Chapter
57
A new day had begun. Its glorious
sunshine burned brilliantly, in direct contrast to the deeply depressing gloom
and whole-being agony that had enveloped Natalia throughout the night. A ray of warm, golden sun had inched its way
across the carpet and up unto the couch, where the woman sat motionless in her
disdain of it. She cursed its seemingly
inviting glow, a symbol of hope, for she knew exactly what it actually meant. This
day had arrived. The day in which she would once again have to accept the
finality of death.
She cursed the sunlight and moved
into the shadows at the other side of the couch. She curled her legs under her
and rolled herself into a tightly wound ball, as if trying to shell herself
away from the day and its impending reality. Her emotional discomfort was
allied by a physical one, which briefly brought her attention to the fact that
she hadn’t yet changed out of yesterday’s clothing. It had been: the county
coroner’s office, her office, a swift visit to a boardroom full of lawyers, a
meeting with her media adviser, back to her office and then up to the suite and
directly to the couch… in that order.
No stopping. Keep moving. Keep
busy, no thinking. Couch.
It was the couch that got her. It
had welcomed her weary frame with false promises of comfort and relief, but
then refused to let her go as it beckoned all her worries and fears, grief and
anger, guilt and sorrow, and the panic that often accompanies the regret of a
completely wasted opportunity, to find and envelope her while she sat immobile…
imprisoned.
And there was no battle. No
attempts had been made by the defeated brunette to escape the internal torture.
She quite simply surrendered to it all, and felt.
Felt everything.
Felt the worry of being the only
person that could successfully continue the legacy of the Empire. Felt the fear
of failing to do so. Felt the grief of being left alone and the anger at both
her parents for abandoning her. The guilt at having never truly given her
father what he had worked so hard for years to procure from her: just one
simple word of forgiveness. Her sorrow at knowing that the last words she had
ever spoken to him were condemnations, and the gut wrenching, mind-numbing
panic of the knowledge that she could never take them back. Her chances… his chances… for emotional freedom–of a
bond of forgiveness and acceptance between a father and his only daughter–gone
and lost forever.
There was no way one broken soul
could fight against it all, and so she didn’t. With eyes wide open, she stared
into the dark nothingness of night and absorbed the agony until the sun came
around to add its hideous insult of light and warmth. Its mere existence, and the meaning of it, was an absolute
abhorrence to a woman so shrouded in personal tragedy that she simply wanted
time to stop and the world to swallow her whole, to spare her from the day.
This
day. This couch. And that atrocious light.
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“I don’t want to leave a message. I
just want to talk to Natalia Rivera for, like, two minutes!” The distraught woman on the other end was having a
difficult time convincing Natalia’s secretary of the urgency of her call.
Sheila was especially protective of
her employer, presently. Unless missing a call was going to bring down the
entire company, she was determined to shelter her boss from any unnecessary
hassles. All messages were carefully screened to extract every viable piece of
information to help her decide which calls were dire, and which could be
handled later. This recent call, from a woman who refused to give her name –or
her purpose for calling, was giving Sheila all the reason in the world to
dismiss her easily.
“Ms. Rivera will not be taking any
personal calls today. You may leave a brief message on her office machine or
you may call back in a few days,” the secretary replied in a firm, yet
professional, tone.
“Believe me, Lady, she’s going to
want to talk to me, now!”
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“Mom, I can’t find my new
pool-flipper thingies.”
Emma’s voice rang through the hotel
suite, but Olivia was too deep in her thoughts to hear a thing. She had been
standing in front of the kitchen sink for some time now, washing the same mug
for the third, maybe forth, time.
Her mind was busy scanning through
all the events from the past weeks in order to come up with enough valuable
evidence to prove Andrew wrong in his hypothesis. The very idea of it was
ridiculous. She knew herself well, and she would be the first person to
recognize if she was feeling… that. The
‘L’ word that Andy had used that had sent her blood pressure rising.
She honestly believed she wasn’t in denial. As much as her
battle-scarred heart wanted to believe in fairy-tale romances, the fact of the
matter was she truly didn’t. She had experienced first hand how easily that
word could be thrown around and used to tear another’s heart out. She’d said
the word to many a man and known it to be nothing more than a meaningless
syllable–a combination of four letters in the English language that she could
utter at the precise moment she needed an advantage over a situation or an
individual.
Attraction isn’t the
same thing as… ugh… right? Olivia didn’t know anything about it personally
but she figured there must be a wide berth between what she could admit to
feeling for Natalia and what Andy was suggesting. She could openly admit to
being attracted to the other woman. Desire, craving, a primal need… all very
adequate words to describe the physical yearning she felt for Natalia. And
sure, she was fond of being in the other woman’s presence so she must therefore
be, in a way, fond of the woman herself. But was she actually falling for her?
Falling in what? She
wondered. There were certain things she could profess to be ‘falling’ into.
Falling in lust? For sure. Falling into an ever-increasing admiration for the
strength of Natalia’s character? Definitely. Falling into an overwhelming
concern for the brunette’s emotional well-being? Of course. Now more so than
ever. Falling into anxiousness every time Natalia pushed her away? Falling into
those brief moments of hope when she’d been reeled back in? Yes, and yes.
From what she’d heard of that pesky little four-lettered word, all these things could possibly
resemble its symptoms, but it must merely be a coincidence. Perhaps a strong
fondness with a side order of physical attraction simply bore a strong
similarity to... that other noun/verb. Yes, that was it. What she was feeling
was just akin to what Andrew had been
talking about. Somewhat affiliated but twice removed… like a second cousin,
really.
Olivia could feel herself relaxing somewhat even as she
battled with the knowledge that her eternal rant was sounding more ridiculous
by the second. She maintained that she wasn’t in denial, and that Andy had
quite simply misinterpreted the evidence. Not his fault. Could easily have
happened to anyone.
“Do you know where
they are?” Emma tried, again, to get her mother’s attention.
Olivia turned from the sink to face her daughter, though
still with a faraway look in her eyes.
He couldn’t possibly
know what he’s talking about, right?
“Mom!” Emma yelled, finally jarring Olivia from her anxious
contemplations.
“Yes! Or no… what?” The woman couldn’t even pretend to have
been listening, and she felt guilty. “I’m sorry, baby. What do you need?”
Emma sighed. “My feet thingies that we bought the other day
for the pool. The flipper things,” she restated.
“I haven’t seen them but I will look around for them, okay?”
Emma nodded. “If you ever finish those dishes, right?”
Olivia raised an eyebrow at her young daughter’s tone and wondered when her small child had acquired
such a solid understanding of the art of sarcasm. She picked up the dishtowel from the counter
and tossed it at the girl.
“Jane will be here soon, and somewhere in this suite is a
bedroom with your name on it that needs
to be cleaned, Missy,” Olivia said, warningly, but with a smirk. She watched as
Emma ran around the corner and back down the hallway.
“I don’t see my name on any of these doors,” the girl
hollered and ran into her room with a serious case of the giggles.
Olivia shook her head and chuckled before she turned back to
the sink. Regarding the scene in front of her, her grin morphed into a frown as
she realized she’d been standing at that counter for nearly twenty minutes, and
there was still stack of dishes in the sink and only three cups in the
dish-rack. She pushed down the rising panic and steeled herself with her
earlier confirmation.
Olivia was falling into
something, but she was practically near positive it probably wasn’t love.
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Sitting beside her brother, in the front row pew of the grand
church, should have been much more difficult. There should have been acerbic
exchanges of blame, or a volleying of vitriol and vengeance, but there was
none. Natalia sat quietly in her seat as the words of the priest, meant for
comfort and closure, passed by unnoticed by her ears. She should have been
enraged at having to dwell so closely to her now sworn enemy –the man next to
her, wearing an almost blank expression save for the ever-so-slight smugness—
but she remained passive.
This wasn’t about him.
This day belonged to her father, and these moments belonged
to her grief. The minutes ahead belonged to her memories and a never-ending
struggle to come to terms with the impossible idea of saying “goodbye”.
The calm demeanour regarding Matteo was aided—beyond
her complete unwillingness to give him an ounce of satisfaction—by a
strange, but not wholly unwelcomed, phone call she’d received before leaving
for the funeral. If there was an iota of peace to be felt regarding anything
about this day, it would be given by that very enlightening conversation.
Regardless of how badly Natalia wanted vindication, there was
a time and a place for everything, and this
time belonged to her father.
Mateo’s time would come.
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The casket was lowered, and the crowed of mourners that
surrounded Natalia effectively cut off the view Olivia had of the younger
woman. She had decided to attend the funeral out of respect for the man but
more so to be there in the off chance that Natalia needed support. Antonio
Rivera was very well-known, and widely respected, and Olivia knew that there
were likely countless of well-wishers there to offer his daughter a shoulder to
lean on. She hadn’t any delusions about her role there, which is why she
decided to remain at a distance from the other woman. She didn’t want to burden
Natalia if what she wanted was space. The eye contact they’d shared before the
service, though, when Natalia made a quick sweep of the crowd before sitting
down, had alerted Natalia of her presence, and Olivia would be content with
that. And so, she also stayed near the back at the cemetery as the friends and
family gathered around the gravesite and
listened to the quite sobs of saddened loved ones, knowing that they weren’t
coming from the surviving Rivera children.
She could tell, without looking at him, that Mateo would only
simulate enough sadness to fool the average bystander into thinking he actually
cared. And even though she knew full well how upset Natalia truly was, from
what she was able to see of the bereaved woman’s face, there were no tears. Not
yet at least. She had seen Natalia’s private breakdowns and had suspected that
there would be more in the near future, but for most of the day, Natalia’s
features displayed a somewhat stoic resilience.
Even at the wake, back at the hotel’s large banquet hall,
when the brunette had been bombarded by handshakes and hugs and unsolicited
stories of her fathers character by both the long-time Empire employees and
fellow businessmen, she’d remained eerily reserved.
Olivia couldn’t tell whether Natalia was simply working very
hard to keep her emotions in check, or if she had finally reached a point where
she was hurting too much to know how to respond to the pain. Either way, the
quiet detachment nearly forced a worried Olivia to move to the woman’s side.
Before she could do so, Natalia had slowly raised herself
from her seat and bid the group around her a solemn farewell. With all eyes on
her, she moved to the exit where Olivia was standing. The younger woman didn’t
look up to acknowledge the blonde, but as she passed, she slowed somewhat and
discretely reached for Olivia’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze as she moved
through the doorway. Olivia watched Natalia move down the corridor until she
was out of sight, fighting the intense desire to follow. She knew, however,
that by taking her hand Natalia was telling her that she was alright for now,
and also thanking her for being there.
As the late hours of that day
neared the early ones of the next, Olivia sat quietly on her couch and waited
for the soft knock on her door that she instinctively knew would come. When it
did, and the door was opened, there were no words. It passed unsaid, though
mutually understood, that Olivia had become Natalia’s port through the storm,
and as Olivia opened her arms, Natalia moved into them, allowing herself to be
completely encompassed by the comforting embrace. It was finally ok to let the
walls come crashing down and for the first time that day, Natalia wept.
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It could have been hours later, for all Olivia knew, when the
two of them would first speak. She had guided Natalia to lie on the couch and
let the woman use her thigh as a pillow. One hand stroked through long, dark tresses as the other entwined itself
with Natalia’s on the brunette’s stomach. She soothed the woman with gentle
caresses until the hiccupped breaths slowly evened out, and Natalia was no
longer wiping tears from her eyes.
“So, I was thinking.” Natalia
shifted onto her back as she finally broke the silence. “I could really use a
change of scenery.”
Olivia chuckled as she wiped the remaining dampness from
Natalia’s cheek. “Oh really,” she replied. “Got anywhere particular in mind?”
Natalia let go of Olivia’s hand and reached down into her
pantsuit pocket. She produced a small piece of paper which she handed to a
somewhat confused Olivia.
“What’s this?” Olivia asked, as she opened the note. On it
was written a name and an address.
“It is a mission.”
“A mission,” Olivia echoed, still trying to make sense of it.
Natalia pointed to piece of paper in the older woman and
smiled. “That is my redemption.”
Olivia re-read the note. “Michelle Bradley, from… Sutter
Creek, California?”
“Mmhm,” Natalia said simply.
“Where is Sutter Creek, California?”
Natalia shrugged and retrieved the paper from Olivia. “Google
maps said it was in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere between Stockton and
Sacramento… population of 2500.”
Olivia’s eyebrows nearly reached her hairline. “2500?” she exclaimed. “That’s less than the occupancy of
two of your grand Empires!”
“Mmhm,” Natalia said again, without concern.
“Wait,” Olivia paused as she processed. “The name sounds
familiar.”
Natalia nodded. “It should. She was on your list.”
“No way!”
“Yes, way.”
Olivia sat silently for several moments and then looked back
down at the woman on her lap. “I didn’t see that
coming.”
Natalia put the important note back into her pocket and
replaced her hand within Olivia’s. “Seems genuine though. She called the office
and demanded to speak to me,” Natalia explained. “It was the only call Sheila
forwarded.”
“Good ol’ Sheila.”
“She says she has information about why the news has been
reporting me as a possible murder suspect.”
“What a novice,” Olivia blurted. “She’s all but implicated
herself as the culprit. She should have used a middleman… no one that could be linked
back to her,” she stated matter of factly.
Natalia stared at the woman above her with furrowed brows.
“Do I want to ask for an explanation as to how you would know something like
that?”
“It’d better if you didn’t,” Olivia grinned.
“Better for you? Or me?”
“Better for us.”
Natalia let it slide, but only because the implication of the
word “us” had her temporarily distracted.
“So what is your plan for your new ‘mission’?” Olivia asked,
as Natalia slowly sat up and shifted into a comfy position at the other end of
the couch.
“I go to Sutter Creek. I talk to Miss Bradley. I come home
and nail my good-for-nothing asshole brother to a wall. Then, I pour a nice
tall drink and cheer to the removal of said asshole from my company, and
preferably my life.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Olivia concurred. “Especially the
drinking part.”
Natalia smiled. “I’m glad you approve.”
“You’re not going alone.”
The tone in Olivia’s voice was, for the most part, even, but
it teetered on the ledge between nonchalant and demanding.
Natalia eyed the blonde. She knew she wanted Olivia to
accompany her, but she also knew she shouldn’t ask the other woman for any more
favours. “Sounds like a dare,” she replied.
“No, it is a fact,” Olivia said sternly. “The dare would be for
you to try and defy it.”
“I can ask Bobby to drive me.”
Olivia rolled her eyes and sighed. “Oh, the silly games we
play.”
Natalia waited a moment before responding seriously. “I can’t
ask you to come with me.”
Olivia faced her once again. “Well then, it’s a good thing
you don’t have to.” She winked as she stood up and moved to the dining-room to
grab her phone, signalling that the topic was no longer up for debate. “When do
we leave?”
Natalia tried to stifle a smile. “I was thinking about
heading out before dawn. It’s a seven- hour drive, so to avoid it becoming an
overnight mission—”
“Let’s leave tomorrow afternoon,” Olivia interjected, the
twinkle in her eyes instantly giving her away. “Nothing wrong with an overnight
mission, right? Less rushing… gives us a chance to see the sights of lovely
little Sutter Creek?”
“Yes, because I’m sure the town with a population of 2500 has
quite a few sights to be seen within its two and a half square miles,” Natalia
retorted. She
got up from the couch and moved to the door as Olivia followed behind her. “I
suppose it would give us a chance to talk about… stuff,” she said as she turned
to give the blonde a wary expression.
“Stuff like… the weather? Politics? Quarter annual financial
reports?” Olivia joked.
Natalia smiled and lowered her eyes to the ground. “Or
kitchen counters… you know… whatever pops up.” She hesitantly returned her
focus to Olivia.
“Even better,” Olivia smiled and distinctly forced herself
not to move forward to kiss the unsure woman before her. “I’ll see you tomorrow
then.”
Natalia turned to open the door. “I’ll message you once I
clear my schedule with ‘Good ol’ Sheila’.”
Olivia couldn’t help but snicker. “And how is your fine secretary these days?”
“She still hates you.”
Olivia laughed. “Oh now, ‘hate’ is such a strong word.”
Natalia leaned against the doorframe. “I know. As I recall,
you’ve said it to me before,” she responded lightly.
Olivia pondered for a moment as she reached out to tuck some
strands of hair away from Natalia’s face. “Hard to believe,” she stated, almost
whimsically.
Natalia studied Olivia’s face for a moment before slowly
moving forward. “Liar,” she accused as she placed a brief kiss on the other
woman’s lips.
Olivia smiled into the quick kiss, and continued smiling even
after Natalia wordlessly left to move through her own door. And for whatever
reason –though certainly not the one
Andy had suggested— she couldn’t seem to stop smiling until sleep finally
claimed her. Tonight she would simply revel in her as-of-yet unlabeled
emotions. She could worry about four-lettered L-words some other day.
