Crescent Cove
Lake Mead, NV
December 31
The clock on the wall read 11:40 p.m. The only light in the living room came the floor lamp that cast a dim, yellow hue over the end of the couch where Amira was tucked under a blanket with a book. For what seemed like a very rare occasion, she was completely alone. Spencer and Garrett had the New Year off, and she had managed to give the rest of her detail the slip, except for the two that had driven her to the lake house. Paul was also away, visiting family somewhere far off enough that he was gone for several days. So, there was nothing there for her but blessed quiet and seclusion- an opportunity to reflect on a year that she had almost completely missed.
It hardly seemed possible that Corrado had been buried there by the lake for more than six months now; especially since Amira could really only remember about three of those months in pieces and parts. The medication and therapy with Dr. Mitchell had done a lot, but hadn't managed to restore her memory for a majority of the time that the delirium had taken away. That was, for better or worse, to be expected. Amira knew that she had done some gruesome things; and while she didn't regret them given the circumstances, she found it somewhat unsettling that she had been so far out of control of her own facilities for so long. On the other hand, she had acquired some deadly skills that Amira imagined Corrado would have been terribly proud of. She grinned to herself, remembering the first time she picked up one of the karambits from the display case, asking him what they were. Who could have known that she would become so very deadly with them? That the newspapers would call her the 'psycho babe with the blades' in their sensationalized reports?
As the time drew closer to midnight, Amira took the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, then padded on bare feet to the wet bar by the entrance to the kitchen. While Garrett hadn't expressly forbidden using alcohol with her Thorazine regimen, Amira had been unwilling to take any chances. But, it was New Year's Eve after all. She was going to bed fairly soon anyway. She selected a bottle of brandy and took a glass from the cabinet. Pouring herself a small drink, her mind wandered back to a memory she could recall clearly- the afternoon she met Tyki Mikk. Then, she was just a scared girl, barely 21 years old and had just seen her first murder with her brother blown away right in front of her. Shaking like a leaf on a fall breeze, she'd dove into the floor of the Las Vegas boss's vehicle to hide. Out of pure luck, he had shown her kindness; and given her a completely new life.
Amira found herself on the patio with her glass. She stood on the bricks, watching the moon reflect silently on the lake. In the corner of her eye, she could see the tall, sturdy oak under which Corrado rested. A cool breeze swept through her hair, and she closed her eyes just as a few fireworks popped off across the cove. The new year had begun. With a little smile to herself, Amira raised her glass. She thought of Tyki, and of Tony and Meadow. She thought of Spencer and Garrett, and Nick, and her new young friend Viridia. And, she thought of Corrado. Taking a drink of the warm, sweet brandy, she took all of these people and thoughts as close to her heart as she could; and swore that she would never let another year pass that memories would escape her.
Once she was back inside, she sat down at the desk in the living room and took a small journal from her weekend bag. It hadn't been written in yet. Taking a pen, she opened the book and began to write.
-----------
January 1, 1957
Happy New Year from Lake Mead. I have a busy year ahead of me....
|
