“You and I have to promise not to tell this secret,” Zeke said. “I don’t usually like secrets, but this one might be the only thing keeping Mrs. Volto alive.”
“I promise.” Goldie looked down into her hands. The bond of a shared secret was powerful, and she felt it cement them together right at that moment. “Listen, Zeke. I appreciate you taking care of me these last couple days. You’re the only one who’s bothered to check on me when I’m shut up in here.” She laughed awkwardly. “I think I’d have died from dehydration without you bringing me drinks. So, thank you. You’re okay. I mean, you’re a good guy. Mostly.”
“Wow,” he said, throwing her a big, beaming smile. “You’re almost as bad at giving praise as you are at receiving it.”
“Shut up,” she said playfully. “Praise is not my strong point.”
He sat up straight. “Can I ask you something, Goldie?”
“Sure.”
“Do you like yourself?”
She stiffened. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m sorry if I’m being a little personal, but you’re kind of down on yourself.”
She rose and walked to the window to stand in front of the closed blinds and imagine the beautiful rolling hills behind them.
“I try to be a nice person and care for others, but I always feel like a part of me is missing.” She placed a flat hand on her chest. “I can’t ever truly like myself while I’m incomplete.” She turned. “Does that make sense?”
He was gazing at her, giving her his rapt attention. “It makes more sense than you know.”
She always assumed that the hole in her heart could’ve been filled by a husband and family, but now she wasn’t so sure. She was smart enough to have worked out that true happiness could not be gleaned from another person. If she could marry happiness, she’d have done it long ago. Whatever she was missing went a lot deeper than that.
“I like to keep busy,” she said. “That way, I don’t have to think about it too much.”
Zeke nodded slowly. “I hear you. Sometimes it’s hard to be still.”
“Well, somebody sure is forcing me to be still right now,” she said, gesturing to the room around her. “Because there are no distractions in here.”
“After you disappeared, I found it hard to be still too.” He stared at the floor. “Every time the telephone rang, I’d jump up and race to answer it. I just kept on hoping that you’d have gotten our new number somehow.”
“I tried, Zeke.”
“I know, but for some reason, it just wasn’t meant to be.”
She laughed. “That’s a pretty convenient excuse, huh?”
“There has to be good reason why we were kept apart, Goldie,” he said. “What happened was for the best, I’m sure of it.”
“It’s so easy to explain away bad things by claiming that God’s in control or that it’s meant to be.” She crossed her arms. “It means that we never have to take responsibility for our actions. We can behave in any cruel way we like while claiming that God has it all in hand. It’s such an easy excuse.”
“That’s not what’s happening here,” he said. “I was never cruel toward you.”
She narrowed her eyes. Zeke’s failure to apologize certainly felt like cruelty to her.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you didn’t use God to justify your failings,” she said. “It wasn’t God who destroyed my letters. It wasn’t God who changed your telephone number and it sure wasn’t God who decided to move all the way to New York without considering me at all.” She pointed at him. “Moving away from the only place I could find you was definitely your fault, so casually telling me that God’s in control simply doesn’t cut it.”
He rubbed his chin, a pained expression on his face. “My parents did the wrong thing by trying to prevent contact with you. They didn’t understand the harm they were doing at the time, but I choose to forgive them and I hope you can do the same one day. What I’m trying to say is that God can work bad things for His purpose. There is meaning in what happened to us because He can make it so.”
“There’s no meaning in suffering, Zeke, at least none that I can see.”
“That’s because you’re looking with human eyes. Faith is often hard, Goldie. It’s like stepping into the darkness and holding out your hand, waiting for someone you can’t see to reach out and take it.” He smiled. “Sometimes it feels like you’re standing there in the dark forever before you can feel those comforting fingers grip yours.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been waiting twenty-one years and my hand is still empty, so I hope you’ll understand why I gave up.” She shrugged. “God doesn’t want to hold my hand.”
“That’s not true.”
“Let’s drop the subject, huh?” She was tired and lethargic, partly from inertia, partly from emotional overload. “How long until I can leave this room?”
“I’ll just go check on the yard work and get another update, but I figure the fence will be done in about an hour.” He stood and walked across the carpet. “Remember to keep the door locked.”
She sighed, following him. “Yeah, I know. I can’t be seen or heard.”
He slipped through the door and she turned the key, resting her forehead on the wood, eyes closed and mood low. She needed to get out of this room, with its four walls closing in on her. Zeke said that the work might only take another hour. She could last another hour. Maybe she’d miscounted the flowers on her duvet. She could start over again.
With a big sigh, she secured her hair with a tie from her wrist and headed for the bed, noticing a thick red book lying on the top. It hadn’t been there before Zeke’s visit, so he must’ve left it there, almost certainly on purpose.
Turning over the book, she grimaced. Typical Zeke. He had left her a pocket Bible, thinking that all she needed was God’s word to make everything better. She picked it up, tracing the bold embossed lettering on the front, feeling a shiver enter her spine. Zeke was trying to be kind, but the gesture felt patronizing. And it wouldn’t make a difference, of course, because she would never open the pages, so it was a wasted effort.
Opening the drawer of her bedside dresser, she slipped the Bible inside and ran her eyes across the flowers on her duvet.
“One, two, three...”
* * *
Zeke stirred honey into chamomile tea on the kitchen counter. Mrs. Volto was due to give her first day of testimony in court the following day, and she was supernervous. Since the drone incident, she had become jumpy and easily spooked, which could impede her ability to be a strong and reliable witness.
“Hey there.”
He turned to see Goldie performing a running slide into the kitchen dressed in jeans and an oversize hoodie. The central air had developed a fault, stuck on a high setting, so she’d put on some fluffy purple socks, enabling her to easily slip across the tiles of the floor.
“Hi,” he said. “You seem happy.”
“I’m just so glad to be out of that room. Even this dark and dingy house seems like a playground after five hours in a box.”
“Yeah, the blackout takes some getting used to,” he said. “It’s a little creepy, huh?”
She took a mug from the overhead shelf and flipped the kettle to boil. “Yes, it is. I keep expecting to see Morticia Addams gliding down the stairs.”
He wondered whether she would mention the Bible he’d left on her bed, but she said nothing. Filling her cup with boiling water, she dropped in a fruit tea bag and began to stir, her gaze settled in the middle distance. She was standing close to him, so close he could detect a coconut scent on her hair, which was piled up in a messy bun, tendrils falling over her face. Her proximity was having a physical effect on him, and his heart beat much faster than normal. No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to control his powerful reaction to her.
“Karl has requested the delivery of a drone jammer from headquarters,” he said. “That will block the signal and put a stop to any more flying activity.”
“That’s great.”
He picked up the chamomile tea from the counter. “I guess I’d better take this to Mrs. Volto. She needs something to calm her down.”
Goldie smiled. “Should I make a start on dinner? I think it’s supposed to be Garth’s turn tonight, but he’s had a busy day.”
“Sure. Why not?” He made no attempt to move away, enjoying the sensation of being next to her. “I’ll help out too.”
“Thank you.”
They stood in silence for a few seconds as Goldie continued to stir her tea, her spoon clinking slowly around the mug. Zeke placed his palm flat on the counter and let it rest there, just a little way from Goldie’s. Slowly but surely, she inched her fingers toward his until their tips were touching, just lightly, but definite contact.
“That tea won’t deliver itself to Mrs. Volto,” she said quietly. “It’ll get cold.”
“Yeah.” He hesitated. “Can I say something first?”
She took the spoon from the mug, placed it on the counter and shifted her body to face his. With only a tiny gap between them, he was jolted by the close-up of her eyes, emerald green with an edge of hazel, perhaps the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.
“I...um... I know it’s been hard to adjust,” he stammered. “Neither of us expected to see each other again, and our history makes everything complicated.”
She nodded. “It was a shock to the system to see you out of the blue like that.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s been like falling into icy cold water and struggling to breathe.”
“I really did love you,” he said, feeling an overwhelming need to say it. “You know that, right?”
“I want to believe it, Zeke.” There was a hardness to her voice. “But if you loved me, you’d never have given up on me.”
He quashed his frustrations. “If you don’t stop holding on to this bitterness, you’ll never be happy.”
“I wish you’d just say sorry and let me move on. Why do you have to be so stubborn?”
“The only person who owes you an apology is your father. I think you’re projecting all your frustrations at him onto me.”
She tilted her head, as if giving it some thought. “Maybe,” she said finally. “But he’s not here, is he? You are. And you could at least try to make me feel better by acknowledging your part in my pain.”
Zeke knew that giving Goldie a false apology would make him resent her, possibly even destroy the chance of a friendship. Having already experienced this type of injustice, he knew the ramifications. It would chip away at him, just like the situation with Susan had chipped away at him, until he had to get as far away from her as possible.
“You’re right about the tea,” he said, stepping away. “It’s getting cold.” He headed for the door. “I’ll come back to help with dinner.”
“Zeke,” she called. “Just a minute.”
He stopped.
“You left a Bible on my bed,” she said. “But I didn’t ask you for one.”
“I thought you might find it comforting. Did you open it up?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you try?” he asked. “It’s what you need, I promise.”
She turned to the counter, back to the quiet, slow stirring of her cup.
“It must be nice up there on your high horse,” she said. “Be careful you don’t fall off.”
With a deep sigh, he accepted defeat and left the room.
* * *
Goldie tossed and turned in her bed, punching the pillow and huffing in frustration. Sleep simply would not come that night. She eyed the clock on her dresser—1:35 a.m. The whole house was quiet and still, with just the occasional faint sound of footsteps downstairs, where Angela was patrolling on the first half of the nightduty shift.
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. What was the point in lying awake, unable to stop herself thinking of Zeke and his broad, heart-fluttering smile? All it did was upset her. He had tried hard to keep their conversation light and friendly while cooking dinner earlier on, but it had ended up being awkward and strained. Maybe he had a valid point regarding her frustration at her father. Perhaps she was projecting the anger onto Zeke instead. But she hated to admit to herself that Zeke might be right. It could bring her defenses tumbling down.
“I gotta get out of here,” she muttered, standing up to pull on sweatpants and a hoodie over her pajamas. “I’m going crazy. I’m even talking to myself.”
Creeping to the door, she turned the key in the lock and stepped out onto the landing. The hush of nighttime enveloped her like a blanket and she padded along the carpet, hand on the banister. She’d just get herself a cup of tea and watch some television to wait for drowsiness to come. There was bound to be an old movie on one of the channels.
When she reached the kitchen, she filled a glass with water, clicked the kettle to boil and placed a couple of cookies on a plate. While sipping the water, she heard the whoosh of drapes being thrown aside in the hallway and the patio door being opened.
“Who’s there?” she called, placing the glass on the counter. “Angela? Is that you?”
She peeked around the door, immediately seeing the patio door wide open, allowing the cool nighttime breeze into the house. And a dark figure was rushing down the path, head bent and shoulders hunched, as if upset.
“Angela?” she called again. “Are you here? Somebody just went outside.”
She heard the sounds of running water in the downstairs bathroom and realized that Angela must be taking a comfort break. So who had opened the door and ventured outside at this hour of the night? And why?
Goldie pushed her feet into Zeke’s sneakers and lifted a pale blue coat from a hook by the door, making sure to pull up the hood and push all her red curls inside. If she was meant to be in hiding, she should take extra care to obscure her most recognizable feature, even at this late and quiet hour.
The pool area was beautiful at night, with bright white lights shining through the aquamarine water. Set in the center of a wonderfully neat lawn, this environment should have the power to make anyone blissfully happy. Yet here in the midst of it all was Mrs. Volto, sitting on a pool lounger in a bathrobe, weeping into a tissue.
“Mrs. Volto,” Goldie said, approaching with a gentle voice. “What on earth are you doing outside? You know you can’t come out here without an agent. Please come indoors.”
Mrs. Volto looked up at her with red-tinged eyes framed by perfectly groomed brows.
“I just wanted some air,” she said, running her eyes up and down Goldie’s attire. “Why are you bundled up like that? That’s my raincoat.”
“I’m incognito,” she said, sitting next to Mrs. Volto on the lounger. “There’s a hit on me, remember?”
“Ah, yes. The color suits you.” Mrs. Volto smiled weakly. “Please have it. My husband bought it for me, so I have no desire to keep it.” She began to cry again, wiping her cheeks with the tissue. “I’m sorry. I keep thinking about having to face him in court.”
Goldie placed a comforting hand on her back. “It’s natural to be nervous, but try not to worry. Just tell the truth and you can’t go wrong.”
Mrs. Volto suddenly let out a cry, rather like a kitten mewing, and clutched Goldie’s hand. “I’m scared, Agent Simmons. Leonardo has wanted a child for years and years, so I knew he’d never harm me while I was pregnant. But if he finds out about Willy and me, it would change everything.”
Now seemed like an opportune time to ask a pertinent question. “Is this your husband’s baby?” she asked. “Or is it Willy’s?”
“It’s Leonardo’s,” Mrs. Volto replied quickly. “Willy and I have only been in a relationship for four mon
ths, so it can’t possibly be his.” She placed a hand on her stomach protectively. “Marsha came here to find out how the pregnancy was progressing. Leonardo sent her to get some sonogram pictures.”
“Did she suspect you were having an affair? Is that why you two argued?”
Mrs. Volto squirmed uncomfortably on the lounger.
“Yes,” she said finally. “She accused me of cheating on Leonardo and of being pregnant with another man’s child. You see, Leo and I were married for ten years with no sign of a baby, so he’s naturally suspicious that within two weeks of him being charged, I announced I was six weeks pregnant.” She laughed sardonically. “It does sound a little too convenient, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does,” Goldie said. “But if you say that your baby is your husband’s, then I believe you.”
Mrs. Volto squeezed her hand. “Thank you.” She dried her eyes and shoved the tissue into the pocket of her robe. “That means a lot to me.”
“Now, let’s go inside. Zeke will go crazy when he finds out we’ve both broken the rules.”
“Zeke?” Mrs. Volto put a finger to her lips and tapped. “He’s the tall, handsome one, right? The one who looks at you like you’re the most beautiful creature he ever saw.”
Goldie shook her head. “Stop. He looks at me the same way he looks at everybody else.”
“Do you really think so?” Mrs. Volto side-eyed her. “In the middle of all this gloom and danger, I enjoy watching the two of you skirting around each other. It’s sweet.”
“We do not skirt around each other,” Goldie protested. “We’re just working some things out.”
Mrs. Volto laughed heartily, showing her perfect teeth. “Well, I wish you’d work them out a little quicker, because I’m getting impatient for the happy ending.”
“There’s no happy ending for us, so don’t get your hopes up.” She tugged on the sleeve of Mrs. Volto’s robe. “Now can we please go inside?” She glanced at the high metal fence that surrounded them. “I’m getting nervous out here.”
Hunted by the Mob Page 7