Chapter 106

Jon padded down the stairs bare chested and bare footed, his nose following the scent of rich, dark coffee into the kitchen.  His beautiful wife was sipping it from an oversize mug, a matching cup sitting directly across the table from her.

Damn, I love her.

“Mornin’ baby,”  he mumbled in the rough morning voice that cried for the dark treasure he was about to drown his throat in.  A quick kiss to the top of her head earned him a lopsided smile, and she pulled her feet up into the chair, the newspaper folded across her thighs.

“You working again today?” she asked disinterestedly, already knowing the answer.

The heat infused itself along his throat, loosening the muscles and vocal cords that had been abused and then gone unused while he slept the last eight hours away.  Clearing his throat, he hummed with appreciation at the taste swirling in his mouth.

“Mmm.  Dave, Rich and Teek will in the studio about noon.  The other guys will be here later.”

“How’d it go yesterday?”

Sitting the mug back on the table, he grabbed the sports section of the paper to see if there was anything going on besides baseball.  Baseball was boring as all fuck.

“Eh, it went okay.  Richie wasn’t quite on top of his game, but we got the one song down.  He’s missing Allegra, I guess.   Jesus, I hope this field trip of hers doesn’t take too long.   His Sad Sack routine is gonna get old quick.”

She looked up over her reading glasses, curiosity lighting her eyes.  “Where exactly is she again?”

Shrugging, he flipped the page.  “Not sure exactly.  Someplace in Connecticut, if I had to guess.  They got hit hardest with the flooding.”

“And they don’t have cell service in Connecticut?”  She tossed the folded newspaper on the table with a sniff.  “Bullshit.  It’s yuppie central in Connecticut.  Flooded or not, those people aren’t going to go without their iPhones and Androids.”

“I told you I’m not sure where she’s at.  Hell, for all I know she’s in Deliverance country where there’s only one phone in the whole damn place.”

She placed her glasses on the table and covered the article he was reading with her open palm.  “Don’t you think you should find out?”

His eyes lifted to meet hers, and he knew it wasn’t a question – it was an order.

“I’ll call Mary first thing in the morning,” he murmured like a good little husband, while managing to keep his temper in check. 

Dot removed her hand from the newspaper and patted his cheek approvingly.  “I think that’s a wonderful idea, honey.”

♪♫♥♫♪

David slipped quietly into the garage, even though Lexi was sound asleep upstairs on the opposite end of the house.  She knew where he was going, and said she understood, but he didn’t want to risk a change of heart at the last minute.  Because there was no way he wasn’t going.

The garage door slid up as quietly as a garage door could, and the Mercedes fired to life under his hand.  Backing out of the garage, he depressed the button that would send the door back to a secure position before shifting the car into drive and guiding it expertly down the winding driveway.

It had taken a good amount of time and charm yesterday evening, but he’d found her.  Not FOUND her, found her, but located the most likely place she would be hiding.

After those first three phone calls yesterday afternoon, he’d gotten the picture that no convent was going to tell him who was in residence.  That was fine.  He could work around that.  He’d then begun asking if Sister Allegra Castanelli had ever served there.  Most of the nuns he’d spoken to were quite forthcoming when approached that way.  It didn’t hurt that he mentioned being estranged family, either.

It was about the tenth call in – who knew there were that many convents in Jersey? – that a chatty little old lady had actually given him some useful information.  No, Allegra hadn’t served at Divinity Convent, but she had collaborated with her on a children’s program this past Christmas.  Last she’d heard Sister Allegra was at Blessed Sacrament Cloister, over near Hammonton.

A quick call to Blessed Whatchamacallit got him in touch with a woman who went all bulldog when asked about Allegra, being overly guarded and secretive.  When he went through his spiel about being a long, lost relative, she was singularly unimpressed, refusing to answer even the most general questions. 

That was all the proof he needed.  She was there.  She had to be.

So he was headed down the Jersey coast at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning, with the intention of…  What?

The main thing was to make sure she was okay.  He needed to see, touch and hear her.  Something was wrong, he could feel it in his gut, and David couldn’t understand how in the hell Richie could let this lie so long.  He was always trying to be the nice guy, and consider the feelings of others.  Dave could respect that, but sometimes you couldn’t be nice, you had to be right.

Going after Allegra was right, and if Richie wasn’t going, he sure as hell would.

He hoped he was being a melodramatic freak, and she was sunning herself and teaching orphans to read because it made her happy.  Then what?  If he found her and she was fine, just sick of Sambora, what was he going to do?  Did he throw caution to the wind and convince her to run away with him?  Screw Richie, Lexi and the whole lot of them?

That thought caused the coffee to churn in his stomach.  When he’d told her where he was going this morning, and why, Lexi had looked like a whipped puppy.  Of course, she immediately hid it away again, but not before he’d seen – and felt like a piece of shit.

They were lying in bed after a satisfying round of sex, and he’d been flipping through channels on the television when the shoe dropped.

“David, where is this going?” she’d asked softly, blue eyes downcast, studying the rich red polish that tipped her fingernails.  Lexi always kept her nails perfectly groomed and dressed, just like the rest of her.

“What are you talking about?”

“I like Allegra a lot.  She’s a very sweet woman, and I’m glad to have had the chance to get to know her.  But are you doing this for her safety and Richie’s sake, or to be her white knight?”

Irritation spiked again.  Why was everyone on his back for taking care of a friend?  “I’m doing it because she needs someone.”

“Are you sure about that?” She reached for the remote, muting the nightly newscast of gloom and doom to focus on their own.  “Because it seems to me that she went to a whole lot of effort to disappear.”

“I’m sure.  I can’t explain why, but I am.”

“Then why does it have to be you?”

“I don’t know Lex.  It just does.”

Handing the remote back to him, she turned, long blonde hair trailing over her bare shoulders as she reached for the bedside lamp.   The dim glow of the TV cast too many shadows to see her face when her detached voice came across with, “Are you coming back?”

With a grumble he pushed the memory away.  This wasn’t what he wanted to think about right now.  Right now, he just wanted to wrap his arms around Allegra until everything was right in her world again.  After that, he’d figure out what came next.

♫♪♥♪♫

Allegra eyed the clock speculatively.  It was still only eight o’clock, but she’d already showered and dressed.  For the first time in a week, she’d even taken the time to blow dry her hair before fastening it in the elastic band that had become her trademark.  Makeup had been pointless, so she hadn’t bothered.

Her stomach rumbled, announcing its displeasure with missing breakfast – and dinner the night before? – but she wasn’t up to socializing in the dining hall this morning.  All she wanted this morning was answers.

Tired of waiting, she rose and crossed to the door.  It was Sunday morning and early mass was over.  Surely he had to be in his office.  If he wasn’t, she would simply wait until he arrived.  She had nothing but time on her hands.

♫♪♥♪♫

Bishop Mancuso crossed himself and rose from the makeshift altar in his office.  It didn’t seem as proper as kneeling in the sanctuary, but as often as he’d been kneeling lately, the close proximity was convenient.

Kneeling in itself was a feat these days.  At sixty-four years old, things didn’t bend the way they used to.  His back was another fine example of that, he realized, a wince of pain crossing his face as he settled himself in the wingback chair next to the cold fireplace. 

Desks were far too formal for a peaceful Sunday morning.

“You can’t go in there!”  Sister Amelia’s voice carried through the walnut door that sealed his personal sanctuary.

“No disrespect intended Sister, but just try and stop me.”  The knob turned and the door burst open to reveal the young woman who had been the cause of his kneeling, with Sister Amelia hot on her heels.

He stood and regarded Allegra with carefully veiled eyes.  Despite the vigor she’d put forth in gaining access to his office, he noted the fatigued set of her shoulders.   He’d watched it overtake her in small increments during the past few days, and knew the poor girl wasn’t resting well.  With time, he hoped her ordeal would become easier.

At the moment, she evidently had a bone to pick with him. 

“It’s all right.”  He waved to his ‘gate keeper’ and circled the desk.  It seemed that his professional demeanor was now in order.  His peaceful solitude was not meant to be this morning, and he mentally prepared himself for whatever lay in store.  “Please leave us, Sister Amelia.”

Nodding uncertainly, the young nun did as she was asked, but not before giving Allegra an accusatory glare.

“I’m sorry, Sister,” she apologized before the door was fully seated in its frame.  If Amelia heard, she gave no indication.

The big, black leather chair creaked as his body sank into its cushioned frame.  A wave of his hand invited her to sit as well, and she accepted with a silent nod, never moving her eyes from his face.

She’d seen the Bishop on a dozen different occasions, but she took this opportunity to really look at him for the first time, memorizing his features and searching for any similarities.  Silvery hair made him appear quite distinguished, yet there was still evidence of the dark locks of his youth sprinkled throughout.  Crow’s feet edged his eyes as evidence of the many smiles and laughs that had crossed his face over the years.  His beard and moustache hid the accompanying laugh lines with gray whiskers that mirrored the hair on his head. 

“Ms. Castanelli, what brings you by this fine morning?”

And his eyes.  They were partially masked by silver rimmed glasses, but they too were gray.  Like a summer storm cloud. 

“Don’t you think Ms. Castanelli is a little formal for your daughter?”