Christmas Diamond, a Novella: Inspired by The Jewel series and the Virtues and Valor series (4 page)

"But you can sit long enough to fly from London to New York."

With a dismissive gesture of her hand, Faith said, "That's entirely different."

"Not so much." TJ stretched out on his side, facing her, his head propped up with his hand. He reached over and ran a finger over the bare skin of her forearm. "I really enjoyed you sitting with us tonight at dinner."

Faith thought back to the dinner and the tables of the Viscolli family. In what seemed like a whirl, she met aunts, uncles, young and old cousins, and lifelong friends. She didn't think she'd ever met a happier, closer group of people in her life. "It was rather amazing. I'm afraid my family is just me and Grandmum. Well, and some cousins."

"No brothers or sisters?" TJ asked.

Faith felt a little bit like a school girl with a crush all of a sudden. "Just me. Grew up rather spoiled, I should think. Not like your family."

TJ gave her a one sided grin. "I have a remarkable family. And they liked you very much. Spoiled or not."

She felt a flush tinge her cheeks and hoped the night served to disguise it. What she wanted to say was that she liked him very much, but she was afraid to say it. Instead, she just smiled. "I enjoyed talking to Peter O'Farrell. I have a friend who is from the same county as he."

"You'll rarely meet anyone more faithful to God than that man. You should hear his testimony."

"I would probably enjoy that very much."

"He's getting old but he's still in great health. He blames corned beef and cabbage."

Faith smiled a smile that bared her teeth. She really liked this attractive man. "My grandmum's health is starting to fail, I'm afraid."

TJ met and held her gaze. "It is incredible that she's still living. What a blessing that must be for you to have had your whole life to get to know her. I would love to meet her and talk with her. She's the last one. I checked."

Faith nodded, feeling her smile fade. Every year as Remembrance Day or the anniversary of the Normandy invasion neared, Faith had to beat back an army of reporters looking for some human interest quote from the war hero. They hounded her grandmother in recent years with a ferocity that fully equaled the anonymity and obscurity that surrounded her for decades after the actual war ended. "The last living Virtue. There's a book, there, I suspect."

Apparently out of the blue, TJ changed the subject. "Faith, will you join me for dinner tomorrow night? Just the two of us?"

She turned her body toward him and rested her weight on one elbow. "That depends, I suppose," she answered.

He reached out and took her free hand, running a thumb over her knuckles. "Depends? On what?"

Faith raised an eyebrow. "On whether you want to take me to dinner because you're attracted to me. Or perhaps because I saved your life the other day. Or is it because I'm Faith Green, the granddaughter of Helen Green the famous Virtue?"

TJ said, "There's only one possible answer to those questions."

Faith raised her eyebrow. "And that is?"

He smiled his most charming smile. "Yes."

Faith sat up, her tone very flat. "That's rather what I thought. Pity."

TJ's eyebrows came together in a sharp frown. "I don't understand."

"As the son of the very rich and very powerful Tony Viscolli, I should think you actually do understand." Faith pushed herself to her feet and bent down to pick up her shoes and shawl. "Once you have it sorted, you know how to contact me."

FAITH
sat at a booth in the airport's restaurant. A glass of ice water sat next to a half eaten tuna sandwich, but she ignored the food and drink. Instead, she penned a post card to her grandmum.

As she looked up from the postcard, she felt her eyes widen when she saw TJ Viscolli march into the café, look around, then head straight for her. He wore a pair of khaki shorts, a short sleeved button down Hawaiian style shirt with Christmas trees all over it, and leather deck shoes with no socks.

He slid into the booth across from her. "Here you are," he greeted with a smile, stripping his sunglasses off and slipping them into the pocket of his colorful shirt.

"Here I am?" She couldn't help but make it sound like a question.

"Yes. I've been calling your hotel room since eight this morning, and you don't have a cell phone. It was a bit of a trial to find you." Reaching across the table, he took her hand. "I'm very happy I did."

With a raised eyebrow, Faith asked, "Why is that?"

TJ grinned. "Okay, first, because you're beautiful. But also I enjoyed the party last night, especially the times you were telling stories about flying or England. I enjoyed being alone with you on the beach more than anything. And, I definitely want to get to know more about you."

"I'd like to get to know more about you, as well." Faith smiled, then observed the bruise on the side of his head. "How is your noggin?"

He reached up and fingered the angry contusion near his temple. "Still a little sore. I guess my guardian angel was on duty."

"Interesting choice of words." She squeezed his hand and pulled hers out of his grip so that she could sit back against the bench. "I also believe God looked after your safety and made sure you were saved."

"By you."

Faith shrugged. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it doesn't have anything to do with me. Could have been anyone."

"I don't think so." He tapped the table in front of him with a finger. "I think you got a tap on the shoulder from my guardian angel. All that time you spend in the air and all."

"Perhaps." She put the cap on her pen and set it aside. "Although I'll confess I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea."

"What could be more comforting than to know that you're in the place where God would have you right at the perfect time? I would — and do — find extreme comfort in that notion."

Faith pursed her lips. "Wouldn't it just have been easier to prevent you from bashing your head in the first place?"

He looked at her with serious eyes. The look made the breath catch in the back of her throat. "Then I wouldn't have found you. Or, more to the point, you wouldn't have found me."

"We would have met last night at dinner," she said on a breath.

"I don't think it would have had the same impact as tripping over my breathless body, honestly." He laughed and looked at his watch. "How much time do you have today?"

"I have to be in my North American at half two."

"Two-thirty?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed and clearly in need of clarification.

"Right. Two-thirty."

He smiled. "Then we have more than two hours. What would you like to do?"

"Why do you assume I'd like to do anything?"

He winked at her. "Because you looked happy to see me."

Faith laughed. "Perhaps I simply found your shirt amusing."

TJ smiled. "Well, it is," he spread his hands as if presenting an obvious conclusion. "But I'm not sure someone dressed like a WAAC is at liberty to criticize."

"Not a WAAC," Faith corrected automatically, suddenly conscious of her rather ill-suited and somewhat masculine looking attire. "That was American. British was WAAF."

"You're right. Silly mistake," TJ redressed. "Just don't shoot me down, here, Faith."

She slid out of the booth with a shake of her head. "Very well. I would like to see Ernest Hemingway's house before I return home. I understand it's covered with cats. More than that, I'd love to see your favorite part of Key West, Florida. Your father said you've been coming here every winter your entire life, so surely you have a berth of your very own."

"As a matter of fact," he announced as he stood next to her and laid a gentle hand on the small of her back, "I do." They went out into the parking lot and he gestured toward a blue pickup truck. "I'm in the truck," he said. "I had to haul some mulch for Nelson today."

He opened the door and she slid into the scorching hot interior. "Who is Nelson?" she asked as he climbed into the driver's seat and closed his door. The air conditioner started blowing ice cold air as soon as he started the engine.

"Nelson's our landscaper slash gardener. He's pretty amazing." TJ whipped the truck out onto the road and followed the coastline, passing the hotel. He turned down a residential street, and suddenly the businesses disappeared and gave way to estates. Palm trees adorned with Christmas lights shaded massive stucco homes sheltered by red Spanish tile roofs. Wood framed homes the size of small hotels and painted in pastels stood out among the Spanish styles. The beauty of the architecture and the landscaping was not lost on Faith.

TJ turned into a driveway and pulled up to a large wrought iron gate with a massive scrolling brass "V" down the center. As the truck approached, the gate gently swung open.

As they rode down the palm tree lined drive, Faith admired the beautiful tropical flowers in full bloom. It felt like the house was part of the environment rather than the other way around. TJ didn't pull up in front of the house, though. Instead, he drove around back, passed the swimming pool, and headed toward a little house in the far corner of the property.

He stopped at the door, cracked all the windows, and turned off the engine. Immediately, Faith felt the heat again. It was incredible. She gratefully escaped the hot confines of the truck cab when he opened her door.

"This is my spot," he said, gesturing to the small framed structure, mimicking the main house in paint and roof style. "We think it was originally a gardening shed, but my dad let me have it when I was eight. Nelson wouldn't think this place was big enough to store his rake." He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

Faith stepped up and into the one-room building. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they did, the interior took her breath away.

A desk stood in the middle of the room with a comfortable looking desk chair behind it. An Oriental rug covered the floor. Bookshelves lined two of the walls from floor to ceiling. The other walls were covered in photographs, posters, and World War II paraphernalia. As Faith stepped further into the room and started inspecting, she realized it was mostly about the war in Europe and the French Occupation.

A shelf in one corner held a collection of very detailed model airplanes. She ran her fingertip over a perfect replica of her grandmother's North American Na-16, the
Texas Diamond
. She found one display that had dozens of pictures of the Virtues, including a few pictures of her grandmother as a young woman. She recognized all of the women. In her lifetime she had even met a few of them.

"How did you come by all this?" she asked. She felt in absolute awe of the collection.

"I've spent the better part of a decade collecting it all," TJ said, walking up to her. "When I need to work, I come here. Most of the time, I'm alone on the estate and I can just write without distraction."

"Well, if you sought to impress me, TJ Viscolli, I say well done, you. This is amazing," Faith admitted, turning in a circle. She felt like she could immerse herself for hours just looking at the posters.

TJ put his hands on her shoulders and smiled down at her. "You fit in here," he observed, looking her up and down, from the toes of her boots to her flight suit, to hair that had to be insanely wild after being confined in a helmet all morning.

Her heart felt a rush of warmth then started beating a little faster. A bit out of breath, she fought the school girl crush feeling and kept her feet firmly planted on the ground. "I see. Am I intended to be a recent addition to your private collection, Mr. Viscolli?"

For a second, a look of confusion clouded his eyes. Then his brows drew together in a frown of actual displeasure. "You need to stop accusing me of being interested in you just because of your name or who your grandmother is."

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"Of course not." His fingers squeezed her shoulders before he released her and stepped back. "The fact is, I find myself incredibly attracted to you. I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since opening my eyes on the beach. Which was, if you recall, before I knew who you were."