Diane noticed her and said, “We have all the time in the world to discuss. Lash, I think it’s about time you tell Ana everything. The poor girl is about to lose her mind.”
Diane and Leon left for their tent leaving her alone with him. Lash told her everything.
He and Manfred had been in constant communication ever since the old man’s visit to the foundation office. The more he learned about the condition of the people in the Manfred’s village, the stronger he felt the need to visit Zafarraya. Based on Ana’s stories about Diane and the facility she built in Torrevieja, Lash admitted he was intrigued and reached out to her. Diane was more than happy to share her knowledge, and when Lash extended the invitation to come and visit Zafarraya, Diane was more than happy to accept.
“I really didn’t have a definite date for the visit,” Lash admitted, “but when both our schedules became so hectic, I realized that the only way I would be able to spend some time with you was if I brought you here. I hope you find some closure too because this is where your own mother spent her childhood.”
“Oh Lash, this is the most incredible thing anyone has ever done for me,” Ana sobbed as she melted into his arms.
***
The days were short and the nights were long in the enchanting town of Zafarraya. The wind provided a constant gentle breeze and the hills a refreshing oasis where the soul could take refuge.
Ana and Lash spent their time mingling with the local Gypsies and their families. Ana met Manfred’s family and was heartened at how they accepted her wholly as one of their own.
She never realized how complete and whole she could feel. Lash laid out his plans to both Diane and Leon, who promised they would make every effort to see his plans through. Lash planned to build housing projects so that the Gypsies could have decent housing. He intended to build schools for the children. The foundation in New York would fund the education for those who wanted to pursue a college education in the city. He planned to put up a satellite dish that would allow technology to reach the poor villages. No one had a cell phone and hardly anyone had a computer in his home. He envisioned to remedy that as well.
Ana realized the magnitude of his generosity every single day that passed in Zafarraya. A part of her though said he was doing this for his dad and for her too. She was just bursting with happiness and contentment.
She went looking for him and found him on a small rise that overlooked the village. Ana crept towards him slowly. She stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Lash smiled as he turned and pulled her to stand by his side.
“Can you picture it, Ana,” he asked pointing down below. “That area will be where we build houses. There will be a park where the children can play. Over there will be the post office and a grocery store. We can renovate that small church,” he added pointing to a small belfry in the distance.
“Yes,” Ana answered dreamily.
“…And over there in that little area we can build a dance school.”
“Yes, we can,” Ana replied caught up in the dream. “We can name it the Aurora Mancini School for Dance, after you mom.”
“Well, I was thinking more about calling it the Ana Garcia Mancini School for Dance,” Lash countered.
Ana smiled with a faraway look on her face. “That’s fine too…Wait? What?” She spun around to face him.
Lash was on his knees with his hand inside his pocket. He brought out a ring and held it to her.
“Ana, would you honor me and allow me to add my name to yours? Will you marry me and become my wife?” He asked.
Ana swooned in disbelief unable to say a word.
A whispery “yes” was all she managed to say as Lash placed the ring on her finger. He stood and opened his arms wide for her. Ana stepped into his embrace. Her heart and soul proclaimed that her search was over.
She was finally home.
Epilogue
“Mommy! Mommy! Look what I found.”
Little Natalie had a scarf around her head. The bells tinkled as she raced to her mom.
Ana smiled as she recognized the hips scarf. It was one of her most cherished possession. She was afraid that her daughter would tear the fragile fabric. But she looked so happy she didn’t have the heart to scold her little girl. Instead she sat her daughter gently on her lap.
“You have it on wrong, Sweetheart,” Ana said as she removed the piece of cloth from her daughter’s head. “This goes around here,” she said as she tied the scarf around Natalie’s hip.
Natalie struggled away from her mother’s arms and walked to a nearby mirror. Instinctively, she moved her hips to the right and then to left. She grinned in wonder as the bells tinkled with her every move.
“I think I want to be a dancer just like you when I grow up. Then I can wear this to every dance and I would be very happy,” Natalie announced.
Ana took the scarf away from her daughter and sat her down on a chair. “Do you want to hear a story about how mommy got that scarf?”
Natalie nodded her head excitedly as Ana recounted the story of finding the scarf in a garbage dump. The scarf, she said, made her want to be dancer too.
“The scarf has magic, mommy,” Natalie asked.
Yes, it does. It brought me and your dad together and now we have you,” Ana replied as Lash strode into the room.
“Daddy! Daddy! Mommy has a magic scarf. She said I can have it someday when I am bigger.”
Lash scooped the little girl into his arms as Natalie recounted the story her mom just told her.
Ana looked at them both even as Lash stole glances in her direction. A sense of contentment flooded her entire being. It wasn’t the scarf that held the magic. It was her and Lash pursuing their dreams together and making the lives of so many gypsies just a little bit better every single day.
They have both found their purpose and together they agreed that their daughter would never have to be ashamed of her real identity because there was nothing to be ashamed of.
Both their gypsy blood that now ran strong in their daughter’s veins certainly was the only magic they would ever need.
Book 5
Her Boss's Fiance
Chapter ONE
Even before Killian Church could fully disengage from the clutches of deep slumber, she knew she was in deep shit. She wanted to succumb to the fingers of bliss that were pulling her back to oblivion so she could absolve herself and not have to face reality.
Her conscience was screaming inside her head — she had no other choice except to open her eyes in mute surrender. She turned her head to that side of the bed where her indiscretion should have been and gasped. It was empty. But the imprint of a head was still visible in the crumpled pillow beside hers.
Killian couldn’t believe her luck. He was gone. Jean-Paul was not in bed beside her or anywhere else inside her bedroom.
“Thank you”, she murmured in a stage whisper.
Fate threw her some slack. Bringing a man home with her to spend the night was a huge no-no. It was either the man’s place so she could leave quietly before morning came or a motel room. She had no qualms about splitting the bill either. Both options allowed her to leave anytime she wanted, no drama, no false hopes or promises, just a silent exit from whoever she shared the night with.
She didn’t need another Brad who she brought home to her apartment. She woke up to find him gone… together with the rent money. Or John who she met at the gym. After a few dates, she decided to bring him back to her apartment and introduced him to Lizzie, her roommate. They ordered pizza and drank beer. She fell asleep with John beside her. A few hours later she woke up upon hearing strange noises from the living room. She went out to inspect and found John fucking her roommate.
The past only proved it could be painful so she made a vow never to bring anyone home to her apartment. And she had been true to her vow…except for last night. She had only the Shiraz to blame. She did not realize there were boxes of the Australian wine ready to fill every glass.
Killian caught sight of a lanky sunburned man with shredded arms. It was obvious he took pride in his body from the way he carried himself. Their eyes met and the man made a beeline to where Killian sat by the bar. He said his name was Jean-Paul and he spoke English with a delicious French accent.
Killian had no reservations about hogging his attention the whole night. She never really did with most men. She expected him to move on to the next pretty face he saw at the party.
Surprisingly, Jean-Paul stayed beside her through the night. He told her stories from his boyhood in the small town of Bayeux in Normandy, France. He was attentive and attractive. Because he spent the entire night by her side, and they consumed three bottles of wine between them, he did not seem like a stranger she just met that night.
Their bodies automatically moved closer as the night wore on. Killian laughed throatily at a joke Jean-Paul shared, brushing against him and lightly touching his arm as she did. Sometimes their heads were so close together there was hardly any personal space. The heady effect of alcohol, plus, the physical intimacy between them only hinted the obvious conclusion.
Killian was old enough to know the proprieties practiced in these parties. Those married, with children waiting at home, left early. The singles stayed behind to party even harder. If you weren’t interested in a hook up, a girl stayed within the comfortable confines of friends… or coupled up with whoever took their fancy. Through her alcohol-infused brain, Killian remembered Jean-Paul mention that he was staying with friends of his mom as he trained to become an EMT. That meant they couldn’t possibly spend the night at his place.
There was probably a motel somewhere near, but by this time, Jean-Paul’s fingers were inside her skirt and inching their way slowly up her thigh. Her apartment was only half a block away and she doubted her lust would allow her to go in search of a motel room somewhere in the city. She could end up fucking him at the sidewalk if they waited that long. So, they headed in the direction of her apartment.
The door barely closed behind them and they were tearing away at each other’s clothes. They made it to the bedroom, bumping into furniture along the way. The crash of a fallen chair hardly registered in Killian’s brain. She was completely naked before her ass hit the mattress of her bed. The last thing Killian remembered was feeling exhausted after a huge orgasm hit. She waited till Jean-Paul got off her before she turned on her side and succumbed to sleep.
It had seemed so right at the time.
Now, Killian stepped out of bed shrugging off the blanket that covered her naked body. She glanced at the clock on the table and saw she had a few hours to spare before she was needed at the hospital. The thought of a long shower felt very inviting. She stretched her arms over her head and purred like a cat. Killian was one of those women who found it difficult to feel good, bad or neutral about any man, especially after having sex.
She seldom broke her own rule about never bringing a man home. It spared her from having to deal with inane chitchat or fake promises of wanting to see each other again. Still in awe of her luck that she didn’t have to go through the motions of a morning-after-sex routine with Jean-Paul, Killian headed for the bathroom outside her bedroom.
Killian jerked in surprise as Jean-Paul came into view. She scrambled for anything to cover her nakedness which was rather lame because he had seen every part of her body the previous night.
“Jean-Paul,” Killian shrieked, “I-I thought you left already.”
The man smiled broadly and encircled her with his arms. “Surely you didn’t expect me to just leave without saying goodbye, ma cherie?” Jean-Paul replied.
“Yes, yes, that is exactly what I expected,” Killian replied silently in her mind. She gave an uncertain smile as she wriggled out of his embrace.
“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” She hoped he wouldn’t hear the desperation in her voice.
“My class is at 1 pm,” Jean-Paul replied, trying to grab hold of her once again. Killian sidestepped in search of a towel. Being naked wasn’t helping her situation. She could see the desire in his face and the bulge of his cock outlined the front of her trousers. The sight only panicked her somehow.
She was back to being 10-years old again and playing outside in the porch when a strange approached her. He opened his zipper and fondled his penis before taking it out of his pants. Killian couldn’t take her eyes off it. She was fascinated and, at the same time, turned off by the sight. Since then, she had had a love-hate relationship with that part of a man’s body.
The question did flash through her mind why she was crazy about it last night but she didn’t feel the same way in the light of day. She shrugged it off because she knew exactly why. But now wasn’t the best time to delve into her lack of EQ when her IQ was taking a beating.
Ensconced in the safety of a robe, Killian summoned her wits about her. She smiled casually and ushered him innocently towards the door, thanking her lucky stars he already had his clothes on.
“I had a great time last night but I need to be at the hospital in 30 minutes,” she lied.
“But I remember clearly you said you had till noon to stay in bed. You were even happy to know that my class would be around the same time,” Jean-Paul protested.
“I-I know,” Kilian stammered caught in a lie, “But I got a text message just now from my supervisor telling me to be at the hospital, or else…” she grimaced to get her point across.
“Oh, okay then. So, I’ll see you when you get home tonight,” he persisted.
“I don’t know what time I can get away from work,” Killian denied quickly.
“You have my number. Call me,” Jean-Paul suggested. It was difficult to ignore the optimism in his voice.
This was getting harder and more complicated. Jean-Paul seemed like a genuine guy. Most men would scramble for the door the moment they wake up and she wouldn’t see or hear from them again.
She felt torn. A part of her wanted to say she would be happy to see him again, wanted to believe he actually liked her enough to want to stay longer. A lump that resembled fear inside her gut warned her not to. In the end, she went with her gut even though she knew it was the cowardly thing to do. Years of therapy hadn’t been enough to exorcise the ghosts of her past.
“We’ll see,” she replied vaguely.
Jean-Paul stood still. “You are trying to get rid of me. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Killian found it hard to meet his eyes.
“I thought we had something going,” Jean-Paul added with a tinge of regret in his voice. “Thanks for the sex,” he added coldly, then left.
Killian felt a surge of emotions. Guilt, shame and remorse imagining what could have been. It was all so confusing.
“Get over it,” she chastised herself.
She didn’t like this sense of loss like she missed out on a chance to be happy. The men in her life had only brought her pain and regret because she had always been in search of that elusive happiness. It just wasn’t worth it, she decided.
***
“Oh, thank God you’re here, Killian. I was afraid you’d call in sick. That was some eye candy you left with last night,” Linda simpered.
Linda was Charge Nurse for Geriatric Care and it was her responsibility to make sure there were enough nurses staffing all the stations on every floor, a task that became challenging after a particularly wild party like they had the night before.
“What’s up?” Killian grinned, avoiding any topic related to Jean-Paul and surprised at the sound of desperation in Linda’s voice
.
“Mrs. Gladys Florence from Room 405 is having a meltdown. She refuses to take her medication and threw her slipper at the nurse. Called the nurse a witch who wants to poison her. She insists on locking her door from the inside. We have called maintenance thrice since this morning just to open that goddamn door. We decided to remove the doorknob to keep her from locking it again. Now she is screaming that people are trying to get inside her room and steal the gold in her false teeth,” Linda informed.
Killian knew exactly who the charge nurse was talking about. Gilly, as she fondly called the 92 year old patient, had chronic hypertension which led to the onset of dementia and Alzheimer’s. The mood swings were expected and understandable. The hospital needed to keep her on medication primarily to slow down the progress of mental deterioration.
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