Adirondack Audacity (23 page)

Reality returns with the flash of a camera, the feel of
strong arms cradling me against a warm, hard chest. I
want the flashing to go away, to burrow deeper into the
safety of the arms. My mind jumbled by the confusion
unfolding around me, exclamations of surprise and
shock, the high pitched hum of many voices talking at
once. The
click, click,
of a camera shutter shooting frame
after frame. My dazed mind slow to comprehend the turn
of events, am I really in Esteban Diago’s arms? Is
Esteban Diago really Vic? Is Vic, Esteban? Am I
crazy
?
The impossibility of these thoughts causes my head to
whirl…and I feel faint again.

“Jackson, have Ike meet me at the back door with the
car.” Vic…..Esteban…whoever he is, calls over his
shoulder to a short balding man, as he turns down a
hallway. “We’ve got to get out of here before the
paparazzi goes crazy.”

“I can walk;; you don’t need to carry me.” I protest yet
tighten my hold around his neck. Who am I kidding?
Whoever this guy is, he’s hot and I’m holding on…
Nuzzling my face into the starched front of his
shirt……the smell……is Vic.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
He says,
picking up the pace. “Look what happened last time.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Diago!” I hear Lani calling from
behind, her high heels clicking down the tiled corridor.
“Slow down! Stop!
Excuse me.
Sir? Just where are you
taking my mother? Ellie Jane, are you hurt? Mom!”
“Lani! It’s Vic!” I try to reassure her.
“Vic? Who the hell is Vic!”
“My boyfriend, the one from the Adirondacks.”
“He’s dead! What does that have to do with Esteban
Diago carrying you off into the night?” She says panting
with the exertion of keeping pace with Vic. “Diago, slow
down, damn it!” She explodes.
“Mr. Diago, maybe we could stop and talk for a
minute.” Jason implores from the background.
“Sorry kids, we have to get out of here or your
mother’s life as she knows it will be over. The paparazzi
are vicious. We’ll explain later, but for now trust me.”
“Lani, meet Vic. Vic, meet my daughter.” I gesture
weakly with one hand between the two of them.
“What are you talking about? Mom! How much did
you have to drink? This is Esteban Diago.” She demands
tugging on Vic’s arm. “Are the two of you drunk or high?
Put her down!
Mom!
” She wails, “I leave you alone for a
few minutes…….!”
“Lani, I wish we were meeting under better
circumstances, but my real name is Vicente Rienz. I only
use Esteban Diago for my acting roles.” Vic says
extending his arm from under my butt to shake Lani’s
hand, chuckling at her bewildered expression. “Your
mother and I have a lot of catching up to do. I promise
to return her with no harm done, but we need more
privacy than is offered here.”
“Oh God, this is insane.” Lani looks dubious as Vic
sets me on my feet, keeping a protective arm around my
waist. Lani looks at Jason in askance as a large black limo
speeds around the corner. “I guess, Mom, are you sure
you want to go off with him?”
“I’ll be fine, if Diago is trying to kidnap me, with that
horde of photographers following him,” I point down the
corridor at the photographers trying to get past the
security. “He isn’t going to get very far.” I take my purse
from Lani’s hand. “I have my cell phone, I’ll call you
when I wake up from this crazy dream…..cause this must
be a dream.” I look up scrutinizing Diago’s face, my hand
automatically running up and down the fabric of his
sleeve, trying to convince myself….is this really Vic
standing here?
“Hey
amigo
, we had better go.” A tall lean man with
russet red hair, sprinkled with grey, holds open the door
to the limo. “I don’t know what kind of shit you got
yourself into this time. But those paparazzi heading this
way are looking for blood.”
“Lani, Jason, Don’t say a word to them.” Vic warns
as he tucks me into the car. “Every word you say will be
splashed crossed the morning’s tabloids.” He raps on the
roof of car signaling to Ike. “
Vamonos!”
He calls out.
As the car door slams shut, I settle back into the
leather interior, closing my eyes to still the whirling
throbbing in my head.
Vic takes my hand and gently skims his thumb across
my knuckles as the limo speeds away from the hotel.
“Elle,
querida,
are you all right?” He asks his voice laced
with concern.
I open my eyes and smile. “I want to touch your
face,” I see surprise reflected in his eyes. Lifting my hand,
I caress his chin, run my fingers across his high
cheekbones, trace the outline of his lips, the broad plane
of his forehead and finally I run my fingers through his
hair. In the pictures from the movie, his hair was cut very
short, in a blunt military style. With a sob of disbelief, I
finally realize the truth. This is Vicente Rienz sitting next
to me. Different…….but oh, so much the same.
“Kiss me, and then I’ll know for sure.” I wrap my
arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to me. His
proximity is overwhelming, exhilarating. The familiar pull
is there, all my nerve endings goading me toward him, my
inhibitions fading.
How can he still do this to me?
His mouth is on mine, that gentle, persuasive, slow
simmering warmth patiently unlocks every shred of
doubt. My resistance melts like wax, rekindling the spell
he put on me so long ago.
When he draws back, his hands outline my face,
fingers skimming over my cheekbones, then down,
trailing lightly over my throat. Remembering it,
experiencing it, is like being offered a cool sip of water
before you realize how desperately thirsty you are.
“Elle, is it really you?” His eyes search my face. “I
can’t believe you are here. How can this be happening?”
He leans in kissing me softly, whispering in my ear.
“Where have you been all these years?”
And that’s when it hits me.
Bam.
Right in the gut.
“
Where
have I been all these years!” I cry out with
indignation. Suddenly all the pain and pent up heartache
comes pouring forth in a rush of anger. I feel a well of
fury rise up so quickly I nearly choke on it. I’m livid,
incensed with rage.
Look out every wronged, scorned and cheated
on woman in the world…….cause here I am, ready to avenge.
I
draw my hand back and slap his cheek with all the hurt
and rage I have repressed for so long.
“Wh…Wh….Whereee!” I sputter. “Where, have I
been!! You, bastard, you left me behind with a baby. You
left me with those horrid people who wanted nothing
more than to steal my baby and put me in a mental
institution.
You said you would always come back!!
You take
off to live your life as some glamorous movie star without
a thought to those you left behind. You, lying, cheating,
no good son of a bitch.” I’m hysterical….Okay, I am
way
beyond hysterical. Great heaving gasps of sobs rack my
body. My fists pound his chest as I scream insults against
the injuries he inflicted on me so many years ago. “I
thought you loved me!” I gasp. “You swore you would
never leave. Never leave, ever! Then you run off and
leave me with our baby. They
stole
our baby. I had no one
to turn to, you were gone. Then a month later your aunt
calls. She regrets to inform me that you
died
in a
motorcycle accident! You asshole!” I slug his chest once
more for good measure. “You look pretty alive to me!”
And
I’m just warming up, this guy needs body armor.
“What kind of heartless bastard are you? How could I
have been so stupid? All these years I’ve loved you…..
never, ever, stopped loving you. A husband and two
children later and I still loved you.” I scream flinging
myself back against the seat in agony. “What kind of idiot
am I? The classic dump and I never saw it.” I’m into the
ugly cry now….and not a Kleenex in sight.
“Hey, buddy,” Ike’s voice comes over the car’s
intercom system. “Everything all right back there? Do
you need some assistance?”
“No, he does not need assistance!” I shout at the
partially opened Plexiglas window separating us, flinging
my purse at it. “If he is not man enough to hear what a
rotten piece of pond scum he is, he deserves to be beat
up by a woman.” I launch into another barrage of fist
pummeling against Vic’s chest. I swing my hand back to
slap him again when a steel grip closes over my wrist.
“Elle, we need to talk.” Vic says in a tight voice,
attempting to calm my agitated state. “Ike, I need you to
pull over as quickly as possible. I’m going to be sick.”
“Sick, oh please,” I fume; “Give me a break, what
kind of girly excuse is that.”
“Sure thing.” Ike responds. The car swerves off the
road, thumps over a speed bump and comes to a
screeching halt in a deserted parking lot. “Here is a beach,
hop out.”
As soon as the car comes to a stop, Vic vaults out the
door to the concrete wall separating the parking lot from
the beach. I hear him retching onto the sand below, as I
step from the car.
“What’s he doing?” I stupidly ask Ike, who’s standing
next to me with a chilled bottle of water and clean cloth
in his hand.
“I believe it’s called vomiting.” He says sarcastically.
“I know that,” I say defensively. “Just because I yelled
at him? The weak bastard!”
“When Vic gets unhinged, his stomach goes.” Ike
glances at me with disapproval, the street light overhead
illuminating his amber eyes. “I only heard part of what
you said to him, sounded like a lot of yelling and
screaming. If there is one thing I know, Vic Rienz is not a
weak bastard.” His voice is icy with condemnation.
“Maybe if you stopped screaming like a crazy woman
and let him talk, you might hear his side of the story.”
“Here,” Ike shoves the bottle and washcloth at me.
“Why don’t you quit yelling and see if he’s okay. I’ll stay
right here in case you get crazy again.”
Well, I guess I’ve been told. I find myself standing
alone looking at Vic’s back. He’s leaning on the stonewall
looking out over the ocean, trying to compose himself.
I walk over to him, not knowing what to do. “Here,”
I say pouring water from the bottle over the cloth.
“Thanks,” he says without turning around, and wipes
his face. He takes a drink from the bottle to rinse his
mouth. “Sorry about that. I have this weird stomach
thing, when I get upset, I heave. Simple as that. Damn
pain in the ass and embarrassing too.” He turns to face
me. “Elle, we need to talk. Please believe me, I never left
you.”
The anger dissolved from my body, the ranting and
raving served as a purge and now I feel empty. Hollow
from the place where pain resided for so many years,
erecting its own shrine. I feel emotionally drained, there’s
no fight left in me, either I listen or turn and walk away.
It’s rare for people to get a second chance in life. Was I
going to turn my back on Vic? That undaunted
love……. the pain over losing of him had never left me.
“Tell me what happened, Vic.” I say in a hoarse voice
ragged from screaming and crying. “Tell me what
happened to you.”
He throws a leg over the wall and sits, his eyes facing
the ocean, not looking at me, pulling thoughts from the
past. “Agghh, I tried to forget, it hurt too much to
remember.” he sighs, raking his hand through his hair.
“After I was dragged from the bus station, my father
made sure I was locked in jail. I was charged with
assaulting an officer of the law with a deadly weapon and
illegal possession. He wouldn’t even get me a lawyer, said
I deserved the punishment. So I spent five months in a
juvenile prison camp in Mexico.”
I sit quietly on the wall and listen.
“When I was released he picked me up and said he
was taking me to a place I needed to see. We flew to New
York City, so I thought he was taking me to you and the
baby. But we drove to a small private cemetery outside of
Syracuse, I didn’t want to get out of the car, but he
insisted he had something to show me. I knew what I was
going to see even before I got out of the car. It was your
family cemetery; there were gravestones with your family
names etched on them.” Here he pauses shaking his
head, making an obvious effort to stay in control of his
emotions. Remaining silent, I squeeze his hand in
reassurance; I know the cemetery. “There in the back of
the cemetery was a new gravestone with your name, date
of birth and date of your death. Our baby daughter was
buried with you.” his voice raw with emotion, “You see,
he told me you died in childbirth along with the baby.”
He snatches his hand from mine and pounds his fist onto
the stone, “I believed him! What the hell was the matter
with me?” He rages, “The sneakiest, most conniving
bastard I have ever known and…..I trusted him!”
“He told you I was dead. Oh, my God.” The horror
of the duplicity of our parents washes over me. How
could we have been so easily deceived? I slump down on
the wall beside him, stunned. I just keep repeating, “Oh
my God, oh my God….”
“What happened to the baby, Elle?” Anguish is
written on his face.
“The baby was a boy, not a girl. Vic, we had a baby
boy.” I rest my head against him, and he kisses my hair
repeatedly. “They stole him away. I never got to hold
him.”
“
Jesus
,” I feel him murmur into my hair.
“Your parents and mine signed the papers for
adoption, stating we were under age and not fit to be
parents. And the baby was gone, just gone. I tried to find
him but the records are sealed and I finally had to let it
go. But it still hurts knowing he is out there somewhere.”
Vic tugs my hand, and before I know it, I’m on his lap
with his arms around me.
He breaths, “Elle, Elle, I’m so sorry.” I feel his body
trembling under the linen shirt. “So sorry, how can I ever
make it up to you?”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t our fault. I can’t believe
our parents were capable of such evil. They had the
power, more than we realized.”
He tightens his hold on me. “After all the betrayals
from him in the past, I should have known. But the
gravestone was real.” He holds his wrist up to validate the
truth to his words. “I have scars on my wrists from where
I beat my hands bloody on it. He just stood there and
watched.” He shakes his head. “How do you fake such a
thing? What kind of man fakes someone’s death,
complete with a gravestone? Who do you bribe or pay off
to accomplish such a thing.” The muscles in his cheek
twitch as he tries to hold in the anger. “God, I hate him. I
didn’t think I could hate him any more than I already did,
but if he were standing here I’d kill him with my bare
hands.”
Waves of rage pulse from his body, leaving little
doubt;; this time he would lash back…… with fatal
consequences.
“He took me back to Mexico. I was numb with grief,
didn’t care what I did or where I was going.” Pausing he
looks into my face, “I basically tried to kill myself.” He
says with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders.
“
Nooo
.” I feel his pain, palpable in the night air; our
families betrayed us, nearly destroying us in the process.
“I’d ride my motorcycle or the wildest horse on the
ranch; I didn’t care if I came back.” He says, shaking his
head over his stupidity. “I rode bareback with no saddle
and the lightest bridle I could find. I drove too fast, took
the curves too short And then one day, I got my wish I
took a curve too sharp, spun off the road and landed
thirty feet down a bank. I left half my face on the asphalt
road and crushed half the bones in my body on the fall.”
He looks skyward, exhaling harshly. “But I didn’t die. I
was in so much pain, but I didn’t die. I wanted to, but
they wouldn’t let me. I had several reconstructive
surgeries on my face, which is why you didn’t recognize
me right away. Some people think I look better than I did
before the surgeries.” He gives a bitter smile. “I don’t
know.”