Unbroken Love

  He passed a hand over his cropped hair, thinking of how he was going to unplug all the other devices from the TV and telephone lines.

  Silently, he strode to the door at the back of the garden and punched in the code.

  When he closed it behind him, a beep sounded on the control panel guarded by the outside bodyguard, who immediately scanned the videos.

  The bodyguard saw an orange slash of body heat against the purple background. A grown male was moving away from the house. He typed on his computer and breathed, relieved.

  It was just Devon going out.

  Chapter 21

  Atwood House

  Tuesday, March 1, 2011

  8:09 a.m.

  Alistair halted in the middle of the room.

  He looked at his Patek Philipe watch and at the bed, frowning. He had not gotten the wrong impression. It really was Sophia’s body under the covers, still soundly asleep.

  He threw his jacket on the armchair and in two steps had a hand over her forehead. She was not sweating, or feverish. She was looking utterly fresh, with her dark-red lips slightly parted in breathing.

  He shook her shoulder gently. “Beauty. Wake up.”

  She inhaled deeply and half opened her eyes, closing them again. “What time is it? I’m sleepy.”

  “Time to wake up, sweetheart,” he sat patiently at the edge of the bed, running his fingers through her long hair. He loved the silky feeling and the raven color of it. “Both you and I have therapy sessions in an hour and you are still disheveled.”

  She smiled at his teasing. “I was having such a nice dream.”

  He let out a deep laugh as if he knew she had been dreaming about him. “I want to hear all about your dream later, but you have to get up. Now.”

  She crinkled her nose at him, but complied. Stretching her arms over her head and giving her head a brisk shake, Sophia opened more alert eyes to see him smiling down at her smugly. She rolled her eyes at her husband. “Lord I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it.”

  His smile turned into a smug grin as he threw back the covers and took her in his arms to her bathroom. “At your service, Marchioness.”

  London, Heathrow Airport, On the tarmac

  By Ethan Ashford’s G650

  Wednesday, March 2, 2011

  9:24 a.m.

  I love this little girl and this big man. I love that he cares about her as if she were his own flesh and blood and that she adores him. I love the passionate effect he has on me and I have on him. Sophia’s feelings were so overwhelming that it hurt her to leave Alistair and Gabriela, but she knew that the three of them belonged to each other and that it would just be a matter of days. She squeezed her daughter between herself and Alistair as his hands roamed over her back, trying to infuse some certainty into her.

  “Mama, bring me a doll with a sari, please,” Gabriela asked as Sophia passed her to Alistair’s arms.

  “I’ll bring you many presents. Be a good girl. Obey Alice when you’re with her and don’t have any more flour fights, okay?”

  “Oh…” Gabriela blushed, as if she had been thinking of doing exactly this. Then she bobbed her head. “Okay, Mamãe. I’ll be a good girl.”

  “Don’t keep calling Alistair Connor when he’s working, you’ll disturb him. Call only if you need, all right?” You’ve said enough, Sophia. Gabriela is a good girl.

  “She never disturbs me, Sophia. She’s my Fairy.” Alistair turned to Ethan. With a serious tone, he said, “Ashford, you take care of my wife.” She’s mine, you bastard.

  I will. She’s my best friend. “I will, MacCraig, don’t worry. You have one more minute, Sophia,” Ethan informed before he followed Ashley, Zahira, and Scott up the stairs and inside the plane, leaving them alone to say a last goodbye.

  “Enjoy your trip, Mamãe,” said Gabriela.

  “I will. I love you, Angel,” she replied, and kissed both of her cheeks again. Turning to Alistair, she embraced his waist, “I love you, Alistair Connor. I’ll miss you both a lot.” She was almost giving up the whole idea of going to India.

  I love you too. “Go. And come back quick.” He kissed her on her lips lightly. I’ll miss you too. More than you can imagine.

  On her tip-toes, she glued her closed lips to his, feverishly. Don’t be silly, Sophia. You’re a grown woman.

  Without a word, she turned and ran up the stairs, her light pink overcoat billowing behind her. She turned to wave a hasty goodbye, before ducking inside the plane.

  Alistair stayed a minute more where he was, too stunned by the fierce emotions that gripped him.

  It seemed to him she had just ripped his heart away from his chest and left it wide open.

  India, On the outskirts of Delhi

  Sophia Leibowitz Foundation

  Friday, March 3, 2011

  8:53 a.m.

  The region of Delhi had always been an important political hub tracing its roots to the sixth-century BC. In contrast to Old Delhi, once the capital of Islamic India, the imperial city of New Delhi created by the British Raj was composed of spacious, tree-lined avenues and imposing government buildings but Ethan didn’t see any of it.

  His pace became more stiffened as they approached the austere building on the outskirts of Delhi where some abused orphans were already living. He looked at Sophia with a strained smile on his face, gripped her hand and squeezed it so hard that it hurt. “This will be quick, won’t it?”

  “Yes. I just want to meet the children.”

  He nodded and his steps became even more brisk. It was clear he was eager to be done with this place and go somewhere else. Sophia couldn’t understand why he was forcing himself to do so.

  “I have been wondering when I should take Gabriela to one of the volunteer centers in the UK,” she told him, not noticing his wide eyes. “Volunteering with children is a great way to help them learn about giving back. Another benefit of volunteering is that children learn that they are needed and there are others with greater needs than them. Consequently, the children also have an opportunity to remember what they have to be thankful for.”

  Jesus! “How old is Gabriela?” he asked.

  “She is almost five. I’ll wait a few years more,” she chuckled. “Children need to have a bit of maturity to deal with such things.”

  “Sometimes you scare me, Sophia.”

  Zahira pushed open a door to the indoor patio where dozens of children stood in lines, clad in white and beige uniforms supervised by a smiling teacher.

  “There are so…” many.

  The shocked whisper that left Ethan’s mouth called Ashley’s attention, who said, “We are expecting more soon.”

  “These are just the ones that are of school age,” Zahira explained. “We already have more at the nursery.”

  Oh, Jesus. I don’t have enough money.

  They turned to leave after a few minutes of introduction and polite greetings from the children. Exactly when Ashley was closing the door, a loud pang and a painful cry were followed by chortles.

  Sophia turned and slowly widened the door, searching for the problem. A very thin and small boy was on his knees crying, while the teacher was berating two older boys for pushing him.

  She walked across the patio and knelt by the kid, helping him sit up. “Hi, I’m Sophia. What’s your name?”

  “Aadi Adani,” he said glumly and looked at her with his beautiful black eyes, his slick brown-black hair falling over his forehead.

  Sophia put a hand under his chin, eyeing him. There was a fresh oozing cut on his chin and she could see under his light milk-chocolate skin the fading bruises on the left side of his face. “Aadi—”

  “What happened here?” asked Ethan in an angry voice, as he saw the boy had been beaten recently.

  Aadi looked uncertainly at Sophia, who whispered, “Answer him. With the truth.”

  “Is-is he going to-to beat me-me?” the boy stammered. “I-I did no-nothing wrong.”

  Oh, my. Sophia rose and took out Ethan’s
handkerchief from his jacket pocket. She helped Aadi to his feet and pressed it against the cut.

  Staring fixedly at Ethan, she said, “Aadi Adani, this is Ethan Ashford. As you know, he’s my partner here at the Foundation. He’ll not beat you. But he will certainly make sure you’re not beaten or bullied anymore. By anyone. Because he cares; because he understands.”

  Sophia! Under Ethan’s tanned skin a slight flush appeared and he remained speechless and motionless as if struck by lightning. And what am I supposed to do now? If I were this boy’s father what would I say?

  Oh, God, Ethan! Do something, show a little love, be a role model. You can. “Aadi, why don’t you start by shaking hands with Mr. Ashford?”

  In just few seconds, Ethan’s lonely and wasted childhood passed in front of his eyes. His throat closed when he thought of how much it would have meant to him if someone had reached out to him when he was a child, scared, alone, and bullied. What would a father say?

  Ethan stretched out his hand automatically.

  Aadi’s face opened on a beautiful smile. “How do you do, Mr. Ashford?”

  A father—a male role model—would protect, support, encourage, and love. Everything you ever wanted, but never got. For a moment, Ethan’s face contorted in a grimace then he resolved to be that person for the frail child standing in front of him, still trembling and unsure. Ethan smiled and enveloped Aadi’s small hand, shaking it strongly.

  The soft touch of the child’s hand unfastened the rustic chords of Ethan’s heart and an extraordinarily moving symphony resonated inside his soul.

  In that moment, with that single contact, Ethan was converted to the ethos of love.

  Make a difference, Ashford. He gazed at the boy and spoke firmly, “How do you do, Aadi. You look like a very intelligent boy. I’m sure you help the others with their homework, don’t you?”

  “I—” The little boy looked perplexed at Ethan for a second before his smile grew and he bobbed his head. “I do, sir. I like to study.”

  “That’s very good. You know I was thin too. Now, I’m strong and intelligent.” Ethan put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Let’s take care of this cut and you can tell me more about your studies.”

  Outside Sophia Leibowitz Foundation

  1:23 p.m.

  Ethan looked at Sophia still stunned at his reaction with Aadi. “I—I felt like I was doing something useful, making a difference in the lives of those vulnerable children.”

  It was touching, Ethan. “Volunteer work has always been important to me, and it has helped me decide where I would place my efforts. When I worked with congressmen, I was there to help the abused women and children speak for themselves and sometimes to speak on their behalf, always making sure they had a voice in the law-making process. That was one of the most satisfying things I ever did. There’s a lot you can do, Ethan. A lot.” It will help you so much, my dear.

  Ethan entered the car after Sophia, startled by the fact that there was no lack of love in him. He thought it was sad that he discovered it only in that moment of his life, but it was worth it.

  As the car drove through the crowded streets of Delhi, he mulled over the futilities and capabilities of his existence; that his being a person of a solitary disposition had not always been a matter of his choice.

  Until now.

  “Sophia?”

  She looked at his face, reading the mixed feelings running rampant over it. “Yes?”

  “Do you…can I…that kid—” Ethan didn’t know exactly how to name his emotions. He shook his head, a bit lost inside his new self; this new soul that was unfolding within him, seeking compassion and empathy to rip away his dark veils of solitude, like a miracle of nature. “I don’t know.”

  “Ethan, with every new woman and child I help, I try to gather the pieces of such wordless pain and horror into an understanding verity. That only ends up in taking me one step forward and two steps back in solving the way out this unloving labyrinth. Maybe one day I’ll find the way out before the Minotaur eats us all. Until then, I take solace in helping and seeing unsmiling, sad faces learn to smile again.”

  The Amam

  Saturday, March 5, 2011

  3:43 p.m.

  In the heart of Delhi, the extravagant hotel was booked almost entirely for the foundation. Scott had arranged for three of the twenty-eight deluxe suites to be turned into private offices and meeting rooms, while Sophia and Ethan were booked into two others, with Zahira, Ashley, and Scott between them. The rest of the group was staying in regular rooms that were equally and elegantly furbished.

  The Amam had been chosen because of its contemporary architecture with Indian touches; exactly what Sophia had in mind for her foundation’s principles there. She knew the approach would be difficult for many volunteers if they didn’t understand India’s ancient culture which was rooted in its people. They had to keep in mind and embrace these differences.

  That was what she wanted to emphasize one last time with the volunteers that had come from London, before their dinner with the Indian donors and supporters.

  Sophia had fallen in love with India when she first visited with Gabriel: its captivating ancient monuments, magnificent museums, yummiest places to eat, and vivacious performing arts. But with its tenacious touts and the crush of mechanical and human traffic, the multidimensional metropolis could be downright confronting and confounding.

  She spent the morning with Ashley and Scott testing live transmissions from the facilities, which their Asian donors would watch during the dinner to be held later, while Ethan had snuggled away to the boys’ dormitory to talk with them. Sophia and Ashley had to hide their smiles when they saw him coming back just in time to go back to the hotel.

  As she made her way to their main meeting room, she tried to concentrate on what she was going to say but her mind seemed sluggish.

  Delhi in March was hot with extreme temperatures; noisy and confusing as it was one of the world’s most populous cities; a vibrant melting pot, where a jumble of Hindi, English, Punjabi, and Urdu where spoken. They’d eaten a typical spicy dish for lunch and now they were reviewing and rehearsing their speeches.

  It was all making her tired.

  Pushing the door open, Sophia gripped the handle firmly as the room suddenly swayed. Her first thought was of an earthquake, but her blurry vision told her it was not as everyone stayed calmly sitting and talking.

  A stronger wave of dizziness swept over her and she felt the floor open under her feet. As she fell, her hand and forearm stopping the full crash, her last image was of Ashley and Ethan leaping forward to help her.

  “Call a doctor,” Ethan said, instantly by her side, picking her up in his arms. He crossed the room in long strides and placed her on one of the comfortable sofas against a wall. “She’s sweating cold.”

  “She has low blood pressure and has been working herself to the limit,” Zahira tutted, kneeling by his side as Scott called reception for a doctor.

  Sitting on the edge of the wooden coffee table, he gently pushed her hair away from her forehead and face. “Come on, Sophia. Wake up.”

  “I’m okay,” Sophia slurred, opening her eyes. “There’s no need for a doctor. I think I’ve overdone it these last few days. After this meeting, I’m—”

  “After nothing!” Ethan ordered, “You’re going to your room to rest. Right now.”

  “I’m going to book you a relaxing massage in the Spa,” Ashley said. “An appointment with the hair salon to have someone help you to—”

  “Hey!” Sophia exclaimed, carefully pushing herself up on her elbows, just to be held back by Ethan’s hand on her shoulder.

  “No.” If something happens to you, I’ll blame myself for the rest of my life. Well, my short life, before MacCraig kills me. He almost laughed at the thought, but he was too worried by her paleness. “You haven’t looked at your face, or you wouldn’t be complaining. You’re pale as death.”

  Okay, I concede: I’m tired. With a bit mo
re pressure from Ethan’s hand, she fell back, sighing. “All right. You’ve won. I’m going to rest.”

  Atwood House

  Wednesday, March 9, 2011

  6:21 a.m.

  Sophia woke up to the feeling of Alistair pulling her onto his body and nuzzling his nose on her nape.

  She wanted to rub herself against him, but she was sleepy and feeling strangely tired. I’ve overdone it. Again.

  “Good morning, mo chridhe.”

  With another pull and rocking of her body, Sophia’s stomach lurched and she jumped away from him and out of bed, with a gasp.

  She didn’t hear him calling her over the strange buzzing in her ears. Her hand flew to her mouth and she ran for the bathroom. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and heaved, vomiting.

  Alistair followed her, helpless as he watched her gripping the toilet with so much force her knuckles were white.

  His fingers held her long hair back, and his hand flattened against her stomach to give her comfort, knowing Sophia would push him away. She was shy and embarrassed about being sick.

  I shouldn’t have indulged so much in their delicious spicy food. Between dry heaves and more vomit, she panted, “Go away.”

  What do you take me for? Alistair didn’t even answer. He didn’t care if she was ashamed of throwing up in front of him. He wouldn’t leave her alone. Worry creased his forehead.

  Ashley had told him Sophia had worked herself to the point of exhaustion and that only Ethan’s firmness had stopped it, having even decided to send her back with Ashley on Tuesday morning, worried about her tiredness. Sophia had protested, but not as much as they expected her to.