She was not sweating, or feverish. She was looking utterly fresh, with her dark-red lips slightly parted in breathing.
He shook her shoulder gently. “Beauty. Wake up.”
She inhaled deeply and half opened her eyes, closing them again. “What time is it? I’m sleepy.”
“Time to wake up, sweetheart,” he sat patiently at the edge of the bed, running his fingers through her long hair. He loved the silky feeling and the raven color of it. “Both you and I have therapy sessions in an hour and you are still disheveled.”
She smiled at his teasing. “I was having such a nice dream.”
He let out a deep laugh as if he knew she had been dreaming about him. “I want to hear all about your dream later, but you have to get up. Now.”
She crinkled her nose at him, but complied. Stretching her arms over her head and giving her head a brisk shake, Sophia opened more alert eyes to see him smiling down at her smugly. She rolled her eyes at her husband. “Lord I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it.”
His smile turned into a smug grin as he threw back the covers and took her in his arms to her bathroom. “At your service, Marchioness.”
London, Heathrow Airport, On the tarmac.
By Ethan Ashford’s G650.
Wednesday, March 2
nd
, 2011.
9.24 a.m.
I love this little girl and this big man. I love that he cares about her as if she were his own flesh and blood and that she adores him. I love the passionate effect he has on me and I have on him.
Sophia’s feelings were so overwhelming that it hurt her to leave Alistair and Gabriela, but she knew that the three of them belonged to each other and that it would just be a matter of days. She squeezed her daughter between herself and Alistair as his hands roamed over her back, trying to infuse some certainty into her.
“Mama, bring me a doll with a sari, please,” Gabriela asked as Sophia passed her to Alistair’s arms.
“I will bring you many presents. Be a good girl. Obey Alice when you’re with her and don’t have any more flour fights, okay?”
“Oh…” Gabriela blushed, as if she had been thinking of doing exactly this. Then she bobbed her head. “Okay, Mama. I’ll be a good girl.”
“Don’t keep calling Alistair Connor when he is working, you’ll disturb him. Call only if you need, all right?”
You’ve said enough, Sophia. Gabriela is a good girl.
“She never disturbs me, Sophia. She is my Fairy.” He turned to Ethan.
She is mine, you bastard.
With a serious tone, he said, “Ashford, you take care of my wife.”
I will. She is my best friend.
“I will, MacCraig, don’t worry. You have one more minute, Sophia,” Ethan informed. He followed Ashley, Zahira and Scott up the stairs and inside the plane, leaving them alone to say a last goodbye.
“Enjoy your trip, Mama,” said Gabriela.
“I will. I love you, Angel,” she replied and kissed both of her cheeks again. Turning to Alistair, she embraced his waist, “I love you, Alistair Connor. I’ll miss you both a lot.” She was almost giving up the whole idea of going to India.
I love you too.
“Go. And come back quick.” He kissed her on her lips lightly.
I’ll miss you too. More than you can imagine.
On her tip-toes, she glued her closed lips to his, feverishly.
Don’t be silly, Sophia. You’re a grown woman.
Without a word, she turned and ran up the stairs, her light pink overcoat billowing behind her. She turned to wave a hasty goodbye, before ducking inside the plane.