The Fifth Kingdom (22 page)

Deanna hated to leave the serenity of being in Bill’s arms, but she had a nagging sense that something was wrong.

Call it intuition or some reawakened maternal connection that pulled her from his side and back to the quarters she was sharing with her mother. Her father had been given a room right next door where he had gotten settled the afternoon before.

She stopped by her father’s room first. Although it was just past six in the morning, he was usually an early riser, preferring to read in those quiet morning hours.

Knocking on the door, she waited for an answer. None came.

She tried the knob. The door was unlocked and she entered.

Both beds were empty, although it looked like someone—maybe even two someones—had shared one of the beds based on the indents in the mattress. Driving away the myriad thoughts that raced through her brain, she bounded to the room she had shared with her mother, knocked on the door. Silence greeted her once again.

Deanna threw the door open, but the room was empty. Both beds were perfectly made, confirming to her that her mother had spent the night with her father. The thought was both disturbing and heartening. She wanted happiness for both of them, having sensed for some time that her father had not been truly happy. After spending time with her mother, she had detected the same kind of unhappiness.

Seeing them together yesterday and during her wedding had revealed the why of that melancholy: they belonged with each other.

But somewhere safe,
she thought. Her father was not an adventurer by any stretch of the imagination. She combed the room for signs of her knapsack and relief filled her as she found it tucked into one of the larger dresser drawers. The relief was short-lived as she undid the ties on the pack and peered within.

The sun stone was gone. In its place was an envelope addressed to her in her father’s chicken-scratch writing.

Hands trembling, she removed the envelope and opened it. Read what was written on the single sheet of paper.

“Everyone must have one grand adventure in life. You’ve had yours and now it’s time for mine. Do not worry about your mother and me. We will see you in time for the start of school.”

Knees shaking, she plopped down on the bed, gathering herself. Her mother and father gone together. Off on an adventure and with the relic in their possession.

She would have to tell Bill and then they would take it from there.

Folding the sheet in half and sticking it back into the envelope, she tucked it into her back jeans pocket, set her pack down on the floor and then returned to Bill.

He opened his eyes at the first sound of her footfall and immediately gauged her state of mind. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure if wrong is the right word. Confused. Happy.” She shrugged and sat beside him. Pulled the envelope from her pocket and handed it to him.

As he read, his eyes opened wide, but then a smile erupted on his face. “Do we only get one great adventure or are you ready to go on many more with me?”

She thought of all the places she had been and the many others she wished to visit. Imagined how much better they would be with him by her side to share them. Shifting toward him, she paused when she was just an inch from his lips.

“Our journey has only just begun,” she said and kissed him so he would have no doubt about the many adventures that awaited him as her husband.

Bill parked the car in front of the small Cape Cod-style house in Levittown. Although the one-story home was tiny, it was lovingly cared for. A fresh coat of sunny yellow adorned the clapboards and the windows were framed by navy blue shutters. The front door was the same navy color but its severity was tempered by a bright floral wreath. Multicolored flowers in full bloom lined the beds of the home and the deep emerald green of a manicured lawn.

“It looks so…”

“Normal,” Deanna supplied for him.

He nodded. The vague memories that he had of the one room apartment where he’d lived with his parents were nothing like this little slice of Americana. Nor had any of the foster homes come close, except for the last—a neat bachelor bungalow run by a Marine. Everything in that place had been shipshape, but lacking the feminine touches manifested in the simple home before him.

“Having cold feet?” Deanna asked and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Cold feet were only the start of what he was feeling. His stomach was in a knot and a sickly sweat was slowly dampening his shirt.

“It’s okay to have second thoughts about this,” she reassured, rubbing his shoulder in an attempt to lessen his nervousness.

“How about third and fourth thoughts?” he teased, trying to lift his own spirits with the humor.

“We can go. Come back when you’re sure,” Deanna offered, but he shook his head. He had been putting this off for a couple of weeks, ever since he had tracked down his parents with the help of several of his contacts.

His father had died well over a decade earlier in a bar fight caused by his violent temper. Witness statements said his father started the argument that had escalated and ended up with him stuck like a pig with a knife.

Sadly, Bill hadn’t felt anything other than relief at knowing his old man would never be able to hurt anyone again.

His mother had remarried, but had never had more children.

His mother who lived in the neatly tended to Cape Cod house just yards away in this very normal Long Island suburb.

“Bill?” Deanna prompted after his prolonged silence.

“I can do this,” he said beneath his breath, but she quickly amended it to, “
We
can do this.”

He looked at her and smiled. They had done so much in two short months. Survived Primera Mexica. Gotten married. Handled her mother and father running off with a relic that could change the world, although if their word was any good, they would be returning any day for the start of the school year and maybe a new start together as a family.

A new start,
he thought and repeated, “We can do this.”

Exiting the car, he walked around to where Deanna waited for him at the start of the driveway. He slipped his hand into hers and together they walked up the drive and to the door. He knocked and waited. Heard the sounds of activity before footsteps came toward the entrance.

She opened the door, a smile on her face. Looking older, but as beautiful as he had finally remembered. When she gazed up at him, tears filled her eyes and she covered her mouth with her hands. Shook her head in disbelief before finally uttering his name.

“Guillermo? Is it really you?” she asked and reached out, stroked her hand along his cheek as if to prove to herself that he was really there.

“It’s me,
Mami
,” he said and then she was in his arms, holding him tight. Shifting away to look at Deanna and then hugging her as well.

“Come in,
mi’jo
. Please come in,” she said and stepped back, opened the door wider to let them in.

The inside of the home was just as neat and tidy as the exterior. Modestly priced furniture was clean and arranged for comfort and not for show. She ushered them to the living room and nervously stood there before she said, “Let me get you something. A drink? Something to eat?”

“I just want to talk. Find out about you. Your life,” he said, needing to fill in the gaps from the information he had discovered about her. Needing to know things that the papers couldn’t tell him. Why she had left him. Why she had never come back.

She seemed to understand then and sat down. Hesitantly she answered all of his questions, clearly ashamed at times of her own weakness and yet confident that she had made the right choices for him.

“I know your life couldn’t have been easy, but I know in here,” she said, tapping a spot above her heart, “that it would have been far worse if you had stayed with us.”

Bill wanted to ask why she hadn’t left his father. Why the two of them hadn’t gone off together, but in a way, none of that mattered anymore. The pain in his past had been soothed by Deanna’s love and all he wanted now was to start their future off right.

“It’s okay,
Mami
,” he said, stilling the nervous motion of her hands with his. Holding them tight as he said, “I forgive you. It’s time you forgave yourself.”

Tears welled up again and ran down her face. “Is there room for me in your life now,
mi’jo
?”

Deanna, who had been sitting silently beside him, finally spoke up. “That’s why we’re here. For a fresh start.”

Bill’s mother nodded and then gazed up at her son lovingly. “I’d like that,
mi’jo
. How about we start with you telling me more about yourself and your lovely wife?”

Bill smiled and shot a half glance at Deanna. “That would be my pleasure,” he said and twined his fingers with Deanna’s.

Together they would handle this, he thought, liking the sound of that word immensely.

Together.

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