by Alice Addy
It seemed that he could hear Thomas speaking to him. Speaking of good times they’d had and of the horrific circumstances they had most recently shared. It seemed more than just a dream.
Anthony sat straight up. “Oh, my God,” he uttered.
He had been aware for some time, of his ability to hear the unspoken thoughts of his immortal brothers. It was a gift, peculiar to him. All the voices and thoughts he’d heard, in the beginning, had almost driven him insane. Now, he recognized what he was hearing, was the silent thoughts of his friend. Thomas was not dead!
Anthony rushed to the blanket and tossed it back.
Looking up at him, with a twisted smile of pain, Thomas moved his lips. “Kill me,” he demanded.
* * *
“Stop it, Tony! Oh, please stop it. I can’t stand to hear anymore.” Sophie was weeping, as she embedded her nails deeply into Tony’s flesh. “No more.”
Her pleading brought Tony out of his memories. “Oh, Sophie. What have I done? Of course you can’t stand to hear this. It’s too gruesome. I told you I was a monster.” He buried his face in his hands and allowed himself to break down. His entire body shook with his powerful sobs.
Sniffling, Sophie put her arms around his shoulders. “Darling, this isn’t good for you. You’re still recuperating, and this is tearing you apart. I don’t think you’re a monster. I’m heartbroken that you had to endure this kind of pain. It’s beyond belief. Please, stop, Tony. This can’t be good for you.”
Tony tried to compose himself, and after a few minutes, he succeeded. There was always the possibility that, at any moment, a nurse or doctor could walk in and discover him crying uncontrollably. The last thing he needed was for them to think he was in pain or having a mental breakdown.
“You’re right, Sophie. I’ve said enough. Thomas died and I lived. I’ll never forget my best friend.”
“Of course you won’t. You’re a good man, Tony, and I love you very, very much.”
They kissed and Tony closed his eyes. “I’m tired, sweetie. I need to rest.”
Sophie patted his shoulder. “You get some sleep. I’ll stand watch.”
Tony tried to relax, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate. Dark, horrific images flashed through his brain. Tortured thoughts of pain and depravity, assaulted his consciousness. He finally drifted back …
* * *
Looking around for something he could use, Anthony dislodged a large and heavy stone. He was determined to end his friend’s torture, once and for all. There was no saving Thomas, and he had to think what he would want Thomas to do for him, if the circumstances were reversed.
He gently touched Thomas’ face. “I’m so sorry, Thom. I wish it were you standing here, and I was in your place. This is the hardest thing any man has ever had to do. I love you, dear brother, and will miss you more than you can imagine. I hope to see you again, Thom.”
In his mind, he thought he heard a soft, “Thank you, brother.”
He carefully pulled the blanket over Thomas’ face. Returning to the large stone, he hefted it, high into the air, and brought it crashing down in one swift movement. Anthony refused to listen to the sounds of a human skull collapsing under the weight of a heavy rock. Again, and again, he brought his hands down, obliterating anything that looked like it might still be in one piece. Five minutes or twenty minutes later—Anthony had lost all track of time—he found he couldn’t lift his arms above his shoulders. His hands and fingers were numb.
Carefully, he folded the blanket and its contents into a neat pile. Within a half hour, he had collected enough dry wood for a good-sized fire. He would burn everything. It would be a great funeral pyre, he thought.
Anthony stood back and watched the flames. Higher and higher they climbed. He chuckled. “Thomas, it’s a great Viking funeral I’ve given you. Remember when we used to pretend to be terrible, bloodthirsty Norsemen, raping and pillaging the Saxons?” A brittle laugh burst from his chest. “I guess we had one hell of a day, today, didn’t we, friend? Goodbye, Thom.”
Without looking over his shoulder, Anthony turned and walked away. He’d have to find a way to live with what had just happened, and he wasn’t sure he could.
* * *
Sophie was admiring her husband’s bare backside, when it suddenly dawned on her, that Tony had nothing to wear on the plane ride home. “You know, Tony, you’re not exactly dressed for traveling.”
Tony stirred.
“You can’t wear that gown home, no matter how sexy you look in it. I think I should make a quick trip to a men’s clothier and pick you up a few things. I’ll get you everything you need. Since they seem to be in no great hurry to release you, I should have plenty of time. Promise not to go anywhere without me. Go back to sleep.”
She grabbed her designer handbag and kissed her husband’s cheek. “Rest, darling. You do look terribly tired. We’ll finish our discussion when we get home. I love you.”
“Buy everything extra large, Sophie,” he mumbled. “I’ve got a lot of padding under this sheet,” he joked. “I love you too, sweetie. Hurry back.” He rolled over, and went back to sleep.
* * *
The shopping expedition took Sophie longer than she expected. First, she had a currency problem, and then she didn’t understand the difference in sizes. She resorted to holding the clothing up to a particularly helpful salesclerk. If it fit him, she hoped it would fit Tony. It took several hours to gather up the necessities for traveling back to the U.S., time she didn’t have.
The sun was beginning to set behind the buildings, and the businesses were shuttering their doors by the time Sophie entered the hospital lobby. “Of all the rotten luck,” she moaned, glancing up at the clock. “It’s too late to leave, today. I’ll have to sleep in that skinny hospital bed, next to Tony,” she grumbled to herself. However, as she entered the elevator, her frown dissolved into a huge smile. She had a mental picture of the two of them, sharing space in the extremely small bed, with Tony’s strong arm slung over her waist and breathing into her hair. Listening to the beat of his heart, she knew she would sleep most comfortably.
As she arrived at the end of the hall, Sophie slowed her pace and stopped just outside Tony’s door. She listened to the quiet noise of the hospital, before turning the handle. Something felt different. She peeked her head around the door, and looked into the darkened room.
“What’s that pumping sound?” she murmured.
She stepped in. Sophie was shocked at what she saw. Obviously, without Tony’s permission, or even her own consent, the doctors had decided to pump their “chemicals” into his body, regardless of his wishes. She tried to read the labels on the various hanging bags, but they were written in Latin or French or some other stupid language she didn’t understand. At least, Tony looked comfortable, and he appeared to be sleeping.
Walking quietly, she took a thin blanket and pillow, down from the closet, and made herself a bed in the reclining chair, preparing to wait out the night. Uncomfortable and angry as hell, she planned to raise a stink, in the morning—American style.
It was Tony’s retching and heaving that woke her up, a little after five o’clock. The man, that never got sick, was very sick. She grabbed a wet washcloth and wiped down his face and neck. He looked so scared. Sophie understood. This was all new to him. He hadn’t been ill in over two hundred years.
“Tony, sweetheart, listen to me. This will pass. Just try to ride it out. Breathe slowly and try to relax. Think beautiful thoughts. Think of how I’m going to shoot someone for this.”
Tony almost chuckled, but smiled and nodded, instead.
Within a short amount of time, a warning had been sent throughout the hospital. All the staff was to be aware of the crazy American woman, in Mr. Barton’s room. She was to be considered unstable, and they needed to use caution when in her presence. Mr. Barton had received the maximum dosage of a new and experimental cancer-fighting drug. If he refused further treatment, he could be released, against the recomm
endation of his doctors, and sent home to die.
Sophie and Tony were ecstatic.
“Hurry, darling. Put on your pants, before they change their minds,” Sophie prompted.
Tony laughed. “They aren’t about to change their minds, sweetheart. They figure it’s in everyone’s best interest to get rid of you. Who would have thought I married such a formidable woman? They’re scared to death of you, sugar. God, I love you, Mrs. Barton.”
Sophie tied her husband’s shoes, while he grabbed his new jacket. The shoes pinched his feet, but the jacket was big enough to make up for them. The long sleeves took away from the short length of the pants. Tony laughed at his wife’s honest efforts. He’d never been happier.
“When we get home, Sophie, I’m taking you shopping,” he boasted.
“Oh, Tony, you’re spoiling me. I don’t need a thing. Really, I don’t.”
“You misunderstand, dear. I don’t intend to buy you anything. I’m going to take you clothes shopping, for me.” He paraded around the room for her inspection.
“Well, tell me what you honestly think.” Tony held his head high and puffed out his nearly healed chest.
Sophie started to giggle. “I can honestly say, you’ve never looked this way, before.” She laughed. “I’m sorry, Tony. I did my very best, but this isn’t New York, you know. Everything’s in French!”
“Imagine that,” he said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
As luck would have it, it was rush hour by the time Tony and Sophie’s plane landed at JFK. The airport terminal was packed, and the line for the baggage claim extended around the receiving area and out through the gate. Tony may have been immortal, but his ribs hurt like hell and his temper was frayed. The drugs he’d been given in the hospital had made him nauseous and caused his heart to beat erratically. He was damned uncomfortable.
“Take it slow, Tony,” Sophie reprimanded. “You’re going to hurt yourself, if you insist on tearing through the terminal, like this.” She was clearly out of breath, just trying to keep up with his long stride. “For God’s sake, slow down,” she shouted, just before Tony careened into an elderly lady, trying to wheel her luggage up over the curb, and knocking the woman to her knees.
“Oh, ma’am. I am so sorry. Are you all right?” Tony was immediately apologetic and hoped he hadn’t hurt the woman seriously. “Please, let me help you to your feet. This was entirely my fault.”
The woman allowed Tony to lift her, and set her upright. Brushing at her skirt, she winced, slightly, when she noticed the scrapes across her knees. Not wishing to cause a scene, she smiled, in an attempt to put the young man at ease. It was only then, that she saw his face and the unusual color of his green eyes. His sensuous mouth was a thing of masculine beauty. He looked familiar, somehow. Glancing down, at his strong and capable hands, she saw the ring, and felt the room begin to spin.
Tony saw her sway, and lifted her up, carrying her into the main terminal and to the chairs provided.
“Sophie, I think she may have been injured. Go get some help, sweetie.”
The lady put her hand on Tony’s arm. “No, no. That isn’t necessary. I’m not hurt, honestly. I don’t know what I was thinking. It…it can’t possibly be true,” she sputtered.
Tony bent low over the older woman. “What distresses you, may I ask?” He had an idea. There was something familiar in her lavender eyes and the tilt of her delicate chin that played with his memory.
The woman shook her head to clear her thoughts. “I thought I recognized you…but it was so very long ago, it could not be you.” Her eyes stayed fixed on Tony’s face, as if she could not believe he was anyone else.
“What is your name, ma’am?” Tony inquired, gently.
“Bea. I was born Beatrice Elisha Wilson, way back in twenty-six.” She paused for a moment, before she asked, “And what is your name, young man?” She held her breath.
Tony took her hand in his, gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. “Bea, I would like to take you home with me, for just a few hours. My wife, Sophie, and I would like to make certain you’re okay, before we send you on your way. I would also, like to talk to you about something you may not understand, at first.” He took a deep breath, uncertain if he should reveal his secret. But this was Bea. “My name is Tony.”
Beatrice Wilson turned as white as a sheet, just before her eyes reclaimed their familiar sparkle and her lips turned up at the corners in a delightful grin. She nodded.
“Yes, Tony. I’d love to have that chat.”
She stood up on wobbly legs, and allowed the handsome man, and his beautiful lady, to guide her to a chauffeured limousine.
Within the close confines of the car, everyone seemed to relax and let down their guard. Beatrice could not stop staring at the stranger seated across from her. She looked at him with awe, and then turned her eyes upon her own, folded hands. They were wrinkled and spotted with age. His were smooth and full of strength. He still wore the emerald ring, she had admired, so many years before. On her little finger, she also wore a ring. It was the small emerald he had given to her.
Beatrice was first to break the silence. “I do know you, don’t I, Tony?”
Tony smiled and nodded. For a moment, time seemed to stop. “You do, at that, Bea.”
Sophie clapped her hands, joyfully. “That’s great! You’re old friends.” Then it dawned on Sophie that the important word might be ‘old’. Her eyes grew large, as she caught her breath. “Uh-oh. You’re old friends, aren’t you? This should be interesting,” she muttered. Should she be jealous?
“You look well, Bea,” Tony said, softly. “It’s really good to see a friend, again.”
The woman patted her white hair back into place, and straightened her spine. Pursing her lips, slightly, she nodded. “It is good, Tony, but it does cause one to question the circumstances.” She placed her hand gently along side of his face, and said with wonderment, “You look exactly the same. You haven’t aged a day. How can that be? What kind of magic do you possess? ”
“You’re wrong, dear,” Tony replied. “I have aged, a great deal, in fact. My age just doesn’t manifest itself on the outside. I assure you, I have grown up in the last sixty-one years.”
Tony removed Bea’s hand from his cheek and brought it around to his lips. He kissed it, sweetly. “I wish I had known, back then, what I have learned since. Perhaps I would have done the right thing by my friends.”
Tears began to fill the lavender eyes in the old woman’s face. “We were special friends, weren’t we, Tony?”
“Yes, Bea, very special indeed. Now, I think it is time I introduced you to my beautiful wife, Sophie. She’s the love of my very lengthy life. At long last, I have found the peace I have sought, for so many years.
He glanced toward Sophie and knew the questions she must be asking herself. He chuckled. Who knew how she’d respond when she discovered he had once been in love with Beatrice Wilson?
“Darling, Bea and I met right after the war.”
“Which war?” Sophie asked, flippantly.
“Why, World War II, naturally,” Bea retorted. “How old do you think I am, child?”
“I’m not a child,” she mumbled.
Tony chuckled. His two best girls were hitting it off just fine. “Don’t be offended, Bea. Sophie has an unusual way of saying things. She has her own way of seeing the world. You’ll soon get used to it.”
“Have you gotten used to it?” the elderly lady asked, her eyes dancing with merriment. She could see the love he had for his wife, and she doubted, very much, if he would ever get used to her.
Their conversation was interrupted by Sophie’s gesticulating in the car. “Hello? I’m sitting right here, and I can hear every word you’re saying about me. Duh!”
Tony laughed outright. “Calm down, darling. Let me tell you all about Bea.”
“Oh, not all, Tony. How would I ever live it down?” Bea was starting to have a very good time.
Tony leaned over and wh
ispered in her ear, “You’re as ornery and as feisty as ever. Glad to know some things never change.” He squeezed her hand.
She giggled.
Sophie frowned and pretended not to notice their pleasant camaraderie.
“Bea was my nurse, and once saved my hide. The saw-bones wanted to cut off my leg,” his eyes conveyed the horror of that, to Sophie, “but Bea wouldn’t let him. For that, I am eternally grateful. You can understand that, right sweetheart?”
Sophie was clearly horrified. “Oh, Bea. I am so grateful to you. You have no idea how awful that would have been for my husband. He has a fear of such things, you know.” Sophie glanced back at Tony, wanting to kiss his lips. She truly wanted to put her arms around the older woman and squeeze her good and tight. That, however, might have been too much, so she decided to gift her with one of her most brilliant smiles.
Tony remembered the day he was discharged from the hospital. “It was June, 1945, and I had been hospitalized in San Francisco, facing certain amputation of my left leg, above the knee.” Tony shuddered, and unconsciously began massaging his left leg, perhaps to reassure him that it was still there. “I remember it, as if it were last week …”
* * *
“I can’t thank you enough, Bea, for giving me a place to stay while I heal. I really don’t have anywhere to go. What will your roommate say when you bring a man home to convalesce?”
Bea’s face reddened. “I don’t have a roommate, Tony. We’ll be alone.” She busied her hands in her purse, trying to find her keys. What had come over her? In all the years she’d been caring for the war wounded, she had never thought of asking a patient to her home. But, this man was different. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him just yet.
“I’ve got two bedrooms. It will be private enough,” she stated, as the lock turned and she gave the door a good hard push.
The apartment was grand. It was old, from another era, and boasted high ceilings, carpets on the floor, and windows with unobstructed views of the bay.