Ellida (52 page)

She asked me about Rowena and Ahmed, and then
Lanni and Lydia, and I assured her they were all doing fine.

“How’s my daughter?” I said.

“She’s just eaten and now she’s resting on my
breasts.”

“Maybe later Rosie and I could switch.”

An image of Astrid’s round, firm breasts
under my hands and her sweet nipples in my mouth made me instantly
rock-hard. I heard her deep, throaty laugh, followed by a long,
explicit list of her expectations for that evening. Kinky little
beast.

I cursed the weather once more. “Hold that
thought, baby. I’ll be back in no time.”

IT WAS still snowing heavily when, an hour
later, I approached Red Cliffs, but the thick, white curtain
couldn’t completely obscure the lights of our house. I could see
Astrid’s reddish-blue outline in the rocking chair. A tiny one of
the same color lay sprawled across her chest.

My wife and my child. My heart swelled with
love.

I passed Tina’s bakery, then turned left into
our street. A minute later I pulled into our driveway, jumped out
of the truck, and ran to the house.

The door opened and I stepped in. Holding our
sleeping daughter in her arms, my wife smiled at me.

“I’m home,” I said and pulled them both into
my arms.

IT WAS a beautiful, warm September day.
September the first, to be precise. The small church in the town
square was packed with the bride and groom’s families and friends.
The rest of the town waited outside the church to start celebrating
the wedding of the Red Cliffs Einhamir and Ellida.

Jack took Astrid’s hands between his.

“I, John William, take you, Astrid Louise, to
be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better
or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to
love and to cherish, to infinity and all the way back.”

Astrid laughed aloud at Jack’s variation of
the ending, and ignoring Pastor Collins’ raised eyebrow, repeated
the vows.

Jack and Astrid hadn’t even considered an
intimate ceremony because of their public positions and popularity.
Secondly, with James as a master planner of the entire event,
anything
modest
and
intimate
was out of the question.
Being a practical man and a former leader, he’d opted for an
expensive yet viable solution: the entire town had been invited to
join the two families in celebrating Astrid and Jack’s union.
Copper Ridge, too, had received an open invitation—whoever wanted
to come was welcome.

Morgaine and Hayato had come from Gelltydd
Coch, along with Jack’s grandparents.

A big party had arrived from Winston: Ariel,
Einhamir Besim Nimani, his wife Linnea, and their son Azem; Dinah,
Gerard, the Killians, and all the men and women who’d fought
alongside Copper Ridge and Red Cliffs last October.

Everybody else who’d taken part in the final
battle against Seth the previous October had received a wedding
invitation, and whoever was available had come, including Liv’s
entire Tel-Urugh brigade.

Lydia Watson-Kowalski and Mike, her husband
of two months, had arrived with Amilla and Takeshi.

Lanni was also there. She was still single,
and even more beautiful than Astrid remembered her. Her dark, rich
hair had grown longer, her whiskey-colored eyes shone with a nice,
lively spark. She wore a simple, apricot knee-length dress and
single string of pearls. She looked as if she’d stepped directly
from the latest issue of
Vogue
.

Astrid watched her face carefully for a long
moment, trying to figure out her sentiments about her ex-boyfriend
and his wedding. There was still an underlying sadness in her
beautiful eyes, but Astrid sensed no negative vibes coming from
Lanni, no jealousy or ill wishes. The melancholy smile that gently
curved her full lips was genuine.

She seemed unaware of the many curious and
admiring eyes resting on her, and didn’t mingle with other guests,
staying close to her female network of Livia, Ella and Rowena.
Later, Astrid saw her talking to Maxwell Wallace, Livia’s dark,
handsome friend from Aberdeen, and the Copper Ridge children’s
beloved soccer coach from the previous fall. He’d arrived in Red
Cliffs a few days ago with his sister Helen, who now laughed with
Adam Mackenzie, our new Deputy Sherriff, while fixing his
bowtie.

The town square, decorated with white silk
ribbons and thousands of pale-pink roses, served as a giant
reception area, with a stage for Rawhide and a dance floor, and
countless tables filled with food and drink.

Honoring the father Astrid couldn’t remember,
but whom she loved with all her heart, four men had walked her down
the aisle and given her away: her grandfather, her uncle, Tristan
and Ahmed. Behind her had stood her three bridesmaids, her best
friends: Peyton, Maggie and Livia. Eamon and Adam were Jack’s best
men, and little Henry Flanagan, who had risked his own life to save
Astrid’s, was the ring bearer.

Rawhide was in charge of the music. Bernard
Wagner, Rawhide’s keyboardist, was the singer for the occasion
since Eamon had best man duties to attend to.

JACK AND Astrid’s wedding was a charming
combination of tradition and improvisation, with a simple goal: to
make everybody feel a welcome participant of this great event.

Astrid wore a simple yet elegant ivory
satin-and-lace wedding sheath that emphasized her full breasts and
trim, tall figure. She didn’t bother with any of the valuable and
beautiful family jewelry she possessed. The only jewelry she’d put
on was her wolf-pendant necklace and two rings: the pink diamond
engagement ring and a simple gold wedding band that she and Jack
had put on each other’s ring fingers during the ceremony.

Jack was strikingly handsome in his black
tuxedo and trousers, single-breasted silvery gray vest and ivory
white shirt, to match the shade of Astrid’s dress.

THE SAME evening they were supposed to fly
to Denver, and continue the next day to Palermo, in Sicily, for
their two-week honeymoon in Livia’s villa.

Astrid’s only concern was Rosie. She’d just
turned five months and was still breastfeeding. She’d started
eating solid food only a few weeks ago and finally agreed to sleep
in her crib.

Astrid wouldn’t mind postponing their
honeymoon, but Jack wouldn’t hear of it.

“She’ll be fine, Astrid. The freezer is
packed with your milk and she likes her bottle. It’s not like we’re
leaving her with strangers. She spends almost more time with Mom
and Dad than with us. And Tristan and Livia are here, and you know
how much she loves them.”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking of going to
Copper Ridge with Rosie so that Rowena and Ahmed could also spend
some time with her,” Betty said. “James could come every evening to
stay with us.”

“Don’t worry, Astrid. By the time she notices
you’re missing, you’ll be back,” James said. “Look at the ratio of
loving relatives per child, not to mention a dozen doctors in her
immediate family. Rosie’s gonna be fine and she’ll have a lot of
fun.” He winked. “Besides, this is an opportunity for the
Mortensens and your Mom and Ahmed to practice their parenting
skills.”

Astrid smiled, remembering the day that both
her mother and Peyton had announced their pregnancies. Peyton and
Ingmar would have a little a girl; her mother and Ahmed were
expecting a boy.

The maternity wards in both towns were going
to be busy soon, Astrid thought, smiling, and her eyes moved over
the clusters of people in the town square. There were several dozen
expecting couples. Astrid had been sharing their happiness from the
very beginning. She personally had confirmed many of these
pregnancies. There was no better sign that balance and harmony had
been restored in Red Cliffs and Copper Ridge.

Jack’s arms encircled Astrid from behind,
breaking the chain of her thoughts.

“You should change clothes, baby,” he said
and kissed her neck. “Andy’s ready to fly us to Denver.” He paused
and then whispered in Astrid’s ear, “Actually, you know what? Leave
that dress on. I’ve been dreaming of taking it off since I saw you
in it this morning.”

She turned around and closed her arms around
Jack’s neck, offering him her warm, soft lips. “I need to finish
packing. Give me half an hour.”

“And don’t bother with sleepwear.”

“Where’s Rosie?”

“With Dad. She’ll be okay, Astrid. Go kiss
her and off we go.”

SEEING HER daughter surrounded by her loving
family, Astrid convinced herself their absence wouldn’t traumatize
Rosie for the rest of her life.

Rosie didn’t agree. Sensing something unusual
was going on, she closed her little arms around her father’s neck.
When he tried to pass her to her Grandma Betty, she tightened her
grip and pouted her lips. Eyes rapidly filling with big tears, she
took a deep breath, held it for a while, and then opened her mouth
and let out the loudest and most heartbreaking wail.

Jack tried to comfort his daughter,
whispering soothing words in her ears, rocking her gently and
rubbing her small back. What always worked didn’t help this time.
Rosie was impossible to console. Grandpa James tried to take her
from Jack, but she clung to her father with all her might, buried
her head into his shoulder and, kicking and screaming, absolutely
refused to leave Jack’s arms.

“Hey pumpkin, it’s okay, love. Daddy will
come back soon,” he murmured in a low voice. “Look, Grandpa James
is here. He’ll change into a wolf and play with you. Remember how
much you like it? Dad, would you mind?”

“Not at all, but I don’t think it’s going to
do the trick this time. She’s a smart girl. She knows what the two
you are up to.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, James, how could she
know, she’s five months old?!” Betty said. “You’re all making her
fussy. She’s tired and sleepy. You two just leave, Jack. Rosie will
be okay. She’ll cry a bit and that’s it. Kids do that all the time,
even when a parent goes grocery shopping. No harm in that.”

“It’s called separation anxiety,” Eamon
pitched in unexpectedly. “It’s a stage in which a child shows
anxiety when separated from the primary caregiver. It’s regarded as
a normal developmental phase, even though it looks quite dramatic
from the child’s point of view. Rosie, for example, is probably
thinking now you’ll never return. Makes you wonder if it’s really
harmless or not.”

“Well, thank you for enlightening us, but we
really didn’t need your two cents in,” Jack snapped. “My wife’s a
doctor, remember? And since when have you become interested in
early childhood psychology?”

“Ella and I talk about it sometimes.”

“Why don’t you talk about music next time?”
Jack said tersely.

Astrid took a step toward her husband. “Give
her to me, Jack. I’ll calm her down. Take our suitcases to the
plane.”

Shaking his head, Jack looked up at his wife.
“How on earth are we going to relax if we leave her like that?”

Astrid looked at Jack and shrugged
helplessly.

Rosie’s hold around Jack’s neck tightened
even more as her howling became louder and more desperate.

Soon everybody had to yell in order to hear
each other.

“Okay, that’s it!” Jack voice broke through
the loud discord of Rosie’s blazing screams, James and Betty’s
suggestions, Eamon’s explanations and Astrid’s concerns. “That’s
enough! Rosalie Elizabeth Lucilla, stop crying this instant!”

The infant was still sobbing heavily, but the
fire-engine wailing finally stopped. “Livia, if you don’t mind, you
and Tristan are going with us. Mom, please pack a suitcase for
Rosie.”

“I don’t know, Jack—” Astrid started.

“I don’t want to give Rosie a lifelong
trauma, Astrid.”

“Then let’s postpone—”

“Nor do I want to postpone my honeymoon,”
Jack said. “It’s just a slight change of plans. She’s going with
us, and Tristan and Livia will babysit her. It’s not Rosie’s fault
that her parents got married after she was born instead of the
other way around. Come on, muffin. This may be even a better
solution.”

Jack carried his suddenly quiet and quite
happy daughter to the house, chattering about the plane ride and
Tyrrhenian Sea and the villa in Palermo as if she could understand
every word.

“There’s a nice beach there, and Daddy will
buy you lots of beach toys. You’ll be a good girl and let me and
your Mom have some time just for the two of us. You’ll sleep in
your bed, in Tristan and Livia’s room, got it? And stop drooling on
my tuxedo, your mother will go berserk if she sees that.”

IN A sunny hotel suite in Palermo, Amelia
Brecht opened her eyes and blinked several times, expecting the
incredible feeling of well-being to go away with the last remnants
of her dream.

It didn’t.

Amelia turned to the sleeping man beside her
and smiled. She gently removed the arm he had wrapped around her
abdomen. Sliding out of bed, she tiptoed to the living room,
grabbed a stack of the local morning press and returned to the
bedroom. She sat down on the bed and scooted her back against the
pillows. She grabbed the first newspaper from the stash and opened
the
Art and Entertainment section
.

For the first time in many years her hand
didn’t tremble. She knew precisely what she was going to find
there.

“MAGNIFICENT FAREWELL!” the title cheered
excitedly. “In all her twenty-five year long career, Amelia Brecht
has never given a more dazzling performance. Singing the
Queen
of the Night
, the role she had previously refused to perform
during her long singing career, Ms. Brecht bid us the most glorious
adieu a performer could hope for, leaving every single person in
the audience with lifetime memories of one of the most beautiful
voices ever heard…”