For Nothing (36 page)

The smel of fresh coffee wafted up the stairs and entered his nose. Charlotte was up. He put El a down on the carpet and held on to both of her hands.

Her unsure legs wobbled towards the kitchen and she used Alex’s hands to guide her to her mother.

Charlotte was drinking a cup of coffee at the table and her rose colored cheeks turned upward and into a smile as El a let go of Alex’s hands and ran forward. She scooped her up and gave her a ran forward. She scooped her up and gave her a bear hug while little El a squealed in delight and buried her face in her mother’s neck.

“She was sleeping next to you when I came down stairs. She misses her Daddy.” She gave El a a kiss on the cheek. “Would you mind grabbing the paper from outside?”

Alex Vaughn looked at his wife. His lips were helpless to do anything other than to smile at the two of them, his beautiful women. With a laugh and a wave, he turned around and walked towards the door. He felt more complete in this moment than since before he could remember. Last night, the end of it anyway, was as close to perfect as he could remember. He put on his shoes and walked outside.

The cold whipped at him, but the sun fel on his body and kept the cool air from washing over him. The newspaper lay on top of the snow at the end of the driveway. He made his way towards it, as last night came more into focus.

Charlotte brought him upstairs and he dropped the gun holster and the fedora on the nightstand. She pul ed him close and said over and again how glad she was that he decided to come home.

He held her in his arms and said, “I am done with this job. I need to be here, I need to be with you and El a.”

He thought for sure she would be ecstatic with joy, but instead she pushed herself away from him, separating the two of them while he stil held her in his locked arms.

“I want you home, but only if you are doing it for you.”

“Baby, I’m doing it for you and for El a and for me. Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I do! But you have to do it because
you
want it. You can’t do it and then a week or a month from now decide I made you. I won’t have our child resented by her father.” She started to tear up and the little pools of brown threatened to spil over.

“And I won’t have my husband resent me.” A single tear meandered down her cheek onto her chin.

“I’m doing it for me, Charlotte. I’m doing it for me.”

Alex Vaughn pul ed her back in and kissed her lips. Rose colored, tender lips. His lips. He took his bruised and battered hands and wiped her tear off of her cheek and told her he loved her in every way he could imagine. They lay down together and she lay in his arms and they fel asleep together for the first time in a hundred years.

Alex picked up the paper. The plastic that covered it was damp from the snow and he brushed the water off of it as he looked around. The driveway needed to be shoveled and the sidewalk needed salt. There was something on the street, just off of the curb.

Several somethings.

Vaughn worked his way over. They were tiny, but there were five or six of them. He edged closer.

They were black. Vaughn knelt down and picked one of them up between his thumb and index finger and he almost threw up. He looked around left and right down the street. Al sound seemed to stop and his eyes darted back and forth. There was nobody. He leapt up and sprinted up the walk, the cold air fil ed his lungs, but he didn’t notice. He ran into the house and locked the door. He ran into the kitchen and threw the newspaper down along with his new discovery and sprinted towards the stairs.

“Alex?” Charlotte cal ed after him. “Alex!” He bound up the stairway two steps at a time and ran into the bedroom. He looked at the nightstand and stopped. Images of the cabin flashed through his mind.

The soft sound of footfal s came up behind him and Charlotte asked, “What’s wrong Alex? Why did you bring this filthy cigarette butt in the house?” Ignoring her question, Alex felt the blood drain from his face. The cold from outside clung to his bones and his heart seemed to stop beating.

“Charlotte, did you move the gun holster and the hat off of the nightstand?”

“No baby, why?”

Look out for the next Upstate New York Mafia Tale, coming soon.

About the Author

Nicholas Denmon studied English at the University of Florida. He started story tel ing from the moment he could talk and has spent a lifetime perfecting the art.

His life has been varied, giving him no shortage of material. Some of his unique experiences include growing up with a schizophrenic mother, having six brothers and sisters (of which he is the middle-younger child), a perfectionist father, an evil step-mother, a col ege life to rival Tucker Max, and working for politicians on the Presidential as wel as local stage. He has been, at times, a devout Catholic, a closet atheist, and an honorary member of the Jewish tribe.

Nick’s joy of art knows little in the way of limitations, as he loves unique paintings, music, acting, film, and of course writing.