Wreckless Intentions

by K. Marie

  There were other islands in the area, of course; some of which developed, but the majority of them were not. They appeared as forested mountains that rose up out of the Aegean Sea, wondrous to look at in the daylight but appearing frightening at night.

  Kai, the Greek Island purchased by my husband, was a beautiful piece of land. Already fully developed by previous owners, it was a crescent-shaped, ninety-acre secluded oasis. Lush with greenery that included actual olive trees, the island had a gently sloping terrain that went from mountainous at its very top; and gradually flatten downward towards the sea. The east side of the island was beachfront with pristine white sands and shallow, clear waters. On the west side of the island was an inlet with two access piers and a guard’s gate. There were already two boats docked there; one was a forty-foot catamaran, and the other a smaller speedboat.

  We'd been on the island for three days, and I had yet to explore it in its entirety. I hadn’t done much of anything since arriving but worry. Garland seemed to have made every provision but one; the cellphone service here was shitty. We came equipped with a satellite phone for emergency’s, but not being able to call—or especially text, when I wanted, was driving me insane.

  If I wanted cell service, I’d likely have to take the twenty to thirty-minute boat ride into Athens or Mikonos. We’d flown in by helicopter from the airport—which is about a ten-minute ride, but firing up the chopper to use a phone seemed ridiculous.

  The journey here had been taxing; taking a seven-week-old infant and a six-year-old on an eleven-hour flight could be challenging. Even in something as plush and comfortable as a Gulfstream jet. The small bedroom in the rear of the plane made taking naps and calming cranky babies more convenient, but hyperactive six-year-olds weren’t appreciative of the overall vibe of confinement.

  We’d stopped in Dublin, Ireland about halfway through the journey to refuel, eat, stretch our legs and breathe in some fresh air. Ireland was a beautiful country, but we weren’t there long enough to enjoy any of it. Hopefully, I’d get to go back one day soon.

  At the sound of my name being called, I swiveled my head around to see Joe approaching with a sense of purpose. Unbidden, my heart promptly somersaulted in my chest.

  I had been waiting on pins and needles for days anticipating bad news. For the first time in forever; I was suddenly not all that happy to see Joe. When he drew to a stop in front of me, I held my breath with expectation.

  “Don’t look so panic-stricken, I’ve come with what I hope to be good news.”

  “What kind of good news?” I asked hesitantly.

  “You’ll be receiving a visitor this evening; your mother-in-law.”

  Huh?

  “Really—who told you that?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Who do you think?”

  Garland. “You spoke with him today—just now?”

  “Yes. I told him I’d come out here to grab you, but he couldn’t talk for long. The boss said he’d call you back on the sat-phone tonight.”

  I felt a stab of disappointment. I haven’t spoken to Garland in over twenty-four hours—not that that was a tremendous amount of time, but it felt like an eternity when you were concerned about someone’s safety. It wasn’t like him to not want to speak to me.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, you can just stop right now,” Joe grumbled unexpectedly. “He misses you, but he’s doing what needs to be done to stay focused. Even us tough guys have vulnerabilities,” he said meaningfully.

  I didn’t get it immediately, but then I did. Garland stayed in contact with Joe to check on our safety. However, the children and I were like his kryptonite—he was compartmentalizing. I hadn’t looked at it from his perspective. Who knows what kind of mental and emotional shit he’s going through? Him speaking to me—hearing my voice and knowing I’m so far away; and why, was likely its own form of torture.

  Quickly wiping away the tears that had formed of their own free will, I bobbed my head in acknowledgment of Joe’s words. “Thank you, Joe, I-I wasn’t thinking; wasn’t looking at it from Garland’s perspective.”

  To say that he had a lot on his plate would be an understatement.

  “He’ll be alright. If ever a man was capable of fighting his own battles, it’s your husband,” Joe stated with confidence.

  I was in agreeance, but the emotional part of me still worried.

  “So, my mother-in-law is really coming—how’d that happen? Did he just randomly toss her into the Lonely Island Posse?” I asked humorously, seeking to focus my mind on something else.

  The Lonely Island Posse is the name I’d jokingly given our crew two days ago; it was certainly fitting. There was a total of sixteen of us that included seven additional security guys, the housekeeper, cook, and a groundskeeper. The Mediterranean-style house itself was sprawling and had plenty of room for everyone. I was thrilled to have Garland’s mother joining us; to have her finally meet her grandson face to face.

  I hadn’t seen her since the wedding, but we facetimed almost weekly. She’d actually planned to visit us in two weeks—since I had no idea when we might be returning home, perhaps this was Garland’s Plan B. It was perfect.

  “Any update on Viktor?”

  The last report from Garland two days ago was that Viktor was conscious and alert. Dr. Yanovich was preparing to remove the ventilator tube from his throat yesterday.

  “He’s cranky; according to the boss, but is holding his own.”

  Thank God.

  “You know, I’d feel a lot better if you were with Garland right now; or Viktor, but, I’m glad you’re here,” I told Joe. After a beat, I asked him something I’d wanted to ask for a very long time. “Tell me, what do you typically do on your off-days—how do you spend your time outside of being a tough guy? Is there a girlfriend? A boyfriend?”

  I’d known the man almost a year now and had no idea of his personal life. Joe was a closed book, he never talked about anything personal, and I didn’t want to pry. But, whatever, I’m nosy as hell.

  “I am one-hundred-percent heterosexual,” Joe said on a snort; as though offended.

  “I wasn’t implying you weren’t—but I also didn’t want to assume, no judgment either way,” I laughed.

  He didn’t say anything else for a while, but because I’d come to know Joe; knew him to be a contemplative man who always chose his words carefully, I waited him out.

  “Most of my off-days are spent attending AA meetings—Alcoholics Anonymous, I’ve been sober almost six years now thanks to your husband.”

  Whoa. How in the hell did I not know that?

  “Wow, Joe, that’s wonderful; Mazel Tov. I can imagine how difficult that must have been. How did Garland aid you in that?”

  Another stretch of silence.

  “He knocked on my door one day and changed my life. I was at my lowest point at that moment. I had recently lost my job and couldn’t stay sober long enough to find another. Hell, the day he and Viktor showed-up at my door, I thought they were there to kill me,” he confessed with a small sniff of laughter.

  “Why would you think that?” I asked in puzzlement.

  “No offense to either of my friends, but two tough-looking Russian’s wearing five-thousand-dollar suits knocking on my door—in my neighborhood, could mean only one thing. Lucky for me; they weren’t there to kill me. I had a bitching hangover that day and couldn’t have located my gun if I’d tried.”

  I laughed. “So, why were the two of them there?”

  “After my drunk-ass opened the door without thinking, I took one look at them and shut it back; only, Viktor’s reflexes were quicker than mine.”

  Joe stared-off into the sea a moment; likely remembering that day, before continuing. “I can still remember your husband’s face as he stood right inside the doorway—eyes sweeping the trashed room in disgust before coming to land on me. ‘Is this what you want your legacy to be, lying dead in squalor; in a puddle of your alcohol-soaked excrement? Or would you prefer to stop thro
wing pity-parties and come work for me?’ he’d said.”

  “That was awfully blunt of him,” I stated with a grin, knowing that that was Garland all the way. He was nothing if not blunt and straight to the point.

  “I had no idea who he was. He’d been scouting for muscle and had gone to the security firm where I used to work. The owner was an associate of his; he told him that I was the best the firm had, but that they’d recently let me go because of my drinking.”

  “Garland preferred his muscle inebriated?” I asked jokingly.

  Joe chuckled. “No, he preferred the best; and is one determined son-of-a-bitch.”

  “So, what happened after that; he hired you?”

  “No, he handed me a business card and said, ‘A man with your background and service record shouldn’t have to die here in this room with no one to mourn him. If you don’t value yourself, no one will. Call me when you’re ready, and I’ll see that you get yourself cleaned-up and back into the land of the living.’”

  “What happened after that; I’m assuming you sobered-up and called him?”

  “After that, he turned on the heels of his Tom Ford loafers and left.”

  I giggled. “The heels of his Tom Ford loafers?”

  “You know they’re his favorite’s.”

  Fair point. Garland had them in every color and style. Berluti was his next favorite brand.

  “How soon before you called him?” I pressed, refusing to be dissuaded from my prying.

  “It took about three weeks. It isn’t always easy for a man to face his demons; however, I recognized a blessing when I saw one. Your husband was right, had he not intervened at that moment, I’d have probably been dead within a month,” Joe said soberly.

  “Had you always struggled with alcoholism?”

  Joe shook his head in the negative. “No, it started about a year after being discharged from the Navy. My team got ambushed during a mission; I took two bullets to the back and one in the arm, had to have my spleen removed. Being a SEAL is physically strenuous, after my injuries, I was unable to pass the required physical fitness tests and got honorably discharged.”

  Jeez.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Joe, it must have been crushing,” I said softly, feeling my heart wrench in sympathy for him. Being forced to quit something you loved doing sucks.

  “Yeah, it hit me pretty hard. I was in the Navy twelve years; seven of them as a SEAL, it’s all I knew. I lived and breathed Navy,” he admitted, revealing a sliver of vulnerability. “After returning home, I had complications from my injuries and was in and out of the hospital. I was also in chronic pain. I started using the alcohol to numb the pain.”

  I wondered if he meant both the physical and mental pain.

  “Well, you lived to tell the tale, and you’re a real badass. I’d say it was a winner all around,” I concluded.

  My mother-in-law arrived shortly after nine that evening. I had driven the short distance down to the clearing where the chopper landed to greet her in one the golf carts used for quickly getting around the island.

  A pretty dark-haired woman, Florencia Vidov was a petite-little-powerhouse, both feisty and energetic. But she was also so damn sweet.

  “Uh, maybe I should give the two of you a moment alone,” I teased with a watery smile, eyeing her fondly as she cried over Roman.

  Her eyes had swelled with tears the moment she looked at him.

  “Oh, Camry…he’s so perfect,” she sniffled, smoothing a gentle hand across Roman’s hair.

  “I’m biased, so I’ll agree with you,” I gushed proudly.

  Allowing her space to blubber over her grandson in private, I left the bedroom and went downstairs with the others. Autumn had already gone to bed for the night—with the difference in time zones, we were all having to adjust to new bedtimes. But, she’d be excited when she awoke to find Flo here.

  When I walked into the expansive room located at the rear of the house, I found both Marie and Katherine sitting at the rectangular-shaped wooden table with three of the guards playing cards. The men alternated in shifts, with most of them on-guard outside and only a few of them inside. The island wasn’t huge, but it was large enough that it took more of them to patrol it.

  Waving away their offers for me to join the game, I opted to go outside onto the terrace that was just on the other side of the room. I felt exhausted, but I also wasn’t right for company right now.

  Garland hadn’t yet called.

  I knew I needed to just chill and stop worrying incessantly, but I couldn’t. I also couldn’t call him. I hadn’t even attempted; I had heeded Joe’s words.

  With a dejected sigh, I trudged over to the black wrought-iron patio table with a shiny, blue-tiled top and collapsed tiredly into one of its chairs. Twisting my head to-and-fro with interest, I concluded that it was a warm and inviting setting; and one meant for families to spend time together on. The outdoor space was lit with small, lantern-style lights that were strung all around the terrace, giving it a soft, magical glow. Cedar and olive trees lined the areas on both sides, as well as dotted the terrain beyond. The best part was, the house had been built strategically on the highest rise of the island so that there were views of the sea from every direction. It was beautiful to sit gazing at during the lighter hours of the day.

  The island itself was like a small, secluded resort; a sort of private playground for the rich. When Garland bought an island, he bought an ISLAND.

  There were two smaller houses located about a quarter-mile away, a boathouse, and a large storage garage that housed the golf carts, wave runners, kayaks, and other various watercraft. In addition to the swimming pool adjacent to the terrace, there was a swimming pool that was separate from the main house and closer to the beach. And just like any pool you’d find at a resort, it had its own cabana and plenty of cemented area surrounding it in which to put loungers on. There was also a tennis court and hiking trails. Basically, there was a lot of shit here to do.

  I wasn’t doing any of it…Garland would probably be disappointed.

  As I sat moping, sound spilled abruptly outside from inside the house as the doors of the terrace were opened; breaking the silence. My mother-in-law came walking over to where I sat, Roman still wrapped in her arms.

  “I am in love…mi pequeño cielo has stolen my heart,” she announced with a joyous smile, taking the chair across from me.

  “What does that mean, pequeño-?” I asked, unable to remember the other word.

  “Pequeño cielo, it means ‘little sky.’ Roman is my little sky—my little heaven.”

  “Yeah, he is pretty special, isn’t he?” I said in agreeance, mirroring her happy smile.

  “He is much like his father; mi corazón, it has brought back many good memories from long ago,” my mother-in-law said, a nostalgic look in her eyes.

  “Mi corazón means ‘my heart,’ that one I know,” I stated triumphantly. “Is that what you call Garland, my heart?” I asked curiously, feeling my heart melt.

  “Yes, from the day he was born.”

  Aww…how frigging cute.

  “What was he like as a child?”

  My mother-in-law’s eyes lit up. “Strong-willed and stubborn,” she snickered. “But, so, so sweet. He was very intelligent for his age, which made him too independent. We would battle over everything from putting his shoes on to combing his hair. I was resistant to him growing up too fast, you see, but it was something I had no control over.”

  “Sounds like some things haven’t changed,” I remarked ruefully.

  “As mothers, we are unable to appreciate those qualities when they are mere niño’s, but as men, it is a good thing.”

  We sat in companionable silence, both lost in our own thoughts as we listened to the faint sound of voices coming from inside the house and the crash of waves coming from the sea below. It was a couple of minutes before my mother-in-law spoke again.

  “I know you are worried, and you should be. However, take it fro
m someone who’s spent almost the past forty years worrying, it only helps to give you wrinkles.”

  I smiled over at her. “Forty years is a long time to worry—I can barely handle three days, how have you coped?”

  “By having faith and love in my heart. It wasn’t always easy, believe me; some days my faith was stronger than others. But, my love never wavered,” she answered. “We don’t get to have everything we want in this life—including true love, so, for me, I believe the sacrifice to have been worth it.”

  “Have you always known?” I asked, voicing the question I’d wanted to ask since finding out myself. She knew what I was referring to.

  My mother-in-law’s eyes stared back at me solemnly as she slowly nodded her head. “Yes. I knew what kind of man Liev was—what he did to make a living. I was resistant to it in the beginning; he was not the kind of man my father approved of. But, oh boy was he so handsome and charming,” she said wistfully, a glowing smile on her face and laughter in her eyes.

  Like father like son, I guess.

  “Like any marriage, ours hasn’t always been perfect; there were struggles along the way. At one point, I even believed God to be punishing me for my choice by not blessing me with more children. However, Liev is a great man despite his flaws, I would make the same choice again.”

  Her words seemed to mirror my own feelings. But, was it really a sacrifice—the constant worry and perils of the dangerous parts of our world? Were we giving something up, or gaining a lot in return for it?

  After pondering my mother-in-law’s words, I concluded it was the latter. “I guess it’s the price we pay for loving great men.”

  Thirty-Four

  G A R L A N D

  * * *

  Vagankovo Cemetery, Moscow

  It seemed an unnatural and eerie quiet as we marched through the cemetery, the weight of the cherrywood casket resting atop the four of our shoulder’s. As if out of respect for the dead, only the sound from everyone’s shoes impacting the pavement disturbed the quiet as we made our way to the burial site.