by Ann Macela
“Do you have a picture of her?” Johanna asked, “and maybe of Robby?”
Saxt pulled out his wallet and took out the photo of the two of them. Its edges were ragged from being in his wallet for so long. When he gazed at the pretty, red-haired woman and the cheerful, dark-haired boy smiling back at him, his heart twisted. So much promise, so much lost.
He gave it quickly to Johanna.
Johanna studied the picture and handed it back, saying, “Maddy was very beautiful. Robby looks like you—a handsome boy.”
“Thanks.” The word came out rougher than he meant it to as he put the picture away. He had to clear his throat again before he could go on with his story. “When I graduated, I joined an investment firm in Cleveland so we could be close to both sets of parents. Robby was born three years later. Maddy became a stay-at-home mom.”
“So, you were twenty …”
“I was twenty-eight when Robby arrived, and Maddy was twenty-six. I was doing really well at the investment firm. My talents for spotting up-and-coming companies kicked in, big time. The firm had a very active social life with its clients, and Maddy loved to entertain, so that was a perfect fit for both of us. The family used to tease her about having party talents, too. We thought we had it made.” He sighed. Yeah, right. Such innocents.
“Thanks to my success, I was placed in charge of the department handling start-up companies. I’d identify ones with potential, and we’d introduce them to prospective investors—individuals with varying amounts of funds who could afford some risk. Because of that, we did a certain amount of hand-holding. Usually, if the clients listened and took our suggestions, we all profited. The department racked up good returns for my first two years. Are you with me so far?”
“I think so,” Johanna answered. “You were making money for everyone, enjoying your work, and had a wonderful family. Then … ?”
His stomach ached when he thought about what he had to say next, and a chill settled in his bones. Saxt rose and paced before the fireplace for a minute. Its heat did not warm him. Finally he made himself face Johanna.
Her eyes big, she was looking at him expectantly and, perhaps also, with a little bit of dread.
Nothing to do, however, but tell the worst part and finish the tale.
“We had this client, Hal. He was the son of a long-time investor with us. The old man died, and Hal inherited his father’s money. The dad was a careful, thorough, steady businessman, quite conservative, and we always had to make a good case before he’d go for one of the start-ups. Hal was the opposite.”
“A real speculator?” she asked.
“Worse. Totally reckless and impatient. No financial savvy or sense. He became a mark for the shysters pushing both real long-shots and out-and-out frauds. A couple of the long-shots might have panned out. The others were crooks. One day, out of the blue, he told us he wanted to close out all his accounts. He wouldn’t tell me why.
“I explained several times that under the terms of our agreements, he’d have to pay a heavy penalty for early withdrawal, and he’d be lucky to receive twenty-five cents on the dollar. If he waited until the end of the year—it was July—he’d do better, though he’d still lose money. He ranted and raved, told me to cash out every penny I could, and at the end of the year, he’d take all his business elsewhere. I did so.”
“Hal doesn’t sound like a very stable personality. What was really going on?”
“You’re smarter than I was. I didn’t see under the surface of his demands. Didn’t even look, just thought he was being crazier than usual. In fact, he’d gambled away all his inheritance, borrowed from loan sharks, and started drinking heavily. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn that until it was too late.”
“And he blamed you for not giving him enough money?”
“Exactly. Told his few friends that, if I had cashed him out like he told me to do, he’d have been able to pay off his debts. He actually owed several times what his investments were worth. He lost his money, his house, his property, and his wife and children left him.”
Saxt sat down on the couch and took a drink of much-needed water. He glanced at Johanna. She encouraged him with a nod to keep going.
Staring off into space, he continued. “A couple of months after we closed his accounts, Hal showed up at the office, drunk, screaming and yelling about how we, especially me, had ruined him. He threw a few punches and broke some furniture before security hauled him out. In memory of his father, senior management decided not to press charges if he paid for the damages. I went along with that until Hal began to stalk me and my family, leave threatening messages, demanding money. With the senior partners firmly behind me, we filed charges with the police, and he was arrested.”
He paused, winced. Here came the punchline in this tragedy. “I thought that was the end of it when he was arrested. Stupid me.”
Johanna slid over next to him and held his hand in hers.
Saxt hadn’t told the next part of the story in a long time. Oh, he’d dreamt the nightmare. He simply hated to say it out loud. He held onto her like a lifeline. Only for her would he relive the crash.
“Maddy and Robby and I were going to visit my parents one evening soon after that. Robby was in his car seat in the back of the sedan behind Maddy. All of us were singing some silly song at the top of our lungs. We were on a four-lane street, and, preparing to turn left, I had driven the car part-way into the intersection.”
Saxt paused, saw the scene in his mind’s eye. “For some reason, a flash of light, a noise, I never knew what, made me glance to the right and back. All I saw out the side windows were headlights and a bumper and grill. Out of nowhere, a big pick-up truck rammed into the passenger side of the car. Somehow Hal made bail, but I didn’t know it. He was behind that wheel.”
“Oh, Saxt,” Johanna said and slid closer. She put her free arm around him and held him tightly.
He could almost hear the crash, feel its impact again. Only her warm hug and the clasp of her hand brought him back from the dark and gave him the strength to say the next words.
“I woke up in the hospital with some broken bones and cracked ribs. Maddy and Robby were both dead, killed instantly by the impact. I didn’t have the chance to say good-bye or to tell them how much I loved them. They were simply … gone.”
He stopped to clear his throat again. Johanna began to rub his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how tight his muscles were until she massaged them.
“Afterward, I kept thinking,” he continued, determined to finish, “I should have been more careful, paid more attention, followed the case closer, hired a private detective, taken precautions to watch out for that lunatic. I’m a goddamn Sword. I should have been able to do something to protect my family.”
He paused, swallowed against the rising bitterness. “The hardest part after coming to terms with their loss has been living with that knowledge.”
When he glanced her way, he saw tears in her eyes. He would have expected no less. She, of all people, understood the enormity of his loss. He wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer. He felt so cold, and she was so warm.
“I found several ‘hardest parts’ in getting over the loss of Billy,” Johanna said in almost a whisper. “First was the fact that he, the person, wasn’t with me anymore.”
Saxt nodded in agreement. “I kept expecting the two of them to be there when I came home. Kept expecting them to come around the corner.”
“The second,” she spoke more normally now, her voice a little husky, “was accepting there was nothing I could have done or should have done that would have changed the outcome. Billy was determined to do what he did. Saxt, Hal was also. He would have tried again and again. He might have killed you, and that would have left Maddy and Robby at his mercy.”
“I know,” he sighed. “I did accept it—finally. Except every once in a while, like now, the injustice or the awfulness or the frustration sticks its head up and bites me again.”
“Me, to
o. My therapist called those the ‘If Onlies.’ You know, ‘if only this,’ ‘if only that.’ She encouraged me to lay them aside or I’d never be able to get on with my life.”
“Yeah. Good term. Good idea.”
“My other ‘hardest part’ is similar to one of yours.” Johanna was quiet for a few seconds before she said, again in that almost whisper, “I didn’t tell Billy I loved him either—not out loud, not when he could hear me. When he told me he loved me, I was so shocked and so frantic that I couldn’t speak the words before he died. I’ve always regretted that, although the pain has lessened over the years.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Saxt replied.
He closed his eyes for a moment and knew he could finish now. The most difficult part of the retelling was over. Opening his eyes to gaze at Johanna’s lovely, caring face, he continued, “After about a year, I decided I couldn’t spend my life wallowing in grief. I sold our house and bought a condo. I still had her parents and mine, both as support and to support. Thank God they were with me. They’ve all passed away now from one thing or another—cancer, heart trouble on Maddy’s side. I was a late baby, so my parents were considerably older and died in their late seventies. Even when I expected it, each passing was still a blow.”
“I couldn’t have made it without my family and Billy’s,” she said. “At first I used all the feelings, the anger and frustration, the sadness and loneliness, all of them, to fuel my concentration on my goals of teaching others—as a way of memorializing Billy, I guess. I finally turned my back on regret, too. That’s another sort of ‘if only,’ you know.”
They were quiet for a few minutes, simply watching the fire and holding on to each other. Saxt thought about what she had said, about the ‘if onlies’ and regrets. They had both been through the same kind of hell and had somehow come out the other side as whole people.
He took a deep breath when the weight of the tragedy seemed to lift from his soul, leaving him at peace, but light-headed. Telling her, bringing all the horror out in the open had been a good idea. His center warmed and emanated sensations of tranquility and reassurance—the soul-mate phenomenon contributing its opinion.
It was time to go on with his life, and the phenomenon was showing him the way. He knew he had to put it into words. He and his soul mate both deserved to hear out loud what he had learned.
“Thank you, Johanna.” He drew back enough to look into her eyes, full of compassion. “You were right to push me to talk about Maddy and Robby. I needed to tell you, as I needed to hear about Billy. I’ll love them forever, as you love Billy. But they’re in the past, and you’re my present and future.”
“I arrived at the same conclusion about the burden of the past and Billy’s place in my life last night,” Johanna replied with a smile that contained sorrow before changing to pleasure. “I’m so glad we found each other, Saxt.”
“Me, too.” He gave her a soft little kiss. His contentment was complete when she sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. He held her close.
It was so … pleasant, simply downright pleasant, to sit and watch the fire with your soul mate in a cozy room on a cold winter night. She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t have anything left to say. They had each other, and that’s what counted.
After a little while, Johanna stirred, reached for a tissue, and blew her nose. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah,” he said, sitting up and stretching, “I don’t think about the crash if I can help it. Talking about it wears me out.”
With a slightly sheepish expression, she said, “I’m sorry to bring up a distasteful subject again. The question just hit me. What happened to Hal? Did he pay for his crimes?”
Saxt gave a short hack of a laugh. “Sort of. To hit our car, he ran a red light. A big garbage truck coming up from behind us couldn’t stop in time and broadsided him. Killed him on the spot. Poetic justice, you might say.”
“Did having a villain to blame help you? I ask because I think it might have helped me to not be so angry with Billy.”
“I never thought of that,” he said. “Maybe. On the other hand, in a way it was good for me that he was taken out of the picture. I’ve never had the slightest inclination to aim my sword at another human being, but if Hal had lived, I would have found it extremely difficult not to go after him with a blade.”
“I can understand that feeling only too well. I’m glad you didn’t have to make the choice.”
“So am I.”
She stood and picked up the water glasses. “Come on, let’s go to bed. In the morning we can decide what to do tomorrow.”
Saxt rose also. It struck him that tomorrow was definitely the time to talk about what was to come. The important matter was not the duel—it was the two of them. First, he had to know one bit of information. “Where am I going to sleep?”
Her expression utterly calm, she looked him in the eyes. “With me, if you’d like. I seem to need to have you close. Let’s just sleep, please. Mating right now seems …”
“Yeah. I agree. Let’s sleep on all this and let it settle.” They’d begin their future tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Five
While in her bathroom getting ready for bed, Johanna viewed herself in the mirror. Her hair was every which way, and she took the opportunity to brush it into a semblance of order. Her big white T-shirt, a joke gift from Kendra, showed a witch holding a long silver blade and the words, “Plays with Swords.” She wasn’t about to wear her usual flannel pajamas or nightgown—too dowdy—when they shared her bed, even to “simply sleep.”
The T-shirt, however, was the quickest sleepwear to grab out of her dresser drawer while Saxt used the guest bathroom down the hall. It was old and sort of baggy—not exactly a sexy little nightie to wear to bed. But, she wasn’t bent on seduction, either. She didn’t realize how suggestive the slogan might be until she walked into her bedroom—where Saxt, in only a pair of black boxers, was standing on the far side of the bed.
If she had wondered how he’d look without clothes, she had her answer. Broad shoulders, rangy, lean build, dusting of dark chest hair, altogether scrumptious. Only with difficulty did she manage not to lick her lips.
When she raised her eyes to his, she realized he had been checking her out in much the same manner. She felt her face heat—along with other important body parts. Oh, please, imperative, now isn’t the time. Go away.
“I like your shirt,” Saxt said, grinning and with a flash of heat in his gaze. He pointed to the bed. “Is this my side?”
What had she expected? To be grabbed and kissed until she couldn’t stand up? She didn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated. No, he was right. They needed sleep.
Pretending nonchalance, she managed to mumble an “Uh-huh,” while she flipped the covers open, sat on her side, and swung her legs under them.
“Good, I prefer you to my right.” He did the same and lay flat with a groan. “Oh, God, it feels good to be horizontal. One way or another, the entire day has been a strain.”
“Yes, it has.” She reached up to click off the lamp on the bedside chest. It was the only light she’d turned on when she came into the room—force of habit, she guessed.
“Wait a minute, would you, please?” Saxt asked.
She lay back against her pillow. He propped himself up on his right arm and leaned over her slightly.
With his free hand, he captured one of hers and kissed the back, then the palm. His gaze was warm. “I wanted to tell you how happy I am we found each other.”
As she stared into his eyes, her center started humming. She couldn’t help giving him a big smile, which he returned. “Me, too.”
“We’re going to make a great pair.” He kissed her softly.
“Yes, we are,” she agreed. So did her magic center.
He gave her another little kiss and the most tender smile she’d ever seen. “Good night, Johanna.”
“Good night, Saxt.”
&
nbsp; She turned off the light as he lay down again. After arranging the covers as she liked, she lay still, her hands clasped over her stomach, stiff as a board. She told herself to relax, but her body didn’t obey.
What was she supposed to do—snuggle up to him? When he hadn’t indicated what he wanted or expected?
She was discovering beginning a relationship wasn’t easy. She hadn’t spent one second of thought on the adjustments they’d both have to make simply being together. Which side of the bed he preferred, for instance. Looked like she’d lucked out on that one if he wanted her on his right. They still had to learn the little signals mates shared, like knowing when the other wanted to leave a party. All the rituals, like going to bed or getting up in the morning. Too bad there wasn’t a shortcut, like a spell. Poof! And she’d know it all. She stopped herself from giggling at the idea.
Meanwhile, he hadn’t budged an inch. Was he as uncomfortable as she was?
She heard a sigh from the other side of the bed.
“Oh, honey, come here,” Saxt said and pulled her into his arms so her head rested on his right shoulder.
What had she just been thinking about mind-reading? He must be making faster progress on the spell than she was.
Surrounded by his warmth and his scent, she relaxed, felt him do the same. Of course, he went to sleep immediately. It took her longer.
His tale about the horrible loss of both Maddy and Robby had chilled her to the bone. Conversely, it had reassured her enormously about Saxt as her soul mate. After both going through that kind of hell, they had come out the other side intact, whole people, able to live and laugh and love. She drifted off thinking what fun they’d have, adjusting to each other.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, thoroughly comfortable, Johanna woke up with Saxt spooned against her back, his left arm over her waist. She had been correct—in bed with him, she didn’t need her electric blanket.