There's Always Tomorrow (Immortal Series) (18 page)

Grant didn’t
see the big fist coming straight for his chin...but he felt the tug on his
jacket.
 
The force of the punch
lifted him off the floor and he crashed against the heavy bookshelves.
 
He managed to block the second punch,
thrown from his friend’s strong left.

“What the
fuck?” he yelled, as he prepared to strike back.
 
“What was that for, you stupid son-of-a-bitch?”

Tony’s voice
was husky with emotion.
 
“I told
you not to speak about Sophie in negative terms.
 
You insinuated she was stupid and would soon forget.
 
I’ve got news for you.
 
She’s smart.
 
She just doesn’t believe in herself.
 
I’m going to help her tap into her
strengths.
 
Remarks, like the one
you said, hurt.
 
Her whole life,
she’s been put down.
 
I intend to
marry her as soon as possible, for your information, and I’ll gladly pack her
up and leave New York.
 
Anything
else, Mr. Paulsen?”

Grant rubbed
his swollen jaw, knowing it would heal quickly.
 
“Yeah, there’s something else.”
 
Looking properly chastised, he spoke honestly.
 
“I’m truly sorry, Tony.
 
I love Sophie…and I love you, bro.
 
A change of scenery will be best for
all of us, but if you need me, you know how to reach me.
 
I’ll be there for you.”
 

He held out his
hand to Tony, but Tony pushed it aside.
 
Instead, he grasped Grant by the shoulders and hugged him
forcefully.
 
He would miss his
friend.

Tony wiped an
errant tear from his eye and turned toward the door.
 
Over his shoulder, he said, “She’s not a mistake,
Grant.
 
She’s my piece of
mortality.
 
She’ll keep me
sane.”
 
He opened the door and
quietly closed it behind him.

Grant knew how
important his last remark had been.
 
He was aware that his friend suffered from a melancholy of the
soul.
 
Tony yearned to be
mortal.
 
He should never have been
turned, and he would never be truly content living life the way he was.

“Live well,
dear friend,” he uttered.

Sophie was
having the time of her life.
 
She’d
never been out of New York, and Tony was taking her across the country for
their honeymoon.
 
She saw New
Orleans and the area where Tony once lived.
 
She was wild about Chicago, where they even took the
gangster tour.
 
Tony laughed, and
said it was much like that, back in the twenties, only a whole lot worse.
 
“You couldn’t get a decent drink in the
whole damn town,” he lamented.

The couple went
north into the Black Hills of South Dakota.
 
There, they camped out in an area Tony referred to as Paha
Sapa.
 
As they stood on a ridge,
looking down at the open prairie, Tony felt transported back in time.

“This mountain
range and prairie grass is sacred to the Lakota people.
 
They were here long before the white
man left his European shores.
 
The
majesty of its dark peaks still takes my breath away.
 
There is something in the very air we breathe, that sets
this place apart.
 
I feel the
spirit of the people all around us.

“It wasn’t
until Custer discovered gold that the white man had interest in this land.
 
The white man’s greed for the yellow
metal killed many of the Lakota.
 
The government pushed them back, off their land, and they starved.
 
I left a piece of my heart out there,
on the prairie.”

That afternoon,
Tony wanted Sophie to see the land from the back of a horse, and was pleased
with the mounts he’d been able to rent for the week.
 
He chose a sweet, little mare for Sophie, and decided on a
large bay gelding for himself.
 
Once they were saddled, he offered to help Sophie get seated.

He cupped his
hands together, and nodded to Sophie.

Sophie nodded
back, her vacant eyes as big as turquoise saucers.

Tony
grinned.
 
“Sophie.
 
Sweetheart.
 
Place your boot in my hand and I’ll help you swing up into
the saddle.
 
It’s very easy.
 
You’ll be riding like a brave before
you know it.”

“A brave what?”
she asked innocently.

“A warrior,
Sophie.
 
A man who has proven he is
a man.
 
He’s called a brave.”
 
He shook his head slightly.
 
“Haven’t you seen any old western
movies?”

“Nope.
 
Not if I could avoid it.”
 

She furrowed
her brow, trying to make sense of Tony’s reasoning.
 
“You said he proved he was a man.
 
Well, Mr. Know-It-All, in case you haven’t noticed, I am not
a man.
 
Therefore, I cannot be a
brave.”
 
She crossed her arms over
her ample bosom and grinned.

Tony didn’t
know whether to kiss her for being so astute, or to spank her for being so
impudent.
 
Maybe he’d do both, a
little later, he decided.
 
Trying
to appear to be in control of the situation, he put his hands together and said
loudly, “Sophie.
 
Put your damn
boot in my hands, step up, and swing your leg over the horse while we still
have some daylight.”

“Okay, you
don’t have to yell,” she muttered.
 
“Sheesh.”
 
Just as Tony had
asked, she put her right boot into his hands and swung her left leg as hard and
as fast as she could, over the back of the horse…all before Tony had the time
to correct her mistake.
 
There she
sat, high in the saddle…facing rump forward.

Tony started
laughing, uproariously.
 
“If that
don’t beat all!” he exclaimed.
 
“I’ve heard of city slickers getting ass-backwards in the saddle, but I
never thought I’d actually live to see it.
 
Wait right there, sweetie, while I go get my cell.
 
I’ve got to send a picture of this to
Grant.”

“Oh, don’t you
dare, Tony,” she screamed.
 
“Do
something.
 
What if this animal
should decide to move?
 
What will I
do?
 
Oh help me, Tony,” she
cried.
 
Great sheets of tears
cascaded down her face.
 
Her
knuckles were white with the grip she had on the back of the saddle.
 
She was clearly petrified.

Tony did feel a
little sorry for her, but she deserved it.
 
She’d acted like a spoiled child, earlier.
 
He could have told her the horse was
hobbled and wouldn’t be going anywhere soon.
 
However, she was his wife, and a delightful little package
for sure.
 
He’d show her some
mercy.

“All right,
darling.
 
Put your arms around my
neck and I’ll lift you down.”

Sophie did as
she was told, and gently slid to the ground, where she swiftly kicked her
husband in the shins.

“Ow!
 
What was that for?” Tony asked, while
rubbing his damaged leg.

“You did that
on purpose, you hateful man.
 
Two
can play at that game.
 
Wait until
tonight.
 
You’ll want me to love
you, and ride you like a bronc, but I think I feel a headache coming on.”
 
She dramatically placed the back of her
hand against her forehead and grimaced.
 
“Yeah, it’s definitely a headache.”

“Now don’t be
like that, sugar,” he drawled.
 
“How did I know you’d be looking at the rear end of a horse going
north?”
 
Tony had no idea what that
meant, but he’d read it once, in an old Zane Grey western.
 
It sounded funny.
 
“Let me take care of the horses and
we’ll go for a pleasant walk.
 
Okay?”

“Humpf!” was
her only response.

That evening,
after they had dined on roasted rabbit, baked potatoes, and fried corn bread;
Tony led Sophie up a path to the highpoint on the rocks.
 
From there, they could see onto the
floor of the entire valley.
 
It was
breathtaking.
 
Overhead, were the
lights of a million stars.

“Look down
there,” Tony said, as he pointed to a faint light flickering on the prairie
floor.
 
“It’s a campsite.
 
Back in the day, the cowboy and the
Indian had to be careful about letting someone see his fire.
 
Its glow can be seen and smelled for
miles.
 
An Indian’s nose is as
important as his eyes.
 
Many meals
had to be eaten cold or raw.”

“Raw?
 
Ick!
 
I couldn’t have lived that way, Tony.
 
Surely, you didn’t live like that?
 
You were from England.
 
You were civilized.”
 
As soon as the words passed her lips,
Sophie knew she had made a dreadful error.
 
She could tell by the closed look on Tony’s handsome face,
that she had hurt him, more than she’d angered him.

“I’m
sorry.
 
I shouldn’t have said
that.
 
Please tell me about your
time with the Lakota people, so I will understand.”

Tony kneeled in
front of Sophie and coaxed her onto his lap.
 
He loved her with all his heart, and it was important to him
that she learn to appreciate his prior experiences and the people that were
important to him.
 
He had, after
all, loved them, dearly.

Looking up at
the starry, South Dakota sky, Tony began to speak of a time, long gone by.
 

“Penelope had
been gone for more than thirty years, and yet my heart still felt the terrible
loss.
 
Eli and Hannah had grown,
and had children of their own.
 
I
never looked for them, as it would be too painful, and the little ones wouldn’t
understand.

“I went to New
Orleans for a while.
 
There, I met
a woman.
 
You wouldn’t have
approved of her.
 
She had quite the
reputation.
 
For a few dollars and
a bottle of rum, she could numb my heartache.
 
When I was with her, I forgot about the past, and I no
longer dreaded the future.
 
Night
after night, Renee and I slept above a gambling house, in the French
Quarter.
 
She was French, and could
do things in the bedroom…ooh la la!”

Tony was amused
by the jealousy he saw lurking in the depths of his wife’s brilliant eyes.
 
He had to laugh.

“Don’t worry,
sweetheart.
 
You have already
mastered those skills.
 
No one can
compare to your innate talent in the boudoir.”

Placing his
jacket on the soft grass, Tony allowed his wife to stretch out and look up at
the night sky.
 
He cradled her head
in his lap and allowed his fingers to twirl her soft curls.

“Thank you,”
Sophie said, blushing.
 
“I try to
please.
 
Did this woman look like
me or Penelope?” she asked, intrigued by the French woman.

Tony laughed,
heartily.
 
“Not hardly,” he said,
trying to squelch his laughter.
 
“Renee had wild hair, the color of a marigold, and she piled it high
upon her head.
 
She outlined her
dark eyes with kohl, giving them a decidedly exotic look.
 
She fashioned herself to look like
Cleopatra.”
 
He laughed again.
 
“Her lips were always bright scarlet
and her cheeks heavily rouged.”

“She sounds
positively ghastly.
 
Or maybe she
was punk before her time.
 
She
doesn’t sound like your type at all.”

“Sophie, you
must try to understand.
 
I was in a
bad place.
 
I didn’t have a
particular type.
 
My
‘type’
was buried in the ground, back in New Hampshire.
 
Renee was definitely different, but she had a big heart,
almost as big as her tits.
 
She’d
lean over the wrought iron railing and give all the boys a peek.
 
I put a stop to that, soon enough.
 
I don’t like to share.”
 
He ran his hand, wickedly, over his
wife’s lush bosom, making her sigh with pleasure.
 
“Still don’t.”

While he fondled
her erect nipple, Tony continued his story.
 
“We soon became exclusive.
 
I taught her proper English, and she kept me from tossing
myself into the fiery depths of hell.
 
With her being in the profession …”

“What
profession was that?” Sophie interrupted, in her inimitable style.

“The world’s
oldest, darling.
 
She was a whore.”

“Oh, that’s
all,” she shrugged.
 
Sophie sounded
disappointed.

Tony thought
about her reaction for a moment, and he realized that in the times they
currently lived in, being a prostitute was almost respectable work.
 
“I’ve lived too long,” he mumbled.

“Anyway, I was
surprised when she became ill.
 
I
wanted to call a doctor, but she wouldn’t allow it.
 
As the weeks passed by, I began to notice a softening in her
appearance.
 
She became more
domestic and serene.
 
She was
emotional and gave in to bouts of tears, followed by periods of extreme
happiness.”

“She was going
to have your baby, wasn’t she?” Sophie said, nodding her head in
affirmation.
 
She was quite proud
of herself for having figured it all out.

“As a matter of
fact, she was.
 
On the Fourth of
July, 1852, I had another son.”
 
Tony’s eyes sparkled with pride.
 
“What a kid.
 
He was as
lusty as his mother.
 
She took to
mothering like she’d been doing it all her life.
 
Later, she told me that it was a lifelong dream of hers, to
have a man of her own and a child to love.
 
I immediately took her and the baby down to the Saint Louis
Cathedral and we made it legal.”

Sophie yawned
and stretched out across Tony’s lap.
 
She stared up at the stars that filled the indigo sky and whispered, “Go
on.
 
I do hope this has a happy
ending for your wife and son.”

“The yellow
fever had been around Louisiana for a long time, but the worst of the epidemic
was that following year.
 
That’s
when one in fifteen died.
 
Both my
wife and baby son perished.
 
I
didn’t get ill, naturally, so I kept busy with the sick.
 
I didn’t give myself time to grieve.

“I met an
interesting woman.
 
Her name was
Marie Laveau.
 
You may have heard
of her.”

Sophie sat up,
excited.
 
“Oh yes!
 
I saw this movie all about Voodoo and
zombies.
 
She was the high
priestess or something.
 
After she
died, she came back to life and killed people.
 
She haunted them to their grave.
 
What a terrible woman.
 
Did she hurt you?”