The trip home had been a nightmare…long, involved, and incredibly hard on Chris. By the time they had arrived in New York, they had all been worn out. He’d seen to getting Chris and Betta settled at their apartment above Morganna’s, then had come home to the inevitable questions.
Maria was still devastated. For the first time in all the years he’d known her, she actually looked her age. Sean was hanging on only because he had to for Maria. Taylor was thankful that Meg and Kat had Jamie to turn to.
Annie had been subdued and had stayed close to him when he got home until she’d gone to bed an hour or so earlier. There hadn’t been any time for the two of them to sit and talk, and he knew she must need more than he was giving. There was just so little left of him to give! Still, he knew he should check on her and, if truth be told, he needed to check on her, to make sure she was here and safe.
He opened the door again and went down the hall. There was still light coming from under Annie’s door and he knocked softly, then opened it when she called “Come in.”
“Hi, Princess. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
He really didn’t have to ask. He could see the tear stains on her cheeks, the crumpled tissues that surrounded her bed. The book in her lap was Laura’s first novel. One dog lay on each side of her, snuggled in as closely as they could, as much for consolation for themselves as for comforting their girl.
“I’m okay, Daddy. What about you?”
He crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed. “I don’t really know, Annie. I still feel like none of this is real.”
“I know,” she said, taking his hand. “Even with everyone here, it feels empty. It doesn’t feel like home.”
“No, it doesn’t. It will probably be a while before it does. It’s only been a few days. And you’ve missed school during that time. When do you think you’ll be ready to go back? Getting back into a routine should help a little.”
“I don’t know. I thought about going back next week, but it feels like it’s too soon.”
“It’s not too soon if that’s what you want, Annie. Your mother wouldn’t want our lives to come to a stop.”
“What about you? When will you go back to the show?”
Taylor shook his head. “I’m not going back. I made up my mind on the flight back. There’s not enough left of my heart to put into singing.”
“But, Mom would want you to go back.”
“I know. But I just can’t. The need to be performing just isn’t there.”
“Would they extend your leave?”
“Probably, if I asked. The problem is that I don’t want to.”
“Ever?”
“‘Ever’ is a long time. Maybe someday I can do it, but not now. It’s hard to explain.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain.”
“That doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with you wanting to go back to school. This is an exciting year for you. You should celebrate it.”
“I guess I feel like I need to be somewhere ‘normal’, to feel like maybe when I come home again in the afternoon that Mom will be waiting. It’s easier to pretend when I’m not here.”
“I understand. Just let me know what you decide and we’ll take it from there.”
“Dad?” Annie paused then rushed on, “I heard Abuelo and Rosina talking earlier. They wanted to know…wanted to know about a funeral. I think Abuelo’s going to be asking you.”
For a moment he felt the impact of their loss all over again. A funeral. For Laura. “I guess we probably have to do something. What about a memorial service, a place to celebrate her life and who she was?”
“That would be better. How soon—”
“Oh, Annie, I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”
“What about Friday after Thanksgiving? Everyone will still be here, won’t they? That’s only a few days.”
Taylor looked at his daughter, suddenly grown and dealing with the adult problems he’d been putting off. He owed it to her to get back to some semblance of normal and that meant going on with their lives. To do that, some closure was necessary.
“How’d you get so wise, Annie?”
“Wise?”
“You and Abuelo are right. I’ll check with the family and if that works for everyone, we’ll have the memorial service Friday.” He reached out a hand and cupped her face. “I’m sorry, Princess, you shouldn’t have to be thinking about all this.”
“It’s okay, Daddy.” Annie put her arms around him and they held each other silently for a while. Finally, Taylor stepped back and looked into her eyes. “Are you too old for a good-night kiss from your Dad?”
Her eyes lit up. “Never too old, Daddy.”
He kissed her forehead then turned to leave. “’Night, Princess.”
“’Night, Daddy,” he heard as he pulled the door closed behind him. Then the sound of crying. It wouldn’t be the last time. He returned to his own room and threw himself on the bed. He envied Annie and her grandmother, and all the others who had been able to cry. His own grief was a hard, hot, lump in his chest that kept the tears away. “Oh, Laura…” he whispered to the dark room, as sleep finally took him away.
Chapter 23
The pictures that Amala had brought to her were a help. They were a talisman of sorts, a place to focus her energy. As long as she had her family to live for, she could hold on. At least, that’s what she told herself through the long night, and when the guards arrived the next morning.
She was taken to the same office as before where she sat and waited for something to happen. The man—“Ishmael”— was nowhere to be seen. Growing bored, she stood to look at the books on the shelf but the guard growled at her and indicated with his gun that she should return to her seat and stay there. It was only the thought of Taylor and her family that kept her from defying him.
When “Ishmael” finally arrived, Laura was completely on edge. If that was his purpose, he’d succeeded, but I’m damn well not going to let him know!
“Ah, Laura, I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Would you like some tea?”
“No. What I would like is some answers.”
“You are so impatient, my dear. There’s no one waiting for you, so why are you in such a hurry?”
“I want to know what you want of me.”
“Such a simple question. Easily answered. I need your expertise.” He stood and moved to the window with his back toward her. “I need you to write for me.”
Laura was surprised at his request. He was obviously well educated, what could he possibly need her to write for him? Surely he could have found someone without kidnapping her.
When she made no response, he turned to face her. “No questions?”
“Of course I have questions,” she snapped.
“Now is the time to ask them.”
“To begin with, why me? You must have local writers you have contact with.”
“That is true but none of them have your connections. You are well-known and your writing is influential.”
“I’m dead, remember? Not much influence there.”
He laughed as he seated himself behind the desk. “You do have a point. But imagine your sudden return from the grave, as you begin to file stories again.”
“What stories?”
“My country is a mess. We are still divided and the Americans control what information makes it to the world. It is not always a fair representation.”
“And you want me to…”
“I want you to speak for our cause. I want the world to know the truth about the state of my country.”
“And you would tell the truth?”
“Our truth. The truth of our beliefs. The truth about the overbearing American forces.”
“You would want me to preach against my country?”
“That would be a necessary part of it.”
“Why would anyone print it?”
“Why wouldn’t they, with a prize-winning journalist writing it? What a—I believe the word is ‘scoop’—it would be.”
“And once I’ve told your story? Would you release me to go home to my family? To tell the truth once I got home?”
“That is a problem. Perhaps I would release you, if I thought you had come to believe in our vision and would not betray us. I would have to trust you.”
“And you never would.”
“No, I never would. You would be too much of a danger. Still, you could live a happy life here. I believe my Amala has become your friend.”
“She has been kind. That does not mean she is my friend. And I doubt you ever will be.”
“It is as I expected. You are a stubborn woman, Laura Morgan. It will be interesting to try to make you see things my way.”
With that, he gestured to the guard to remove her and left the room.
* * *
She was surprised when the guard didn’t return her down the now familiar hallways to her cell. Instead, he took her in the opposite direction and knocked at a door she didn’t recognize. Expecting the worst, she was surprised when Amala opened the door. Silently, she gestured Laura inside.
When the door had closed, Amala laughed. “You are surprised, Laura! I had hoped you would be. I spoke with my husband and convinced him that you would be happier here, in my quarters. And that, perhaps, if you were happier, you would be more agreeable to what he wishes.”
Laura looked around the sunny room. She could hear the sound of a fountain in the background and saw a door that looked out on a high-walled courtyard. It was worlds apart from the dingy room in which she’d been imprisoned.
“Amala, I don’t know how to thank you. This is wonderful.” Impulsively, she hugged her friend. “But I still can’t do what your husband asks. If that means it will cause you trouble, I’d rather go back to my cell.”
Amala shook her head. “I thought that would be your answer. Is it really so bad, what he is asking?”
“He’s asking that I betray my country and my beliefs with no reward at the end. I will still be a prisoner here.”
“You would be alive.”
It wasn’t the first time that Laura thought of death as the outcome of her imprisonment. Without Taylor and the girls, life had little meaning for her. She had made up her mind that she would go out fighting, rather than compromise her beliefs and remain a prisoner forever.
Amala searched her face and saw the resolution there. “Dođi! We will not speak of it again. You will do as you must and, for now, you will enjoy the pleasures of my quarters.”
With that, the pattern of her days was set. Every day became a repeat of the day before. Laura was taken to “Ishmael’s” office and left to wait. Some days he would come and offer her a civilized tea. Others he would yell at her as he tried to change her mind. Always, he made his point of how his people had been wronged, how the war had been unfair, how America was profiting on their misfortune. Laura let him rant, never wrote a word, never gave him the satisfaction of seeing how miserable she was.
Each day after his meeting with her, he grew more frustrated. He had come to admire the woman and her strength. If only she had not been dumped in his lap…
* * *
Her friendship with Amala continued to grow. She was the one bright spot in Laura’s world. By unspoken agreement, the two women chose not to discuss the man and the situation. Instead, they built their friendship on their shared concepts as women.
Amala and “Ishmael” had no children, much to Amala’s sorrow. “He could divorce me for that,” she confided, “but ours was not an arranged vjenčanje. We were in love. And he loves me enough still to keep me.”
“I am sorry. Children are both a blessing and a trial. I can’t imagine what our lives would have been like without our girls.”
“Your Taylor does not long for a son?”
“I don’t think he would have turned one down,” Laura said. “But he loves our girls completely.”
“You have been…” Amala’s voice trailed off before she could add the word ‘srećan’… “fortunate.” She knew all that Laura had lost and felt her sorrow. “Tell me more about your girls. They are all so different.”
“They are,” Laura said with a sigh. As much as talking about them reminded her of her captivity, not talking about them caused her greater pain.
* * *
On the wall above her bed she marked every day to keep track of her imprisonment. By her calculations, today was Thanksgiving and her heart cried out to be home with her family.
“Tell me what they would be doing if you were there, Laura,” Amala said, sitting beside her and taking her hand.
“Our family is very close. My parents always come and, sometimes, my best friend and her husband and twin boys. Rosina and my mother will cook dinner, combining all the traditions. Turkey and stuffing for the holiday, posole from my Mom, and crostini from Rosina. Everyone comes over early and we play games and talk. Everyone is in and out of the kitchen trying to steal samples. We eat early afternoon because Taylor will have a show to do tonight.”
“It sounds very noisy,” Amala said with a small smile.
“It is, I suppose. Everyone is talking and laughing. Thanksgiving has always been ‘family’ to me. I can’t even begin to imagine what they’re doing today,” she said as tears began to spill over. “I imagine they’ll try, but it won’t be the same. The first year after Rosina’s husband, Matteo, died it felt as if something important was missing. Now it will be me.”
Amala could only squeeze her hand in sympathy. She knew that no words would ease Laura’s pain.
* * *
Laura’s account was far from the truth. Their loss this year had been more than the family could bear. They met in the evening for a meal prepared by Rosina and Maria but no one was very hungry. The thought of tomorrow’s memorial service weighed heavily on them.
Annie thought it was nothing like Thanksgiving should be. They were just going through the motions and she was relieved when she and Kat could escape from the sorrow and into her room, to listen to music.
Annie changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. Kat looked so uncomfortable in her sweet dress and leotard that Annie took pity on her. “Here, let’s get you something else to wear.”
“All your clothes will be too big.”
“Depends on how you wear them. I have some old shirts I’ve been keeping ’cause I like them. I bet we can make one of them fit…at least kind-of!”
Kat adored Annie. Annie had been 10 when Jami Kaitlin was born and it seemed silly to call another kid ‘Aunt’ so she never had. Now that she was eight and Annie was almost eighteen, she thought Annie was the most wonderful person in her world…especially now that Gran was gone.
Soon they were involved in trying on different shirts and giggling over how she looked. Somehow, Annie’s plaid shirt didn’t go with the pink leotards and Maryjanes that Kat was wearing. Neither did the lime green shirt. Everything seemed funnier and funnier as the two girls began to laugh.
Finally, they found an old red sweatshirt that had shrunk and faded until it was too small for Annie, but it made a fairly acceptable dress for Kat. Annie sat her down in front of her mirror and pulled her long dark hair back into a high ponytail that she tied off with a red, spangled scarf. “Perfect! Red’s your color, Kat.”
She giggled as she looked in the mirror. She’d been laughing so much that her cheeks were red and there was a sparkle in her eyes. Annie’s too. It seemed so long since they’d laughed, since any of them had laughed. Not since…at the thought of her grandmother, Kat quit laughing and looked solemnly at Annie.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Annie asked, turning her around to see her face.
“Oh, kiddo, no. Mom would be the last person to want us to be sad. She loved to laugh. And she loved you and me. So she’d want us to be happy.”
Kat reached out and brushed a tear from Annie’s cheek. “Then why are you crying?”
“Because even when I’m happy I miss her. And sometimes the tears sneak up on me…like at school. What about you?”
“Me, too. I wrote a story this week and I got a good grade. I was so excited to show it to her, until I realized I couldn’t. Then I cried and everyone thought I was weird.”
“You’re not weird. You know that Gran had a brother, right?”
“Tomás.”
“That’s right. He died when they were young and she used to tell me stories about him. And she’d cry even when she was laughing about something he had done. I guess we never stop missing someone we love.”
“I miss her a lot, Annie. I cry at night and I hear Mommy crying.”
“It’s hard on your Mommy because she already lost one mother. So, it makes her think of her first Mom when she thinks about our Mom. And I miss her, too. I cry at night when I’m all alone and I wish I wasn’t by myself. You know, you could call me if you want, when you’re sad. You know my cell phone number.”
“But it’s at night and you might be asleep.”
“Doesn’t matter, Kat. I don’t want you to feel as lonely as I do sometimes, so you call me when you need to. It’s okay to tell me you’re sad.”
Kat threw her arms around Annie’s neck and hugged her hard. “Thanks, Annie. I love you.”
Hugging her back, Annie whispered, “I love you, too,” and for a moment she didn’t feel as lonely.
* * *
The adults sat quietly in the living room, trying to fill up the emptiness with small talk. Taylor’s heart was not in this. He loved his daughters and their husbands but he really just wanted to be alone. He had felt Laura’s absence so strongly all day. Nothing seemed right anymore without her. It didn’t help that tomorrow’s memorial service was looming over them.
'Til the End of Time Page 7