The Mountain

“This horse have a story?” I asked.

“My uncle has ranch,” Emilio explained, “it is his grandson that produces the sculptures. He modeled that after his horse, Tempestad, just before he was put down.” I looked at the picture again.

“How big is it?”

“About a foot from head to tail,” Emilio replied, holding his hands about a foot apart.

“If he adds a write up in English about the horse and affixes some kind of signature or logo, this is very sellable,” I said, “the more pieces he can develop like this, the better. The abstract stuff I can’t really move. It needs an art gallery.”

“How much would something like the horse sell for?” Emilio asked, his interest at a new height.

“With the additions I mentioned,” I paused as I thought, “maybe three grand a piece, the artist would get a third of that.” I watched Emilio’s eyes widened. He shifted his body, facing more toward me.

“Would your firm be interested?”

“We could be, if we could be assured of a certain volume.”

“It takes him a week or so per sculpture and his brother had started learning,” Emilio added.

“A play on the family thing always works well,” I added, “a family crest can increase value and create word-of-mouth.”

“Do you have a card Mr. Bennett?” Emilio asked. I pulled my card out of my pocket and handed it over. Emilio snapped his finger at one his shadows and the man produced a card. Emilio took it and added something on the back with a pen.

“This is my private number,” Emilio instructed, “you can get me anytime night or day. If you make a deal with my cousin, I will make sure he honors it.” I took his card and glanced at the front.

“Colonel Campos?” I said with some surprise. He smiled at me.

“I can also help with export issues,” Emilio said with a chuckle. I read a lot into that statement. I wondered if I would have more issues if his cousin wasn’t offered a contract.

“I think this might work out well,” I said. My phone rang before I could continue. It was Tamara. She knew I was on layover and I had forgotten to check in. “Excuse me a moment,” I apologized. Emilio nodded with a smile. I stood and walked to the other side of the room to answer.

“Hello,” I said in Armenian.

“You not call,” Tamara responded. I could hear the relief in her voice.

“Sorry.”

“Okay,” Tamara continued, “you check plane?” I tried not to laugh. One crash and she thought I should do a once over on all planes.

“Plane is okay,” I said, trying not to let the humor through.

“You check,” Tamara insisted. She heard the humor. She knew my tone better than I did. I think we could just hum to each other and get meaning from it.

“Okay,” I said with seriousness, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Tamara added, “You check plane. You come back.” I could feel her apprehension and looked over at the Colonel. I wondered if anyone had it out for him. We said goodbye as best we could. My Armenian was improving, but the phone made it difficult. I walked up to the counter and spoke to the attendant.

“Ahh,” I stuttered trying to think of a good way to put it, “is there some kind of inspection performed on the plane before take-off?” The attendant looked at me confused. The request was a bit heavy for her English. I turned to Emilio.

“This may seem a strange request,” I hesitated, “but I wonder if you can ask if they inspect the plane before take-off. My fiancée is worried I might have a repeat of an incident. Not that I expect one, but I don’t want to lie to her.”

“You had a bad flight?” Emilio asked. I spent the next few minutes explaining the crash, my fiancée, daughter, and the suspicions as to the cause. Emilio listened intently, and I noticed his shadows’ interest as well.

Emilio turned to the shadow behind him and rattled off some Spanish, a command about inspecting the plane much more thoroughly than I intended. The shadow jumped and moved out the door quickly.

“I would like an inspection as well,” Emilio said with a smile, “I never question a woman’s intuition. So you met your future wife in a plane crash. That is a wonderful story for your grandchildren. My wife and I met at a dance. Not nearly as romantic, but I did accidently tear her dress.”

“No,” I said with surprise, “you rip a woman’s dress, and she married you.”

“I was her ride home,” Emilio continued, “I was young and so excited that such a beautiful woman would let me escort her. I closed the car door too soon and ruined her dress.” He laughed as he thought about it. “She yelled at me like I had run over her pet or something. It was her passion that thrilled me. It took me two weeks just to get her to speak to me again. I think the struggle made me want her all the more.”

Emilio and I spoke for a while. I found out he attended UCLA for a degree in geology before he joined the Peruvian special police. He traveled around the states when he could and even visited Chicago once. He started the conversation with me because he wanted to keep up his English skills. He didn’t like losing what had taken him so long to gain.

The shadow came back and had a heated conversation with Emilio. I could see the Colonel appear in Emilio’s stature and words. Commands flowed, and both shadows took off to complete the tasks. Emilio grabbed his phone and made a call. His tone was not pleasant, and I could make out enough to know that something was wrong with the plane.

“Tamara…is it?” Emilio asked. I nodded, “It looks like Tamara has saved you. And me in the process.” I could see his shoulders straightening. He had a strong authority about him. “They have found a device on the plane. Some kind of improvised explosive.”

“Shit!” I commented. The odds of this happening to me twice were astronomical.

“Appropriate word,” Emilio continued, “my men are searching for the mechanic who worked on the plane this morning.” He looked at me with steel eyes, “I would not want to be him today.”

“This can’t be happening twice,” I said.

“I have enemies,” Emilio admitted, “you seem to have bad luck picking traveling companions.” He paused for a moment, then gave me the bad news. “I am shutting down the airport. I am sorry, but a bomb on a plane forces my hand. Every plane must be inspected now.”

“That makes sense,” I said. Only an idiot would consider it isolated.

“I would like to offer you my home for the night.” Emilio’s manner changed back to cordial. “I can offer a good meal and we could talk more over a glass of wine.”

“Maybe a cousin could drop by,” I said with a smile.

“Yes,” Emilio replied as he laughed, “we must find our silver linings where we can..”

“I would be honored,” I agreed. It was a much better idea than trying to find hotel and eating by myself. I enjoyed talking with Emilio, and his political power couldn’t hurt.

I would classify Emilio’s home as more of an estate. It had a high brick fence surrounding the property and an automatic gate for entry. The grounds were immaculate. Every bush and tree trimmed professionally. The house itself was a modern example of Spanish colonial architecture. A breathtaking example.

The dinner was excellent and Emilio’s wife, Florencia, was as beautiful as he had indicated. With that beauty came an air of sophistication that she tampered down when she noticed how familiar Emilio and I were. Her English was good, so I was able to include her in the conversation. It was a very pleasant evening.

Emilio’s cousin, Alejandro, joined us for dessert. He was a young man whose grasp of English was equivalent to my skills with Spanish. We mostly spoke through Emilio and Florencia. He brought the horse along with pictures of other non-abstract work. Each modeled after a physical structure, be it animal or building. Looking at them as a set, they were a good representation of Peru. Our clients loved to be worldly and paid dearly to do it with class.

I explained the marketing necessities and harped on the need to embellish but not lie. My customers had a tendency to take trips to verify their acquisitions and see if they could get more on the cheap. A lie would spread like wildfire and destroy an artist quicker than a bullet to the head. I promised to send samples of logos, crests, and history copy so that they could put something together. I also agreed to draw up a contract if he could meet the criteria. Alejandro was ecstatic. I had a sense that his family had looked down at his art, and I was his shining moment in the spotlight.

The guest room was beyond anything a hotel could offer. Emilio enjoyed his luxury and didn’t spare it for the guests. My room had its own patio, which I enjoyed while I called Tamara. She was so relieved I didn’t get on that plane. I suffered a few I-told-you-sos and assured her I had a high ranking official helping me deal with the issue. I made her tell me about her and Melina’s day to change the subject. Tamara emphasized that Melina missed me almost as much as she did. She didn’t enjoy me traveling without her. Maybe she feared I would get stranded with another woman.

I slept quite well tucked into the Egyptian cotton sheets.

++++++++++++++++++++++

I was sipping coffee, having showered and changed, when Emilio joined Florencia and I in the kitchen. She had been grilling me about Tamara, wanting to get the details about how we met. I suspect Emilio had only touched on the surface of it.

“We found the mechanic last night,” Emilio said, “we convinced him to be talkative.” I tried to ignore what that meant. I also decided I would play on the up and up with Emilio and his family. Only the truth and no false promises. “I was surprised to find out his payment came from America.” Emilio paused, “my enemies are here and lack foreign connections. I rather hope they haven’t internationalized their hatred.”

I waited for Emilio to continue. I didn’t want to insinuate something about the drug trade since he had never told me who his enemies were. He seemed the type to bend a law or two, but never break it out right. Maybe he didn’t bend enough when drug money was at stake.

“The man was foolish, thinking we Peruvians can’t trace wire transfers. Or maybe the account holder isn’t aware the funds were transferred. He could be a patsy.” Emilio was rubbing his chin as he thought out loud. “Either way, I have contacted your FBI, and they have agreed to look into it. They don’t like bombs on planes any more than we do.” Florencia handed Emilio a cup of coffee, and he sat down.

“Are you going to open the airport today?” I asked, sipping my coffee. If he didn’t, I hoped he would let me stay another day. I would have liked a tour of the grounds. It was almost like a botanical garden.

“It is already open,” Emilio replied, tipping his cup to me, “I have a plane waiting to take us to Ayacucho,” he smiled as he spoke, “for Tamara’s sake, it is under guard until we take off.” I laughed as if it was silly. Secretly I was deeply thankful.

“I’ll mention it to Tamara,” I said, tipping my cup to him.

“Next time you visit, you should bring her,” Florencia said, and Emilio quickly agreed. I had friends in high places. And they made damn good coffee.

The ride to the airport was interrupted by a call for Emilio. He changed to his Colonel’s voice, so I knew it was work. It was obvious it had to do with the bomb though my grasp of Spanish made it difficult to understand the one-way conversation. My face must have gone ghost white when I recognized a name I didn’t expect to hear. Emilio looked at me, and I could tell the pieces were quickly falling into place for him as well. He ended the call and switched to English as easily as breathing.

“Doug Finley is your partner?” Emilio asked. I nodded as the round peg found the round hole. “I am not his target, am I?” The bile in my stomach began to rise. The young boy, Mikhail’s brother, and pilot I never knew. Doug was trying to kill me.

“Fuck!” I yelled, slamming the side of my fist into my leg.

“I think he is after you, my friend,” Emilio said with some regret. The image of Mikhail’s brother, half his face missing flooded my mind. My hand was shaking in more anger they I had felt in years. He almost killed Tamara. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“Reciprocal life insurance,” I growled, “the bastard wants the business and the five million. God help me, I going to kill him first.” Emilio’s hand covered mine.

“No, my friend,” Emilio said calmly, “we are going to make sure he comes back to Peru. We have an extradition treaty with the U.S. and the crime was on our soil.”

“And Azerbaijani’s,” I added.

“That may be more problematic,” Emilio said, “I have evidence and from what you have told me, they do not, or do not wish to pursue it.”

“He killed people!” I said.

“Does it matter if he rots in my prison or theirs?” Emilio said. I saw a glimmer in his eye. Doug might have been after me, but Emilio was to be on the same plane. It was as personal to him as it was to me. “He will find Peru a very uncomfortable place.”

“There are fates worse than death,” I added grimly.

“See, you understand.” Emilio smiled. I again wondered what Emilio was capable of. When it came to Doug, I no longer cared. The worse, the better. Doug owed the world three lives and a year of my rehabilitation. “I have the mechanic’s testimony and the wire transfer, and you have the motive. I can make sure the courts are not forgiving.”

“I need to fly to Chicago,” I said. Emilio nodded.

++++++++++++++++++++++

I walked into F&B Imports a little disheveled from the two flights I took to get back to Chicago. Betty Crawford looked up from her desk in surprise and instantly stopped what she was doing.

“Mr. Bennett,” Betty said with excitement, “I didn’t know you were coming in this morning. I thought you were in Peru.” Betty ran the place. She was a single mother with the last of three kids just entering high school. She has worked with us for over seven years. Every company has that key employee, the one that could only be replaced if you hired three other people. Betty was our irreplaceable.

“Good morning Betty,” I said, my smile defying my intent, “is Doug in?”

“Yes, he came in early,” Betty replied, “I heard you were getting married. The girl you crashed with.” A dreamy look took over her face as she continued. “That’s so romantic.” I didn’t want to quash her dreams, so I let her go on believing the time on the mountain was more like a vacation.

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” I said with a smile, “you’ll have to meet Tamara one of these days.”

“I look forward to it,” Betty said honestly.

“I need to have a private talk with Doug,” I said, losing my smile, “you may want to take a break. Maybe refresh that cup of coffee.” I watched Betty’s face change as she began to realize I wasn’t happy.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Bennett?”

“Yes,” I said, remaining calm, “and you don’t want to be part of it.”

“Is this something to do with the missing money?” Betty asked, her eyes darting to her desk and back, “I’m sure it’s just an error. I’m going over the books again.”

“How much is missing?” I asked as the new revelation widened my eyes. Betty became hesitant.

“Mr. Finley didn’t tell you?”

“Mr. Finley has not been forthcoming lately,” I said, trying not to make it sound as ominous as it felt.

“A little over 35 thousand,” Betty almost stuttered, “but I’m sure it is just a clerical error. I’ve made some mistake; I just have to find it.” I could almost feel Doug’s greed from where I stood. Emilio never told me how much the mechanic was paid. I wondered if Betty had just told me what my life was worth.

“Leave it for now,” I said, forcing a smile on my face, “I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Why don’t you get a cup of coffee and let me discuss it with Doug.”

“Mr. Bennett, I don’t want to be the cause…”

“Betty, this has nothing to do with you,” I interrupted, “and I don’t think you made an error.” Betty’s eyes widened as the implications crossed her mind. “Please, you don’t want to be here right now,” I added, indicating the door with my eyes. Betty rose, hesitantly grabbed her coffee cup, then headed out the door in silence.

I took a deep breath, steeled my resolve, and entered Doug’s office without knocking.

“Jonathan!” Doug exclaimed. My entrance had startled him greatly. That I was alive probably had him pissing his pants. I kept a false smile on my face as I approached his desk.

“Decided to return early,” I said, holding out my hand as I neared. Doug rose to shake my hand. His eyes still twitching in surprise. When I approached close enough, I retracted my hand and thrust my fist into his face. There was a mountain of anger behind that sucker punch. I had no desire that the fight be fair. I could hear the cartilage in his nose collapse as my knuckles tried to find the back of his skull. His knees buckled as his arms flailed upward.

“That’s for a boy whose name I don’t even know,” I yelled. Images of the child flying from Tamara’s arms fueled more rage. I drove the next punch into Doug’s unprotected stomach, just below the ribs. I could hear the air forced from his lungs. Doug dropped to his knees gasping for air.

“A pilot, someone you didn’t even know,” I screamed as I brought my fist around with everything I had, catching him in his ear and driving him to the ground.

“Mikhail’s brother,” I added to the list as Doug withered on the floor. The thought of Tamara dead on a mountainside entered my mind. I could feel myself lose it as began kicking Doug’s prone body. I had an insane desire to see him suffer unimaginable pain.

“Mr. Bennett!” Betty screamed. I stopped mid-kick. Doug was motionless at my feet, not even moaning anymore. My heart was beating so hard; I wasn’t even sure it wouldn’t burst. I turned to Betty with unbidden tears in my eyes.

“He put a bomb on my plane,” I stammered, “he killed three people trying to get to me.”

“Oh God!” Betty said, covering her mouth with her hand. She started backing away as if I were insane. At that moment, I believed I was. I moved to Doug’s desk and sat heavily in the chair.

Two men in blue windbreakers appeared behind Betty. The jackets had a gold image of a badge over the left breast.

“Mr. Doug Finley?” the man on the right asked. I sighed and pointed to the Doug on the ground next to the desk. The two men moved quickly once they noticed Doug’s prone form.

“Please move over there, Sir,” One of the men said, pointing to the far corner of the office. I rose and moved as ordered, my heart finally starting to slow.

“What’s going on?” Betty cried. She was an emotional wreck. I would have preferred she would have stayed gone for a few more minutes.

“What is your name?” The taller of the two men asked me as his partner checked on the condition of Doug.

“Jonathan Bennett?” I replied, “the one he tried to kill.” I pointed at Doug.

“He’s alive,” the other man said, “we’re going to need an ambulance.”

“I’m agent Moretti, U.S. Marshal’s office,” the taller man said, “we have a warrant for Mr. Finley’s arrest.” He was informing Betty as well as me. Betty was in shock, leaning against the door as the scene unfolded. “Do you mind telling me why he is in this condition?” I took a shallow breath and lied.

“I confronted him about a bomb on my plane,” I answered, forcing my body to relax, “he came at me, and I defended myself.” Moretti nodded as his partner handcuffed the unconscious Doug.

“Do you think his explanation of events will differ from yours?” Moretti asked. His partner rose from Doug and retrieved a handheld radio from his hips as he walked out of the room.

“Probably,” I admitted, “but he kills people. I suspect he lies as well.” I was surprised on how easy it was to wrap my crime, justified as I thought it was, in a web of deceit. I would have made a good criminal. I could hear the other agent requesting an ambulance over the radio. Betty was still shaking near the door.

“I’m sorry, Betty,” I said softly, “I would have wished you didn’t see this.” She now knew why I had asked her to leave. I wondered why she hadn’t told the Marshals. I wasn’t worried about an assault charge, beyond the time it would keep me away from Tamara and Melina.

Betty pointed to the corner of Doug’s desk. I could see the pain in her eyes. I walked over to the small stack of stapled sheets of paper. “He asked me for that this morning,” Betty said, then broke down. It was our reciprocal life insurance policy. “I didn’t know why he wanted it,” she added as tears overwhelmed her. I looked at Doug’s prone form as it started to stir. The bastard didn’t even wait until I was reported dead.

Moretti moved quickly to Doug’s side. I think he feared I would go at him again. I just smiled knowing Doug was done and took a step back to ease Moretti’s fears.

“Mr. Finley,” Moretti said louder than necessary, “do you know where you are?” Doug nodded and said something about the office.

“Mr. Finley, I am agent Moretti of the U.S. Marshall’s office,” Moretti continued, “I have a warrant for your arrest and an order for extradition as requested by the Peruvian government.” I could see the realization of what was happening roll across Doug’s bloody face. I couldn’t help myself.

“I would fight the extradition with every dollar you have Doug,” I added with glee, “I know a Colonel down there that wants to meet you. He was supposed to be on the same plane as I was.” The idea of Doug bankrupting himself on lawyers and still ending up in a Peruvian prison made karmic sense to me. Doug’s breathing was coming in gasps, and it wasn’t driven by what I did to him. It was his predicament coming home to roost.

Moretti began reading Doug his rights as I watched his eyes lose their strength. I had never fed off someone’s loss before. My mind reveled in his downfall. I felt vindicated and empowered. And then, like the flip of a switch, I felt like shit.

People died. More almost died. Physical pain and freedom deprivation would never make up for it. Doug deserved everything he got, but even death would do nothing to rectify what he had done. I let Doug go. Not physically, but mentally. He wasn’t worth the brain power and certainly not worth losing myself and living in a personal cesspool of hatred.

“Maybe we should step outside and let these guys work,” I mentioned softly to Betty. She wiped her eyes and nodded. “I need to tell you about my daughter,” I added and wiped my own eyes. Hatred chewed up way too much energy.

++++++++++++++++++++++

“Why she send flowers?” Tamara demanded in Armenian. For some reason, Florencia had sent flowers to me at Yana’s address, the one I had given to Emilio for the time being.

“It’s nothing,” I said. It was hard to explain over the phone. I thought Tamara would be happy I was flying home to her the next day. Instead, she thought I was entertaining another woman. I had to work on her trust. I certainly wasn’t a Don Juan, and I already had the most beautiful woman in the world.

“I can’t read letter.” Tamara said stiffly. I couldn’t remember if I mentioned the language barrier between Tamara and me to the Campos’. It was probably in English since they knew my Spanish sucked.

“Get Viktoria,” I suggested. I heard doors opening. I could tell Tamara was walking down the hall. There was a brief conversation after Viktoria answered the door. I could hear the pain in Tamara’s voice. I wished I was there.

Viktoria started laughing as she deciphered the letter. I could hear Tamara demanding to know what was so funny. Viktoria spoke quickly with humor in her voice. There was silence after she was done speaking. I heard Viktoria chuckle again Tamara told her to stop it.

“I love you,” Tamara said quietly in the phone. There was a little embarrassment in her voice. I tried not to force the issue.

“I love you, too,” I returned, almost making it sound like a question.

“You home tomorrow?” Tamara verified.

“Yes,” I replied, “11:35 PM.” It was going to be a long two days of travel.

“Meet you at airport,” Tamara said. I think my Armenian was getting better. I no longer had to think hard during simple translations. I almost told her not to, but her tone made it important to her.

“Good,” I said, “I will see you tomorrow.”

“I love you,” Tamara repeated. There was more contrition in her voice.

“I love you too,” I responded before disconnecting. I had no idea what was in the letter, but it obviously wasn’t the love note she expected. I also knew that talking about it on the phone was not the route to take. I would find out when we were together again.

++++++++++++++++++++++

My parents took me to O’Hare airport. They were as shocked as I was about Doug. They had known him and his parents for many years. He was the last person we would have suspected to go all evil on the world.

No assault charges were brought. I suspected Doug didn’t want to alienate me any more than he already had. He would need my signature to liquidate his holdings in F&B Imports to pay for his legal defense. I would sign anything that separated us further, including a loan to buy him out.

I promoted Betty to run the U.S. portion of the business. She had been doing most of the work as it was, and already had access to all the files and bank accounts. I let her hire her replacement, a fine young man that seemed driven to succeed. It meant a lot more money for her family and no more bombs on planes for me.

Betty’s first task was to solidify a contract for Emilio’s cousin. Her in-depth knowledge of the process made me question what Doug had been doing for the last few years. I found out Doug was in debt up to his eyeballs and in the process of buying a yacht when the boom came down. I suspected he was playing playboy on my dime and dumping the work off on Betty. I considered it on the job training for Betty.

My mother brought a small note from Kimberly with her. It was handwritten on a small flowery card that was usually reserved for thank-you notes.

Jonathan,

I’m sorry I lied about Tamara’s whereabouts. It was selfish. I was hoping you would come back to me if you failed to find her. We weren’t perfect, but we were better than lonely. Please ask Tamara to forgive me. Give your daughter my love.

Kimberly

“She was afraid to see you,” my mother said as I finished the note. I thought about the hatred I had wasted on Doug. It seemed silly to expend more on Kimberly. I wondered if I wouldn’t have done the same if the roles were reversed. I would like to think I wouldn’t, but I never thought I would try to beat a man to death either.

“Do you have a pen?” I asked my mother. She fished one out of her purse and handed it to me. I added a note to the end.

Kimberly,

I could never hold it against you. The heart makes us do stupid things like loudly breaking up with a lovely woman in a public hospital. As a friend, I still love you dearly.

Jonathanv

I handed the note back to my mother and asked her to give it back to Kimberly. I found it funny that Tamara and I could share no language and yet understand each other perfectly. Kimberly and I needed a translator to function.

++++++++++++++++++++++

I was exhausted when I stepped off the plane in Yerevan. I was two hours behind schedule and wanted nothing but a shower and some sleep. Tamara changed those desires instantly. She was waiting at the end of the concourse, bouncing on her toes and waving when she saw me. I had no idea where the energy came from. My heart started pounding, and muscles woke up. I ran to her arms. I had almost forgotten how soft her lips were.

“Melina?” I asked. For some reason, I wanted to see her as well.

“Asleep with Meemaw,” Tamara smiled, saying it like I was a fool to think she would bring a baby to the airport in the middle of the night. I laughed at myself before I enjoyed Tamara’s precious lips again. It was so good to feel her arms around me.

The cab ride back to the Kurkjian buildings was quick. There was little traffic at that time in the morning, and Tamara was there to make sure the cabbie didn’t take the long way. Tamara pulled a folded letter out of her jacket and handed it to me.

“I sorry,” Tamara said. I could see it in her eyes. I unfolded the letter and turned on the overhead light.

Dear Tamara,

Your intuition has saved my love as well as yours. I send these flowers as a friend in hopes that we will find time to meet in the future. I wish to know well the person who has saved my precious family.

Florencia Campos

I laughed when I shouldn’t have, but it was too delicious.

“I say sorry,” Tamara insisted. I wrapped her in my arms again.

“No matter where I go, my love,” I whispered in her ear, “I will never stray from you. You and Melina will always be first in my thoughts.” Though it was in English, Tamara understood perfectly. Her smile returned with a little foolishness in her eyes. I thought it looked adorable.

++++++++++++++++++++++

Tamara and I slept in a bed designed for one in Meemaw’s apartment. It was cramped but twice the size of the hovel on the mountain. It brought back a few memories of staying warm in the most wonderful way. It was Melina who woke us early the following morning. After she had been fed and changed, I spent a good part of the morning making her smile. She was getting stronger, raising up on her knees and rocking back and forth. I knew she was about to be independently mobile.

Yana cooked a large brunch for my return. The family gathered in her apartment and feasted while I explained, with the help of Viktoria, about what had happened the past week. Tamara had already passed on the gist of it, and I was only filling in the blanks. Yana was happy it was over and done with. She had resolved herself to an American son-in-law and didn’t want it to change. The brothers wanted more details of my brief insanity. A blow by blow replay of my useless revenge.

I shocked everyone by asking Garik if he wanted to work for me. I had decided that I needed to limit my traveling since I had a family now, and Garik seemed to love the trip to Azerbaijani. I could hire him as an independent contractor with bonuses tied to the inking of deals. He was both excited and hesitant.

“What would I have to do?” Garik asked.

“Travel to find product,” I replied, “I’d take you on a couple of trips to get you started. In time, you’ll recognize what we’re looking for and be able to head out on your own. You can hire interpreters when needed to get your through the negotiations.”

“I can hire people?” Garik queried with reservation.

“In time, when necessary. You always need to keep in mind what the company will make and balance that with the fees you need to pay.” I smiled, “and your own pay, of course.”

“How will I know if it’s the right stuff?”

“Our clients like to mix art with functionality. Uniqueness, a good history, and quality are what you need to look for. Usually, you start with a lead, so you’re not traveling blind.” I was mixing Armenian words with English. I was getting better at it, and Viktoria was having an easier time translating and Garik was grasping the concepts quickly.

“What do you mean about history?”

I thought about it for a moment. History was the marketing part that our clients loved so much. It was more in the presentation, the stuff they could tell their friends. I looked down, trying to figure out a way to explain it. The rug at my feet would be a good visual aide. It was certainly high enough quality and well made.

“Take this rug,” I instructed, “it is very well made and has a wonderful design.” I dropped to the floor and moved to the corner, lifting it back to look for a label. “A label sewn into the rug with a company logo or family crest helps give it history.” There was no label, so I moved to another corner. “You want the name of the artist, maybe a sewn signature to give it a one-of-a-kind type of feel.” Still no label.

“You will not find a label,” Tamara said before I moved to another corner. I looked closely at the back of the rug. It had a very high knot count. The quality was excellent.

“This must have cost a lot,” I mentioned in passing as I rose to continue the instruction. Yana chuckled, her face flushing.

“Mother made it,” Tamara said as if I should have known. My eyes widened as I dropped back down to my knees and reexamined the craftsmanship.

“You made this?” I asked Yana.

“Yes,” Yana replied. She was beaming with pride.

“She and Meemaw each make a few a year,” Viktoria added, “They sell them to the families here.” Victoria looked to Yana, “she sold the last one for 95,000 drams.” Yana was still blushing, proud of her accomplishment. I did some quick math in my head, maybe 200 dollars.

“200 U.S. dollars?” I asked. Viktoria thought for a moment. Armen, whose math was better than mine, answered.

“About that, maybe a bit more,” Armen said. He seemed proud of his mother and grandmother.

“Who taught you?” I asked Yana, my smile growing.

“Meemaw and her mother taught her,” Yana replied.

“Mom is teaching me,” Tamara added. She rose handing Melina off to her Armen. She walked over to the wall and began retracting the large accordion divider I thought was just decoration. An old loom in excellent condition was exposed with another rug about a third of the way done. I rose from the floor in awe.

“That is history!” I said to Garik, “add a few touches and that’s what we look for.”

“American’s would want my rugs?” Yana asked.

“With the right documentation, they will pay thousands,” I replied, “they want a piece of your story.”

“I am nobody,” Yana said, suddenly out of her depth.

“You are an artist from a long line of artists,” I said almost laughing at what had hidden in plain site, “Your family history, as far as you can trace it back, is what they want. They want to know they are supporting that history and becoming part of it. You just have to list it out for them.”

“You can teach me,” Armen said to Yana. Davit pulled forward in his seat and began nodding his head as well.

“It can be Garik’s first successful contract,” I added. Tamara scooted in behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist.

“I love you,” Tamara whispered in my ear as the conversation in the room began moving quickly, excitement infecting everyone. I turned in Tamara’s arms, ignoring the questions being flung at me. I had a lifetime to answer them.

The world disappeared as I lost myself in Tamara’s lips. We were back on the mountain, a blizzard we no longer cared about was raging around us. The only thing that mattered was the moment and that we held each other. A squeal brought our minds back to reality.

Melina was waving her arms in Armen’ s lap, trying to join the excitement by yelling for attention. She was our new mountain, a storm we couldn’t ignore. I laughed at her antics as I swept her into my arms. Life was good. Life was very good.

++++++++++++++++++++++

Tamara

++++++++++++++++++++++

“Are you sure?” I asked the doctor. My belly was barely showing, and I felt no different than when I carried Melina.

“I know my job, Mrs. Bennett,” the doctor said, almost insulted. I smiled warmly while I tried to let the ramifications settle in my mind. I finished dressing as I thought how this would affect Jonathan. I knew now that I needn’t fear him leaving me anymore. Those fears were borne from the initial interference of his mother…and Kimberly.

I hated the way that Kimberly looked at Jonathan at our wedding. She was so American and way too pretty. He didn’t notice, but I saw it her eyes. I couldn’t blame her, but I didn’t have to like it. She said and did all the right things yet her eyes would linger on the man I held most dear.

The jealousy ended when she embraced me with tears in her eyes as she said goodbye. She said something I didn’t understand, but we both knew why she was leaving the reception early. I also knew I would never see her again. She left as a friend, saying her goodbyes to me and not to Jonathan. She loved him enough to disappear. I could never leave him, so she was stronger than me…or never loved him like I did.

Jonathan’s Armenian was growing stronger. I no longer needed to see his body language to understand him. I loved how his accent butchered the language. Every time he told me he loves me, my ears would do a little dance, and the little girl in me jumped up and down.

“You might have to revive my husband when I tell him,” I informed the doctor. The doctor rose from his chair and smiled at me.

“A blessing in any form, is still a blessing,” the doctor said as he put his clipboard off to the side. I wondered if that was true. I rubbed my growing belly and knew my love would be no different. The idea of it was warming in my mind. As the revelation finally took hold, I laughed. The doctor seemed pleased and chuckled himself.

I found Jonathan entertaining Melina in the waiting room. Ever since she started walking, Melina needed constant supervision. She had the Armenian tenacity mixed with American unbridled curiosity. Jonathan was busy building some kind structure with wooden blocks, and Melina was having a ball knocking it down. He was having as much fun as she was. It was some game they invented and only they knew the rules. How high could he make it before she pushed it over? I loved how he could make her laugh.

“Having fun?” I said, announcing my presence. Jonathan turned with a smile as Melina, once again, destroyed the structure he had been building. He rose quickly, sweeping Melina up in his arms.

“Mommy’s done,” He told Melina in his lovely Armenian. “And how is she doctor?” he asked. The doctor moved out from behind and winked at me.

“Very healthy,” the doctor replied as he moved toward his office, “it is a good thing for a woman in her condition.” He left swiftly, leaving me to break the news. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing.

“And how is Melina’s brother or sister?” Jonathan asked. I tried to figure out how to tell him without freaking him out. He looked at me funny as I stalled for the right words. I knew he was reading my body language and already knew something was wrong. “Tamara?” He queried again, with a little fear in his voice.

“It may be both,” I said, sucking in my breath.

“What?”

“Boy and girl or two of either,” I said, watching his eyes travel through a million emotions, “the doctor only knows there are two.”

“Twins?” Jonathan gasped, his eyes looking stunned. I moved forward to soften the blow and a smile formed on his lips, “Twins,” he repeated, more to himself. He slid Melina to his left arm and pulled me in with his right. “Twins,” he repeated dreamily as his lips found mine. I leaned into him and felt Melina kiss my cheek thinking it was a new game.

“They will drive us insane,” Jonathan said humorously, “my mother is going to flip.” His eyes found mine in that loving way he had. “We survived a plane crash; we can survive twins,” he said, pulling the three of us tightly together.

A warmth spread over me. Memories of the first time Jonathan took me, warming the blizzard away and my fears with it. He looked at me with those same loving eyes. We could weather any storm, even twins.

“The mountain, my love,” I said softly, “was the easy part.”