There's Always Tomorrow (Immortal Series) (20 page)

Tony looked up
at the black sky, the stars now partially hidden behind a cloudbank, and
stiffened his spine.
 
“I was proud,
Sophie.
 
My son, Swift Pony, had
become a brave.
 
His small knife
found a home in the soldier’s neck.
 
He collapsed before remounting his horse, and was dead before they left
camp.
 
He had been an officer.
 
I was glad.”

Sophie was
crying with her husband.
 
“What
about your little girl?
 
What
became of her?
 
Who took care of
her?”

“Spotted Fawn
was trampled by the soldier’s outgoing horses.
 
They were in a hurry to make their escape.”

Tony’s whole
body was shaking with emotion.
 
All
these years, he had carried this anger and this overwhelming grief.
 
He hadn’t fully dealt with the
senseless slaughter of his family.
 
Now was the time to let it go.

Tony removed
his shirt and walked to the edge of the ridge.
 
He raised his arms to the sky and began to pray to Wankan
Tanka, in a language, strange and foreign to Sophie.
 
He unsheathed his knife, a gift from Silver Leaf, and
dragged it across his chest, leaving a thin, red line in his flesh.
 
He continued to speak in the Lakota
language, then he lowered his arms.

Tony turned to
look back at his wife, and she saw he was smiling.
 
Finally, there was closure.

He took a deep
breath and gave Sophie a long, hard kiss.
 
“I love you so very much, sweetheart.
 
You give me a reason to want to live.
 
Having you here, with me, makes it
possible for me to say goodbye.
 
Thank you, sugar.”
 
He
smiled.

“Oh, one other
thing,” he said, as an afterthought.
 
“You might find it interesting to know about the one time I saw General
Armstrong Custer.
 
It was his last
battle.”
 
Tony grinned.
 
“I didn’t kill him, but I saw him
fall.
 
I rode with my Lakota
brothers that day, and to this day, I think he was a prick.”

“Tony!” Sophie
scolded.
 
“Not everyone feels that
way.
 
It was a terrible day.”

Tony
nodded.
 
“It was at that.
 
Especially for the Custer family.”
 
He smiled broadly.

“You’re
impossible,” Sophie conceded.

* * *

The rest of the
week was spent on the back of a horse or in a bed.
 
Tony now remembered his life spent with the Lakota people,
with fondness.
 
He allowed himself
to picture their happy, smiling faces.
 
He recalled the young braves practicing their skills and trying to impress
the pretty, dark-eyed maidens.
 
He
lovingly pictured his gentle wife and his beautiful children.
 
He knew he would see them again.
 
His life had been blessed for having
had them in it.
 
Tony had been a
very lucky man.

The lengthy
honeymoon period was coming to a close, or at least the traveling portion of it
was.

Sophie
sighed.
 
“But why can’t we just
keep going?
 
Do we have to go back
to the city?”

“Well,
darling.
 
It is true, you have
married a wealthy man, but this man has to do something with his life.
 
It’s time to get back to work.
 
I feel it’s important to get back to
New York.
 
I think Grant’s had
enough time to calm down.
 
Don’t
ya’ think?”

“Well, I don’t
know.
 
He was really spooked.
 
Almost as spooked as you’ll be.”
 
Sophie continued to pack the last of
her bags.

Tony put his
bag on the floor and looked at his wife.
 
“What did you mean by that?
 
Has Grant called?”
 
Tony was
on alert.

Sophie
giggled.
 
“No, he hasn’t
called.
 
But I got a call.”
 
She left it at that.

“Sophie,” Tony
roared.
 
“What the hell are you
talking about?
 
What call?
 
What’s going on?”
 
He was no longer in the mood for games.

“Okay,
darling.
 
I guess I may as well
tell you.
 
It won’t be long before
you find out anyway.
 
I went into
town three days ago, remember?”

“Yeah.
 
We had to return the horses and give
the tenant office our departure date,” he clarified.
 
“What are you trying to say?”

“Oh, Tony.
 
I’m trying to tell you that we’re going
to have a baby.
 
I’m almost three
months along.
 
Can you believe it?
 
I haven’t been sick or anything.
 
I’m just hungry all the time.
 
I didn’t even think about a baby, until
I saw this billboard on our way into town.
 
Can you imagine?
 
What do you want, Tony…a boy or a girl?
 
I guess I’d…”

“Oh, for God’s
sake, Sophie.
 
Shut up and kiss me,”
he insisted.

 
“Try his number again, sugar.
 
Grant’s got to pick up sometime.”
 
Tony was worried about the Hunter, but
he didn’t want to alarm Sophie.
 
Knowing her, she would traipse off into the wilds of the Amazon jungle
to help her husband find his friend.
 
His little wife was proving to be fearless.

“Sorry, Tony,
it’s useless.
 
I know where he
keeps a spare key.
 
Do you want to
go back downtown and look through the office for clues?
 
I don’t think he would mind, too
much.”
 
Sophie knew Grant would not
appreciate them rifling through his files, but this was an emergency.
 
She wanted to tell him about the baby!

Something was
not right.
 
Tony felt a real sense
of urgency.
 
He closed his eyes and
tried to hear something that would lead him to Grant.

“Dammit!
 
Think,” he grumbled to himself, but he
heard nothing.
 
That was good.
 
It meant there were no other immortals
in the area.
 
It also that meant
Grant was nowhere on the Eastern seaboard.

“Okay,
Sophie.
 
Grab your sweater.
 
We’re going to take a look at what he’s
been working on recently.
 
We’ll
take the Porsche.”

Gaining access
to Grant’s office was simple.
 
Tony
made a mental note to talk to the man about adding some security.
 
After an hour of prying locked drawers
open, Sophie gave up the search and crawled up onto Grant’s sofa, quickly
falling asleep.

Several more
hours passed and Tony had found nothing of consequence.
 
He was just getting ready to wake
Sophie, when the office phone rang.

“Yeah,” he
answered, gruffly.

There was silence
at the other end.
 
After a
considerable amount of time had elapsed, a male voice spoke softly and muffled.

“It’s bad,
bro,” he rasped.

“Grant?
 
Where are you?
 
What’s going on?”
 
Tony could hear his thoughts through
the telephone connection.
 
It was
very bad, indeed.
 
Grant was afraid
he’d met his end.

“Don’t call him
…”

“Call who?”
Tony yelled into the phone, as if that would get the answers he needed so
badly.

“Making an army
…”

Click!

“No!” Tony
screamed, as he held the disconnected phone in his hand.

Sophie was
suddenly on her feet; her eyes wide open with fear.
 
“What’s wrong, Tony?
 
Was that Grant?”

Tony was frozen
in place.
 
Immediately, he pressed
*69, but got nowhere.
 
It had been
an international call.
 
He talked
to a phone operator, and found the call had come from a public phone in
Romania.
 
“What’s he doing in
Romania?” he wondered aloud.
 
“The
only person of any consequence found in Romania is the Undertaker.
 
Grant said not to call someone.”
 
He thought it over, running what little
info he had through his head.

“Tony? Sophie
chimed in.

“Yes, darling?”

“I remember
Grant getting information on an undertaker.
 
I thought someone had died and needed to be buried.
 
Could it be the same man?”

Tony grabbed
Sophie.
 
“Oh, precious!” he
exclaimed, as he gave her a big, wet, kiss.
 
“This may be the clue we needed.
 
Show me what you’ve got.”

“The files are
over here,” she said.
 
“Grant never
could get used to my filing system, so he may never have found them.”

“Where are
they?” Tony inquired, as he tossed useless folders on the floor.
 
He was looking in the U’s, but came up
blank.

“Why would you
look there?” Sophie wanted to know.
 
“It’s intuitively obvious that those files would be under G.”
 
She pointed to the cabinet at the
opposite end of where he was looking.

“I know I
shouldn’t bother to ask, darling, but why G?”

“Because he’s
Gross
.
 
Because he puts people in the
Ground
.
 
Because he scares
Grant
.”
 
She was serious.
 
“There’s lots of reasons for him to be
filed under G.”

“How do you
know Grant was afraid of him?”
 
It
was hard to imagine Grant being frightened of anything, much less the quiet
brother known as, the Undertaker.

“Whenever he
would call or make contact, Grant’s voice changed.
 
His face would go pale and he would insist that I be
absolutely still.
 
He never allowed
me to have any contact with this undertaker.”

Sophie sat
tapping her tooth with a fingernail, thinking hard on something she knew was
important.
 
“I remember!
 
Grant had me renew his passport, just
before you and I left to be married.
 
Wasn’t our wedding completely perfect, Tony?
 
I know it was small, but I’ll remember it, always.”

Tony forced his
voice to stay calm.
 
By now, he
knew this was just Sophie’s way.
 
Her brain worked a little differently than most people.
 
He smiled and nodded his head.
 
“You were the most beautiful bride I’ve
ever seen, dear, but you must focus on the problem at hand.
 
What about Grant and his passport?”

“He needed to
go out of the country.
 
I asked
where he needed to go and he mumbled something.
 
I thought he said Rome.
 
But, now, I’m certain, he must have said Romania.”

Tony ran around
the desk and grabbed his wife by her shoulders, pulling her in for a big
kiss.
 
“Sweetheart, you’re a
genius!
 
Are you sure you’re a real
blonde?”

For that
remark, Sophie swatted his arm.
 
“Oh, you.
 
Take that back!”
she insisted.

He
laughed.
 
“Okay, sugar.
 
I take it back, because I
know
you’re a real blonde.”
 
He grinned
a very naughty grin.

“Now, I don’t
have much time.
 
I know Grant needs
me.
 
You make my travel arrangements,
while I run back home and pack a bag.
 
I want to leave tonight.”

Sophie nodded,
but she couldn’t hide the tears building up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,
Sophie.
 
I can’t take you with me,
and I can’t ignore Grant.
 
His life
might depend on my getting to Romania in time.”

“His life?
 
I thought you said he was
immortal.”
 
Sophie was totally
confused by what little she knew of the curse of living forever.
 
Even after Tony had told her of his
loves and hardships, it never seemed to be an actual curse to her.

She once asked
Tony, “Doesn’t everyone want to live forever?”

“Not according
to Freddie Mercury,” Tony said wryly.

“Who?”

Tony
laughed.
 
It seemed he laughed a
lot, at her answers, but that was okay with her.
 
Sophie knew he loved her more than any woman had ever been
loved before.
 
She was convinced
his laughter was the result of her making him happy.
 
Their love had been foretold.

“Sophie, wake
up,” Tony ordered.
 
“We don’t have
time to waste daydreaming.
 
Get on
the phone.
 
I’ll meet you back
here, in one hour.”
 
Tony kissed
his wife and was gone.

Before she knew
it, Sophie was alone, in New York City, and Tony was flying off to some
undisclosed location in Romania.
 
He had told her not to worry if she didn’t hear from him, as it could be
dangerous to make contact.
 
He
didn’t know when he would return.

“Take care of
yourself, darling,” he said, as he kissed her goodbye and left her sitting in
the black Porsche, at the airport.

“Can she drive
a stick?” he wondered, as he rode the escalator to the top.
 
Maybe he should have asked, before
giving her the keys.

* * *

“Will there be
anything else, madam?” Ibsen asked, as Sophie finished her solitary dinner.

She
sighed.
 
“No.
 
Thank you, Ibsen.
 
I’m going to go on up to my room.”

He gave a small
bow.
 
“Very well, madam.
 
I’ll send Marie up with a tray of warm
milk and graham crackers, just the way you like it.
 
Sleep well, madam.”

He was very
kind, Sophie thought.

She looked
around the large, stately room and sighed.
 
“What was it Tony said?” she asked herself.
 
“Oh, yes.
 
He said I’d get used to this lifestyle, soon enough.
 
Well, you were right about that,
darling.”
 
All of this luxury meant
very little, if she was to be alone.
 
When Tony was in danger, in a foreign country, doing God knows what, she
could hardly think of anything else.
 
She knew his mission was dangerous, and he hadn’t contacted her
once.
 
After pacing the
circumference of the library, one last time, Sophie turned and slowly climbed
the stairs.
 
It would be another
long night in her enormous empty bed.

Was that the
phone ringing?
 
Sophie tried to
shake the cobwebs from her sleepy head.
 
Fumbling for the phone, she accidentally knocked it to the floor.

“Shit!” she
cursed.

Immediately,
she was on all fours, crawling around on the carpet, trying to find the damn
phone.
 
“Hold on,” she yelled.
 
As she lifted the receiver to her ear,
she heard the click.

“Argggh!” she
screamed.
 
“Tony!” she wailed.
 
She knew that the call must have been
from him.
 
She replaced the handset
in the cradle and stumbled to the bathroom.
 
She could barely see for the tears in her eyes.
 
After waiting all these days, Tony had
finally called home, and she had missed it.
 

The phone was a
thing of beauty, and totally useless.
 
It had no answering machine or caller identification.
 
It was a rotary dial, for God’s
sake.
 

Great sobs
began to wrack Sophie’s small frame, as she grasped a washcloth and ran it
under cold water.
 
The cold cloth
felt good against burning of her eyes.
 
Eventually, she stood back, and looked at herself in the bathroom
mirror.
 
It may have been childish,
but she simply stood there, making ugly and bizarre faces.
 
“You’re so stupid!” she spit angrily,
at herself.
 
“What does Tony see in
you?”
 
She tossed the wet washcloth
at the mirror and turned away.

Before she
could berate herself any further, the phone began to ring, again.
 
“Oh, my God.
 
Tony!” she yelled, as she ran directly to the phone on the
nightstand.

“Hello, Tony?”
she shouted, excitedly.

“Hello?
 
Am I speaking with Mrs. Anthony
Barton?”

Sophie didn’t
recognize the woman’s heavily accented voice.

“Yes.
 
This is Mrs. Barton.”
 
How wonderful it sounded to her ears,
to be addressed as Mrs. Barton.
 
She hadn’t yet gotten used to it.
 
“Are you calling about my husband, Anthony?”

“Yes,
madam.
 
There has been a terrible
accident.
 
His plane has gone down
just off the coast of France.
 
We
have not been able to locate any survivors.
 
I am terribly sorry, madam.
 
Someone will be contacting you with more information, in a
couple of hours.
 
Do not give up
hope.
 
Madame…Madame, are you still
there?
 
Madame?”

Sophie heard
Tony’s plane had gone down and little else.
 
Fortunately, Ibsen, knowing that a call in the middle of the
night was usually bad news, had been listening on the extension, downstairs.
 
Pulling out his cell, he dialed Mrs.
Barton’s physician, woke Marie to make some tea, and ran up the stairs.

When Sophie
opened her eyes, her room appeared to be full of concerned faces.
 
Practically, the entire household staff
was there, including her doctor.

“There, there,
Sophie,” he said, in a soft and conciliatory tone.
 
“You’re all right and so is the baby.
 
I have given you a mild sedative and
you’re to stay in bed for the rest of the day.”