PART V: LOVE REKINGLED

 

by Haas J. Berkeley School of Business

PART V:  LOVE REKINDLED ON THE BERKELEY SIDE OF THE BAY
Part V has 'adult content' see at:
David and Nadia: Love Nest in Berkeley
karenmaceanruig@gmail.com

PART IV LOVE REKINDLED

   David made the decision to back off a little from Nadia in New York, and then again on the plane, and once more this morning in San Francisco. He felt like the pendulum in a mantel clock swinging back and forth between guilt because Nadia was Sadie’s friend and the pleasure of feeling alive and operating on all cylinders again. He just wished his damn feelings had picked out someone more appropriate.

 

   He sat in the kitchen, still in his jogging clothes, finishing his breakfast and tea as he thought about his marriage, and now, this new, unexpected attraction.

 

   We men are such simple creature he thought to himself.  Sadie avoided social events because her career forced her to be around crowds of people so much of the time; but when they had to attend certain parties, she would wear ‘some little thing’ and flirt outrageously with him all evening. He grew to enjoy the game and began to treat it like a dance, sometimes a tango, sometimes a waltz but always sexier because they knew each other so intimately. His thirst for Sadie had never been quenched.

   They were friends as well as lovers and when he was stuck with a story Sadie could ask just the right questions to clarify the conflict and revitalize him. He hadn’t had a good idea or written anything useful since she died, except the checks for cancer research, he thought, grimly.  Nadia came in from the guest room as he was performing this appraisal.
 

He smiled, “Good morning, did you sleep well,” he asked?

 

   “Like a baby,” she said.  “Do you think I really need to go to a psychiatrist?” she asked.

 

   “I’d feel better if you talked everything through,” he said, “Don’t bury garbage, Nadia, It comes back to haunt you.”

 

   “All right,” she agreed. 

   David grinned, “Why are you being so damned docile,” he asked?

 

   “You and Warren believed in me. You flew all the way to New York for me.”

 

   “Nadia, if Sadie were alive, she would have sent me after you.”

 

   “Yes, she would have. If Sadie were still alive she would be helping me. You and Warren would be her cheering section.”

 

   He agreed, “Yes everything would be different.”

 

   “And, everything would be different if Anders was still alive.” She said.

 

   “Back to square one,” Warren said, overhearing, as he entered the kitchen.

 

   “You missed breakfast, Nadia. Can I show you where things are,” Warren asked.

 

   She got up; playfully grumbling, about whatever happened to her guest status.

 

   David had a pencil and legal tablet in hand, “We need to shop today.”

 

   She rolled her eyes and did a Groucho Marx, eyebrow imitation.

 

   David was mesmerized by her ability to function completely outside of her talent and beauty. Those props were accessories to her ego. She was an enigma, he thought to himself. 

 

   “What do I need today,” she asked as she toasted bread and made coffee?

 

   “Do you have clothes for moving, gardening and painting,” he asked?

 

   Several answers appeared to flit through her eyes, for the most part irreverent, but she said, “No.”

 

   “I think a mall for casual clothes,” she added.

   “I’ll take you to the mall,” Warren volunteered, “and lunch.”

 

   “Tomorrow we see a therapist in the morning and my attorney’s in the afternoon,” David said.

   She turned toward him and sighed, “O.K., business first.”

 David grinned, “Men are verbs,” he said.

   “And women,” she asked.

   “I still haven’t a clue,” he answered.

   “You got women pretty well in your fiction,” she said.

   “Ahhh, the spy novels. They kept us in shoes and socks.”

 

   “Who was your model, for the women,” she asked.

 

   He smiled, “Sadie of course, and a little bit of Jean Kirkpatrick, a little bit of Diane Feinstein, a few others,” he shrugged.

 

   “I’m not asking for verification, David, but it’s said you worked in intelligence for several years.”

 

   “It is said,” he agreed, “Helps to sell spy novels.”

 

   She still didn’t believe he bribed his way into her room. She believed he somehow cracked the card devices.

 

   After breakfast Warren took her to the mall. She bought tons of new clothes, all casual working attire. Leggings and tunics, denim pants and shorts with casual tops, man tailored shirts, and lovely, comfortable shoes.  When they got home, she had fun taking everything out of shopping bags and folding them in neat stacks.

   David knocked while she was playing with her new clothes and suggested one more shopping stop for the day, but refused to tell her where he was taking her.

 

   She leaned back in the Mustang, apparently feeling less guilt about the accident and less worry about the law suit filed against her by her in-laws. She was in a new city starting a new life.

 

   When David parked her eyes widened with excitement. They were in front of a huge art supply store. She was out of the car and selecting brushes in minutes. David enjoyed pushing the cart as she filled it with brushes, tubes of color, paper and odds and ends necessary for painting. She soon had the cart filled to over flowing and danced happily to the checkout stand. 

 

   David; pleased his idea had given her so much pleasure, found room for everything in the Mustang. 

 

   He suggested dinner at a little jazz club he knew that served southern style food.

 

   She agreed, happily clutching a shopping bag that she wouldn’t surrender to the trunk.

   David drove to the Fillmore and found parking. He took her arm and they went into the small club. It was packed but they soon had a table and the musicians all nodded to David. Sadie and David had been frequent customers.

   When they took a break David bought the band a drink and they stopped by the table to say hi and thanks. Nadia greeted them each with knowledgeable, personal comments on their phrasing or on their part in a particular song. 

   In a few minutes someone in the band recognized her and started asking her to sing. She was gracious with them and said not tonight but that she would be back soon to sing a couple of songs with the band.

   David was happy. “You are very good with musicians. Fantastic, actually,” he said.

 

   “You can’t create a good song without them,” she insisted, “My voice is just another instrument in the group.”

 

   She was looking at the menu, frowning, “What kind of food is this,” she looked at David?

 

   “Welcome to down home, southern comfort food, or ‘Nawleens style cooking,” he laughed, “Take your pick.”

 

   She took her glasses out and started carefully reviewing the menu.

 

   “Amos is the Chef here unless he quit again,” David volunteered.

 

   “Why didn’t you tell me to have a mint julep,” she asked, deadpan serious.

   “Didn’t figure you for a veranda and parasol type,” he teased. 

   “I’m going to plunge right in,” she said, pretending to lick her chops, “Blackened catfish fingers and fried green tomatoes to start then shrimp gumbo. For supper, skillet fried chicken with greens and yummy corn on the cob,” she closed the menu with finality.

   “I love finger food,” she said, delicately shaking out her linen napkin.

   He was grinning ear to ear, “Sounds good to me,” he laughed and put his menu down.

   “This is fun, David, and thanks for the artist supply stop.”

   “No problem, Nadia, tomorrow’s going to be heavy so I thought tonight a little fun was in order.”

   “I’m not looking forward to the lawyers or the doctor,” she said, “I don’t want to burden the kids with Anders’ driving record.  They’re going to be angry that it will all come out.”

   “Just remember that his record wouldn’t have come out at all if it weren’t for your in-laws,” he reminded her, “You’re just protecting yourself from their litigation.”

   “There is still some guilt about Anders too,” she said, “The doctor is probably a good idea.”

   “Are the phone calls still taboo?” David asked.

   “Anders knew how I felt about Sadie; he was fond of her too. I don’t know what upset him so much about the calls.” she shook her head.

   “Did you explain that I was in the room with Sadie while we talked?” he asked.

   “I was in the same room with Anders much of the time we talked, David, so it doesn’t really make much sense.”

   Their appetizers arrived and the waiter asked if they would like another drink.

 

   “Ice tea for me,” Nadia requested.

 

   “Bring a pitcher, please, unsweetened,” David added.

 

   She was already savoring the crunchy catfish and enjoying every bite.

 

   When the waiter came back with the pitcher of ice tea, Nadia said, “Please tell Amos that everything is delicious.”

   Their main course was delivered by the man, himself. Amos supervised the service of their entree with a great deal of fanfare.  He hugged David and kissed Nadia’s hand.

   Speaking in French he welcomed the beautiful, talented Nadia Marcussen to San Francisco with all of the pomp of a mayor handing over the keys to the city.

   She was as gracious with the chef as she had been with the musicians, “Thank you so much for making me feel at home, here, Amos.”

 

   He walked back to his kitchen beaming.

   Nadia was an old hand with fans; David decided and didn’t get nervous or upset with them.

   “Your father was a musician wasn’t he David?”

   “He was at Stanford getting his masters in music theory and conducting when he met my mother.”

   “And it was love at first sight?” she asked him, as she marveled over the chicken

.

   “Maybe for her,” he said, “I think he decided he had found the goose that laid the golden egg,” David said.

   She raised her eyebrows, “Poor boy marries rich girl?”

   “She lived in a big house with servants and she had the Warren name,” David said, “He didn’t have anything. He was a competent but uninspired musician.”

   “What happened,” she asked, folding her napkin and sitting back to sip the last of the tea.

   “They separated and he went back to Europe.

   She died when I was two and they shipped me off to him in Italy where he was conducting a small opera house orchestra.”

   “You didn’t have a good relationship?” she questioned.

   “We didn’t have a relationship,” David answered, “A few of his lady friends were helpful but I never really had a home. For the most part, he just ignored me.”

   “But you were the scion of a wealthy, old California family,” she said.

   “And having me gave him a little control over some of that money,” David said, “I didn’t know until much later that there was money or family.”

 

   After ordering coffee and brandy he went on.  “I made friends with the musicians and singers and played with the kids in the streets. When I got old enough I worked to buy a second hand guitar and a camera.”

 

   “Sadie said you moved around a lot,” Nadia said.

 

   He smiled, “We lived in different cities in Italy, Spain, Portugal and one summer in France with a very wealthy lady. I learned to speak Italian, Spanish, Portuguese a little French,” he shrugged.

 

   “Is he still alive?” she asked.

 

   “No, he died several years ago.”

 

   David sipped his brandy and continued, “When I got to be a teenager, I’d take off every summer with a Euro pass and explore Europe.”

 

   “Sadie said you walked the mountains with a backpack and visited the small villages, getting a real understanding of the rural mountain areas.”

 

   “Yes, I liked the country people; many hadn’t been far from their village during their entire lifetime except for the men who were drafted.”

 

   When he paused she watched emotions cross his face and then he went on, “When I was sixteen I went to an attorney. Luckily he was honest and after a while I learned the whole story and found out I already had paid in full tuition to Stanford with a living allowance.”

 

   He laughed and said; “It’s getting late and the next chapter is “wet back” in America, stay tuned.”

 

   When they were in the car and on the way home with Nadia’s new paint supplies, she said, “One question, what is a wet back?”

 

   He laughed and said, “A derogatory, slang expression for Mexican’s who swam the Rio Grande and entered this country illegally.”

 

   She rolled her eyes, “So they called you, wetback?”

 

   “Among other things; because I had a slight accent by then, even though English was my native tongue and America my country of birth. It went like that until I learned how to catch an American football and became a gridiron hero,” he answered.

 

   “Should we just leave everything in the car?” he asked as they pulled into the garage.

 

   She looked down her nose at him like his fourth grade teacher at the American school.

 

   Warren came down and soon everything was upstairs in her guest room. She thanked them both at her door and said good night.

 

   The next morning Nadia came into the kitchen looking very professional in a grey pinstriped skirt and blazer with a crisp white blouse and dark grey accessories. 

 

   “Good morning,” Warren said, juggling two pans and the toaster oven, “You made breakfast call today.”

 

   She smiled and asked, “Is David up yet?”

                                      

   “Still out jogging,” Warren told her, “Are you nervous about today?”

 

   She slumped in her chair, “I wonder if I should be more apprehensive about the doctor or the lawyers?” she asked him.

 

   “Hell, just remember how much you’re going to be paying them and you’ll forget to be nervous,” Warren filled two plates, handing them to Nadia.

 

   He filled two cups with coffee and came around and sat next to her at the table.

 

   “This looks great, Warren, if I don’t get my own place soon I’ll have to join Weight Watchers,” but that didn’t keep her from digging in.

 

   David came in smiling and asked, “What’s for breakfast?”

 

   “Vegetable frittata and strawberries with yogurt,” Warren said, “Your tea should be ready,” he added. 

   “Yum, Warren, its perfect,” Nadia said and got up to pour more coffee for Warren and herself.

 

   “You two do very well for yourselves,” Nadia said.

 

   “Would you believe my first junior high English essay was about the farmer’s market papa and went to every week?” Warren said. “I had to beat up an eighth grader because he didn’t think it was very manly.”

 

   David laughed, “He came home with a slight black eye and scraped up knuckles.”

 

   “Couldn’t play my guitar for a week,” Warren griped.

 

   “You both play guitar, don’t you?” Nadia asked.

 

   “I play a little,” Warren said, “Papa plays guitar, mandolin, and classical and jazz piano.”

 

   “Maybe we’ll play a little tonight,” David said to Warren, “and talk Nadia into singing.” 

 

   “Will see how today goes,” she said, “I’m a nervous wreck this morning.”

 

   David drove Nadia to Berkeley for her appointment with the psychiatrist; near enough to the apartment for Nadia to keep her own appointments when she moved to the rental.

 

   While Nadia was in the doctor’s office David drove around aimlessly and worried about how it was going. After an hour he cruised back by the office and she was just exiting the building.

   He pulled over and she got into the car.

 

   “Whew,” she let out a deep breath, “that was grueling.”

 

   David raised his eyebrows, “Are you going back?” he asked.

 

   “Yes, I think so,” she said, “At least for a while.”

 

   “Lunch?” he asked, not wanting to increase the pressure she was feeling already.

 

   “I’ll just have tea or something if you’re hungry,” she answered.

 

   “I’m not, let’s head back to the city for our appointment with the attorneys,” David said.

 

   The secretary welcomed them by name and led them to a conference room where two well-tailored, manicured, attorneys’; who probably belonged to the same plush gym, rose to greet them.

 

   After introductions and pleasantries, the eldest said, “Mrs. Marcussen, with the information we have; I’m assuming, the case will be resolved as soon as we file for a dismissal. Your husband’s driving record is even worse than the preliminary investigators reported.

 

   “Does the record have to become public?” she asked.

 

   “It will be documented in the papers we file,” he responded and turned to his younger version, “John Paul has something to add.”

 

   “Mrs. Marcussen,” he asked gently, “Were you aware that there was a woman with your husband when he had the accident?”

 

   She looked at David, her eyes large and unbelieving, “What are you saying?”

 

   Her eyes darted back and forth between the men, frowning and nodding her head in denial, she started to rise.

 

   David rose and went to stand behind Nadia, hands on her shoulders, “Gentlemen, are you saying that Anders was involved with this woman?”

   “Mr. Fleming,...David,” John Paul said, “the record shows clearly that he was involved, including setting her up in an apartment and being quite generous with gifts.”

 

   “Thank you,” David said, “could you fax a copy of everything to my number and leave us for a moment?” David asked.

 

   They glanced at each other and quickly gathered their files quietly closing the heavy door behind them.

 

   David moved his chair over in front of her chair. He took her wringing hands in his own and felt her whole body trembling. She scooted forward and put her head on his chest.

 

   “This is a shock Nadia, for now just breathe deeply, it will calm your body,” he began to breathe audibly to show her. “Slowly and deeply, Nadia,” he said.

 

   “Take your time and when you’re ready we’ll walk out of here and take the elevator to the parking garage.”

 

   She was still frowning and shaking her head in denial; rising she put her hand in his and took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders she nodded that she was ready.

 

   He used his handkerchief to tidy her face and opened the door.  They walked out of the building and drove home to Russian Hill.

Copyright May 2013 karenmaceanruig

PART III: LOVE REKINDLED

  

   When David got home from his day with Nadia, Warren was sacked out in the family room.  He woke up when he heard his father come in.

   “Hey, pop, you made Dude magazine again. You’re number four on their ten most eligible bachelors’ list.”

   David reached down and grabbed a pillow, tossing it at Warren's head.

   “Let’s have a beer, Warren”, David said, ignoring the Dude comment.

   He went into the kitchen and opened two bottles of Spaten Optimator and sat down at the table.

   “What’s up, pop,” Warren asked as he followed David into the kitchen?

   “Remember what you said about the mutual attraction,” David asked?

   “Sure, pop.”

   “Nadia and I discussed the attraction issue, it was uncomfortable but it’s out in the open between us now.”

   David thought for a moment, “On the other hand; whenever I brought up our phone calls she panicked. The body language was unmistakable.”

   “Why do you think she’s so sensitive about those calls?” Warren asked while opening two more beers.

   “I don’t know why, son, but I think she’s going to run away.  I think she was running away when she came here.”

   “What should we do, your gut feelings are usually pretty reliable?”

   Then Warren added, “I’m going to call her.”   

   “Thanks, Warren. If she sounds upset would you go talk to her?”

   “I will, in fact, I think I’ll just go down there and ask her if she would like to have dinner or a drink." Warren said.

   David threw Warren the car keys and told him not to have anything more to drink while he was driving.

   Warren grinned and handed over his unfinished second beer then hurried down the stairs.   

   David heard the car leaving then sat and finished both beers.

   He was pacing the floor when Warren finally called over an hour later. 

   “Is she O.K.,” David asked?

   “I’m on my way to the airport, dad, she packed and checked out as soon as she got back to the hotel. She had them book a flight to New York. I’m hoping to catch her before her flight leaves.”

   “Why didn’t you stop by for me,” David roared?

   “No time papa, I was bribing half the people at the hotel. I cleaned out my ATM cash advance.”

   “There’s a credit card under the floor mat behind the driver’s seat, Warren.  The code is your mom’s birth year.”

   “Got it, papa, I’d better hang up and pay attention to driving. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

   “Thanks, son," he said and severed the connection. 
   He called a detective agency he had used for business purposes and asked them to get someone right on the case both in San Francisco and New York.  He gave them all the information he had and they were already working the case when he hung up.

   Sometimes it was nice to have lots and lots of money and a little pull he thought.
   He thought about calling some of his old buddies in government but decided it would be over kill.

   Just to be on the safe side he packed an overnight bag and made reservations to New York for the next morning.

  He had a feeling and called the private investigators back and asked them to make inquiries into Anders Marcussen’s car accident and driving record.

   After taking care of everything he could think of David continued pacing. He scowled; yesterday my life felt pointless and empty, today it’s charged with urgency. Ironic, he thought.  

   Warren said I was a man of faith; David sent a beseeching prayer to God for Nadia’s safety and asked for renewal for his own recent lack of trust.

   He remembered praying when he was alone in the Alaskan wilderness. He prayed out loud when he was there because God was intimately near in His unsullied creation. Sitting at his evening fire David would listen to the wolves howl in the night and wondered what they sensed? He knew the scientific explanation but science dismissed everything that was immeasurable; what sparked composers to write music and why did wolves howl in the night?

   David took his guitar down and began playing quietly to ease his soul.

   Two hours later his phone chimed and Warren said, “I didn’t catch her,” he said, “She’s on flight 807 to JFK.” 

   “Thanks, son, good work.”

   He faxed the investigators with the flight number and a recent picture of Nadia from the internet. He received a return fax with her hotel reservations and he smiled to himself. He tried the airport to see if he could get an earlier flight, but no luck.

   He called his New York florist and had several large bouquets delivered to Nadia’s New York hotel room with the message: “Nadia, this is as agonizing as watching Sadie die. I know you’re in pain. Please call, David.”

   He slept fitfully until Warren got home and they talked until they received a fax saying Nadia checked into her hotel room in New York and made no further flight reservations.

   He couldn’t sleep anymore so he took a chance based on his gut feeling and sent more flowers with the message, “I know and understand, Nadia. It wasn’t your fault and we can work it out together. Warren says to come home. Love, David.”
   Warren wandered in and David showed him the message. 

   “I think I get it, papa, they argued over the phone calls and she feels responsible for his accident and death. I was thinking about it while I was driving home,” Warren explained.

   “I asked the investigators for a copy of Anders driving record.  It may help,” David said.

   David decided to text the same message to Nadia on her new cell phone. It was all he could do for the moment.

   Warren called David into the kitchen and served him a mushroom omelet with toasted French bread lightly buttered and a bowl of fresh fruit with yogurt.

   David smiled, he was an early riser and Sadie liked to sleep in so he fixed Warren’s breakfast and took him to school in the morning. It gave them daily time to keep their relationship on a firm footing and dialogue open.

   Few people were aware that Warren wasn’t David’s biological son. He and Sadie told Warren when he was thirteen after his Bar Mitzvah. Warren sought out his biological father when he was fifteen but dropped the whole thing after a couple of months. He told his parents that he preferred his real father.

   They ate their omelets and sat quietly waiting for the phone or fax to bring them more information.

   David showered and dressed in jeans for the flight to New York. When he came out to the kitchen again, Warren handed him a fax.

   He had highlighted several speeding and reckless driving tickets. There was one DUI, several fender benders and a pretty bad accident a little over a year before the fatal accident.

   David sighed; the driving record was just the tip of the iceberg. Anders should have known better and Nadia clearly wasn’t responsible for his driving pattern, he was a tragedy waiting to happen.

   He folded the report and put it into his jacket, it might come in handy.

   “I put your bag in the car,” Mark said.

   They waited.

   The sky was just starting to get light when his phone rang.

   It was Nadia.  She was crying and he tried to sooth and calm her, “Easy little girl, everything is going to be all right but you can’t do it all alone.”

   She read his note and asked him how he knew. 

   “My gut, your behavior, and a little thought,” he told her.

   “How could I blame you, Nadia, it’s not your fault.”  

   “No, don’t go anywhere!”

   “Look Nadia, you’ve already tried running. You ran from home, you ran from me. You can’t keep running.”

   “Nadia, pay attention, you’re not thinking clearly right now, let me help.  Stay where you are and I’ll get a flight to New York.”

   “You take a shower and order something to eat. When I get there we’ll make a plan.”

   Warren was waving at him and pointing at his watch. 

   David grabbed his jacket and ran down the stairs, still talking to Nadia.

   They lost their connection when they got on the freeway and he leaned back and ran his hand through his thick, black hair. It was getting too long he thought, the way Sadie always liked it.

   “Pop, I’m going to drop you off and get back to your house.  I’ll stay there until you get to Nadia in New York.”

   “Good idea, son, do we have enough gas?”

   “I filled it up on the way home. Don’t worry about anything.”

   “And, pop, bring her back with you. Her family didn’t help her with it or she wouldn’t have run.”

   “Guilt’s a heavy burden, Warren.”

   “Pop?”

   ‘Yes,” David said.

   “Was mom guilty about being pregnant with me?”

   “We worked through any problems she had with it.  Besides you were starting to walk by the time I got home from,” he paused, “overseas.”

   “You couldn’t come back could you, papa?”

   He turned and smiled at Warren, “I came back the first second I could.” 

   “You’ve heard the story a million times Warren. I got home a day earlier than expected because I hitched a military flight to the east coast.”

   “You were napping with your mom but you woke up when I opened the front door.”

   David smiled gently, “You started yelling, papa, papa, papa, over and over again, then cannon balled into my arms.”

   He touched Warren’s shoulder,  “We were all cuddled up in an easy chair when your mom came in all sleepy eyed and yawning.”

   I had to do some tall talking but we were married within the week and we started the adoption papers immediately.

   “And, you’ve been papa ever since,” Warren said as he pulled onto the off ramp for the airport.

   Warren had assumed the more formal title father, for a short while but time in Europe and habit conspired to return him to the simple, papa, even though he was almost thirty.

   As he got out of the car David asked Warren to call and have a car and driver waiting for him in New York when he landed.

   He didn’t relax until he was seated on the plane and it took off.

   He would be at the hotel long before Nadia expected.  She didn’t know he was already booked on a flight when they talked on the phone.  He dozed off and slept fitfully for the whole flight.

   The driver met him as he disembarked and since he only had a carry on they went to the car and started into the city immediately.

   He called Warren to let him know he was on his way to the hotel.

   “I tried her hotel room but she didn’t pick up, pop. No new news,” he added.

   “I’ll call you when I know something, Warren.”

   He called the investigators and they said she hadn’t checked out.

   Next, David called a psychiatrist he knew in New York to get a referral in Berkeley. She was a doctor he and Sadie had seen to help them over a couple of hurdles when they both got bull-headed.  He thought she was excellent and he left his number with a few details in case he needed her help here in New York.

   When they arrived at the hotel he gave the driver a hundred dollar bill and said, “This is just a tip for you, stay within a block or two until I call you.”

   The driver was more than happy to oblige.

   David took a deep breath in the elevator.  He was afraid.  What would he find in her room?

   He knocked twice but didn’t get an answer so he resurrected some old skills and managed to gain entrance to her room.

   Her bags were still unpacked with the airport tags intact.

    The bar was open and there were several empty bottles tossed in the sink. He went into the bedroom and she was sprawled on the bed in the same clothes she had worn to Berkeley.

   He checked and she was breathing, her pulse was strong but she smelled like a distillery.

   He shook his head; she was going to feel like hell when she woke up.  He went to the living area and called Warren to let him know she was safe and he was in her room.

   He described the scene and told Warren he’d wait until sleeping beauty woke up before he made any plans. They laughed, both remembering rare hangovers best forgotten.

   He turned on the television and began watching a tennis match.

   He heard a flush and she came into the room holding her head. She peered at him like she couldn’t believe her eyes.

   “Hello, Sunshine, how’s your head?”

   Hands on hips she said, “How did you get here so fast?”

   “Have you eaten or do you always drink on an empty stomach?”

   She came and sat on an ottoman in front of him.

   He called room service and ordered food for both of them. He hadn’t eaten since the mushroom omelet Warren made.

   She looked up at him, “I don’t know what to say, I’ve messed everything up.”

   “Let’s talk after you’ve had some food and coffee. Why don’t you shower and put on a robe?”

   She looked like she might argue then changed her mind.

   He heard the shower and called back down and asked for aspirin with the food.

   He was tipping the waiter when she came out in a hotel robe with her hair in a towel.

   She was crying again. “I looked in the mirror and I’m a pathetic old lady.”

   He chuckled and arranged the food on a table. 

   “Come and get it,” he said, and offered her a glass of water and aspirin.

   She sat down and swallowed the aspirin while he poured coffee.

   He ordered a platter of croissant sandwiches and a platter of fruit along with a pot of coffee for Nadia and tea for himself.

   She drank the coffee and nibble at the sandwiches but ate quite a bit of fruit.

   While she was finishing the coffee he called and made reservations for two on the next flight to San Francisco. They had tickets for the night flight so he called and released the driver and asked for one to return them to te airport that evening.

   She didn’t object and David called Warren to pick them up. He raised his eyebrows but she shook her head and he told Warren he could talk to Nadia as soon as they got back. 

   “Well,” she lifted her shoulders, “I did get drunk but after I decided not to run again.”

   “Are you sure, Nadia?”

   “I didn’t follow my feelings this time, David, even though I was having a bad panic attack.”

   He listened quietly.

   “I thought about what you said and decided it was time to stop; time to trust someone again.”

   “I’m not asking you why you’re having the panic attacks, Nadia. I’m asking if you know why you’re having the attacks.”

   “I know they started soon after Anders was killed,” she said, “And they’ve been getting worse recently.”  

   She began crying again, helplessly.

   “His mother filed a suit contesting Anders’ will. She claims I shouldn’t profit from his death because the accident was my fault. She’s been influencing the kids and now they’re beginning to question.”

   He forced himself to remain seated and speak quietly, “So everything is building and your original feeling of guilt is getting heavier and harder to bear as she manipulates your support base?”

   “But, she’s right, David, it was my fault.”

   “You think he was driving poorly and had an accident because of those phone calls?”

   “Why else would he drive so carelessly, he had everything to live for?”

   “How’s your head he asked?”

   “Better,” she said, apologetically.

   “Could you get your glasses, Nydia?”

   She rose quietly and went and to retrieve the glasses and he handed her the print out when she came back.

   She looked down at it, “What’s this,” she asked, confused?

   “A preliminary report on Anders’ driving record,” he answered.

   “But what are all of these violations,” she asked? “They must have made a mistake.”

   “It’s not a mistake,” David said.  “Anders record shows that he had an increasingly poor driving record with a dozen reckless driving tickets, speeding tickets, a DUI and several small accidents leading up to a major accident a little over a year before his fatal accident.”

   She frowned and bit her lower lip as she scanned the report again.

   “Then…, what does it mean David that he was driving poorly long before we argued?”

   She frowned, “His mother said I failed to pay the insurance premium and that’s why there was no insurance.”

   “He probably lost his insurance because of his driving record and the accidents, Nydia. Do you have a good attorney,” he asked?

   “I don’t have one, I thought she was right.”

   “We’ll remedy that next week. Her suit will probably be dismissed.”

   “Nadia, you won’t lose the suit, your kids will probably be repentant, and Anders is responsible for his own careless driving and fatal accident.”

   “Well, then," she said weakly,“I didn’t kill him, and I’m not going to hell, and God hasn’t written me off forever.” 

   “David, it’s been so dark carrying all of that guilt around. I still feel awful about the argument and accident but I’m not the direct cause of his death – that’s a hundred pounds off my shoulders.

   “And, when you trust and share it’s only fifty pounds each,” he said.

   “David is the flat still for rent,” she asked?

   He smiled, “You could go home on a wave of triumph.”

   “But, I want to grow my own vegetables, take some acting and dancing classes and maybe paint.  I used to do water colors during the summers but I couldn’t do it on tour so I never really progressed.”

   “Sadie has one of your water colors, it’s very good. We had it mounted and framed.”

   She grabbed his hand, “There is so much to do, let’s hurry back.”

   He chuckled, not letting go of her hand, “Sometimes you just have to punt and create a turnover,” he said.

   “I thought you were a tennis player,” she teased. “Does your club allow women?  I have a wicked backhand.”

@ 2013 May karenmaceanruig