Chapter Fifteen

Letty stood and stretched, picked up her bag and slipped it on her shoulder, and joined the line to carefully climb down from the Greyhound bus. On the pavement, she stepped aside from the line and looked around, squinting in the late Florida afternoon sunshine – and there he was, solidly conventional, a welcoming smile lighting his face.

Christian spread his arms wide in invitation as he stepped forward, and she couldn't help but run the last few steps and fall into his hug, flinging her arms around his neck – and unexpectedly bursting into tears. He understood, of course, and simply tightened his arms around her torso, holding her steady as she sobbed into his shoulder, ignoring the echoing tears tracing his own cheeks.

After establishing where each of them was (Letty by the same method she'd used before – texting him her phone's map location), Christian had purchased her a Greyhound bus ticket – the station was only a dozen blocks from the McDonald's – and then augmented her funds by a couple hundred more dollars via Western Union, which had a counter at the bus station, for food and a change of clothes. He had offered a plane ticket, but she hated flying. Besides, there was something she needed to do along the way, that would take more time than a few hours' flight.

Letty Raines Pereira was even less introspective than her husband – there was far too much pain and anguish in her past and her soul to ever be able to poke at it in search of answers. She was a creature of action and reaction, not reflection. Nevertheless, she had used the several days it took the bus to bring her across the country to review her life, carefully cataloguing every mistake, every binge, every bad check, every time she had been busted for shoplifting or conning people or anything else – every single step that had led to her losing Jacob, first his custody, then his respect. She was determined to use the catalogue to reinforce her decision to never drink, take drugs, or steal again. It was a bleak prospect for the self-indulgent, self-loathing thirty-five-year-old who had only felt alive when she was in Javier's arms, or when she was high, or putting on another personality along with a wig. She was certain that between missing Javier like her own skin, and the straightjacket she was putting on her own behavior, she would never feel the slightest happiness ever again. But it would be worth it. NO ONE would EVER be able to take Javier's baby away from her arms. NOBODY.

Getting herself under control again, Letty eased back from Christian's hug, wiping her face with her fingers and giving him the best approximation of a smile she could manage at the moment.

"Thank you. For rescuing me – again," she added wryly.

His smile remained natural and unforced. "My pleasure. I mean that." He pointed to her bag. "Is that all your stuff?"

"All my worldly possessions!" she replied. "I have finally learned how to pack light – really light." Although she had augmented her wardrobe with a quick stop at a thrift store on the way to the bus station, no one would suspect her bag held any clothes at all.

"Then let's go!" he laughed, and, keeping one friendly, supportive arm around her shoulders, turned and led her to his car, an old beatup Ford four-door sedan, sky-blue. By mutual, unspoken accord, they kept the talk to light inconsequentials.

First stop was a local burger joint for dinner. As they sat down, Letty reached across the table and briefly covered his hand with hers. "Christian... I'm sorry about Rhonda." She shrugged regret. "It's no secret that she and I didn't get along, but still... she was your wife."

"I hated that woman," came his low, shocking, confessional reply, then, "But I also loved her. The classic love-hate relationship, I guess. But it has made the whole process... very difficult."

"How did it happen?"

"How do you think?" His voice was dry as a desert. "She was driving home in the Sprinter in the rain, going too fast, and skidded off the road, down an embankment, and into a riverbed. She didn't drown, though – there was no water in her lungs. Apparently she died on impact."

Letty shuddered, and changed the subject. "So how did you end up here in Panama City?"

He grinned. "I used to come down here with my family as a kid on vacation, and I always loved it here. So when I was casting around for a place to settle after the accident, it popped into my head, and seemed a natural. I had the rest of that half million, and the insurance on the Sprinter – and Rhonda's life insurance – so I was able to set myself up pretty well. I still have to work, but I'm not at subsistence level."

"And no family to pull you anywhere else?"

"Not anymore," he replied, firmly closing the subject and taking a bite of his burger.

"So what am I doing here?"

Christian gave her a long, level look as he chewed and swallowed. "You need a place to land – a place to start over. And you need somebody to look after you, to help you. I want to do that – I care about you. And I do better when I have someone to look after."

"Have you ever thought about getting a dog?" she asked wryly, dodging the mushy stuff like she always did.

"I used to have one," he replied seriously. "He died suddenly, right about the time a particular striking, extremely infuriating brunette first walked into my office and kinda took over my life." He paused, tilting his head as though giving it some serious thought. "I may get another one, though."

"You should," she encouraged. "Let me off the hook." But she wasn't serious. He could tell she was touched in spite of her flippancy.

Burgers eaten, they walked across the parking lot to the grocery store, and Christian followed Letty dutifully around with the cart, as she loaded it up (on his firm request) with her favorite things to eat and drink – and all the toiletries she needed to feel human. She wasn't feeling up to cosmetics, but he threatened to throw a tantrum unless she at least picked up the bare minimum. Half-tempted to refuse just to see him do it, she gave in anyway and found half a dozen cheap make-do's.

At last, the old Ford pulled into the driveway of a typical small Florida bungalow in a typical run-down Florida neighborhood filled with similar-sized homes in all styles, all built several decades before. A fashionable, trendy, upscale area this was not. "Welcome to Panama City Beach!" he told her happily, not a trace of sarcasm in sight.

Taking all the bags inside to the kitchen (it took three trips), she helped him put away the cold stuff before he said to leave the rest and gave her a quick tour. It didn't take long – a single great room in the middle stretched from the kitchen in the front to the patio door in the back. One end held two bedrooms: he had turned the one in front into an office. Leading her through the intervening three-quarter bathroom (shower only, no tub), they came into one with bedroom furniture, which he pronounced was now hers.

Bedding sets were still in their plastic cases on the queen-size bed alongside bare pillows. "I didn't open them up, because I wasn't sure you'd like them. We can exchange them if you don't."

Letty picked up the big comforter set and looked at the picture, smiling. "No, I do – I really do. You did good!"

Christian grinned. "I thought you'd like bold colors – but you didn't seem the frilly type."

She grimaced. "Definitely not. But I really like these."

"Then let's make the bed, for heaven's sake!" As they did so, laughing, one on each side of the bed, Letty couldn't help but reflect that she and Javier had never once done anything so... domestic. But then, they'd only stayed in hotels or Air B&B's during their short time together. She banished the thought firmly after wondering briefly if Javier would have done so well picking out sheets on his own.

Plumping the last pillows in their new cases and tossing them up to the head, Letty paused to take it in and grinned at her friend. "Thanks," she said simply. Her eyes widened then, and she turned completely around to face the far wall for the first time, her mouth dropping open. A very familiar large painting was hanging there – the one from his old office, where they'd first met. She remembered the name, "Wanderer Above a Sea of Fog". "You didn't!"

"I did," Christian replied smugly. "I remembered how much you liked it, and thought you might like to have it in here to look at."

"I can't believe you still have it."

"Well, it's been through some shit, but I like it enough myself to keep it. Even if it did have to sit in storage for a year."

"Thanks," she said with quiet emphasis, and he nodded, then held out his hand again.

"One more bit for tonight," he announced, and led her through the great room to his side. His bedroom was comfortably masculine, well-furnished with heavy wood furniture. That wasn't his goal, however: he turned her towards the master bath and gave her a little push. And there, in the corner, was a positively decadent deep oval jacuzzi bathtub.

Letty's jaw dropped again. "Oh, now I'm jealous!"

He laughed. "That tub is one of the top reasons I bought this particular house. And it's all yours – use it whenever you like."

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely. Would now be too soon?"