by Turner, Lori
Marisela stepped out into the vestibule, dejected and before Chantel joined her, she gave her brother the evil eye. He waited and watched as she closed the door and once she was on the other side; he heaved a sigh. They were alone. Lucien directed his attention on Ona.
“Ona…the ferry…” He guided her out of the foyer, directing her into the living room area. His brain sprung to life, recalling the dock schedule, then he said…
“You’ll never make it back in time to board the last ferry. Is there someone we can call to ask the boat master to wait?”
He led her to a chair because he didn’t trust that she wouldn’t fall. He’d placed his hand at the curve of her back, and through her layers of clothing he could feel her trembling.
Ona’s voice quavered. The tone possessed no vigor and the sound was flat with a metered cadence.
“I had been on my way to Geff’s to join my parents when I heard the sound, indicating that the last ferry for the day was leaving in route to the dock. I don’t know how it happened, but…my feet turned and my brain willed me in that direction. I don’t even know what I said when the boat master reminded me of the time.”
Lucien kneeled in front of her. He touched her hand, intending to lace her fingers, but instead he cupped her hands with both of his own. Conclusions flashed in his brain, and he didn’t much care for any of his notions.
He masked his disapproval when he said…
“How did you get here? Did you walk…or did you take a bus”
Lucien’s apartment wasn’t within walking distance of the dock. Normally whenever Ona traveled to see him, he would furnish one of his drivers. He cringed, considering what she’d done without the use of one of his limos. He rubbed her hands, generating heat to warm her fingers. It was then that he’d begun to notice other things. Ona’s expression was flat, and her eyes were red, and by the look of them he was certain that she’d been crying. He lifted from his knees, taking a seat next to her on the sofa. He turned partway then he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into the warmth of his chest. He stroked her hair, and he soothed her with the comfort of his words.
“You don’t have to answer that question. You’re here now…and you’re safe; nothing else matters. Whatever happened…you needn’t worry. Whatever it is…we’ll figure it out together.”
Lucien felt a tug from his brain and the warning cautioned him not to make promises that he might not be able to keep. As much as he wanted to sit, giving her the peaceful quiet that she seemed to need; he had to know what had occurred between her and her family. What had been so awful, that she would risk coming to see him; all the while knowing that she would never make it back to the dock on time.
He said her name, hoping that his calm would coax her out of her protective shell.
“Ona…you’re cold and you’re wet. Baby…you’ll catch your death of cold if you don’t get out of these clothes. Come on honey…follow me to the bedroom. I’ll lay out something dry and warm for you to change into, and don’t worry—I’ll leave, giving you your privacy.”
She didn’t say a word, so he stood, and when he offered her his hand, he noticed her robotic movements. Not long after she’d slipped out of her wet coat, then the dress that she’d worn for the party; Ona put on the dry clothes that Lucien had laid out for her to wear; a Yale sweatshirt that looked and felt like it had never been worn. The matching pants were too large, and she’d rolled the band twice to shorten the length of the legs. Her feet had begun to warm and she was beginning to feel the tips of her toes. She heard a knock on the bedroom door, then she heard the knob slowly turning. He partially opened the door, sticking his head in to peek. Ona sat on the foot of his bed, dawning a pair of white sweat socks. She didn’t know what she looked like to him, but when he walked into the room, his face held a pleased expression.
He said…
“Feel better?”
She nodded, because words still escaped her. Ona had never defied her parents, her Sect or the Creeds. She’d never considered action that went contrary to her Samaritan roots and to her, these events had gone far beyond her comprehension. She felt as if she’d been living a dream. Surreal or not; she had to regain control because by now, she was certain that her absence had been discovered.
Ona closed her eyes, because she couldn’t stomach the humiliation she’d heaped on her parents. They deserved so much better.
She raised her eyes, and when she looked at Lucien, her confusion doubled.
She said…
“I’m sorry.”
Lucien crossed the room, joining her at the foot of his bed.
“What do you have to apologize for?”
“Allowing you to become involved with me. I shouldn’t have done that. I blame myself for breaking that Creed.”
“Ona…I am not a Samaritan and you don’t have to apologize for anything because we haven’t done anything wrong. I love you…and the fact that you’ve risked everything to be here with me now; that says to me that you must love me as well.”
She sniffled, and she watched his hand when he placed her’s on his lap. He said…
“What happened tonight? Did you argue with your parents? Did they tell you to leave…because of me?”
“No. There was no argument. Well…that isn’t quite true. My brother Caleb…he was upset.”
Lucien frowned but not for the reason’s most would suspect. In fact, he hadn’t been shocked when he learned about Caleb’s behavior. He also surmised that more than likely, Caleb’s anger didn’t explain Ona’s presence, because her behavior was way out of bounds, and was contrary to Samaritan reasoning. In the past, she’d practically set her watch, using the ferry schedules like most people rely on Atomic Clocks. There was more to this tale, so he asked…
“Ona…why are you here?”
He was beyond thrilled that she’d come to him, but he needed to know what the cost had been. What had she perceived to be so unbearable that her only choice was to resort to drastic measures?
Ona said….
“My parents do not know that I am here. I left because…I had no choice. I…I cannot marry Geff…and I cannot marry you.”
“Ona, I agree with you; you can’t marry Geff, and I don’t want you to marry him, because I want you to be with me.”
“But how?” she said. Tears rolled down red cheeks.
“Ona, the time has come for me to talk to your parents. There has to be a way. Maybe, if they knew me…perhaps they could come to accept me and…”
Ona’s head shook violently, when she said…
“No, no, no… It doesn’t work that way. They would never accept you. You aren’t Geff.”
“Sweetheart.”
Lucien didn’t have all the answers, but he wanted to relieve her torment, and he would do whatever she asked of him.
“Tell me what to do baby. You tell me…and I’ll do it. I love you Ona…and I’ll do whatever it takes; as long as it means that you won’t give in by marrying Geff. Tell me that you won’t marry him Ona…and I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Her voice cracked when she said…
“Lucien…if I return to my Sect, I’ll come face to face with what I’ve done. When I see my parents, I’ll have to confront the way that I’ve disgraced them.”
“What about Geff? Will you be forced to speak to him? And will he still want you to marry him, after what you’ve done?”
“Geff will marry me because he has accepted my parent’s blessing; and when I return home, I won’t be strong enough to decline his offer, because I’ll know that my refusal of marriage will disgrace my parents as well as my brothers. There’s no way out for me now…I’ll have to marry Geff.”
“Ona…you don’t have to marry him. You can say no…and if your parents love you, they will understand.”
“No…you don’t understand. If I go back…”
“If?” he said, and suddenly he began to comprehend.
“Ona…do you want to go back? Do you want to return to your Sect
?”
“Yes…I do…but I cannot.”
“Sweetie…you can stay here with me. You don’t have to go back. We can call your parents and tell them that you’re all right. We can meet them tomorrow and discuss this. Honey, we can meet them wherever they want.”
He pulled her into his arms, when he said…
“I’m sure, after we’ve had time to talk, they’ll understand.”
“No, they won’t. My parents will request that I return with them…and I will.”
“But….” he said, and he pulled back to stare into her eyes. “You just said that…” Lucien tried to recall what she’d said and he wondered if he’d misunderstood. Had she come simply to tell him that she could never be his? Did she risk all, simply to tell him that she was being forced to marry Geff?
Ona bit her lower lip, and he strained to hear her because her voice was a breathy whisper.
“I must be disgraced. I must take the shame upon myself. It’s the only way.”
“Ona…” Lucien didn’t particularly care to hear her speak in those terms. He said… “Honey, call your parents now. Get them on the phone, and we’ll figure this out.”
“I must be disgraced Lucien. If I’m disgraced…then I cannot return to my Sect.”
He looked at her, and his expression was the definition of perplexed.
“Honey…what are you trying to say?”
“You must deflower me.”
His brows knitted into a frown, and he didn’t linger on her words. From the start, he’d always known about her innocence; Ona was an unfolded flower—and he’d made every effort to keep her that way. Nevertheless, she was suggesting the unthinkable and the idea went against every moral bone in his body. He released his hold, unfolding their embrace and when he spoke, resolve laced every word.
“No. Absolutely not. I won’t do that Ona. Not for the reasons you’re suggesting.”
“It’s the only way Lucien and I want you to do it. I want you—and it’s the only way that I can make that happen.”
His lips pursed but before he could collect his thoughts, Ona said…
“You must take me…because we love each other. And…if you refuse me…” She couldn’t fathom her choice. She couldn’t believe that she’d been brave enough to make the suggestion. She reached out taking his hand into her own, then she drew from her well of confidence, choosing her words with care.
“I have loved you even though I knew that our love was forbidden. I nurtured our relationship, even though I knew that my parents would never give their blessing. I left my home, refusing to attend a dinner party, where Geff would propose to me, in the presence of both of our families. I am here…in your home,—alone, unaccompanied by a member of my Sect or my family.”
Ona’s eyes fixed him with an earnest expression, when she said…
“I have done these things—and still, there is one offense that remains to be done. I must give myself to you—and you must take me. Lucien…it is the only way. If I lose my innocence—the offense will demand that my Sect expel me.”
“Ona…you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what you’re asking of me. I love you and I can never accept that taking your virginity is the only way we can be together”
His brows knitted, affirming his unyielding stance; he couldn’t consider her proposal. There were too many pitfalls to number, and he had to help her see this. He wouldn’t deny that he wanted her, because he did; but he’d envisioned something far less shameful than the offering she was suggesting. He’d planned to say this, when he felt her body leaning towards him. Her fingers trembled when she grasped hold of his shirt, fisting the fabric in her hand. She pressed a light kiss on his lips, and her mouth beheld a sweet taste. He felt a catch in his throat, and he warred with his brain to protest the absurdity of her maneuvering; but he didn’t. He forced his objections to the rear of his brain, because it was easier that way. He wanted to allow himself to get caught up in the heat of their madness—and he did. Who was he to defy her logic. Who was he to debate a Creed that he didn’t recognize or believe in. But he believed in himself, and he believed in Ona. He believed in hope, and doing right by her. He believed that he would hate himself if they made love, without seeking another way. He broke their kiss, trying desperately to calm the lower half of his body. Their breaths were rapid and he pulled her close, wanting more than anything to keep her wrapped in his arms. He searched for reason, knowing full well that he had to consider the obvious. Take me. That’s what her request amounted to. Take me. A simple request and stated so easily. She’d said the words, but he knew that this action involved more than the loss of her virginity. Making love would mean more then deflowering her or denying another man that esteemed privilege. In most religions, the loss of purity outside of marriage is viewed as an immoral act but in Ona’s case, her shame would be the least of her sorrows. If he were to believe her, giving herself to him would usher in expulsion from her Sect and excommunication from her family. She’d told him that she wanted him, and this would mean the denouncement of her Creed. She’d said the words, making it sound straightforward and easy for him—but it wasn’t and he knew this.
Lucien brushed her lips with the pad of his thumb. He leaned in, kissing the places he’d just touched. He recounted countless days filled with uncertainty dreading the return of her parents. He’d willed himself to believe that love would conquer all; and it would—but not this way. Lucien wanted a relationship based on love, not desperation. He’d waited this long, hoping to find the right girl, and when he had, he’d been prepared to do whatever it would take to marry her. He was willing to take a leap of faith, flying by the seat of his pants. But he wasn’t prepared to disgrace the woman that he loved; even if it meant not losing her.
He held her close, and flinched when he said…
“Ona…we can’t. I just can’t do what you’re asking.”
He felt her bodies rapid jerks. She was crying, and he rocked her while saying…
“Honey…do you trust me.”
He’d asked her this before and in the past, she’d acquiesced, giving him her assurance that she did. He felt the slow rise and fall of her head as she nodded her response. He said…
“You’ll stay here with me tonight. But before you go to sleep, I want you to call your parents. They’ll rest better knowing that you’re not out on the streets, or held up at the Children’s Center.”
She sniffled when she said…
“I’ll call them…and I know what they’re going to say.”
He waited, then she said…
“I will be instructed to meet them at the dock.”
“Fine…that’s exactly what we’ll do. I’ll go with you to the dock, and we’ll force your parent’s to see reason.”
“You don’t understand Lucien.”
By now, he had a pretty decent picture and he had accepted that the odds wouldn’t be in his favor. More than likely, her parent’s would treat him the way Sahara had described. They would pity him, therefore their exchange would be nothing more than Samaritan politeness. He was pretty sure that Ona’s parents would urge her to return to their commune, and as she’d explained to him, out of devotion, she would fall in line, dutifully following their instructions. But he had an ace up his sleeve. The one thing that her parent’s wouldn’t count on. Lucien had something far stronger than allegiances, or a lifetime governed by Creeds.
He said…
“Ona…will you marry me?”
Ona jerked back, then her eyes lowered, taking in the band that encircled her wrist. Her lids raised, and she felt a rapid flow of hot tears. Her lips spread wide in a smile that warmed her cheeks. She nodded, while saying…
“Yes…I accept your intentions. I will be betrothed to you.”
Ona reached up, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, then she drew him into a passionate kiss. Lucien pulled her head close, weaving his fingers between strands of her hair. What more could he ask for; nothing he
supposed. He couldn’t imagine his life without Ona; he’d be a broken man. When Ona moaned, in her whimper he heard so many things. Fulfillment. Yearning desire. Promises kept, and chances worth taking. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but he was certain of one thing. Making love would have been easy—but being in love had complicated things. And love was the reason that he damn well wouldn’t allow anyone to stand in their way. Not Geff, not her brothers or her parents. He would have Ona as his wife, come hell or high water. He would have her, and no one could prevent that from happening.
**********
Chapter 21
Little ducks in a row. Pow, pow—bang.
Joplin blew out a breath of chilled air. He steadied his hand, refocusing his field of view. The night vision goggles illuminated the room making the objects glow like green lava. He’d sat watching, deciding how best to kill his mark. He still hadn’t recovered from the bombshell hoisted on him by of all people, Morpheus Gustafson. He’d arrived at his apartment with an ultimatum concerning a topic that would follow him to his grave. The subject had concern Tollin Pettier and the way he’d died. Morpheus had done all the talking, telling him what a mess he’d made of things. Then Morpheus had insisted to know the connection between Joplin and Andrew. In other words, how did Andrew know to contact him. Years ago, Joplin had crossed paths with Andrew before he’d been a governor. Their’s had been a chance meeting of sort. Andrew had gotten involved with an underage prostitute, and she’d tricked him by stealing his wallet. For a small exchange of cash, he’d caught the girl and retrieved Andrew’s wallet. He’d given Andrew his number, and over the years their paths had crossed several times, but Tollin had been the first person Andrew had asked him to deal with. Morpheus had sat silent, in disbelief. When he composed himself, he started by telling Joplin that he didn’t know where his mother got the name Paddox; and it really didn’t matter. He’d told him that he was a Gustafson, and as such, he would have to do better. They took a quick trip down memory lane, with Morpheus doing most of the talking. Joplin had never met his father, and his mother had lied, telling him that she had not known who had fathered him. Then when his mother had died, Joplin had been nine years old, and he’d been raised by his maternal grandmother. He’d been a piss ass, wise ass, and every other ass, a shitty little snot nosed kid could be. He’d been too much for his grandmother to handle and when he’d been old enough, one of his counselors had suggested a career in the military. The day after graduation he’d been shipped off to basic training, where he’d excelled in every area. Then after serving two tours of duty, when his hitch had been up, he’d decided that enough was enough, and that he’d wanted a civilian life. When he’d been offered a job working for a security firm, at the time he didn’t know that the company was a subsidiary of Gustafson’s securities. The money had been good, but Joplin loved to kill. Not hunting animals; he loved to set his sites, watching the way the body shook, then fell after the kill. It didn’t take much to get his name out, and in no time, he’d begun his career as a part time paid assassin. The irony had been that Morpheus had known about him all along and he’d used his connections to employ him. He’d also known about Joplin’s part time job; and he’d stood silent, because when he’d heard about this, his informants had reported that Joplin was a natural born killer. In many ways, Morpheus had admired this trait, mainly because, he viewed death much differently than most.