Chapter 14
Il Cammeo Dal Mare
Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you'd be better off instead,
If you could only . . .
~ John Mayer
Location: Amalfi Coast, Italy
Captain Donovan poured a fresh cup of Earl Grey before stepping outside onto the brick-colored ceramic tiled terrace of his newly renovated villa. A cool breeze blew in from the Tyrrhenian Sea as the sun lazily hung above the horizon. It offered little warmth. The lush greenery that normally blanketed the estate had faded into the mosaic gray rocky slopes of the isle lying dormant until spring. The architecture of the 19th Century five-bedroom villa, blended seamlessly into the landscape as though it were an organic engraving carved along the shoreline. Thus, Shane's newest residence was nearly indistinguishable from Capri's signature mountain gradients rippling towards the shimmering white beach of Marina Piccola. Locals described the property as Il Cammeo Dal Mare.
Shane sipped his beverage leisurely under the protective shroud of the covered terrace contemplating his next move as he surveyed the sparkling blue-green waters in the distance. At the corner of his right eye, Donovan spied a moving figure approaching several steps below from the row of Caprese-styled white columns lining the famous little piazza that formed the back perimeter of the villa's ground level.
"Impressive security detail, Laddie." His partnered observed. "The Russian is quite a brute."
Shane smiled.
"I see you've inspected the grounds thoroughly." He remarked as Peachy ascended the wrought iron stairs.
The faint sound of a drill could be heard from the floor above them.
"Yes, and by the looks of things, you've spared the agency no expense in acquiring the property." The elder spy replied wryly.
Shane set his cup and saucer atop the outdoor table and wagged his finger at his partner.
"Ah, no."
Disappearing into the home, Shane fetched the pot of tea for his mentor. He re-emerged smiling broadly at the skeptical expression plastered across her face.
"I channeled the paperwork through the ISA for the case, but the property is solely mine." He grinned as Peachy accepted the tea.
Perched on the second level terrace of the estate, Peachy absorbed the landscape as she updated her partner on the case. The morning was a productive one, having spent the time carefully placing the appropriate information into the hands of a reputable Senate member from another region.
"So, your friend was interested in the intel?" Shane inquired.
Setting her cup down on the table and propping her fingers on it, Peachy still harbored doubts over his approach to the case.
"Given the upheaval this second Referendum has caused, anyone who so much as sniffs of organized crime will be hog-tied, dragged through the streets, and tossed into the Tyrrhenian Sea!"
"To sleep with the fishes." Shane nodded assuredly. "I'm well aware of the costs."
Peachy scanned the rocky curvature of the shoreline that melted into the blue-green haze of the sea. The Laddie was as cocky and focused on this case as she had seen him in a long time. Professionally Shane hit all the right notes, but it bothered her given the growing desire Shane secretly possessed to reconcile with Kimberly.
"I don't see the competing crime interests letting go of their mother country simply because of public discontent in recent years." She noted candidly. "Which puts you in a precarious situation."
Shane followed her gaze across the canopy of olive trees that blanketed the grounds just below them.
"The Medici legacy lives on."
"And currently seeks sanctuary in Salem." She mused with a hint of caution peppering the observation.
"I know to tread lightly, Peach."
Shane spent most of the year chasing leads and performing gunrunning missions all over Europe and Northern Africa to establish himself as "Liam Doyle," an IRA associate with a reputation for dealing much sought after weaponry and blowing things up. A thick, authoritative file streamed through every government agency network labeling Doyle as a person of interest…sans visual image of course! Creating a shady character for cover provided the spy with an excellent advantage. However Donovan's dealings in Salem between the Bradys and the Dimeras created a nasty problem for the spy. As long as his latest contacts didn't connect his face to 'Shane Donovan,' the spy and those he loved were safe. Thus, Shane created an allusive mystique surrounding the infamous Doyle persona as locals whispered excitedly about the dark Irishman that graced their Mediterranean paradise.
Shane shuffled around the table, stopping at the steps to lean against the white stucco wall. Scanning towards the majestic piazza,
"We just need to keep our allies in the Italian government from losing their heads."
"If they don't lose their seats first." Peachy corrected.
The next national election was in March and Shane knew the biggest reason her contact would be of assistance was due to his own self-interests. Cracking down on corruption would secure re-election chances, but the flipside of the deal was if anything went awry, Shane would be branded the fall guy. It was a win-win for the politician, but risky business for the spy. Shane needed the senator to overlook a few things as the spy worked the system and in the process, Donovan would hand deliver a few prizes for the senator's campaign.
Peachy glanced over her shoulder towards her partner.
"Just don't get yourself killed in the process, Laddie." She requested grimly.
"That's why I have you." He charmingly replied.
Stepping away from the railing, she strolled around the table towards him. Patting his cheek lovingly, her eyes studied his face. Shane had sunk his teeth into this one, yet elements about this case bothered the elder spy. Dealing with rogue terror organizations was much simpler than dismantling an unholy alliance between factions of government and organized crime lords. The lines between government sanctioned actions opposed to criminality often blurred. Agents frequently defected to the other side. That certainly had been the case with Nickerson. What made Shane Donovan such a valuable asset to the ISA was the usual Achilles heels didn't apply to him. Coming from considerable wealth, bribery wasn't a viable source of blackmail. Power and prestige held little interest for the man. The only time Shane's professional life appeared dismal was during his marriage to Kimberly. She had been the one source Shane's enemies could successfully mine from. However, since returning to the field after his rehabilitation from the paralysis, surveillance chatter indicated Donovan's adversaries did not perceive Kimberly as a viable option anymore.
A subtle tap against Peachy's psyche birthed a sense of urgency for him to abort the case or wrap it up as soon as possible. The latter seemed woefully implausible! If Donovan's opposition caught wind of any hint of a rekindling love affair, the consequences could make the events of Miami and Jericho pale in comparison.
"It's safe to say that you have eyes on you now." She warned him in a low voice.
"Perfect!" Shane bellowed enthusiastically breaking the tension between them.
He pulled a handful of bugs out of his pocket.
"But I don't think these little house warming gifts are from the Senate."
Peachy abandoned her brew setting it down on the cobalt blue covered table. It was extremely difficult to deflect his enthusiasm when Shane purposely avoided issues concerning his personal life. Keenly she inspected the merchandise.
"Oh, I'm afraid those have private enterprise written all over them."
The persistent spy lightly tossed the collection into the air. Falling back into his hand, he balled his fist tightly.
"Precisely, and I'm returning the gift once I establish a meeting with Arlo."
"Oh, but that's bad form, Laddie." Peachy winked. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth."
A non-verbal cordial truce ensued.
Wrapping her arm around his,
"Are you going to show me around this place, or do I have to do my own snooping?"
Shane laughed heartily, patting her arm against his.
"We'll start at the ground level and work our way up." He gestured.
They strolled down the steps along the limestone pathway passing the white-columned piazza to their left. Various varieties of fig, ginger, and olive trees dotted the perimeter of the landscape. The canopy provided a barrier against prying eyes from adjacent properties or the shoreline below. Both passages led to the lower level terrace perfect for entertaining guests. Equipped with outdoor kitchen and wrought iron lounge seating situated throughout the ceramic terrace, Peachy inhaled the glorious panoramic views of the blue-green sea to her left. Passing the pool to their right, which was closed for the season, they entered the estate through double doors leading into a spacious entertaining area of elaborately patterned ceramic flooring, complete with two beautifully decorated guest bedrooms with adjoining bath. A wrought ironed curvature staircase invited Peachy to explore further as the two breezed through room to room, from the elongated formal living room with high vaulted ceilings accentuated with wooden beams, back through the dining and kitchen area to where their adventure began. Ever curious to the hum of drills reverberating overhead, Shane obliged his partner to investigate the top level meant for family sleeping quarters. When Peachy approached the master suite at the far end of the hall, she gasped. Stepping over crumpled plastic, she entered the bedroom with windows flanking the old stoned fireplace to her left and opposite from the entrance, double doors leading out to another covered terrace that allowed light to generously pour in. Shane nodded towards the Italian drilling two golden sconces on the wall above the marbled garden tub of the master bath to their right. He exited quickly, leaving them alone as Peachy thrust opened the doors and stepped out onto the terrace. Pivoting 180 degrees, she exclaimed:
"This is quite impressive, Laddie!"
Her eyes twinkled at the sight of beautifully carved crown moldings outlining the whitewashed walls. However furnishings were sparse. Frowning, Peachy observed,
"It needs a woman's touch."
Shane ignored the statement.
"You have to admit," His eyes surveying the house around them and then back to meet Peachy's gaze,
"It's the perfect locale for our cover."
Peachy studied the old rock façade of the estate, remnants of bougainvillea hanging along the old structure. Suddenly its significance hit her!
Shortly after regaining his memory and rescuing Kimberly from Winters, Shane secretly purchased the property for his lady love as a token of their renewed life together. The couple's celebration of their love involved expanding their little family.
"Filling the rafters of Donovan Manor with a whole brood of children!" He exclaimed exuberantly to her over the phone.
The intention was to present Il Cammeo Dal Mare an anniversary gift that year, but by the time the moment rolled around, Kimberly was already pregnant. A web of lies enveloped the two culminating in Kimberly's retreat to LA later that summer. It marred what should have been a happy time for the couple. The estate remained empty, forgotten until Shane signed onto his current case.
Peachy scanned the breathtaking views in front of her and back at her protégé.
"I still think it's more suited for its original purpose." She wisely replied.
Evening a few nights later
Peachy's experiment in the kitchen produced a hearty beef stew to fill empty stomachs and warm tired bones. Banishing Shane from the kitchen so she could clean up, Peachy sauntered into the living room to find him nestled in a leather chair, his feet propped on a matching ottoman. Cradling a glass of Port in his right hand, he glanced at his watch momentarily before resting his eyes towards the impressive ground to ceiling window across from him. His face wore a serious, far away look as he sorted through details of the case.
Shane's meeting with Arlo produced a significant development. The man's boss requested an order. Timed perfectly to correspond with the holidays, Shane could play a little 'cat & mouse' with the mysterious leader until well after the New Year. Peachy paused by the ornately carved, but sturdy wooden bar. Leaning against it, she poured herself a treat. The pop of the corked bottle and ensuing drip of liquid into the crystal echoed throughout the room.
"Pity this place isn't decorated for the holidays." She lamented aloud, breaking Shane's train of thought.
"They'll be plenty of time for merriment in a few days." He replied in a well-rehearsed faint Irish dialect-one supposedly from Belfast.
Peachy swirled the contents of her glass contemplating her reply. Her boss was clearly in no mood to discuss anything other than business. Using the barstool as a prop, she rested her elbow on the bar and treaded carefully.
"What are the terms?"
"Hopefully to make the arrangements aboard the yacht."
"That puts you at a disadvantage." She revealed skeptically.
Shane's eyes darted towards her for the first time.
"Not necessarily. Yes, I'll be on his turf. But…" He raised his finger. "By then we will know the identity, so he'll be more comfortable and more inclined to trust me."
"Could be a woman?" Peachy offered teasingly. She inhaled a heavy gulp of Port.
The corners of Shane's mouth turned ever so slightly as he peered at her from the side.
"True."
Taking a methodical sip,
"But I doubt it."
It was the first time the spy had cracked a smile through the whole trip. Even when entertaining assigned operatives and critical dignitaries, Shane's demeanor had been charming, but aloof. This merely heightened his attraction to the opposite sex and at one time resulted in a companion for any evening of his choosing. Now, Donovan remained detached and unaffected. Alone with him, the melancholy suffocated his companion.
"You'll have Libyan rebels on shore and the Mediterranean Sea at your back. How do you expect me to run tactical from that vantage point?"
"I don't." Shane replied firmly. "Though I have plenty of time to address this while baiting Arlo's boss. Whoever it is, will not expect me to jump at the first opportunity for a meeting."
Peachy narrowed her eyes.
"It may be a trap?"
"I fully expect it to be." He retorted confidently.
Shane glanced at his watch for the third time since she had entered the living area. Peachy sipped her Port slowly.
"Expecting a call?"
Shane shrugged his shoulders, but the drumming of his fingers against the armrest gave his impatient demeanor away. Peachy arched her brow.
"Oh, um Kimberly mentioned she…the children would phone." He replied in an attempt to sound nonchalant.
Peachy smiled faintly.
An abrupt lull in conversation signaled her cue, but her sympathetic gaze indicated motherly concern for his wellbeing.
"I'm perfectly content to sit here alone. Go to bed!" He admonished half-heartedly.
Once the clicking sound of Peachy's shoes against the ceramic flooring subsided, Shane exhaled laboriously. False bravado evaporated into deep thought as Shane lifted the glass to his lips. Elements of the case faded into the shadows as his soul poured over the same sequence of events leading towards that pivotal moment in their bedroom. He could have stopped her. But instead, he let her go waiting until she disappeared before the words narrowly escaped his lips…
"Good-bye, my love." ~1990
Slowly his mind drifted…
They were experts at running from their pasts, their secrets, vulnerability that each cleverly hid from the outside world. Despite their well-fortified walls, when their paths crossed, nothing was ever the same.
Sometime around Gabrielle's emergence into their lives, Shane began to run.
"But from what?"
Shane recalled resenting the reminder of his existence before Kim roaring into his present when Gabrielle showed up. Matters made worse when the consequence of his casual affair surfaced in the form of a rebellious daughter-one who Kim welcomed with open arms. His guilt overcompensated with indulgence fueling the fire; and by a cruel twist of fate, Kimberly suffered the most.
"You should've been the one that maniac threw across the room!"
Living with the constant reminder of how Eve's actions precipitated the death of their baby girl, created a heavy burden upon his soul.
"It doesn't change the fact that I lost my baby because I was trying to take care of your daughter!" Kim gasped, gulping the air as tears streamed down her face.
"Because you and her mother had run off. You weren't there!"~1988
Compounding the issue was watching Kimberly selflessly nurturing the troubled teen after the irreversible damage had been done and predictably Gabrielle fled the scene.
The truth twisted and turned much like the serpentine paths that led from his villa to the beach. While they had weathered the storm Miami created, Shane recognized it was partially due to the positive outcome of Andrew's kidnapping more than his ability to settle the war within his heart over Victor's involvement in their lives. To this day, Shane harbored a burning desire to avenge Kimberly's honor over the matter.
Thus, the battle still raged within him when it came to those shattered events. Losing his baby girl in the process of sorting out the tangled web that had been spun in the months preceding the infant's death, created an unshakable void in Shane's soul. There was something so inhumanely unnatural about burying a child, even a child who had barely entered the world! He and Kimberly reconciled in the following months, but the events chipped away at them from within. They were happy for a while. Even with the upheaval his twin caused, the two managed to meet the challenges together. But Carly's ghost lingered in the shadows. It had become second nature for Shane to immediately recognize a little girl in the airport, the park, wherever life took him who was just around the age she would be in the present. Though it was never discussed, he knew Kim performed the same instinctual ritual.
Like tiny cracks in a home's foundation, the causal effects of losing a child whittled away unnoticed until the next catalyst surfaced sending their foundation of love crashing before their very eyes.
"For once, couldn't you've just said no to the ISA?" ~1988
The familiar request echoed again, a year later with the Jericho assignment. Natural fears of loss resurfaced in a different form. One thing he knew of Kim, she craved stability given her traumatic history. He doubted she could articulate the need in that manner, but Shane recognized it clearly in retrospect.
"This case is different…" Kim offered ominously.
At the time, Shane shrugged off Kim's anxieties too focused on the pesky little thorn whose name was Adam.
"My gut feeling says otherwise!" She insisted. ~1989
It had been maddening to argue over her irrational defense of the pest, but in focusing on Adam, Shane overlooked the enemy creeping past his defenses. Looking back Shane realized Kimberly's resistance might have tied into her feelings over the instability that plagued their lives because of the impending case. She had been anxious and for good reason, despite Shane's insistence to the contrary. As his fellow agents in Cairo marveled that year,
"Donovan, you have it all! How must you do it?"
He allowed the memory to accompany him on an otherwise lonely night. The estate and all its occupants asleep but the owner, he roamed the length of the main floor for inspection.
"I wish that didn't sound like a good-bye." Kim lamented after their lovemaking by the fire. ~1989
Shane sighed regretfully as he flipped the switch off casting him into darkness. He meandered up the winding, yet ornate wrought iron staircase to the third floor of the estate. Shuffling down the hall towards the far door to his right, Shane paused for a moment to take in the view as he entered the master suite. The moon almost full, its hollow glow flowed freely into the room through the transparent panes of glass from the double doors opposite to where he stood.
The phone rang, breaking the oppressive silence.
"Donovan."
"Daddy?" Jeannie's angelic voice, light and full of devotion cascaded over the line filling the desolate room with warmth.
"Yes, sweetheart." He answered and listened to his little girl talk about her day. As Jeannie prattled on, Shane sat on the hearth of the fireplace. Although inviting, the plush platform bed opposite him offered little comfort. He couldn't understand half of what she told him, but gathered Kimberly had taken them to the mall to sit on Santa's knee. Once Andrew took the phone, mystery solved. Patiently their father listened to each child offering commentary and sharing what little of his life he could with them. The room still drafty, he lit the wood producing flames, which reflected off the pale blue-gray Egyptian cotton comforter adorning the king-size bed.
"Will you have to work while we are there?" Andrew implored.
"Of course not!" Shane assured the boy. "I have all kinds of things planned for us!"
The conversation veered off into a visual conjecture between father and son as Andrew added details to each suggestion offered. The two carried on a spirited little conversation until the boy abruptly bid a 'good-night' to his father so he could play with his friend before dinner. There simply wasn't enough time with Andrew to instill all the sage advice his own father had given.
"Love you. See you soon." The depth of love Shane felt for his children caused him to choke on his words.
Shane slowly slid the phone away from his ear and started to press the 'End' button.
"Shane?"
The sound of her voice jolted him out of his stupor.
"I'm here."
"I am so sorry we kept you waiting." She began hurriedly.
Kimberly bustled around the kitchen prepping dinner and wiping off counters as the children paraded around her.
"There was a wreck on the 134 and traffic was horrible! Andrew was thirsty, Jeannie had to use the bathroom, and we were literally stuck until traffic moved again and we reached our exit!"
"Soaked in a bit more scenery that you had planned, did we?"
His dry wit amused her.
"More than I care to with two impatient children in the car who are clamoring to talk to their daddy." She explained.
"Kimberly," He soothed. "An explanation isn't necessary. As long as you were not the one involved in the accident..."
"But I couldn't bare the thought of you thinking we stood you up." She interrupted still absorbed in her tale.
"And keeping you up at a most ungodly hour!" Kimberly added cradling the phone in one hand and sliding the lasagna into the oven with the other.
"There's no way of ascertaining that." He objected.
The defiance in his voice sparked a giggle within her.
"Whatever you say, but…"
Shane strolled away from his perch along the fireplace. The empathy radiating from her voice affected him deeply.
"Captn', your voice gives you away."
Reaching the double doors, he propped his arm against the pane of glass and rested his weary head against it. A crescent moon peeked around the wispy clouds in the distance casting the Faraglioni Rocks into darkness.
Closing his eyes, Shane visualized everything he heard as Kimberly discussed the children and their upcoming trip. He remembered their routine quite well despite the time that past since their married days together. Over the line, the tempo of the children's voices rose and fell on cue to video playing on the TV. Kimberly worked for Dr. Strickland at the clinic that day, so he knew she was dressed professionally in either a blue or green silk blouse with matching pencil skirt that accentuated her tiny waist and the curvature of her backside beautifully. With almost a hundred percent probability of being correct, Shane guessed her heels were promptly discarded to the corner when she walked through the door. She'd probably prop her feet up as soon as the children were put to bed. He adored the way Kim looked sprawled out before him- smiling impishly at him with her legs resting on top his lap. He should be there to massage her feet- to kiss them and feel her soft smooth legs against his fingertips. Then, trace the curve of her calves as expertly he slid his hands up his wife's skirt. Anticipating Kimberly's gratifying gasp in response…
"Shane?"
He cleared his throat tossing his shirt onto a chair nearby. Suddenly he wasn't cold anymore. Stepping out onto the terrace, the cool night air restored his senses.
"Yes?"
"Do I need to arrange a cab?" Her voice was slightly strained.
Obviously Kimberly asked the question multiple times.
"No, darling." He answered apologetically. "I have a car set to bring you and the children to me."
"You're a million miles away." Kimberly observed gently. "This must be some assignment."
"Something like that." He murmured as the fleeting sensation dissipated into the past. Yet, how was it that her perfume permeated the midnight air around him?
"And?" Kimberly prodded.
Something in his voice coaxed her out of her protective shell.
"You know I can't discuss the case with you." He reminded her.
"Yes, but maybe you can give me a hint?" She asked, peering out her window.
"Kim."
"Paint a picture of your locale, that is?" She ventured hopefully.
The sun was beginning to set. Broad strokes of yellow, orange, and purples filled the horizon from the coast to the St. Gabriel Mountains. The window pane still gave off heat generated from the afternoon sun, but Kimberly felt a shiver run through her as the evening shadows crept towards the back of her home.
"Ok, fair enough." He smiled over the line finding her curiosity alluring. Feeling a bit cheeky,
" I'm on one of seven continents."
Kimberly rolled her pretty blue-green eyes. Their distance failed to mask her lack of amusement. Shane grinned victoriously.
"I think we can eliminate Antarctica." She remarked dryly.
"You never know?" He suggested slyly. "You'd be surprised at the level of international espionage occurring between polar bears along a floating glacier."
Kimberly's laughter flowed over the line inducing a warm smile from the spy.
"Sounds dangerous." She mused. "So it's cold?"
"Hmmm, depends on your perception."
"Tis true. I saw someone wearing a sweater today." Kimberly joked. "Is there snow on the ground?"
"Uh, no."
"Is it tropical?"
"Hmmm…" He teased. "Could be?"
The demanding hum of an oven timer abruptly interrupted their flirtatious exchange.
"Oh Shane, I have to go!" Kim exclaimed.
And away from the speaker,
"Andrew, Jeannie, wash your hands!"
The inviting cacophony of scrambling children, clinking dishes, and slamming cabinets invaded their intimate exchange.
"Good-night, Shane." She cooed breathlessly.
A subtle 'click' and the spy left alone once more with dead air between him and the receiver- shut out of a world he once inhabited.
"Good-night, my love." He whispered back into the night where there would be no risk of injury.
Setting the phone aside, he stood for a moment gazing into the foamy blackness of the sea.
"Well if not your thoughts, it must have been the water that consumed you…"
By the cruel twist of fate's knife, he had landed exactly where he began almost ten years before…
"You homesick?" She inquired compassionately.
The sincerity and care that illuminated her delicate face melted his stiff resolve. Shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to feign indifference,
"Tis' the Season."
The melancholy dripping from his lips only amplified his poor disguise. Yet, she reciprocated with the same delicate tact he showed her.
"Yeah, Christmas and all that." ~Dec.24, 1984
Slowly he retreated back into the bedroom. The fire succumbed to the effects of neglect-its embers desperately clinging to life as Shane pulled back the covers and retired to the vacant bed. In a few days, they would all be under the same roof. HIS family, yet with an interloper playing the role that was rightfully his, all because of his bloody little pride!
"You really do miss England don't you?"
"Yes, but its not really home anymore…" Pondering her inquiry with a pensive sigh. "At least not like you Bradys think of home anyway."
Listening intently,
"What do you mean?"
The spy had been interrogated by the best in the business-big burly types who craved the power and dominance. Not one of them cracked him, yet this inspiring non-threatening creature managed to unearth his deepest vulnerability simply by dazzling him with her genuine care to his wellbeing. Now he struggled to stave off her inquisitive nature.
"Don't you get lonely?" She asked empathetically.
"I've got my work." He assured her with a lilt in his voice. The faint lap of the water mocked him as he assured her,
"That's enough to keep me busy."
"Aaah…" She mused perceptively, her eyebrow raised. Not buying his bravado,
"Is it?"
He surrendered. She bested him and they both knew it! With no choice but to meet those pretty blues, he exhaled in defeat,
"Well, I have to admit it would be nice to have a family…"
The statement purely sincere and feeling frightfully like foreshadow, he abruptly abandoned the rock they sat on and paced a few feet behind her on the pier. Adjusting his gray plaid scarf to create some distance-both emotionally and physically, he confessed,
"Someday during the holiday season."
Kimberly smiled knowingly as an idea occurred to her.
"You mean like a part-time family?"
He shoved his hands into his jacket pocket.
"Yes, I suppose so…" He replied hesitantly.
Her girlish giggled rippled across his psyche much like the current against the pier that cold enchanting evening…
"Well, you won't believe this, but I think I know the perfect candidates for the job…"
Frustrated, Shane sat upright tossing his pillow across the room and flipped on the lamp to his right. Staring at the end table where his piece lay, he heaved a labored sigh. He performed this simple ritual several times in the past three years. Methodically the spy removed a small velvet box from the drawer. Opening the delicate lid, he surveyed its contents in familiar fashion. Tucked away in her signature Victorian stationary that was beginning to show wear and yellow with age rested the pristinely preserved Cornelian shelled cameo trimmed in antiqued gold. It sparkled in a brilliance only matched by the light in her eyes when he presented it to her as a token of their love many years before. His eyes traveled through each handwritten word from the wounded heart of a rejected wife. One last desperate attempt to reach him, when all others failed to do so…
Sept. 4, 1990
Dear Shane,
I know this is a family heirloom… With our situation being what it is right now,
I don't feel like I have the right to hold onto it anymore. I wish it were different.
I wish so many things. But no matter how hard I wish, it doesn't change the way things are,
or how it looks like they'll stay? I love you with all my heart. I always have, and I always will.
And I hope someday you'll find someone very special-someone you can give the cameo to
with the same look you had in your eyes when you gave it to me.
I hope that someone makes you happy, Shane. I wish you love.
Always,
Kimberly
The sting of her words and the conciliatory gesture through them affected Shane to this day. Things should have never escalated to a level where Kim believed she was unworthy of the cameo. Yes, they had made mistakes, but neither of them had lost their love for one another. It's not like he told her to leave, but the silence spoke volumes.
He never offered her a reason to stay...
"What happened to us Kim?"
"We both made mistakes along the way." She inhaled mournfully. The allusion to her affair with Cal saturated the admission.
Her voice cracked with emotion.
"But I know that I made the biggest mistake of all and it's going to change our lives forever."~1990
Shane held the cameo to his lips pondering her words.
"Oh, Kim." He whispered.
Now, far away from the marriage bed, Shane cursed the pride that kept him from fighting when the outcome might have mattered. The time and distance translated into a web of lies, betrayal, and pain on both their parts. In hindsight, Shane chastised himself for being naïve enough to believe that a man of his profession could literally 'have it all.' For a spy, people were either assets or liabilities. Apart, Kimberly lived a life of stability as an asset to him; together, she immediately slipped into an explosive liability. The spy threw back the covers and sauntered towards the hidden safe in the wall securing the heirloom into its sacred catacomb. Reluctantly he stopped wrestling with the ghosts of his past. The spy knew the right course of action; he simply resented the dug grave he resided in. Flipping the switch that shrouded him into darkness, Shane shuddered at the accuracy of Kim's jovial suggestion so very long ago…
"Oh, you mean like a family for hire?" He wondered aloud amused by her suggestion. Shane adored her mischievous smile, the way her eyes sparkled, and how Kim's natural generosity shined through.
"Well, one that wouldn't mind having you around…"
She paused for effect.
" Just for a few days…only around the holidays…"