by Ava Zavora
“He’s really not coming is he?”
“I don’t think so. Oh, Eden. Please,” he said, distressed. “Please don’t cry.”
“It’s just that I’ve come from so far away,” she managed to say in between sobs. “Then that horrible man. And Adam’s not even here.”
“Oh, dear. He cares for you, obviously or else he wouldn’t have sent me. I’m sure if he hadn’t been in the middle of the sea, he would have been here himself.”
“You said he called you from his boat?”
“Yes, he has a satellite phone.”
“Can we call him please? I just want to talk to him, even if it’s only a minute.”
Jack looked more than uncomfortable at this point. His manner indicated that he was keeping something from her. He was weighing whether to tell her or not.
“I’ve tried calling him since then. I haven’t been able to get through.”
Eden’s heart suddenly felt like it was being squeezed by a giant vise.
“You’re just trying to discourage me, right? Maybe Adam told you not to give out his number? He doesn’t want to hear from me. Right?” She could hear her voice rising with fear.
Jack shook his head. His face was clouded now.
“Where was he, did he say?”
Jack shook his head again.
“He’s been out to sea for over five months now. I’ve heard from him sporadically. When he wants to be left alone, people know to leave him alone. I guessed that he was going through a crisp of some sort. The last time something like this happened, his grandfather had passed away. Adam shut himself in his apartment for six months, wouldn’t see anyone. Some friends and I tried to get him to come out but he wouldn’t do it. Told us all to go away and leave him alone. We called it his Howard Hughes phase.” Jack chuckled.
“Then one day he stopped mourning and joined the world again. Well,” Jack corrected himself, “Joined the world his way.”
“On the periphery.”
“Yes. He doesn’t let many people in. And most wouldn’t know it, but Adam takes it very hard when he loses someone he cares for that deeply.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “When was the last time you and Adam talked?”
“About six …” Eden faltered. The merciless vise around her heart wound tighter. It choked all words.
Jack wasn’t accusatory or harsh but his revelation knocked the wind out of her. She had no defense. She had no ground on which to stand. Every doubt she had ever had was diminished in face of this – Adam was missing.
If she hadn’t been sitting on the hospital bed, she would have crumpled to the floor in guilt and despair. She struggled to speak.
“I … don’t know anything about boats or sailing. What can we do to find out if he’s safe?”
Jack put a hand on his brow, rubbing it. Without the mask of charm and seduction, he appeared very serious, on edge. “The man he left in charge of his business here –“
“Luca.”
“Luca.” Jack nodded. “I spoke to him about what he knows. Adam didn’t leave him a sailing plan or any destinations, just set sail in December.”
“Just before Christmas, I’m guessing.”
Jack looked surprised. “I take it back. You do know Adam.”
“That was one of our little fights. I begged him to spend it with me. Couldn’t stand to think of him alone.”
Jack patted her shoulder. “He doesn’t spend it with anyone, no matter how many times he’s invited.”
“Has Luca heard from him?”
“Once every two weeks or so but not since the last.”
“So no one has heard from him?”
Jack summoned an encouraging smile.
“Adam’s known for beating the odds, doing the impossible. He’s been shot at, stabbed, left for dead. People come to him when they’ve got no other hope and he always pulls through. He was once asked to go after someone who deliberately disappeared in Brazil. He was mentally unstable and his family feared he would do himself harm. No one else could find him. But Adam did. Adam found him and brought him home.” Jack’s voice became emotional. He paused for a moment before continuing. “He brought my brother home.”
The door squeaked open then, and her physician came in, holding her x-rays. Her hand was not fractured, as she had feared, but badly sprained and bruised. She was told to keep it firmly wrapped and to use an ice pack, 20 minutes on, 20 minutes off. She was given extra strength ibuprofen for the pain. Some paperwork, and she was discharged.
Instead of leaving the way they had come in, Jack led her to a side exit. A car different from the one that had taken them to the hospital was waiting outside, the engine running. Tired and disoriented as she was, Eden halted before going in the black SUV with tinted windows. She nodded to the driver, who was staring straight ahead. He didn’t look at them when Jack had opened the door.
“Who is he?”
“Someone who will keep his mouth shut.” Jack’s tone was firm. “We’re not going back to your hotel, Eden. You need to leave Sicily as soon as possible. We’re going to the airport and you’re going on the first plane to Rome. Your things are in the rear.”
Eden stepped away from the open door. “I’ve got a few more days left, Jack. I want to be here when Adam comes back.”
“Jesus, woman! We don’t know if that man was working alone or if he’s got friends still in the area. If they were smart, they would have left already once he got arrested. But they couldn’t have been smart, could they, if they harmed you. Adam has a reputation for exacting vengeance. And for what they did to you - he won’t rest until he has gone after every person involved.”
“I can’t leave. The police told me to stay put while they investigate.”
Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that. I handled the matter. There won’t be an investigation.”
“What do you mean?”
Jack stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I’ll tell you once you get in the car. We need to hurry if we’re going to make your flight. I made a promise to Adam, and by god, I’m going to keep it.”
She stayed still, trying to process how upside down everything had turned in 12 hours.
“Please, Eden.”
She got in the car. Relief washed over his face.
As soon as the door shut, the driver pulled away. They were quiet until they got on the highway heading to Palermo.
Jack turned to her. “Sometime tonight, the man who attacked you will disappear from the jail in which he is being held. No one will ever hear from him again. Adam will deal with him. Do you understand?”
If Jack expected her to be shocked and horrified, he was mistaken.
“He threatened my son. I don’t care what happens to him. In fact, if you hadn’t shown up when you did, I would have dealt with him myself.”
“I’ll get on that plane as long as you promise that you’ll keep in contact with me about Adam,” she told Jack before passing through to the boarding gate. She forced the words out. “I want to know everything. Good or bad.”
“I will. I have a feeling you’d fly back here if I didn’t.” He displayed one of his dazzling smiles.
“Thank you. You’re a good and loyal friend.” She held out her left hand and he shook it, chuckling to himself.
“Eden, try not to worry. Adam’s a survivor. And he has you – no greater reason for a man to come home.”
Eden remembered very little of the plane flights home. She was too shaken to fully appreciate the fact that Jack had arranged everything for her comfort. If she slept at all, it was because of exhaustion. The trip had drained almost all the spirit from her and left only worry and guilt. They throbbed more painfully than her injured hand.
Because of her, Adam might now be lost at sea. Because of her, Dante might have been in danger. She was returning home worse than a failure.
She alarmed her parents when she called from the airport letting them know she had come home early. She had her story rehearsed b
y the time she arrived at her own doorstep.
She was sightseeing in Agrigento, at the ruins, when a man tried to grab her purse. A struggle ensued. She got hurt, and the man ran off, but otherwise she was fine. She was too upset to stay and decided to skip the rest of the trip. She had never been so happy to be back on American soil.
Her mother was in tears, telling her how she knew Eden shouldn’t ever travel by herself. Look what happens when you go to a foreign country. “Stay home. Give my poor heart a rest!”
Eden sat meekly, too tired to tell her mother that there had been a string of muggings two months ago in the next town over.
Her father made rice soup and ordered her to eat. Food was his antidote for all ills.
She let them fuss over her until they felt better. She had to restrain her own urge to envelop Dante in her arms and keep him there. He acted embarrassed when upon walking through the door, she went directly to him and started kissing his face all over. “Oh, my boy!” she said as she hugged him tightly. She stopped herself from crying openly.
She followed him around the next few days, on hyper-alert about where he was going, who he was with. Dante seemed to sense that whatever had happened in Sicily had shaken her badly so he tolerated her wave of over-protectiveness. It lessened to a degree as the days passed. The anticlimax of being back at home, battered as she was, forced her to function more normally.
Clothes needed to be unpacked, meals needed to be on the table, laundry needed to be done. She filled the hours with routine tasks. But the longing only grew.
During the two-hour drive to the airport, she had begged Jack for stories about Adam. Some made her laugh but others filled her with awe and some sadness.
“Adam was pretty reckless when we were younger. He didn’t have the same fear that everyone else had. When we were teenagers, our friends and I used to run afoul of the police quite often. They’d round us up whether we did anything or not, just because we were marked as trouble. It’s not like the States, where people have rights. That neighborhood was very rough. If the police got to us, we’d be beaten a bit, then let go. That was the way it was over there. Adam was the biggest and the strongest and he’d always protect the littler ones, you know, the ones who couldn’t stand up for themselves. He’d take the brunt of it for all of us. Always.”
“He told me once that he thought he’d be dead by 30.” Eden wanted to pull back the words as soon as she said them. But the fear was overflowing by then. She couldn’t contain it. There was a painful sweetness to talking to someone who knew Adam.
He must have been afraid of her collapsing in tears, so Jack launched into a happier memory and soon got her laughing again. Then he had sat back and looked at her, musing over something. He shook his head, incredulous.
“So you were really just going around Sicily looking for a man you’ve never met? A man you’ve never set eyes on?”
“It’s not that farfetched,” she insisted. “I was making progress. I found his bookstore at least.” Seeing the disbelief on his face, she continued.
“Oh, I could probably pass him on a busy street and not have a clue. But I know Adam. I could write a book about him. I know that when he smiles, it’s usually cryptic. I know that he seldom laughs. That he’s guarded with almost everyone but a few. I know that if I were to search a crowd, he’d be the brooding, quiet figure at its edge. That he can see into people’s souls and that’s why they fear him. That his eyes grow dark when he learns of terrible news. That he will never throw food out because he had so little of it when he was a child. That no matter how successful he becomes or how much he accumulates, he’s still haunted by the poverty he grew up in, that he’ll wake up one day and it will all be gone. I know that as strong as he is, he’s afraid of being hurt. He’s afraid of being betrayed. But he’s come to expect it, because he feels he doesn’t deserve happiness. I know that he’s toughest on himself, and believes that he has too many flaws, too many shortcomings to be loved. I know his heart, you see. I know Adam.”
She could have legitimately called in sick, but Eden returned to work. Staying at home, waiting for news would have driven her crazy with anxiety. Although she couldn’t do much with an injured hand, she could at least keep herself occupied with a multitude of tasks. Unable to type, she was useless as a legal secretary, so she temporarily filled in for the receptionist, who was on vacation. She spent her days fielding numerous calls and visitors, sorting mail. But soon even that lost its effectiveness in keeping her fears from overwhelming her.
Jack had not called once. There was no news.
“Miss?”
Eden looked up from checking her phone for the hundredth time that day to see if there were any messages or e-mails. A courier was standing at the front counter bearing a flat envelope.
“I’ll sign for it,” she said as she took the package.
Her phone vibrated then. A text message from Jack had come in. Her excitement turned into perplexity when she read it, for it contained only two words: “Bon voyage :)”
The courier was waiting for her so she quickly signed for the package. She scanned the front absentmindedly before snapping into full, heart-stopping attention.
The package was addressed to her. She ripped it open at once.
She gasped when she saw what lay inside.
Chapter 21
The limousine bore Eden down Rue de Bercy in luxurious comfort. Ordinarily, she would have been taking in everything outside, the twilit Paris streets, the bustling Parisians, the beautiful buildings. But it was all a surreal blur. Did she really receive the ticket to Paris only three days ago?
Time had become strange to her, all the hours running into each other in breathless speed and then slowing down in excruciating infinity as she rode in the hired car from her hotel to where Adam was waiting for her. She wanted to jump out and run, convinced that she could get to him faster on her own feet. But she didn’t know her destination. After all this, she still didn’t know exactly where Adam was. Only that when she opens the door, gets out of the car, and begins the walk to the end of her long journey, Adam will be there.
Paris was an enchanting dream, but she could have been anywhere in the world. Walking down the street in California, in Sicily, in any anonymous, nondescript setting and she would still feel like this. Her heart ready to beat out of her chest, not knowing what will happen next but ready to take that leap into whatever future that had Adam in it.
She resisted it no longer. She would let the story unfold the way it should. She didn’t question the plane ticket for a first class seat, didn’t question it when upon arriving at Charles De Gaulle, she was immediately greeted by a man bearing a sign with her name. She didn’t question that she was driven to the George V, a grand hotel of stunning opulence. She didn’t question that her suite was bigger than her entire house in California, or that outside her window the Eiffel Tower rose in the horizon. But she had scanned the lobby made of polished marble, went to every corner of her elegant suite in anticipation, only to meet with disappointment, not seeing who she wanted to see.
She had to be patient.
So she had waited, had lain on the enormous plush bed, more than big enough for two, she was happy to note, and then a knock on the door. She ran to it and startled the bell hop outside, who handed her a creamy envelope on a small silver tray. Inside was a card on which was written that a car would be coming for her in an hour-and-a-half.
She blinked, she breathed, and she was here, riding to the unknown.
The car stopped and then the door opened. She was helped out. The driver tipped the brim of his hat to her then pointed her to the building in front of them with the clock tower. Eden started laughing when she realized where she was. Gare de Lyon train station. He remembered. She knew where to go now.
She walked in and surveyed from the top of the stairs the crowds of travelers, either arriving or departing from their trains to Lisbon, Venice, Nice. Adam would not be among them. She knew where he was wait
ing for her. She could see the bright blue sign from where she stood, “Le Train Bleu.” She crossed the vast space and walked up the steps to the glass doors. Next to the entrance was a large sign, “Fermé.”
Closed. She turned around and looked down on the people below. Was she supposed to figure out who he was among them?
She heard the door open behind her. A woman had stepped out and was beckoning to her. “Madame Espinoza?”
Eden nodded, entranced.
“This way please.”
She held the door open and Eden walked in.
Le Train Bleu was even more beautiful than she remembered. The painted, Belle Epoque ceilings, the gold-leaf walls, crystal chandeliers, and the floor covered in red velvet. Everything was sharper, more vivid than she remembered. And emptier. There was no one in Le Train Bleu save for her and a row of wait staff all standing in a line with their smiling faces turned to her.
A short, plump man in a black suit and bow tie approached her. He bowed then turned on his heel.
“If madame will follow me, please.”
They made their way past a tower made out of champagne bottles, down the aisle, passing empty tables with immaculate white tablecloths and red leather chairs. The sconces and chandeliers sparkled with light, casting a magical golden glow throughout the restaurant.
He stopped, then stepped aside. She followed the direction of his outstretched arm, palm pointed to a single table set apart from all the others. Beside it stood a man, waiting.
Eden drew in her breath. She won’t blink, she won’t move – he’ll vanish if she did.
It came down to this moment, all the words they had ever written or said, soaring like music all around them, and then silenced once she took the first step, then the next, and the next until she was just a few feet from him.
She had never seen this man before, but she would know him anywhere.
“Adam.”
“Eden.”
He let her look, drink in the whole of him.
He was tall, with square shoulders. Even in the grand space of the restaurant, which would have dwarfed other men, he looked imposing. Hands crossed in front of him, feet apart, as though he were stoically awaiting her judgment. He was dressed in a black suit, cut to fit his body perfectly. The tip of a white handkerchief peeked out of his jacket pocket. The subtle scent of Armani Code. His head was shaved close. His hooded eyes were a light blue. A square jaw. On one side of his deeply tanned face ran an ugly, jagged scar. He looked like the perfect villain of a dark fairy tale.