by C Paradee
Rosa stood up and walked slowly back to the shelf. She lovingly set the picture in its place between her two sons. I love you Tony, was the thought she turned away from the shelf with.
Walking into the kitchen she took her shopping list off the refrigerator. Adding eggs to the list, she set it on the table and went to get her purse.
It was a warm pleasant day and Rosa was looking forward to the walk to the market. Her friends Mary and Gino owned it. The neighborhood had changed very little from when she first moved in so many years ago. It was full of Italian immigrants, and they took care of each other. It was often referred to as Little Italy.
Rosa picked up the shopping list and put it in her purse. She had just opened the back door when the doorbell rang. Shutting the door, she turned around and made her way to the front of the house.
PART 2
SHE OPENED THE front door and said, "Yes?" and a heartbeat later her eyes widened and a look of shock covered her face. A gasp escaped her mouth and she closed her eyes tightly, murmuring, "Mi Dio. Non e’ possibile, sto allucinando." She was afraid to open her eyes, and afraid to hope until she heard the barely audible, "Mom..."
The door opened and Tony looked into the deep blue eyes that met hers. Everything became surreal. She heard her mother say, "Yes," and then saw her face transform into a look of disbelief. She heard a gasp and her mother’s whispered words, "My God. It’s not possible, I’m hallucinating," and the eyes tightly closed.
Tentatively, she said, "Mom…" and watched the eyes slowly open revealing a myriad of emotions.
Rosa opened her eyes and looked at the tall woman wearing jeans and a blue pullover top standing in her doorway. The casual clothes did not detract from her natural beauty. Her heart racing out of control, she asked the question she already knew the answer to, but needed to voice. "Tony… is it really you?" Rosa raised a hand to her daughter’s face needing to touch her. Finally convinced her mind was not playing a cruel joke on her, she murmured, "Non sono pazza."
Tony’s mind and emotions registered several things simultaneously. Her mother was not upset with her. She seemed glad to see her. Could that be true? Had her long self-imposed exile been unnecessary? It certainly appeared her fears had been groundless. Not knowing what to say, and overwhelmed at the enormity of the thoughts churning in her mind, Tony stood there mutely.
Rosa gained a semblance of control and placed her hand on Tony’s arm pulling her into the house. Shutting the door, she turned to her long lost child. Walking up to her, sensing her daughter’s discomfort, she said, "I have missed you so much Tony. Would you give your old mother a hug?"
Tony covered the few steps between them and wrapped her long arms around her mother and felt the answering squeeze. During that one moment of contact between mother and daughter, feelers were tentatively sent out touching a bond severed years ago. "You are not old, and I’ve missed you, too," she said quietly to her mother.
Ending the hug, both women stood there awkwardly. Rosa said, "Can you stay for a while?" She almost laughed at the absurdity of the words. Her prayers had been answered, and now she didn’t even know what to say to her own daughter.
"Sure," Tony answered.
Rosa smiled. "Good. Sit down. I’ll get us something to drink. What would you like? I can make some coffee. I have orange juice…" She stopped when she realized she was just prattling on.
Tony felt some of the tension drain out of her. Realizing her mother was as nervous as she was, she said, "Coffee would be great."
Sitting on the couch, the rich smell of the freshly brewed coffee permeating the air, the two women looked at each other. Both noticed the changes that had occurred in the other over the years. Tony saw lines she never remembered on her mother’s face and a few strands of gray in her hair. She had gained a little weight but had really changed very little in appearance. Rosa was pleased to see that the young gangly teenager she remembered had grown into the beautiful woman she had always known her daughter would become.
Tony asked, "How are you Mom?" The question was simple, but it was a starting place, and Rosa accepted it for what it was and began to tell her daughter about her life. She told her about their friends, and brought her up to date on the small community she had grown up in.
"What about you? Where do you live? Are you married? Are you still in the FBI?" Rosa stopped when she saw Tony raise an eyebrow and look at her, the question clearly written across her face.
Rosa met her daughter’s eyes. "I tried to find you. I hired a private investigator. He told me you had entered the FBI, but couldn’t find out anything else."
Tony took a deep breath. Voicing her thoughts, she said, "I never meant for you to worry. I just thought it was best for me to leave."
The older woman looked at the troubled face of her daughter. She had not been there for Tony when she needed her, and had lost her. She was getting a second chance and she intended to make the most of it.
Reaching over, she took one of Tony’s hands between hers and began talking. "You left because you needed me and I wasn’t there for you. I couldn’t see past my own grief to share yours. I knew you blamed yourself but I was helpless to act. That was very selfish of me." Rosa paused a minute, gathering together the words that should have been spoken so many years before, "It wasn’t your fault. I know that now and I knew it then." Looking into Tony’s eyes, Rosa continued, "I’m so sorry, Tony. If there were any way I could go back and change things I would. But I can’t. Can you forgive me?"
The words impacted on Tony like a sledgehammer. Disbelief and relief warred with each other. After years of shouldering the blame in her own mind, she had to make sure. In a voice just short of incredulous, she asked what had been answered, unable to stop the question, "You didn’t blame me?"
Look what I have done to my own child. "No Tony. I never blamed you." Rosa’s voiced hitched and she had to pause before she could continue, "I’m so sorry I never told you that then."
An enormous weight lifted off her shoulders and seeing the tears spilling down her mother’s face, she gently squeezed the hand holding hers and said, "It’s ok Mom. Don’t cry," her own eye’s moist, she continued, "You’ll make me cry too." Leaning over, she hugged her mother and repeated, "It’s ok."
"You are still the good person you always were Tony," Rosa said when she was able.
Tony was a little embarrassed by the compliment and decided to change the subject by answering the questions her mother had asked.
"I live in Cleveland now, Mom, and I’m still in the FBI. I worked covert operations for years. That’s why the guy you hired couldn’t find me."
"Do you like it there?" Rosa asked.
"Yes." Smiling Tony added, "Some great people live there."
"You have such a pretty smile Tony."
"Mom… !" Tony said rolling her eyes.
Rosa said, "Well you do," and laughed at the familiar action by Tony.
"Have you met anyone?"
Tony looked at her mother. How do I handle this? With the straightforwardness that was her style, she met her mother’s eyes and said, "Yes I have. We are not married yet, but we have talked about a commitment ceremony."
"A commitment ceremony? That’s a strange thing to call a wedding. Is this something new?" Rosa asked drawing her eyebrows together in question.
Tony said simply, "I am in love with another woman." Seeing the shocked expression cover her mother’s face, she continued, "You’d like her Mom. She’s the most wonderful person I have ever known."
"But a woman Tony. Why?"
Tony looked into her mother’s eyes and saw her confusion. Words were inadequate to describe how she felt about Megan. But she had to try to help her mother understand. Tony began speaking, "She is kind and gentle and smart and beautiful and strong and she loves me." Tony paused and then decided to tell her mother the part Megan had in their reunion.
"Shortly after we met, I was injured. She took care of me and while we got to know each other we
shared childhood stories. I told her what happened to George and Joey. She helped me to realize that it wasn’t my fault." Tony stopped for a minute and smiled at her mother. "Sooner or later I would have come back Mom. But it is because of her that I am here now."
The war waging in Rosa’s mind came to a screeching halt when the implications of the last thing her daughter said registered. She had watched Tony’s face change when she spoke of this woman. She would have to be blind not to see the love Tony obviously felt for her. Rosa wasn’t sure how she felt about this new revelation, but she was not going to turn her daughter away again. She appeared to be very happy and with that thought in mind, Rosa said, "Tell me about her."
Tony sighed inwardly with relief. This was going better than she had hoped considering her mother was a devout Roman Catholic. A large warm smile covered her face and she began telling her mother about the woman she loved.
Rosa watched the play of emotions cross Tony’s face when she spoke. If a person could glow, her daughter did. Tony talked for over an hour before saying, "I really should go now. Megan is waiting for me at the hotel."
Rosa had been caught up in Tony’s description of Megan and was intensely curious. She wanted to meet this young woman who meant so much to her daughter.
Voicing her thoughts, she said, "I’d like to meet her Tony. Could you go get her and come back? I’ll make lasagna for dinner. Is that still your favorite?"
Tony smiled, "Sure Mom, and your lasagna sounds great. What time do you want us to come back?"
"How about 5pm? I need to go to the market and pick up a few things."
"We’ll be here," Tony said, standing up and hugging her mother. "I need to use the phone to call a cab."
"There’s no need to call a cab. I can take you."
* * *
Paul Lewis followed the hostess to a booth in the rear of the diner. He ordered tea and thought about the call from Sherman. He had never requested a personnel file before. Their friendship had developed to a point that each fully trusted the other. But still, this was unusual and why a file on an operative? Shaking his head, he thought, it doesn’t make sense.
Sipping the hot tea, Paul thought about the first time he’d met Sherman. It had been three years ago. He was working his first covert assignment. He remembered his excitement when he was able to infiltrate a militia group that no one had been able to penetrate before. He was young and optimistic and wanted to make his mark among the seasoned operatives.
He left to make a routine drop and was unaware he’d been followed. Upon his return, the leader of the organization questioned him. He’d made up an excuse about seeing an old friend, but the leader was clearly suspicious and he came away from the meeting very uneasy. Later that night he pulled out the emergency transmitter and sent a message asking to be relieved from the assignment fearing his cover had been blown.
The next day he was advised to return to base. He almost made it too. The camp was a mile behind before his legs were knocked out from under him and he heard the echo of a high-powered rifle. In excruciating pain, he tied a tourniquet around his damaged leg and sent off an emergency transmission before passing out.
The next thing he remembered was Sherman putting him in the back seat of a car and transporting him to the hospital.
He now had a 5-inch steel pin in his leg and walked with a slight limp. If it hadn’t been for Sherman coming along when he had, he would be without that leg. But he was no longer physically fit to do covert work, and because of this, he held a deep-seated hatred for all militia groups.
When Sherman told him about what two of the committee members were doing, he requested a transfer to the covert files’ area. The rogue committee members reviewed all the cases in which the operative’s report deviated from the original agent’s report selectively choosing some for further action by Ben’s group. The cases they did not target were returned for filing.
Paul reviewed each of the files that had not been selected, and the ones involving militia groups, he copied and gave to Sherman. He altered the reports identically to the ones altered by the two committee members, and filed the termination order after Sherman personally eliminated each leader.
Sherman stood near the table for a moment and watched his friend. He was 28, but still looked like a kid. His red hair and freckles contributed to his youthful appearance.
"Hey Paul…" he said, sliding into the opposite side of the booth.
"Hi," Paul replied leaving his thoughts behind.
"Man you were a thousand miles away," Sherman said looking at his friend. "Did you get the file I asked for?"
"Yes. But what do you want an operative’s file for?"
Sherman quickly told Paul about the meeting with Ben finishing up by saying, "That was one of the cases you provided me with. The last thing we can afford is to have Ben uncover what we are doing. If she is eliminated, she can’t testify that her report was altered."
"I don’t like it. She’s an agent," Paul replied.
Well aware of Paul’s hatred of militia groups Sherman said, "If she had done her job in the first place, this would have never happened."
Seeing the youthful face age and become bitter, Sherman pressed on saying, "If we have to stop now, the militia groups win by default. You’re the one who loses. Your career is ruined because of them," pausing he added, "think about it. She is actually protecting them."
What Sherman said made sense. She was the one who was at fault here. But still not comfortable with targeting an agent, he said, "Ok. But Sherman… I’m not providing any more operatives’ files."
"Relax. I’m only doing this because it is necessary. I’m not crazy about taking out an agent either," Sherman said convincingly. "Don’t worry. She is just going to have an accident. No one else will be hurt. I’ll make sure she’s alone."
"Ok. The file’s in my trunk."
* * *
Megan laid her book down and looked at the clock on the dresser. Only ten minutes had passed since the last time she looked at it. Disgusted that she couldn’t lose herself in the book to help pass the time, she walked over to the window and looked out.
She knew it made sense that the longer Tony was gone, the better chance things had gone well. But her mind had decided to play devil’s advocate and insisted that if she were too upset she might not come straight back to the hotel.
Megan turned around when she heard the door open. Before she had a chance to ask how things had gone, Tony had crossed the room and wrapped her in a big hug, a huge grin on her face. Laughing, Megan said, "I guess things went ok."
"Yep. Mom invited us for dinner," Tony said, finally releasing Megan. "She’s making lasagna."
Megan hadn’t expected this. Suddenly nervous, she said, "She did?"
"Well after I told her about you, she wanted to meet you."
Trepidation filling her mind, Megan asked, "Did you tell her?" she paused suddenly at a loss for words.
Tony saw the worried expression on her partner’s face. Taking Megan’s hand, she led them over to the bed and sat down, guiding her lover onto her lap, her arms loosely draped around her.
"Yes I did," Tony paused searching for the right words. "I know there are times when I forget to think of both of us." Like last night, she silently added. "I never had to do that before." Tony looked into Megan’s eyes and continued, "But you are more important to me than anyone. You are a part of my life now. She needed to know that."
Megan’s mind struggled to grasp the enormity of the chance Tony had taken. She had been willing to risk a renewed relationship with her mother by telling her about them, yet she did anyway. Megan said, "I love you," and drew her partner’s head down, meeting her lips with her own.
* * *
Sherman sat at the table in his room carefully going through the file on Antonia Viglioni. He grudgingly acknowledged that it was quite impressive. She had excelled from the time she entered the academy and with each assignment became more proficient. What a worthy oppo
nent she would have been to take on. Too bad he had to stage an accident.
The only thing he didn’t understand was why she had requested a transfer out of covert operations and taken a desk job in Cleveland. It was obvious she had a personal interest in militia groups because of her brothers’ deaths. So why did she transfer? It doesn’t make sense. Abandoning that train of thought, he decided it really didn’t matter anyway. It wouldn’t change the outcome.
Knowing he couldn’t plan what type of accident to stage until he arrived in Cleveland and became familiar with her schedule, Sherman wanted to cover anything that might come up. With that thought in mind, he began mentally listing the things he needed to do before departing. Request leave, rent a car, pack weapons and alternate identities, take pertinent information from the file, put the file in his safety deposit box and see about acquiring some electronic equipment. He knew the last item might be difficult. The agency usually provided this and he couldn’t very well ask for it.
Taking his suitcase out of the closet, he began packing enough clothes to last a week, making sure that he included a wide variety. If for some reason he was gone longer than a week, the hotel would have laundry services. Sherman then began mentally ticking off the other things he might need as he packed them.
Satisfied he hadn’t forgotten anything, he closed the suitcase and departed for the administrative offices to request leave. Ben had actually done him a favor by halting all operations. Since he wasn’t assigned to a case right now, he knew the leave would be automatically approved.
* * *
Megan looked in the mirror again checking her appearance for the third time. Making another minor adjustment to her makeup, she sighed and hoped she would make a good impression on Tony’s mother. I need to relax. I’m a nervous wreck.
"You ready yet?" Tony called from the other room.