TWICE UPON A TIME

by Jennifer Wagner

  No one stumbling across them would realize the danger they were all in.

  "Bella, are you okay?"

  She didn't have any excess energy to pounce on him for using her nickname.

  "Yeah, I'm fine," she said lightly, abandoning her work to join the art project on the floor.

  * * *

  Rico studied Anna covertly as she lay on the floor. Stretched out on her stomach with her sock-covered feet in the air, she shouldn't have looked so sexy. But she did.

  She laughed at something Rafe said, and he leaned forward and kissed her nose. God, he wanted that. He wanted to crawl over to them and get sloppy kisses and hug their beautiful mother.

  Somehow she'd managed to raise two really great kids. The more he was around them, the more he realized how much went into taking caring of one child, much less two the same age. She'd done it by being both the mom and the dad, a commodity neither of them had growing up.

  Speaking of which, what had happened to her mom?

  Glancing at his screen, he replied to Mike's suggestion to meet in person. Although they met in an online service where they could change nicknames daily, it was time for more in-depth discussion.

  Mike had spoken with the two field guys, and they'd reported they sent the alert beep when Joncaluso had pulled up and walked around the house. They'd beeped back when he reached the front door. Frowning, Rico brushed his fingers on the keys without responding. Joncaluso hit the front door a few seconds after the safety beep. He needed the exact time frame from the men outside to find out if the cop had been on the porch or just around the yard. They damn well better have had someone stationed by the side fence to watch, or heads would roll.

  Because if Joncaluso hadn't been on the porch, he wasn't their prowler.

  They decided on a different method of communication between him and the agents that would rely more heavily on their beepers and cell phones. Mike agreed to pass on the codes to them.

  He sent Mike Anna's insights and bit back a chuckle at the quick reply. No, he typed in caps, Anna does not want a job with the agency.

  Mike then said he had run a check, but the cop had come up clean as a whistle. Possibly too clean. He'd make the arrangements to fly in tomorrow with that report and the pictures he'd gathered from old Balangerio surveillance files.

  He also said he'd bring the new protective identities he'd finagled from their boss.

  Anna was going to hate him for the rest of her life, but he couldn't allow them all to be sitting ducks. Mike's latest news confirmed his worst fears. Two men had been caught trying to dig up Rico Carella's casket the night before.

  Like a magnet, his gaze was drawn back to Anna. She changed positions, giving him more of her profile. He could see from the lower lip she was biting that something was definitely bothering her, reminding him of her earlier expression. It had tested every ounce of his control. He'd wanted to crush her to him and promise her everything would be fine.

  But he knew touching her was the one thing she didn't need. A lifetime ago it would have been. Today it would only add to the purple shadows bruising the skin under her eyes and the paleness she tried to hide beneath makeup.

  Rafe grew tired of his gluing and joined him. Standing next to Rico's leg, he leaned one small arm on it.

  "Is that a 'puter?"

  "Sure is," Rico said, finishing his sentence to Mike.

  "Can I press a button?"

  Rafe stared so earnestly at him, Rico forgot what he was going to say. Ruffling his son's hair, he pushed away the bittersweet memories of his brother.

  "Ummm."

  "He asked if he could press a button," Anna said from the floor.

  Compassion softened her features, and in the muted light he couldn't even see her irises. Only impossibly large, soft, perceptive eyes.

  He knew then that he loved her.

  Not like before, although that was a part of it. He loved the person she'd become. The woman who bore his children when it would have been perfectly understandable had she not. The woman who stood up to him, who'd played tag with their kids and ended it with a water hose fight. One she let them win.

  He loved her.

  "Gage," Rafe patted his leg. He tore he gaze away from Anna's very pale face.

  "I'm sorry, son. I was daydreaming. You can hit a button, but only the ones I tell you. Deal?"

  Rafe stuck out his hand, much the same way Rico had done to his son days ago. Had he taught him that? Pride surged through him as he shook his son's hand.

  He heard a sniffle and looked up. His mother ran the tip of her finger under each eye and gave him a watery smile.

  * * *

  Two hours later it was the twins' bedtime. Going through the routine, Rico felt more like he belonged.

  "What's that?" Rebecca asked from behind him, tapping on the bulge in his back jeans pocket.

  "My wallet," he explained, pulling it out. He flipped it open, and Rafe scrambled out of the bed Anna had just tucked him into. He sent her an apologetic glance, and she shrugged with one shoulder as if to say, "It happens all the time."

  He reached out and pulled a blue credit card from his holder. "Hey, Becca. This 'yooks 'yike Aunt Dana's cards." Rebecca nodded. "But she had more than Gage."

  Anna gave a tired chuckle. "Sweetie, some people have too many. Rafe, looks like."

  While Rafe dutifully mimicked his mother, Rebecca pulled out a card.

  "This has three colors."

  Rafe reached for another.

  "This one has a tiger!"

  Pretty soon every plastic card lay on the bed.

  "Why do you have different ones?" Rebecca asked.

  Rico reached out and tugged one of her curls, loving the way it bounced back up. "They do different things. Those two buy gas for your car, and the other one can buy anything you want. You don't need that many of them."

  "Aunt Dana does," Rafe said while he smashed two of the cards together, then proceeded to pretend they were race cars and vroom them around the bedspread.

  "Enough stalling, you two."

  "You can stay in my bed, Mom," Rafe offered generously.

  "What a sport you are. But where would you sleep?"

  He shrugged. "With Gage."

  She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I don't think so. Come on, it's going to be morning soon."

  Rafe imitated her sigh and handed Rico the plastic cards. "She always says that," he confided.

  "She's right."

  Rafe smiled at him as if sharing a private joke, then sprang into his bed. Rebecca handed him the rest of the cards and, still on her knees, tried to hug him. She only managed his neck and right shoulder. Her cheek pressed against his for a second before she pulled away and kissed it.

  "Night, Gage," she whispered too loudly in his ear. He closed his eyes for a second, kissed her forehead and walked out. He held the words in until he got into the hallway.

  "Good night, love."

  * * *

  "He forgot to kiss my head," Rafe complained.

  Anna hesitated, still seeing Rico's suffering. She knew it hurt him when the kids called him Gage. "He didn't forget, honey. He saved yours for when he comes in to check on you later."

  "He checks on us?" Rebecca sounded awestruck.

  "I check on you both every night."

  "Yeah, but you're 'posed to," Rafe explained.

  "I see." She stood between the beds and smiled at both of them. "Well, I'll make sure I keep doing my job."

  They giggled, and she kissed them, tucked them in and checked the locks and blinds on their windows before she left the room.

  Thinking about Rico's last expression, she started down the stairs. She could hear him talking to Lina and stopped halfway down on the shadowed staircase.

  "I moved here after your funeral. It was a very bad time." Anna could hear Rico's mother bustling around the kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers. "I found out much and I grieved more."

  "Wheat do you mean?"

  "Losi
ng my only other son, it almost killed me. Anna and your babies were my salvation."

  Anna hurried down the last two steps, sliding on the ceramic foyer tiles in her haste. She shouldn't have been surprised that he sensed her presence.

  She hoped he didn't ask why Lina would grieve more after finding them. She didn't want him to find out about Lina's deception yet.

  When he faced her, she unconsciously braced herself for the condemnation she would see there. What she did glimpse surprised her. A dark kind of suffering and a sardonic twist of his lips.

  "We've all paid for things in our own way, haven't we, Anna?"

  Instinctively stiffening in preparation for an attack on her past wrongs, she was thrown off when he straightened up from his lounging against the island and strolled to the refrigerator.

  What was this? She inched into the circle of kitchen light and looked to Lina for guidance, but she was busy constructing a Dagwood-size sandwich for him.

  "Hey, Mama," he said, putting down his already emptied glass and refilling it. "Did you notice little Rafe has the same speech problem as Rafael did?"

  Lina gave him a warm smile that chased away the shadows of their conversation. "Sí, I did."

  "You never mentioned that to me," Anna said a tad indignantly. If her son had an inherited speech problem, she should have been told.

  "Hija, don't be alarmed. I don't know why I didn't mention it before, but maybe it is because Rafael's was gone by the time he was six or seven." She put Rico's monstrous sandwich on a paper plate, sliced it easily and reached over to pat Anna's hand. "You do all you can by correcting him."

  That may be, but she was going to keep an even sharper eye on it. Not that she expected her son to be perfect, but if he needed help, she was going to make sure he got it.

  "It's amazing how much he looks like Rafael," Rico said, chasing down a bite with some milk.

  "I know. Except for Anna's lighter brown hair, he's all your brother," Lina said, leading Rico to the table with her own plate of vegetable munchies.

  An idea formed, and Anna slipped out of the kitchen and into the living room. Moonlight filtered through her sheer white drapes, allowing her to gather her loot without flipping on switches. Hugging her precious collection to her chest, she realized she felt somewhat giddy at what she was about to do.

  Walking back into the kitchen, Lina spotted her before Rico, and her face reflected her approval.

  "I thought you might like to see these," she said, easing them onto the table next to him.

  He looked at them in confusion, then stilled.

  "Are these…?" His hand reached out to them, wavering before lying on the top.

  "Yes. They're the twins' baby albums and others. It was my one extravagance back then," she chuckled. "I'd buy film whenever I could."

  "It is too bad you did not have one of those video things," Lina teased.

  "Yeah, someday," Anna said, unaware of her wistful tone. She began sorting through the pile and put the albums in chronological order. "I'm just going to have to splurge."

  Rico's warm hand settled on hers. "Thank you."

  Jolted by his touch she looked at the word emblazoned on the cover above their hands.

  Love.

  She dared a peek at him and was snared by the naked emotion on his face. For the first time she recognized him, Rico, and saw the boy she'd loved. She tried to look away, but his hand tightened on hers.

  It was the first time since he'd returned that she experienced their old connection.

  "You're welcome," she said, and smiled.

  * * *

  It was her first genuine smile.

  He turned another page, smiling at the snapshot of his children's laughing faces covered with chocolate icing, birthday hats tilted to the sides.

  He'd been poring over the albums for hours, seeing Anna's smile in his mind over and over again. His mom had abandoned them not long ago, then Anna had excused herself to go finish work in her office. Her reluctance to be alone with him had been obvious.

  Knuckling his scratchy eyes, he glanced at the clock. One-thirty. He closed the last album and added it to the stack before taking another walk around the lower floor.

  A look toward the shadowed living room windows reminded him of his second conversation with Mike. His friend had been in touch with the agents, and their relay had confirmed the worst.

  Joncaluso hadn't been on the back porch. He'd shone a flashlight around the backyard and walked the length of the fence to the lake and checked behind it. But he hadn't been on the porch.

  Unfortunately, when the cop showed up, their positioning had been focused on him at the front of the house. Which meant whoever had been at the back of the house had left unnoticed.

  Or had that been the plan? Call in a tip and then sneak out the side? He frowned, walking back into the dark kitchen and opening one of the blinds so slivers of moonlight spilled in. Maybe their visitor hadn't left walking.

  The moon's likeness bobbed on small, tranquil waves. No tall reeds crowded the shore. The only unnatural parts of the lake were three docks. Anna's neighbors' docks anchored sailboats while hers stood empty.

  Little place to hide. Which meant their visitor would have needed a distraction, at least, to avoid being seen. Which also meant they knew the timing of the patrols.

  Damn. Hopefully he was wrong. If not, he prayed their luck would hold out one more day, until he could get his family safely away.

  Closing the blinds, he headed for the stairs and the twins' room. He couldn't hold back a smile at the glowing, green galaxy blankets they slept under. Bracing himself on their night-table, he knelt down between their beds.

  Here in the dark, with silence wrapped around him, he looked at them, touched their hands and cheeks and kissed their foreheads. He acted like a dad.

  Pulling in a deep breath, he rose and left to check on his mother. Finally he headed for Anna's room, mentally preparing himself for the sight of her asleep with the sheets twisted around her, her legs bare.

  She wasn't there.

  Heading back down the hallway, he walked through a doorway and climbed the wide wooden attic steps and wondered idly why she didn't set up her office closer to the children.

  When he got to the top of the stairs, he knew.

  Three massive skylights dominated the ceiling. Even as he appreciated them, he wished for solid wood instead of flimsy Plexiglas.

  It would be hard for someone to get to the roof without them noticing, but not impossible.

  Anna slept under a circle of light, leaning against the huge, slanted drawing table. Roughly sketched pictures and words crowded the edges, and an unfinished strip lay beneath her arms. Crossing to her, he bent and fought the impulse to trace the purple circles beneath her eyes. Her eyebrows came together in troubled twitches, betraying her distress even in sleep.

  Fists of guilt and regret pummeled him. When she found out about the witness protection program, any ground they'd made the past few days would be gone.

  He stared at her. So many times he'd pictured her face: laughing, smiling, daydreaming. Never had he pictured her this way. Her eyes never curved into the half-moon shapes he'd loved to tease her about. Back then, his teasing had only made her laugh harder, until she ended up in the only place that mattered. His arms.

  He crossed those arms across his chest, warding off the emptiness. If he picked her up now and carried her to the bedroom, he wouldn't let her go.

  He winced as he straightened, cursing the metal construction that held his body together. Constant souvenirs of his lost identity, his lost life.

  Pictures on the opposite wall caught his eye. Anna still slept deeply, and he gave in to his curiosity. He'd stayed out of this room on purpose, trying to give her some space in her own home.

  But now he was here.

  Frames held some of her earliest strips. In them the twins still held their conversations in her womb. Other frames held awards. Stunned, he walked the length of the w
all, counting seven.

  She'd done so much. He had gone away – no, run away – to experience life, learn more, accomplish more, than all the people he left behind.

  Oh, yeah, he'd succeeded. And what did he have to show for it? Two children who didn't know him, a crazed lunatic out for revenge, a broken-down body and a woman who had once loved him but could barely look at him now.

  He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, noticing for the first time a blue blanket covering something in the shadowed corner. Stopping in front of it, he warred with himself and lost.

  The blanket hid a stack of canvases and a pile of sketchbooks. The kind he used to tease were attached to her body.

  He clicked on one of the track lighting lamps that lined the wall and picked up the top book. With an unsteady hand he touched its cover, scenes from yesterday racing before his eyes. In a comfortable move, he braced it along his forearm and flipped open the cover.

  His stomach freefalled.

  It was his face. Rather, his old face. His touch upon his own cheek startled him until he realized he'd reached out for the larger jaw he saw on the paper.

  Is this who Anna saw when she looked at him? Did he still look like a stranger to her?

  He turned the page, examining the back for a date. Nothing. Then he faced the new picture he'd exposed. Another sucker punch. The picture took him back to the neighborhood. So incredible her drawing, he could hear the kids yelling and playing, smell the stale poverty that clung like the heat of a South American jungle. She'd drawn him standing on the porch, in a corner, watching over his brother and mother. Lina sat in her favorite rocker, more chunks of paint missing than covering it, and Rafe was laughing at something she'd said.

  He kept turning pages, seeing his memories of those years played out by her talented hand.

  He went through all the books until only one remained. On it was a date he knew as well as his own birthday.

  The date he reenlisted.

  The metallic taste of dread made him hesitate. He glanced up at her. She hadn't moved. He checked his beeper. It still glowed green and ready.

  In an abrupt move he got up and decided to check the house again, even though he could hear his mother's soft snore and the kids occasional movements in their beds. He rechecked every handle, lock and window. All secure.