TWICE UPON A TIME

by Jennifer Wagner

  Recognizing his reluctance didn't make it easier to deal with. He stood at the bottom of the attic stairs, gripping the railings, then took careful steps. The creaking didn't disturb her exhausted sleep.

  The pads of paper still lay spread out on the floor. Only the last one stayed closed, its date blazing off the cover in a red warning flare. Avoiding it, he went for the stack of canvases. Picking up the first, he unwrapped it from its thin sheet covering.

  Colors attacked him. Reds, blues, purples. He didn't know the names of all the different shades. He set it down and stepped back.

  He remembered her first attempt with paints. She'd hated it because it was too broad, too abstract, she'd said. She liked the thin, controlled lines of her pencils.

  The painting before him was done in huge slashes of color. All stemmed from the center swirls of black. He took another step away. It bothered him. How could this have come from Anna? Soft, gentle, loving Anna.

  This was brutal and ugly. It hurt to look at, yet he couldn't look away. There was something else in there, but he couldn't pinpoint it.

  He raked his hand through his hair and tugged hard enough to bring a sting his eyes. He was the farthest thing from an art critic. In fact, he'd made fun of people they'd seen in a museum one day, people who'd stood there and seen scenes and emotions on the wall. He'd seen paint thrown and splattered and selling for thousands of dollars while he barely earned minimum wage.

  He lowered himself to the floor without taking his eyes off it. Confusion. Rage. It screamed at him.

  Wait a minute.

  He shifted closer. Two thin lines of blue swirled down from the middle and then all around until they blended with other colors.

  The longer he stared, the more that color stood out. Which didn't make sense. She used it the least of all others.

  He moved closer until he could reach out and touch it. There was something about–

  Then he saw them.

  The blue swirls weren't lines. They were drops of paint placed close together. Drops.

  Teardrops.

  Pain.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  «^»

  Anna heard a groan. She slid back down into the deep comfort of sleep only to be disturbed again.

  Her eyelids flew open as reality slammed into her. She didn't move. The crimp in her neck helped that. Scanning the room from her sideways position, she saw nothing unusual. Then another noise, not loud and right behind her.

  Why had she let herself fall asleep?

  "It's me," Rico said, his voice remote.

  Relief relaxed most of her muscles, allowing her to move. Stretching up, she swiveled on her chair and froze.

  Her heart lay in pieces on the floor. The old Rico, in all shades of gray, surrounded them on sketch pads. Paintings paneled the wall and Rico sat in the middle, his head bent over a drawing in his lap.

  Panic held her immobile. If he'd crawled into her body, she couldn't have felt more exposed.

  "How dare you," she said in a wavery whisper that fell short of anger. "Those are mine! They were covered for a reason…"

  He raised his head, and she was speechless. His cheekbones shelved the light from above, throwing the bottom of his face into shadow. A perfect frame for his vulnerable anguish.

  "I didn't know," he said. His hand smoothed the page with his likeness over and over.

  "You didn't know what?" She slid out of her chair to the floor and peered at him. He ducked his head into the shadows. Wide shoulders lifted, then sagged back down when he didn't answer.

  "What didn't you know?"

  "I didn't know that you hurt, too."

  Her mouth formed the word Oh, but no sound squeezed past the lump of surprise in her throat.

  "That sounds stupid," he said, sucking in a deep breath. He carefully closed the drawing pad and added it to a stack on his right before dragging both hands through his hair. "When my mom told me you cheated, I lost it. I was mad. And … I was hurt. All I wanted to do was get as far away from you as possible."

  She jerked back as he lumbered to his feet and brushed past her. The sudden movement caused a breeze to lift the loose hair around her face.

  He strode across the room as if pursuing the past, only the room ended too soon for answers. He stood without speaking, and she twisted her fingers together, searching for words that wouldn't come out as anger or accusations.

  "You betrayed me." The soft growl floated across the room as if from the mouth of a cave. "You cut out my heart and left me so torn up I bled for years. I would imagine you in another man's arms, in his bed, his life. And I wanted to kill both of you."

  "I didn't—"

  "No!" He stepped out and his eyes speared hers, slicing her with their clear fury. "I don't want you to apologize or explain."

  She tried again to tell him the truth when his quiet voice interrupted her.

  "I should be apologizing."

  Shocked, she tried not to gape and failed. She could only stare at him as he came closer and lowered himself in front of her.

  "You were so young, Bella. We were so young. I should have forgiven you!" His impassioned words were reflected in fever-bright eyes. "You'd waited all those years for me and I left the first time we had problems. I don't know if we could have worked it out, but I should have tried, especially for the twins."

  He missed her wince as he eased himself back and leaned against the wall. "God! I should have been there! I know how hard it was for Mama to raise us alone."

  She stared at her lap, seeing all the hard times she'd lived through.

  "Bella, look at me. Look at me!"

  His strong, scarred fingers grasped her chin and forced her gaze upward.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered.

  She knew the pain in her heart showed on her face, but she couldn't move away. She tried to use her hands as a shield, but he shifted closer, pulling her between his legs.

  He released her chin and gently grasped her wrists. She felt her palms against his warm, rough cheeks and was startled into meeting his eyes.

  "I'm sorry I left you alone. I'm sorry for not forgiving you."

  He pulled her palms away and kissed both centers. Her fingers were still curling when he put them together, wrapped his own around them and leaned his head down.

  "But most of all, I'm sorry for the danger I've brought to you and the kids. When we used to talk about getting married, you said you wanted a safe neighborhood to raise our children in."

  He lifted his head. "You did that, Bella. You found a safe place to raise them, and I've ruined it."

  She was denying it, even as she tried to absorb the fact he apologized for it all. Well, almost all. But right now she had to take some of this guilt from his face. He'd already suffered so much.

  "Did you know you were bringing the danger here?"

  "I knew there was a chance."

  She sighed, the whole situation lying heavily on her shoulders. "Why did you invent a fake background and come here?"

  "Someone tried gaining access—"

  "No!" She shook their joint fist of hands and tugged him close enough to see his expanding pupils. "Why are you here?"

  "To protect my family."

  "Exactly. To protect us. You thought the danger was already here." A thought had her pulling back. "What were you going to do if there was no danger? I mean, what if they hadn't tried to kidnap Rafe. Would you have ever told us?"

  He glanced away.

  "I'm not going to get mad. I'm trying to understand what you were thinking before you came here."

  A corner of his mouth kicked up.

  "What?"

  "Nothin'."

  She pursed her lips and studied him.

  "Stop it," he said gruffly, casually bending his neck side to side.

  "You still pull that little delaying tactic when you're uncomfortable with the subject."

  He froze, then straightened his neck to pin her with a stare. Finally he released a wry
chuckle. "I spent years learning how not to give anything away with body language. Yet you see right through me. Just like you always did."

  She made an agreeing noise. "You're still dodging my question."

  He sighed heavily. "I don't know. I didn't think that far. Too many things could happen. I wasn't going to do anything that would put any of you in danger. So, I tried not to think about telling you the truth."

  "It couldn't have been easy."

  "It wasn't. Although I don't know how I would have lasted weeks or months without claiming my place." His hands tightened. "And don't take that the wrong way."

  He dropped a kiss on her fingers and absently rubbed his chin against them. Suddenly he straightened and looked right into her soul.

  "I still care, Anna."

  She jerked back, but he wouldn't release her hands. Her chest caved in as if someone had stepped on it.

  "Don't do this. Don't throw words around." She was babbling as she concentrated on releasing her hands from the vise. She yanked them sideways in a weak attempt to dislodge them.

  "I'm not throwing them around. Please, stop! Listen to me. I do care. It's not like before. It's deeper."

  She stopped struggling.

  "You were like my little sister, then my best friend, then my girlfriend and lover. But those last few years, we were together only through the phone and letters. We never had time to date or do other normal things. Looking back, whenever we were together, I was always on my best behavior, afraid to be in a bad mood or fight because we never saw each other.

  "This past week I've seen you in every mood. I've seen you as a mother and a daughter, happy and sad, scared and angry. You actually got in my face!"

  She couldn't keep from smiling with him.

  "You'd never done that before. Whenever you didn't agree, you'd talk it out, but when we started getting into it, you'd shut down and let it all go."

  "I hate fighting."

  He nodded. "From the way you grew up." He hesitated. "Not to get off the track, but I've been wondering something. Where's your mom? Why isn't she here with you?"

  "She's dead."

  "Awww, Bella. I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. I hadn't seen her since I told her I was pregnant."

  "What?" It was more of a statement than a question.

  She sat back.

  "No, don't pull away from me. Talk."

  "When she sobered up enough, I told her I was pregnant." She flexed her fingers, staring at them unseeingly. "She wasn't happy. I wanted to talk to her about it, about what I should do, about school, about you. I didn't even know if I should go to a doctor right away or if the changes that had already happened to my body were normal. Instead, she left the house. She came back the next morning hung over, but with a new bottle for that afternoon. Then she ripped a piece of the brown shopping bag from around it and wrote a phone number on it. Then she told me to call my aunt and beg for help if I had to. She'd met a man and she was leaving Miami with him. So I'd have to take care of my problem myself because she didn't need any more mouths to feed…"

  She snorted indelicately. "Which is kind of funny when you think about it, because she never cooked anything, and here she was kicking out her chef and maid."

  "Don't. Don't make a joke out of it," he whispered.

  "How else should I deal with it? Tell me. Should I pity the fact that she never got to know her beautiful grandchildren? Or should I forgive her because she had such a hard life and didn't know any better? Maybe I should feel guilty I didn't even know she'd been dead for three weeks before they identified her."

  She tried to shake off his hands again and failed. Instead, he yanked her into his arms.

  "Let me go!" She pushed against his chest, stopping short at the thought of re-injuring him.

  "No. I wasn't here before to do this. But I'm here now. So let me hold you."

  She was starting to lose sight of why she shouldn't relax into his arms, but she gritted her teeth and tried again to free herself.

  "Why? It's too late. Just let me go."

  "I can't. Don't ask me to."

  His husky whisper, sincere and determined, punctured her armor of anger and pain, leaving her boneless. He gathered her closer, tucking her head against his shoulder. The curve of her nose fit perfectly against his neck, her ear snug against his strong heartbeat.

  For the first time in years she felt safe and unburdened, as though someone was there to share the weight with her. She felt small and feminine and strong, able to handle anything life handed her.

  She felt like a woman.

  She closed her eyes, inhaling the moment with every cell so she could add it to her memory box.

  Then she opened her eyes.

  "You care?" she asked quietly.

  She felt his nod and murmured response through his chest.

  "Then you don't care about the other men."

  He pulled away and looked down at her. She searched for anger, jealousy, any of the old emotions, but could find none.

  "I'd be lying if I said I didn't care. How can I explain this so you'll understand?" He hugged her close again and leaned his cheek against her head. "The worst part for me wasn't even what you'd done, although that was hard enough. It was that you didn't love me anymore. I never questioned your loyalty because I believed in your love."

  "You thought I didn't love you?" Outraged hurt colored her words.

  "Yeah. You've always followed your heart, so I knew you wouldn't be with someone else if you still loved me."

  "If you believed I loved you that much, then why did you believe the worst? Why didn't you question it? Or give me a chance to at least explain?"

  "I didn't want the details! I didn't even want to hear you admit it. God, Bella. Just hearing Mama say the words killed me."

  Seeing it from his point of view, she could almost understand why he'd run. Would the young girl she'd been have done it differently, had their positions been reversed? Could she have listened while he told her about other women he'd made love to? Just the thought splintered her heart and she knew now, years later, she still wouldn't want to hear the words.

  "But now maybe I've finally learned something. I'm human. I'm not perfect. Not at wanting or loving. So how can I not forgive others for making mistakes?"

  The tension in her eased. He would forgive Lina when she told him the truth.

  He tightened his arms around her as she relaxed against him. He'd said the right words. The way she nestled against him told him she understood.

  The urge to laugh and shout his thanks to the heavens made him pull her closer.

  "I guess it's my turn," she said, straightening in his arms, the move throwing back her shoulders and outlining another area in which she'd changed. Sweat beaded his upper lip, and with difficulty he focused on her profile. It revealed her nervousness, even if her altered breathing pattern hadn't given her away. She pulled in her lower lip and worried it with small, white teeth.

  Apprehension mixed with desire and settled uneasily in his gut, but he fought the urge to rush her.

  "I think I understand better why you left the way you did. All these years I've been so angry that you didn't question your mother or give me another chance." She shrugged and slanted him a quick look from beneath the fern-like fan of her lashes. "But now I realize I might have done the same thing."

  "Probably not."

  "Well, we'll never know," she said, her tongue peeking out and wetting her lips. He shifted her out of the cradle of his legs and onto his thigh so she wouldn't notice his reaction.

  "You can tell me anything, you know."

  She shot him a quick smile and nodded. Sucking in a deep breath, she looked him dead in the eye and told him.

  "Lina lied."

  Of all things he expected, this was not one of them.

  He chuckled without humor. "What?"

  "She was trying to protect you, so she lied about the other men."

  "Anna, what are you saying? Mama wouldn't li
e to me! Look, it doesn't matter anymore, you don't have to do this."

  Two slim lingers against his lips halted the words. She returned his accusing stare with sadness and understanding.

  "No." His shaking head dislodged her fingers. He wished he could brush away the growing suspicion with the same ease.

  "She wanted you to stay enlisted and away from Miami. She didn't want you to go back and die there."

  Like Rafael. He heard the words she didn't say. Like an old movie, he saw himself running to his twin's lifeless body sprawled in the trash-littered street.

  Mama exchanged one jungle for another, without giving me the chance to choose. How could she have thought this was right? How could losing the only other person I loved make my life better?

  Anna tensed, causing him to lean away or get her head slammed into his chin. She cocked her head to one side and faced the attic stairs. "Do you hear something?" she asked as she scrambled to her feet.

  He was right with her.

  Adrenaline and fear surged through him. The twins.

  He drew his weapon and held Anna behind him with one arm as they crept down the creaking steps. Anna leaned against them, urging him faster, but at least understanding they needed to make as little noise as possible.

  His rational side knew there was slim chance anyone made it inside, but he found this new parental protectiveness didn't allow for logic.

  In less than fifteen seconds they made it to the bedroom, and he hoped his tight squeeze on her arm indicated she should stay in the hall. A rosy glow from behind a Disney nightlight illuminated two slumbering children.

  A quick check showed no danger.

  "Mom?" Rafe twisted in his bed and made a small sobbing sound. Anna rushed past Rico, almost knocking him over to get to the bed. As much as he wanted to stand there and give comfort, he knew he had to check on Mama and the rest of the house.

  "I'll be right back," he whispered, and Anna nodded without looking away from Rafe.

  He checked on his mom, who surprisingly enough slept on. A walk-through of the house showed no changes, but he paged the agents, anyway, and was slightly reassured by the all-clear numeric response.