Diamonds and Cole (22 page)

“I hurt her.” Tears were streaming down Ellie’s cheeks. “I was so wrong to side with Allen. How could I have been such a fool?”

“There’s one other thing.” Cole looked down at his foot as it traced the lines around the gray speckled tile.

“What is it, Cole? Is she in trouble? Please, Cole, tell me.”

“She’s married, Ellie.”

Ellie gasped and threw her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Cole,” she muttered, “I wasn’t there with her.”

“You might as well have it all. You’re a grandma. A little girl named Jenny.”

Closing her eyes, Ellie turned her head away from Cole and quietly sobbed. Cole stood and gently stroked her arm, allowing her a mournful moment.

“She’s just beautiful. I saw a picture. Lots of curly hair, just like you and Erin. Erin said her husband spoils her something awful.”

Ellie reached over and took Cole’s hand. “I’ll die and never see them. Do you think this is how my parents felt when I was out running all over the country? This is payback, isn’t it?”

“Come on. I don’t believe in Karma. She’ll come around. I got a good feeling about it.”

“How could I be so happy and so sad at the same time?” Ellie gave a half-hearted laugh.

“I don’t know, but when you figure it out, explain it to me, won’tcha?” Cole brushed her cheek with his knuckles.

“So, what else?”

“What?”

“You said you had a couple of not-so-good pieces of news. I hope the second one isn’t the ‘wow’ finish.” Ellie smiled softly. “Go on, don’t play dumb.”

“Are you sure? I didn’t, I mean, I hate upsetting you.”

“It’s all right. I cry a lot lately, it won’t kill me. As much as I wish it would.”

“Hey, no talk like that.”

“Go on, Cole,” she pressed.

“It’s Allen.”

“He’s divorcing me,” she said flatly.

Cole laughed nervously and said, ‘No such luck.”

“Well, it mustn’t be too bad.”

“That really depends on your point of view, I guess. Allen’s in big trouble. He’ll probably go to jail.”

Ellie stared straight ahead and didn’t speak. Her hands were in her lap, and she twisted the blanket between her fingers. Cole could see the muscles in her jaw flexing. She turned with a steely glare and said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I did some digging around while I was trying to figure out how to get the power of attorney back, and I guess I turned over too many rocks.”

“I don’t want to know.” Ellie’s tone had finality to it. It was the closing of a door.

“I don’t want you to worry, though; you’ll be taken care of. I promise.”

“You can’t afford to pay—”

“It’s already done. Didn’t hurt me a bit, honest.”

“Oh Cole, I feel like such a fool.” Ellie’s voice had become shaky again. “I’m so ashamed to have you see all this. Please forgive me for dragging you out here.” She began to cry.

Cole lowered the metal rail and sat on the side of the bed. He took Ellie’s hand. She continued to weep gently. Cole had no words. He felt ashamed that the man who had made a lifetime of choosing and molding and polishing words had none in this moment. He felt a lump in his throat and gritted his teeth. He knew his time with Ellie was nearly over. Brennan would want him back in Chicago soon. He ached deep in his chest. He thought of quitting the paper, moving back, and spending Ellie’s last days together. He knew that was not the answer.

Cole had spent so many years longing to be with Ellie. He had dreamt and fantasized about how their lives would someday come together again. Now here they were—she, an invalid, he, a ship without anchor. As he sat gently stroking her hand, he tried to imagine a life without thoughts of Ellie. He wouldn’t forget her, he wasn’t worried about that, but she’d always been
his hope.

Few things in life are as important as hope. No one knew better than Cole Sage. He had about lost all hope until Ellie’s call for help. His great chance to see her again. His opportunity to provide for her all the things he had always longed to. Two tasks, like some hero from a book. Two tasks to prove his faithfulness, his dedication, his love. He had saved Erin’s inheritance. Just like the old cowboy movies, the stranger had ridden in and gotten back the mortgage to the ranch. Only Cole wouldn’t get the girl in the end. The end would get the girl.

As they sat quietly side by side, his mind drifted back to the first time he’d lost her. It was a Christmas long ago. Ellie had decided she needed more space. Cole had begun thinking about the future after college, and it included being married to Ellie. She, on the other hand, was beginning to get ideas about travel and “finding herself.” He had bought her a book of poems. It was leather bound and had gold letters embossed on the front and spine. It was a collection of Victorian poetry. Soft, sentimental, mushy—just the kind she liked, or so he thought. He couldn’t return it, so in an effort to get her back, he drove over to her house. Her father met him at the door and took the package. Cole had paid a lot of money for the book and had made it even pricier by buying authentic Victorian paper and bows to wrap it in, even paying a woman at a framing gallery to add a calligraphy inscription on the flyleaf.

“Waste of time, Cole.” Her father told him.

“She’s never been a waste of time to me, sir.” Cole had said softly.

“Well , you might as well know, she’s seeing someone else.”

“Merry Christmas, sir, and please tell Ellie ‘hello’ for me.”

Ellie’s dad looked hard at the package, shook his head, and closed the door. Cole walked to the car in a fog. He was in a complete daze, numb, and his hands were trembling. Before he reached the end of the street, he pulled over and vomited out the open car door. He didn’t hear a word his professor had said that night in Rhetoric class. Arriving home, his heart skipped a beat when his mother said that Ellie had come by and dropped off a present. She pointed to the hall table, and there was the present he had taken her. He didn’t know how to get along without her then and now that she was back in his life, the fear of life without her was just as strong. The difference was that this time there would be no second and third chance.

Getting Erin to come see her mother couldn’t be as hopeless as he felt. He knew that a child of Ellie’s couldn’t be as heartless and selfish as Erin seemed on the surface. He’d connected with her. He could feel her kindness. She had put up a wall that would take some time to tear down, but she would come around. She had to. Ellie seemed so strong today when he first arrived. She was having a reprieve from the pain, and her voice for the most part was normal. Cole prayed that his news wouldn’t give her a setback. If they could only have a little more time like today, before he had to leave.

Cole stayed until a nurse came and said it was time for Ellie’s bath. Ellie had told stories of Erin as a little girl. They reminisced about their times together. They had laughed and, for just a little while, forgot about the disease that was slowly killing her. Cole told her stories of his times overseas, in the jungles, the food he had eaten, his love of the ocean. He had even confessed about the island girl he’d thought he was in love with.

When the time came to leave, he left her and didn’t look back. Their bond was so strong that even with all the years between them, it had not broken. And for a brief time that evening, they’d been 20 years old again.

SEVENTEEN

Cole drove back to the motel with a big smile on his face. He hit the speed bump at the entrance to the parking lot and realized he’d been on cruise control. Thoughts of Ellie and the memories they had relived were like a tonic. Cole felt a deep healing inside, like the dark cloud that had been in front of the sun was blown aside gently by a spring breeze. His soul was brightened. He began whistling as he locked the car door and started toward the stairs to his room.

As he passed the alcove next to the stairs, he sensed a movement, a shadow, but it was too late to process. As he lifted his right foot to plant it on the bottom stair, he was dropped to his knees by a blow to the back of his head. His hands hit the stair. He pushed up. A pair of arms slid through his and spun him around. With his arms behind his back, he was nearly helpless as he was lifted up to his toes.

Standing in front of him was Tree Top’s man with the parrot tattoos. Before Cole could react, the man punched him hard in the stomach. The hours of hitting the body bag in the gym paid off, and Cole heaved out all the air in his lungs.

“Good evening, Mr. Smart Mouth from Chicago,” the tattooed man sneered.

Cole gasped for air. He had an aura of sparklers surrounding his vision, and he was afraid he was blacking out.

“What? Nothing clever to say?” The man slapped Cole with the back of his hand on the right side of Cole’s face.

His ears rang, but the slap seemed to clear Cole’s head a bit, and he raised his eyes to look at the man. He was bigger than Cole remembered and had his head shaved smooth, but the huge parrot tattoos were unmistakable.

“Ooh, look here, Tommy, Chicago looks pissed.” Tattoo spoke to the man holding Cole.

Cole listened to the two men banter back and forth and for the first time realized how stupid they must be. Like a couple of really dumb schoolyard bullies who torment their victim, they teased Cole.

“Want some more? Mr. Wise Guy, cat got your tongue?”

“Maybe he likes it,” said the voice from behind him.

Cole tried to twist away from the grip on his arms, but he was still dazed. He breathed deeply and tried to calm the pain and the nausea from the blow to his stomach.

“Nice to see you guys, again,” Cole gasped.

“See, Tommy, always the smart ass, this one. Hold him tight.”

The tattooed man pulled back to deliver another blow. In an instant before he struck, Cole leaned back against the man holding him and kicked both legs out at his attacker. The kick fell short and the tattooed man’s blow glanced off his lower calf.

“He likes to kick, Tommy! He’s gonna love this, then.” Tattoo turned slightly and bounced on the balls of his feet. He did a karate kick shooting his leg out at almost a perfect 90-degree angle. “Okay, here it comes!” He kicked again, this time with the intent of landing a blow to Cole’s midsection.

Cole twisted hard to the right and the kick landed just above his hip. Still bouncing, Tattoo spun around and kicked Cole in the ribs. Dancing like a boxer, he hit Cole square in the face. Cole’s head flew back, and he felt it hit Tommy’s face. Tommy grunted and spit. Cole tried to stomp the insole of the man holding him, but the man pulled back, just missing Cole’s heel. Cole’s eye ached; it was beginning to swell shut.

“This is getting to be fun!” Tommy cried in a manic laugh.

“Okay, roundhouse! Chokehold, Tommy, hold him still! I don’t want to kick you!” Tattoo bounced and laughed.

As he spun around, a big natural leather, steel-toed work boot at the end of a pair of khaki chinos kicked Tattoo in the groin. Tattoo collapsed to all fours. Again, the boot kicked him, this time in the ribs, lifting him off the ground. Tattoo rolled and tried to get up. He made it to his knees when a large brown hand clamped onto his Adam’s apple.

It was Luis. He stood behind Tattoo and had him by the throat. Luis had turned to face Cole and Tommy. Tattoo was looking up at his captor, clawing at his hands and making a gagging, coughing, airless sound.

“Let him go,” Luis said to Tommy.

“No, you first.”

“Me first? Are you crazy, this ain’t no game, asshole, I’m going to kill this piece of shit if you don’t let my friend go.”

“You ain’t killin’ nobody. If anybody gets killed, it will be Chicago here. Then you.” Tommy brought his forearm tighter against Cole’s throat. He had Cole’s left wrist and was pulling it up between his shoulders. “Tree Top don’t like Beaners to start with, and he’ll turn over every taco truck in town lookin’ for you.”

Luis eased up his grip slightly on Tattoo’s throat. While Tommy had been talking, Luis had slipped his right hand into his pants pocket and taken out a box cutter. Tattoo’s eyes bulged, and his face was turning from blue back to a reddish hue.

Tommy was calm and forceful. “You let him go and nobody gets hurt. We were just supposed to rough this guy up and scare him out of town. Let him go, and we’ll let it go. You don’t want to be startin’ any kind of war.”

Without saying a word, Luis slid the cover back on the box cutter and put the point of the razorblade in the center of Tattoo’s forehead.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tommy growled.

From Cole’s vantage point, Luis looked like a priest blessing a parishioner from behind with holy water. Then a small trickle of blood ran down Tattoo’s forehead and into the corner of his eye. Luis continued to pull the box cutter back. Pressing hard, inch-by-inch, the blade sliced all the way to Tattoo’s skull. Tattoo could only feel the pressure on his scalp. Blood continued to run into his eye. Tommy was confused and couldn’t understand what Luis was doing. Cole was watching, but his eye had swollen completely shut, and he could taste blood in his mouth.

“What’re you doing?” Tommy screamed.

“Let Mr. Sage go.”

Tommy began shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was breathing hard. Luis, perfectly calm, never stopped pulling the blade toward him. When he reached the nape of Tattoo’s neck, he brought the box cutter up and turned it slowly so Tommy could see it.

“You’re going to pay for this.”

“Let Mr. Sage go.” Luis said calmly.

Luis pressed the blade to Tattoo’s forehead an inch to the right of the first cut and began drawing it back across his scalp.

“Okay, okay!” Tommy shoved Cole forward.

Luis took the box cutter and with flashing speed drew the blade in deep across Tattoo’s forehead. Blood gushed from the wound and into his eyes. Luis released Tattoo’s throat and kicked him hard in the middle of the back with the flat of his boot. The force slammed Tattoo to the pavement.

“You need to leave,” Luis said. “If we see you near here or anywhere near Mr. Sage again, I will cut off your head.”