Her nose, chin, and cheeks were glowing from exertion and the cold air, but she didn’t care. She was happy, and so were the men. They tramped into the cabin, pulled off their winter gear, and she ran up to put her pajamas back on but left her hat on. She’d kind of grown to like the silly thing and it helped her to feel warm.
She walked back downstairs to find the men had boiled water in the kettle and put out three mugs of hot cocoa with a plate of buttered toast for all of them. She smiled at them both because she felt they’d broken down some barrier with Anton. He smiled back and nodded at her cup.
“That one is yours.” He spoke directly to her for the first time, almost like a brother, and that made something warm begin to glow in her chest.
“Thanks, Anton.” She leaned into Matteo for a moment, as a way to say hello to him, and then picked up a slice of toast. “That was fun.”
“It was,” Matteo agreed quickly and sat back in his chair. “I don’t think I’ve played like that since I was very small.”
“We did it all the time where I grew up in upstate New York,” Anton volunteered, which shocked them both. Neither spoke, and Marie knew Matteo kept quiet for the same reason she did: any words might stop him. “Up until high school, anyway. Then we all became too cool for children’s games. I don’t know why we thought that it’s fun.”
He didn’t look at either of them, just his cup of cocoa, but he smiled as he continued. “We’d get some major snowstorms up there. Sometimes the snow would be so high we couldn’t open one of the doors. Those days were pretty boring, but we got by.”
Marie nodded before she spoke, “For us, it was flooding that would trap us. Luckily, Mom’s house was built on higher ground, but the water would come up around the sides sometimes, up to the steps, and all the animals outside would try to swim in. Which can be dangerous when it’s snakes, spiders, and animals scared out of their minds.”
“I bet that was scary,” Anton agreed. “I’ve seen it on television, the way it floods down there. I think I’d want to build my house on a hill.”
“There aren’t many hills in southern Louisiana,” Marie laughed. “You can build the ground up, but you have to let it settle for a really long time before you build on it or put another layer on.”
“I’ve heard some people reclaim land from the swamp. Wouldn’t that just get all soggy again eventually?”
“Not if you do it right.” Marie frowned but carried on. “I don’t know a lot about how they do that, but the engineers have found ways of doing it.”
“What are we planning for dinner?” Matteo interrupted the silence that followed.
“Chili?” Marie offered, but Anton broke in.
“I’d like to make dinner tonight if it’s alright with you two?” He looked at them and smiled when they nodded. “Cool. I’m going to make a goulash, so I’d best start it now. It’ll take a while, you reckon everything will be okay while I’m down here, Matteo?”
“Should be. We’ll both be keeping our eyes peeled.” Matteo stood up and stretched. Marie caught a glimpse of his abdomen as his flannel shirt rode up, and wished she could touch him there, but Anton might run back up to his attic haven if she did. She clenched her fingers and looked at Matteo. “I’ll see if I can get an appointment with a doctor, there should be one in town.”
“If they’re open,” he reminded her. “There’s a phone book in the living room, have a look in there.”
“I will,” she promised, even though she’d already done that. She’d picked up the phone to call the one she’d found a dozen times, but never dialed the number. Fear had always made her put the number away. She owed it to him to find something out, though, and to herself.
She’d have to stop putting it off and face facts, she decided. She could stay in this prison forever, and let it grow worse, or find out if she even had the disease at all. If she did, maybe there was a cure for it that had been newly discovered or at least something that could stave off the worse symptoms. She followed him out of the kitchen, but when he split off to go to the office, she went into the living room, her eyes on the table by the couch where she’d hidden the number in a drawer. She could do this.
11
Matteo stared at his computer screen, fear a tight knot in his stomach. Nerve damage, stress, maybe she’d damaged her shoulder when she was attacked. They were all thoughts that flitted through his mind as he stared blankly into space. With a sigh of frustration, he got up and walked over to the window in the small office.
He picked up a pair of binoculars that rested on a small table next to the window and looked out towards the edge of the fence. He’d noticed she spent a lot of time staring out of the windows as if lost in her own thoughts, or searching for answers that she never found. She didn’t know it, but he spent a lot of time staring out of the windows too. Only he wasn’t looking for answers, he was looking for threats.
He thought about the last email he’d received from Celeste, a few days ago. There’d been an odd shortness in her email. Normally she’d go on about how wonderful life was in Italy, how people were much more refined than back home, but this time, she’d written three simple lines.
Not sure when I’m coming home.
I may be a few more months.
I heard you’d disappeared, where are you?
He hadn’t responded yet. He didn’t know how to respond, because as every day passed, as memories bombarded his dreams and his waking moments, he became more convinced that it was Celeste that had ordered that contract. Anton had people working on it but as of yet, the author of that contract had not been identified. Normally, it wouldn’t take long, which was something else that told him this was Celeste. The woman knew how to cover her tracks, or she wouldn’t still be the head of the family.
It didn’t take a lot of skills to know that Marie was worried. She’d spoken about her worries before, but earlier this morning she’d tried to deflect from those worries, to blame the reason for her tremors on something else. He couldn’t blame her for that and knew she did it only to keep him from worrying, but she should know by now that he was always worried for her. There was a real possibility that she could have Parkinson’s disease.
That disease would ruin her life in many ways, it would even take her life eventually. The fact that she was so young and already showing signs was exceedingly worrisome. He’d done research many, many times. He’d looked for treatment options, even experimental ones, but had found nothing that would actually stop the disease.
If she got it, she could take medicines, have treatments that might slow down the course of the illness, but nothing would stop it entirely. He scrubbed at his jaw, the scrape of his beard told him he needed to shave before dinner later, but he decided to leave it for now. They were out in the woods, and what better place to do something he’d always wanted to do? Grow a beard.
Celeste wouldn’t allow him to, not even a mustache, because it looked common, she’d told him more than once. He’d shaved twice a day since he was 15, at her direction, and for the first time in his life, decided to leave it. Not because he was depressed and didn’t care if he looked scruffy, far from it. He felt more alive each day he spent with Marie, and being with her so often during the day now had really boosted him up. He wanted to be a little bohemian, maybe even buy a pair of carpenter’s pants to go with his new coat. That had been a little bit of defiance as well, that coat.