~*Part Three*~
Arnold almost missed her.
He'd been sitting in his Jeep for at least 15 minutes in the parking lot of the apartment complex Jake had directed him.
He'd been trying to get up his courage to knock on her door, mentally rehearsing the questions he would ask her, the words he
wanted to say to her.
Taking advantage of the nice weather on this April weekend morning, two well-built, young guys were washing and waxing a
classic '67 Mustang in a corner of the lot. Arnold was aawaye that they had noticed him sitting there. They probably wondered
why he hadn't gottne out his truck.
He drew a deep breath, opened his door and climbed out. He had just taken a step toward the building when he spotted a
woman hurrying down the walk, dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her.
Had he not seen the photographs, he might not have recognized her. SHe looked very different from the woman who had
haunted his dreams for so long. He was well aware that he had changed, too, though his own changes were mostly internal.
He frowned at the sight of her suticase. It was obvious that she was running again. But why? Had she somehow been
tipped off that he'd located her? And if so, why the hell was she so determined to avoid him?
What in God's name had he done to her?
He stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "Hello, Helga."
Her face had already been ashen. At the sight of him,. it bleached to a deathly pale. He grimly identified her expression
as horror-stricken. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She seemed literally unable to speak. His automatic response to
her obvious distress was concern. The protective instincts he'd almost forgotten kicken in, and he was about to say something
to reassure. Then he remembered he hell she'd put him through, and a wave of hurt and fury crashed through him.
"Don't look at me like that, damn it," he snapped. "I have a right to some answers."
"Please," she managed to say, her voice thin, breathless. "You have to leave. You have to go now."
He scowled. "I'll leave when I'm ready. First, you're going to answer my questions."
SHe shook her head, edging to one side of the walkway as though prepared to bolt around him. He saw her gaze shift quickly
from him to the praking lot, obviously thinking of the distance to her car.
"Please, Arnold," she whispered, almost pleadingly. "Go home."
"Home?" he repeated bitterly, thinking of that torturous afternoon two and a half years ago when he'd returned home so
eagerly only to have his dreams smashed. "You really think I'm going to leave that easily now that I've found you?"
"You have to," she insisted, an edge of hysteria in her voice. "Leave me alone. I don't want you near me!"
He was rather surprised to discover that she could still hurt him, after all these years. He'd thought she'd done all the
damage she could do the day she'd walked out on him. It seemed he'd been wrong.
"Why, Helga?" he demanded roughly. "What did I do to you?"
She shook her head. "I have to go."
She moved to step around him. Gabe reached out instinctively to stop her, his hand closing around her upper arm, which
felt thinner than he remembered. His touch wan't gentle, but he didn't harm her. Even as hurt and angry as he was, he would
never use his strength and size against her. And yet, the moment he touched her, Helga began to scream.
"What the---" Arnold began.
"Hey!" The two young men who'd been pampering the Mustang dropped their cloths and sprinted toward them.
"Let go of her, mister!!" one of them shouted.
Arnold automatically released his grip, and held his hands nonthreateningly away from her.
"I'm not hurting her," he said. "She's--"
Helga was already running, the suitcase bumping along behind her.
"Please," she gasped to her would-be rescuers as she passed them. "Hold him here for just a few minutes. Just long enough
for me to get away."
Arnold's instinctive movement after her was cut off when one of the guys took him down in a graceful tackle that must have
been perfected through years of football trianing. Arnold's breath left him in a hard whoosh when he hit the concrete, the
muscular young man on top of him.
He struggled to get up. "Let go of me, damn it. She's my wife!!" he said furiously.
Desperation added strength to his movements. If he lost her now, who knew how long it would be until he located her again?
If ever.
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~*End of Part Three*~
Hope you like it! I think this is also another cliffhanger thingy. Well, please R&R. I'm trying to reach 15 reviews before
the end of this week. So if I get maybe a few more reviews, I'll give you the rest of the chapter(s). I'm almost done with
Chapter One. So please stay tuned for Part Four. Thank you.
3 ~*Silver SpriTe*~ ^_~
Arnold almost missed her.
He'd been sitting in his Jeep for at least 15 minutes in the parking lot of the apartment complex Jake had directed him.
He'd been trying to get up his courage to knock on her door, mentally rehearsing the questions he would ask her, the words he
wanted to say to her.
Taking advantage of the nice weather on this April weekend morning, two well-built, young guys were washing and waxing a
classic '67 Mustang in a corner of the lot. Arnold was aawaye that they had noticed him sitting there. They probably wondered
why he hadn't gottne out his truck.
He drew a deep breath, opened his door and climbed out. He had just taken a step toward the building when he spotted a
woman hurrying down the walk, dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her.
Had he not seen the photographs, he might not have recognized her. SHe looked very different from the woman who had
haunted his dreams for so long. He was well aware that he had changed, too, though his own changes were mostly internal.
He frowned at the sight of her suticase. It was obvious that she was running again. But why? Had she somehow been
tipped off that he'd located her? And if so, why the hell was she so determined to avoid him?
What in God's name had he done to her?
He stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "Hello, Helga."
Her face had already been ashen. At the sight of him,. it bleached to a deathly pale. He grimly identified her expression
as horror-stricken. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She seemed literally unable to speak. His automatic response to
her obvious distress was concern. The protective instincts he'd almost forgotten kicken in, and he was about to say something
to reassure. Then he remembered he hell she'd put him through, and a wave of hurt and fury crashed through him.
"Don't look at me like that, damn it," he snapped. "I have a right to some answers."
"Please," she managed to say, her voice thin, breathless. "You have to leave. You have to go now."
He scowled. "I'll leave when I'm ready. First, you're going to answer my questions."
SHe shook her head, edging to one side of the walkway as though prepared to bolt around him. He saw her gaze shift quickly
from him to the praking lot, obviously thinking of the distance to her car.
"Please, Arnold," she whispered, almost pleadingly. "Go home."
"Home?" he repeated bitterly, thinking of that torturous afternoon two and a half years ago when he'd returned home so
eagerly only to have his dreams smashed. "You really think I'm going to leave that easily now that I've found you?"
"You have to," she insisted, an edge of hysteria in her voice. "Leave me alone. I don't want you near me!"
He was rather surprised to discover that she could still hurt him, after all these years. He'd thought she'd done all the
damage she could do the day she'd walked out on him. It seemed he'd been wrong.
"Why, Helga?" he demanded roughly. "What did I do to you?"
She shook her head. "I have to go."
She moved to step around him. Gabe reached out instinctively to stop her, his hand closing around her upper arm, which
felt thinner than he remembered. His touch wan't gentle, but he didn't harm her. Even as hurt and angry as he was, he would
never use his strength and size against her. And yet, the moment he touched her, Helga began to scream.
"What the---" Arnold began.
"Hey!" The two young men who'd been pampering the Mustang dropped their cloths and sprinted toward them.
"Let go of her, mister!!" one of them shouted.
Arnold automatically released his grip, and held his hands nonthreateningly away from her.
"I'm not hurting her," he said. "She's--"
Helga was already running, the suitcase bumping along behind her.
"Please," she gasped to her would-be rescuers as she passed them. "Hold him here for just a few minutes. Just long enough
for me to get away."
Arnold's instinctive movement after her was cut off when one of the guys took him down in a graceful tackle that must have
been perfected through years of football trianing. Arnold's breath left him in a hard whoosh when he hit the concrete, the
muscular young man on top of him.
He struggled to get up. "Let go of me, damn it. She's my wife!!" he said furiously.
Desperation added strength to his movements. If he lost her now, who knew how long it would be until he located her again?
If ever.
`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
~*End of Part Three*~
Hope you like it! I think this is also another cliffhanger thingy. Well, please R&R. I'm trying to reach 15 reviews before
the end of this week. So if I get maybe a few more reviews, I'll give you the rest of the chapter(s). I'm almost done with
Chapter One. So please stay tuned for Part Four. Thank you.
3 ~*Silver SpriTe*~ ^_~