Welcome Reluctant Stranger

by Evelyn Journey

  “Ugh,” she cried, plopping a pillow on her head, wishing darkness could help vanish painful recollections.

  The dream—the one she held in her heart for nearly twenty years—had been borne out of the good memories of a child who worshipped her loving and fun father. Now that she also knew he had been planning a murder, probably in between telling them stories, she was not sure she could welcome him back with the incredible relief and happiness she used to imagine.

  “Hey, you,” she heard Justin’s voice. “Rise and shine. Can’t you smell all that good stuff? You don’t want it to get cold.”

  Leilani lifted the pillow off her face. Justin stood by the bed, looking down at her. She wiped her moist eyes and said, “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be there.”

  “Oh, my darling, you’ve been crying,” Justin said. He sat on the side of the bed, took a tissue out of the box on the night table, and dabbed her eyes.

  Leilani sat up and took the tissue out of his hand. “Don’t mind me. All that talk last night brought back so many memories.”

  “Well, happy memories may come again. Your father might be back with you sooner than you expect.”

  “I want him to come back, but I’m terrified. He’d see that I hated him. I’d break his heart. But I don’t want him to think that. I do love him, but my hatred is all he might see.”

  She stared at Justin in anguish. He caressed her cheek, his eyes full of sympathy. He seemed at a loss for words.

  But the next instant, Leilani saw the glitter of wicked humor in his eyes.

  He said, “Remind yourself in your worst moments. You, two, came from the same lump of clay—the lump meant for killers. He’s an assassin; you’re an assassin’s daughter.”

  “Oh, Justin, don’t joke like that,” Leilani said, dismayed, although a faint smile broke on her lips.

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist it. It’s morbid humor, I know. Still, I got you out of your funk.”

  “You did.” Leilani slid her legs out of the bed. “Let’s go have some breakfast. Maybe, that’ll make me feel better.”

  *****

  Justin went online soon after breakfast, while Leilani was doing dishes. He had earlier done some search on Costa Mora, when he learned of its long history of political and social unrest, including daily violent clashes between warring political factions. Those clashes escalated into a civil war shortly after the Torres family fled the country.

  His interest, this time, was on the country’s prison system, particularly for individuals accused or convicted of treason. He typed in the names of the facilities General Huang gave the Torreses. The website of the bureau managing them came up on the first page of his search.

  Browsing through the site, all he could gather was the bureau housed common criminals. He needed to go deeper, maybe dip into protected data. His rusty hacking skills might be put to the test sooner than he had anticipated, and he might need to consult someone from his team who had breached the computer systems of private corporations. He turned off his web browser. His research should continue at his apartment where he had a more secure network set-up.

  Justin rose from his chair to stretch his legs. From where he stood, he craned his neck to look into the kitchen, expecting to see Leilani there. But she was not. While absorbed in his search, he could not attend to anything around him. He closed his laptop and went to look for her.

  He heard water running in the bathroom. After a couple of taps on the door, he entered. She was at the sink, shampooing her hair.

  “I’ll be a couple minutes more,” she said.

  “I gotta go soon. It’ll take me a couple of minutes to put my things together, so you’ll be out before I finish.”

  He had packed his laptop and was stuffing a few articles of clothing into his bag when Leilani came out, a towel wrapped around her head like a turban.

  Leilani said, “Why the hurry to leave?”

  “I have work to do.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “I’ll call you about the time and place for our candlelight dinner next weekend.”

  “Okay.”

  “Any restaurant you prefer to go to? The most romantic one you could think of?”

  “I’ve been to a few, but the best is Chez Justin.”

  “Are you expecting Chef Justin to cook, after all the other preparations he’d have to do for you?”

  “Takeout’s fine, a fancy one, please. I’m going for the ambiance. Nothing can beat Chez Justin for that.”

  Justin grinned. “I’m glad you think so, because it’ll be your home not too long from now. Seven on Saturday?”

  “Okay. I’ll come on the subway.”

  “No need to, Madame. Our dinner service includes pickup at your residence.”

  He zipped up his bag, faced Leilani, and took her in his arms to kiss her. He said, “I suppose this is goodbye for now, until that eventful evening.”

  But he did not release her. He pulled the turban off her head. “I like it when your hair is damp.”

  He ran his fingers through her wet hair and nudged her neck with kisses. “I have fifteen minutes to spare.”

  “Fifteen minutes! I think I’m worth more than that.” She pushed him away, but he held her tight.

  “My little spitfire. I was joking.”

  She grinned. “I knew that. Anyway, I also have some reports to edit, so off with you.”

  Justin sighed, but he let her go. He picked up his bag and slung it on his shoulders. At the entryway, he put on his shoes.

  Leilani followed him to the door. He raised a hand in a gesture of leave-taking. He was about to walk down the hallway, but she grasped his face and kissed him.

  She said, “I’ll miss you.”

  “Me, too. Five long days.”

  XVIII. Respite

  Justin began preparations for his proposal dinner that very evening. He contacted a woman who offered her services as a personal chef. Greg and Elise had used her on past wedding anniversaries and a couple of birthday celebrations. She had prepared them a very special candlelight dinner for two at their home.

  The chef already had an engagement to cook for a small group on Saturday evening, but when she learned the Thorpes had referred Justin, she worked out a compromise with him. She would cook them a meal in her kitchen up to the point where her sous chef could finish preparing the dishes in Justin’s kitchen. The sous chef would come and serve, and assist them through dinner. An apprentice cook would come earlier, at an appointed time, to set the table, complete with tablecloth and all glasses, dishes and utensils.

  Justin bought a ring the next day. After the ring, he needed to order some flowers and, on the night of the dinner, pick up Leilani at her apartment.

  He had vacillated on how many flowers to order, but in the end, opted for the single most perfect fragrant red rose he himself would pick on Saturday afternoon at the best florist shop in the city. But he also set up a surprise.

  A young woman came promptly at 6 PM on Saturday, toting a bag with a tablecloth, candlesticks and candles. Justin supplied everything else needed for a two-place setting. The woman was efficient and was out of the apartment within fifteen minutes, leaving an elegantly set dining table.

  Half an hour later, all dressed and ready, Justin regarded himself in the mirror on the dining area wall and smiled. His taupe suit jacket and indigo blue pants still looked good on him although it had been at least three years since he wore them to Greg and Elise’s wedding in Aix en Provence. At work, jeans and hoodies were de rigueur; under casual jackets. He put on the cheap chauffeur hat he bought from a novelty shop. It didn’t seem to go with his suit, but he would need it for a mere half an hour.

  He took out an ice bucket, filled it with ice, and placed it on the bar. In the middle of it, he put a bottle of champagne.

  He glanced at himself on the mirror once more, groped for the small jewelry box inside his jacket pocket, and scanned the room one
last time. Perfect. Everything was in place. Great beginning to a commitment he meant to keep. For a lifetime, if he could help it. Like his parents. He strode toward the entry door.

  At Leilani’s apartment, he rang the doorbell at exactly 7 PM on his watch. Leilani came out, already clad in her coat, and clutching her purse. She giggled at the sight of him bowing in his suit and chauffeur hat.

  He said in as formal a tone as he could manage, “Madame, your limousine awaits.”

  Leilani stopped giggling but she could not control the broad smile on her face. She said, “Okay, let’s go.”

  In the elevator on the way down, Justin stood straight next to her, looking forward, his chin lifted a little, and his arms behind his back.

  She glanced sideways at him and said, “You didn’t hire a limo, did you?”

  “You are requested to pretend that it is.”

  “When do I see Justin?”

  “He awaits you at his apartment.”

  Leilani said no more, but every once in a while, soft laughter she struggled to hold back sputtered out of her closed lips.

  Justin’s car was parked on a white zone in front of the apartment building. Out of habit, she walked toward the front passenger seat, but he rushed past her to open the back door.

  With a slight bow, he said, “The backseat, please, Madame, as befits a noble extraterrestrial.”

  She could not hold herself back any longer. She burst out laughing. “Justin, enough already, or I’ll be in stitches all the way to your apartment.”

  “You asked for a ceremonial proposal, so that’s what you’re getting. Get in the backseat, please, Madame.”

  “Oh, all right.”

  A quarter of an hour later, Justin stepped out of the elevator to his apartment ahead of Leilani. He reached his door a few paces in front of her, unlocked and opened it. He took off his chauffeur’s hat, tossed it on a couch, and turned, as Leilani reached the door.

  Smiling broadly, he said, “Darling, right on time.”

  “Good evening, Justin. You look handsome in a suit.”

  “Thank you, darling.” He kissed her lips and led her in, closing the door behind her.

  Inside, he said, “Let me take your coat.”

  She took it off and handed it to Justin. He tossed it on the couch, where it landed on top of the hat.

  Justin gazed at her from head to foot, his eyes glittering. She had on a figure-hugging sleeveless red dress, its neckline cut down to the cleavage on her chest. She turned around for him. In the back, the neckline plunged to a few inches above her waistline.

  “You are breathtaking, the most seductive woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He took the rose from the vase on the dining table and offered it to her.

  He pulled her close at the waist, and as Leilani was inhaling the fragrance of the rose, he nibbled on her ear and whispered, “I can’t think of dinner right now. As lovely as this dress looks on you, all I want is to tear it off.”

  He released her and added, “But there’s no time.” He looked at his watch. “Our personal chef will be here in, roughly, ten minutes.”

  “Our … what? Did you say ‘personal chef’?”

  “Yes, Elise and Greg have used her services a few times.”

  “Now, I am impressed. Let’s celebrate,” Leilani said, inclining her head toward the champagne bucket on the bar.

  “As you wish, but I thought you can’t take alcohol before you’ve had anything to eat. I meant to offer you the champagne when the chef comes with hors d’œuvres.”

  “Well, this is a special occasion and I’ll sip it very slowly. I’ve never, in my life, allowed myself to get drunk. This seems like a great occasion for it.”

  Justin poured two glasses of champagne and handed her one. “I’ll drink to that.”

  He grasped her free hand and led her to a chair. He said, “I don’t know when this is traditionally done, but I can’t say when dinner will end, and I’m too impatient to wait.”

  When she was seated, he took her glass and placed it next to his on the side table.

  Then, he went down on one knee, grasped both her hands and said, “Leilani, my darling, will you marry me?”

  She gazed into his eyes, leaned over, and kissed him tenderly on the lips. “Yes, I will.”

  He reached into his pocket for the jewelry box, and opened it, but before he could present it to her, the doorbell rang. The sound of it startled him, but he didn’t miss a beat. He took the ring from its slot, slipped it on Leilani’s finger, and returned her kiss before he got up.

  The doorbell rang once more before he reached the door. A young man in his mid-twenties, dressed in a chef’s toque and white coat, stood at the door. Next to him was a cart with covered dishes.

  “Ah, the sous chef!” Justin was annoyed at his timing, but let him in with a smile.

  “Yes, my name is Tom and I assist Wendy. She apologizes that she couldn’t come herself.” Tom extended his hand to Justin and smiled.

  “Maybe next time. Let me show you the kitchen. You need pots, pans, utensils?”

  Tom said, “No, I don’t think so. All I’m doing is finishing the dishes Wendy prepared. I have some amuse bouche that I could serve while I finish the meal. Should I serve them now?”

  “Are those appetizers?”

  “Umm … no. More like hors d’œuvres. But they’re not on the menu.”

  Justin grinned. “Great. Bring them out, then. Before my fiancée gets drunk on the ten sips of wine in her glass.”

  Chef Wendy’s seven-course tasting menu justified Greg’s recommendation of her. Justin considered himself a pretty good cook, but for the chef, preparing a meal was an art, obvious in the harmony of her dishes and the way the sous chef presented them.

  Three hours later, Tom cleared away dishes, stacked them in the dishwasher, and left. Justin and Leilani sat on the couch, sipping their last cups of the herbal tea Tom had prepared.

  Leilani said, “I thought you didn’t stock up on these teas.”

  “I didn’t until I saw boxes of them in your cupboard. I thought I should give them a try.”

  “So, how do you like them?”

  “Still not a fan, but they’re soothing when I’m with you.”

  “Hmm.” Leilani smiled and took another sip.

  He grinned, an impish glint in his eye. “Of course, I need soothing right now, because all I can think of is unzipping you out of that dress.”

  In an exaggerated tone, she said, “Oh, Justin. You make me blush. Actually, this dress has no zipper. I can wriggle out of it.”

  “That, I would like to see.” He took the cup and saucer from her hands. “I don’t have to take you home this evening, do I? The chauffeur has gone home.”

  Leilani shook her head.

  *****

  The clock in Justin’s bedroom chimed the first hour of the new day. Justin had already been asleep for a little while, but Leilani remained awake. She inhaled deeply once more. The fragrance of roses perfumed the room, from petals still strewn on the bed, some crushed underneath her and Justin. Some were on the floor and the rugs around the bed.

  When Justin opened the door to the bedroom two hours ago, Leilani held back a squeal of delight to see the bed blanketed with rose petals of a deep vibrant red. She and Justin lay on the petals for a while, luxuriating in their cool, soft, velvety feel against their skin, drawing their heady, intoxicating perfume deep into their lungs.

  They had taken handfuls of them and rubbed them on each other. She could still smell them on herself and see the faint blush of red they left on her skin. They were sure to leave stains on the white sheets they covered.

  She marveled at Justin’s imagination for such a romantic idea.

  Ever honest, he said, “Well, they’re not exactly new. I used a variation of something Greg does.”

  “He talks to you about what he does with your sister?”

  “No, not in detail.
But, yeah, we trade all kinds of secrets. I don’t have the experience he had with women. He had quite a playboy’s reputation, you know, but it was a façade, a role imposed on him. I asked him about what seems to please women the most.”

  “So, what did he say?”

  “Anything that shows that special woman you love her.”

  “Good for him. He’s aware how unique, how individual every woman is.”

  “Yeah, so I’ve tried to become more sensitive to that.”

  “I suppose that explains the herbal tea.”

  “Ah, but that’s only one thing. I also noticed you wear red a lot. And though you once refused a daily infusion of flowers, Greg agreed with me most women love them. Elise included. He’s covered their bedroom with rose petals and filled the tub with them.”

  Leilani smiled at the recollection as she began to slip into deep slumber. She was still half-awake when the distant ringing of her cell phone jolted her back into full consciousness. She crept off the bed, anxious not to wake Justin up. But more troubling to her—no one ever called her at two in the morning. What was so serious or so important that the caller couldn’t wait?

  Her chest fluttering with apprehension, she tiptoed to the table at a corner of the room where she had left her purse, next to the armchair on which Justin had carelessly thrown her dress. She snatched her purse, and groped inside for her cell phone as she rushed out to the living room, closing the door behind her. She scowled at her mother’s phone number on the screen.

  In the living area, she picked up her coat on the couch and put it on before she answered her mother. “Mamá, is anything wrong?”

  “Lani, forgive me for calling you this late, but I can’t wait. I got this call. From overseas—someone who said he knows where Papá is, and could help us get him out.”

  Leilani took some time to answer. Her mother’s news came as a shock at that time of night.

  For the past week, she had struggled to ignore constant reminders that they had to find her father. She focused instead on her momentous decision to take her life to a new plane. Marrying Justin, instead of those other guys her mother set her up with—sons of friends from the old country—meant breaking from her past more surely than when she got her professional license and resolved to move on.