THE HEALING HEART: Military and Pregnancy Romance

by Zelda Clemens

  There was a tray with food and drink. There was also a newspaper in French.

  “Socialite Américaine Enlevée!” the headline shouted. “Ransom Exigé!”

  She saw her picture. It was an old head-shot someone had dug up. There was also a photo of Maria, and the girl looked as though she had been beaten. Samantha didn’t need to understand French to know what was happening.

  It made sense. She had been kidnapped for ransom. Her abductors wanted money from John, and that thought almost comforted her. She scanned the article and wondered how much nine million Euros worked out to be. John would pay. She was sure he would.

  He didn’t pay that day, and she slept fitfully, dreaming no dreams.

  In the morning she woke to the sound of the door opening. It was Maria rolling in a tray with breakfast. Her face was battered but healing. Sam’s first thought was to rush the woman, but then Adolpho stood in the doorway. His beard was gone, but it was surely him.

  “You bitch,” was all Sam could muster.

  “Please understand,” Maria said quietly as she poured coffee. “It was necessary.”

  “You need nine million Euros that bad?”

  “No. The ransom is just a deception. I – we need you.”

  “For what?”

  “We will talk after you have eaten.”

  “We’ll talk right now!” Sam said slapping the coffee from Maria’s hand.

  The cup flew across the room and shattered. She expected some reaction, but Adolpho stood silent and Maria looked sad.

  “Very well,” the woman said. “Follow me.”

  The hallway was no better than her room. She was led down a sweeping, creaking staircase, past a modestly furnished parlor and down a long dim hallway to a large room. It was like a hospital. There were monitors and machines that beeped softly and steadily. In the center a young woman lay tucked neatly in a sterile bed her glazed eyes open and staring at nothing. Tubes ran into her arms, and there was one taped to her mouth. But when Sam looked closer she had the shock of her life.

  It was her. It was like looking into a mirror. Even the sightless eyes had Sam’s color, and the long, limp, dank hair matched hers to a tee. Sam gasped.

  “She is the Crown Princess Iolanda,” Maria said softly, “of the ancient and noble Portuguese House of Auiz. She has late onset Tay-Sachs disease. It is a degenerative brain disorder that causes a progressive deterioration of nerve cells throughout her body. Unless she can afford a very unique and very expensive course of treatments, she will very soon she will lose the ability to breathe. Then her mind itself will collapse. She needs far more than nine million. She needs a Queen’s ransom and you are going to help her get that.”

  Sam just looked at the woman, bewildered.

  “She needs her crown jewels,” Maria said. “In a few days, the Spanish and American governments will be returning the artifacts to their rightful owner. You are going to be that owner and you are going to save that young girl’s life.”

  “Please,” Adolpho said near begging. “The girl, she is like a daughter to me.”

  “Why did you kidnap me? Why didn’t you just ask?”

  “We wanted to,” Maria said. “We had planned to approach you in your city. But then – the bomb. Adolpho tried to bring you to our people but . . . but you were swept away.”

  “And you followed me.”

  “Yes.”

  “B-but,” Sam stuttered. “But why is the United States Air Force interested in Adolpho el Magnifico?”

  “Because I stole their money,” the man said. “It’s true. I cheated your government out of a million dollars.”

  “But as you see,” Maria said. “It did not go to his lavish lifestyle.”

  “The princess?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay,” Sam said. “So, so what if I don’t go along? What if I refuse to play princess?”

  “Then,” Maria said. “We will put another needle in your thigh, bring you back to Cannes, leave you in some flea-bag hotel and let the police sort things out.”

  “I would tell,” Sam said. “I would tell everything.”

  “No you wouldn’t,” Maria said, “because we have these.”

  The woman slid the disks across the table. Samantha shut her eyes. She didn’t need to read the splashy banners. She knew them all too well: Cynthia’s Sins, Donna Does Detroit, The Pet Palace.

  “You are a bitch,” Sam said.

  “You are an actress,” Maria said.

  “Please,” Adolpho near begged. “It is for the sake of the girl.”

  “I have been the girl’s babá,” Maria implored. “I have raised her from an infant.”

  So Sam agreed, but only on the condition that she would be allowed to communicate with John. They were reluctant, but in the end they let her make a short video that she sent to his private e-mail. In the video she assured him that she was unharmed and being treated well. She told him how much she missed him and how much she loved him and him alone, and how she longed to be with him once again.

  “Just the two of us.”

  *****

  Samantha learned that she was on Sao Miguel island in the Azores, a cluster of Portuguese islands out somewhere in the Atlantic. The weather was warm, the breezes balmy and her captors so very friendly. There was in an old castle that commanded a view over a stretch of calm water and Sam was captured by the view.

  There was to be a small ceremony in two days on the island of Terceira where the Americans and the Spanish would return the royal jewels to the House of Auiz. It was to be simple; a formal presentation, a small reception and then Samantha could go back to John in Cannes.

  She spent two days learning how to be a Portuguese princess. But that was mostly about how to stand, how to walk, and how not to speak. Those with any knowledge of Iolanda would know of her condition, and so they would know that the disease would have rendered her mute. Those who did not know the princess would think her pretty, and pity her. Adolpho would be along as her personal physician. They had thought of everything.

  But they hadn’t thought of Samantha’s heart.

  She would gaze out on the rolling sea while Maria and Adolpho instructed her. She would hear their words and so nod and repeat. She became the good actress that they wanted. But like a good actress she found something else in their story; and something else again in the sea.

  So it was that on the night before she was to make her debut and swan-song, Sam was restless.

  “Samantha Pennopeai. Hold my hand.”

  She found herself in the hospital room. She was clutching Iolanda’s hand to her breasts.

  “Help me.”

  Her hands where moved by no will of her own. They reached and undid the clasp of the girl’s locket. The small amulet was a richly vibrant dark blue six-sided gem set in a cunningly wrought silver pendant. Sam draped it around her neck and the moment that the stone nestled between her breasts, she felt suddenly clear of all tension and confusion. Her mind opened and she saw the world as if through another’s eye. And then she saw more, and even as she was seeing and understanding she had a vision where she saw two jets racing across the sky toward her. Samantha took Iolanda’s hand and kissed it. And even as she turned to go she thought she saw the shadow of a smile on Iolanda’s lips.

  ****

  John had not been idle. From the moment the ransom note had appeared in his in-box he mobilized his private army of detectives. The French Sûreté had a fine enough reputation, but he was not the sort of man who could allow such a crisis to go beyond his control.

  It was easy for his people to trace the origin of the e-mail, but that gave them nothing but an abandoned IP address. A small break came when the woman Mariazinha disappeared. The kidnappers had put her in the hospital, but once she was released she was to have gone back to her family in Madrid. The woman boarded her flight, but never got off the plane. The problem was Europe’s open boarders; no one needed passports or visas. And so people were studying the secu
rity tapes looking for a woman of the same height and weight.

  The real break came with Samantha’s video message. Her cryptic farewell was enough to tell him that all was not as it appeared. He dutifully gave a copy to the French authorities while his men combed over the original. They looked at the architecture behind her, the chair she sat on, and even the quality of the lighting in the room. They analyzed the video stream down to the pixels and were able to determine the make and model of the camera used, and that’s where the kidnappers tripped up. They had used a cheap cell phone; no doubt a throw-away bought for that purpose. But it was enough.

  In the back of his private Lear Jet, while crossing the Atlantic heading for the Azores, he studied the file. He was fascinated by the photo of the princess Iolanda. He called his contact in the U.S. Air Force.

  ****

  The F-35 was a remarkable aircraft fighter. The single-seater was light, easy to maneuver and had an excellent range. Marc sat at the controls, leaving the thing on autopilot while he thought. He had left the Navel air-base in Naples a very frustrated man. His quarry had eluded him, leaving no trace. And while he knew that the thief hadn’t gone to ground, he thought that he might have figured the man’s next move.

  The Smithsonian Institution along with the Spanish Prado Museum were returning some minor artifacts to the ancestors of some old Portuguese royal family. There was to be a ceremony on Terceira Island in the Azores, and as luck would have it there was a U.S. air base there. So he thought that he’d crash the party on his way home.

  “Lejes Tower to flight R94,” his radio crackled.

  “Niner-four, go ahead Lejes.”

  “Major Coronus you have a private satellite call on 087.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  He dialed the frequency.

  “Marcus,” the bright British voice quipped.

  “John . . .?”

  *****

  The sea was calm and the sunlight dappled on the water. From the moment Samantha set foot on the yacht that was to take them to Terceira the allure of the sea washed over her. But it was more than a simple allure. It was something deeper. It was like a longing that was older than her own soul and it was as if the ocean was calling her home. The others on the boat seemed to know to leave her be as she gazed over the prow. And the farther they sailed from land the stronger the tug on her heart.

  “Be still Samantha Pennopeai,” the voice said to her. “Soon you will fly again. Soon.”

  As the island came into view so did Sam’s focus. She tried to remember that she was helping a dying girl. Maria came up beside her and again went over what Sam was to do, and not do. And unlike any other theatrical entrance she had ever made there were no butterflies in her stomach. She was in a sort of surreal calm and she felt a princess growing, brewing inside of her.

  “I am with you Pennopeai,” the voice said in her soul. “I am the only one with you. The others would use you, but I am with you and I am you Samantha.”

  When the boat docked, she and Maria and Adolpho as her doctor were taken by a limo to an ornate old house. The beardless Adolpho wore an excellent toupee. There she was met by official looking men in uniforms or morning coats and women in fine garden dresses. They bowed and spoke little to her, but from the comments they made they were either congratulating her or admiring her gown. And in the reception line she wondered why she was not at all surprised to see Marc and John dressed as if to greet royalty.

  But then why shouldn’t they have been. She was royalty. She was a crown princess and she was about to come into her own. The older man looked so distinguished in his white tie and tails, and the American officer was absolutely dashing in his crisp formal uniform. They spoke so graciously, and when they kissed her hand she felt something race through her. It was too bad that her stay was to be so brief. But a princess must be aloof.

  The ceremony was short, but still tiresome. Funny looking men gave speeches about history and international relations as they lay the lost artifacts on a splendid table before her. Then the President of the Azores himself stepped up and placed the glittering tiara on her head and the heavy ring on her finger. Then kneeling, he presented her with the scepter. The moment her fingers graced the pommel, she felt the amulet at her breast begin to warm, and then pulse. She clutched the staff to her chest gazing in wonder at the beautiful burst of azurite crystals.

  “At last,” the voice sang. “We are free!”

  Then the voice in her soul became something else. Samantha felt the rush of a wave of near pure joy envelope her and her heart nearly burst at that bliss overwhelmed her.

  Then she swooned. Maria rushed to her side. Someone brought her water. Adolpho went to her and opened a medical bag. And then so many things began to happen. The pulsing in her heart seemed to devastate her. The room was all abuzz. She felt herself being wheeled away on a gurney as people gasped. There was an ambulance and she heard the wail of the siren as they sped away.

  “What did you do to her?” Maria asked sternly.

  “Nothing,” Adolpho said. “I didn’t even get near her with the drug. Our plan was-”

  “No matter,” Maria said. Then yelling to the driver she said, “Call Anton! We need the boat now!”

  “Certo.”

  As if from so very far away Samantha saw Maria gazing at the crown and smiling. Adolpho already had the ring off her finger and was trying to wrest the scepter from her hands, but her grip was iron. And then Maria cursed. The woman ran to the rear window of the ambulance, then shouted for the driver to step on it. The ambulance rocked and swayed, and a few minutes later screech to a halt.

  “Get the damned thing and let’s go!” Maria cried.

  “I can’t!” Adolpho shouted. “She won’t let go!”

  “Break her arms if you have to!”

  But it was as if the princess had become stone, and not even the strong-man could break her grip. In the end, he flung her over his shoulder as they dashed to the waiting yacht. The boat roared away as the police sirens swamped the dock.

  “Where the hell do they think they’re going?” John said as he and Marc watched the boat speed away. “There’s a bloody air base on this island, and Sao Miguel is a hundred miles away.”

  Marc just watched in silence. They had both immediately spotted the burn scar on the princess’s wrist, and then Marc had seen through Adolpho’s disguise. So while the ceremony was taking place, he found his Portuguese counterpart, and the wheels were already in motion.

  “I don’t get it either,” Marc said. “El Magnifico is not that dumb.”

  “My hope is that he is not simply desperate.”

  Marc thought about that. And then he remembered a very strange memo that had crossed his desk not long ago.

  “Hey rich boy?” he asked. “You scuba dive?”

  *****

  In the shallow waters between the islands of Terceira and Sao Miguel a luxury yacht burned. A body floated nearby and blue sharks were already investigating. Helicopters thrummed overhead, but none of that excitement mattered to Samantha. Beneath the surface she was flying at last. The warmth of the sun seemed distant, but her liquid sky was not cold. It almost felt as if it were a part of her skin.

  She was naked in that comfortable sky and she had a feeling of peace and tranquility. Her crown nestled so nicely on her head and the ring adorned her finger. The moment she had hit the water, she had taken the amulet from her neck and fitted it to its place among the blue gems of the scepter and her power was complete again. She wove the staff into her flowing hair and flew so free in the crystal waters.

  There was a sudden noise from above, and a moment later little bits of boat began to rain slowly down. She avoided the ugly carnage, but when a hand sank beside her she felt a little sad.

  “They would have killed you, Samantha,” Pennopeai said.

  “I know she said.”

  The ones on the boat had donned their underwater things. They had the crown and the ring and they desperately wanted t
he scepter. They had already started the fire as a diversion, and the bald man had taken up a machete. That’s was when she got angry.

  “Try not to think of it.”

  But the surreal scene flashed in her mind. That woman and that man who had once been so desperate to save the poor princess were only desperate to steal the crown jewels. But once she was back in the cradle of her ocean home, Samantha Pennopeai had been restored. With a wave of her hand she dispatched the pitiful mortals and their flimsy vessel. The idiots hadn’t realized who they were dealing with. The girl was the Nereid Pennopeai’s daughter; the blood that had been passed through generations coursed through Samantha. But now she had her crown and ring and the precious staff. All was right again and she was content in the girl’s body.

  Suddenly there were splashes from above. She looked and she saw others in underwater gear. She was curious. She darted through the water like liquid lightning to see, and to be unseen. She could sense that they were searching, so she let them search. But even as she was about to speed away one of them caught her eye. It was the tall one she had seen, the one in the blue uniform. She slowly glided to him and let him see her. The look in the man’s eyes was priceless.

  “Oh yes. Oh yes Samantha. It has been so very long and I have been ever so lonely.”

  She giggled and her laughter sparkled about her in bubbles. The man gazed at her. She didn’t like that he was staring at her through a glass plate so she pulled the thing away. He was at first shocked, but then she held him with her eyes and he gazed into her charm. She pulled the ugly thing from his mouth and tore away the straps across his chest. The yellow thing on his back fell away and he floated in astonishment.

  Then quicker than silverfish she swam circles around him so fast that the vortex of bubbles encased his body and he floated gleaming before her in a second skin of air. He looked at himself in amazement, and then he looked at her. He breathed deep in his new freedom, and then he reached for her. She leaned in and heaved her breasts toward him. He seemed to sigh and as he moved to embrace her she swam up and out of his grasp, her giggle-bubbles training behind.