Yesterday's Warrior, page 19
“At least we’ll have a friend in high places,” Felix laughed.
“Yeah, unfortunately for me, I can’t really show my face. You know, cause I’m so famous,” Dean laughed, his white teeth bright in the summer sun.
“Sure, you keep telling yourself that. Ghada wants you and Zaza to come over for dinner tonight,” Felix said, his hands resting on his hips.
“Ghada and Zaza are planning for our children’s eventual weddings in fifteen years. I know them. They plot and they plan,” Dean laughed.
“You have to admit, your two daughters and my two sons will make great matches and we keep the business in our family,” Felix laughed. Dean grinned and bumped his friend with his elbow. His two little girls were the light of his life and he loved them dearly. Takia was six and Haya was four. Haya had blue eyes and that tickled him greatly. She was also tall like her mother. He sighed happily. Life was good and he no longer had nightmares about his life in Rome. He had his friend Felix by his side and he kept in touch with his brother, Thad. He had been overjoyed when he’d gotten word about Thad’s release and adoption. Life was funny, both heartbreaking and wonderful. He just wished his family in the future knew that he was safe and happy. He shrugged; he would just have to see them all when he got to heaven.
Θ
Thad sat beside his father; they were watching the games in the Colosseum. He had dreaded coming here, but his father said they must put in a show and could leave soon after. Thad was grateful that Emperor Domitian had been killed shortly after Thad had left Rome. He was glad that Pansa had been in Sicily for nearly a year when it happened, so he was in no way connected with the brutal act. Emperor Ceasar Nerva Traianus Augustus was now in power. Same bullshit different day, Thad thought and couldn’t wait to get away from here.
He had made discrete inquiries and found out that Titu Lucius had died and that Cato had taken over as doctore. Scauras was still running things below and Glaucis ruling the Ludus. He didn’t inquire about his other friends; he really didn’t want to know, because if he didn’t know, then they were still alive. He had kept in touch with Dean and Felix and they exchanged correspondences. Felix had married a Syrian woman, no surprise. He was sure that Zaza had something to do with that. He knew Dean was happy with Zaza and his two daughters, who he wrote extensively about. He smiled at that.
Dean and Felix were thriving in Syria and their trade business was going well and the men prospered. He missed Dean, but was comforted that his friend was happy and healthy. He had never mentioned a word about Dean and Zaza and never would. He thought about his wife and smiled. Tullia was still in Sicily with the children. He hadn’t wanted her to come and she had agreed.
He thought of his oldest boy, Gregorus, he was a sturdy eight-year-old. Then there was his six-year-old daughter, Deana and three-year-old Marco. Each child the love of his life and Tullia, a wonderful wife and mother. She had been patient in their first years of marriage when Thad would wake in the night screaming. She had bathed away his tears and she had healed him.
He looked over at his father, the man as so frail and this year, Thad would take his seat in the senate. He thought the man might live another year, he hoped he would. It still twisted his mind, the paradox of his life. If he hadn’t have come back in time, would he have ever been born? Marius Giangreco had been the last male in his line. He had no brothers or uncles who had survived him. It was only because Thad had been adopted into the name, that the Giangreco line lived on. His boys, Gregorus and Marco would carry the name to the next generation and so on.
He shook his head; he’d go crazy trying to think about it. He was whole, the deep and vicious wounds healed by his children, his wife and his friends. He thought of his parents, but now, being a parent, understood and hoped that his parents might find some kind of peace. Each night, he said prayers and sent his love over the two millennia to his parents and sister. That was the last sore spot that would never heal. He accepted that and it made him love his family all the more.
Θ
Anthony Giangreco lingered behind his wife and daughter. It had been ten years since the disappearance of his son and three other Marines. It had been a devastating time and it had taken them years to come to terms with that loss. Even now, it was a raw spot in his heart and he would catch himself staring into space, still and unmoving, waiting for news of his son’s safe return. It would not be of course. The Marines and Department of Defense were at a loss. There were no terrorist alerts, no bodies, no clues. The men had just vanished and four families were left with devastation and no answers.
Their plans to visit the following summer at the Giangreco familial seat in Sicily had been canceled. They lived in limbo for well over a year, in hopes that something might turn up. As the years passed, that hope was diminished and then destroyed. It was only because their daughter, Serena, was pregnant and before she got too far along in her pregnancy to travel, they had decided to head to Sicily. Serena’s husband, Brent Gray, had suggested they also go to Rome, but that idea had been vetoed quickly. None wanted to go to the place their child was lost.
They were walking the grounds of Villa Bellini in Catania. It was an exceptionally beautiful park with sprawling manicured lawns, bubbling fountains and old architecture. They walked along the sun warmed cobblestone streets as the brilliant sun beat down on their shoulders. There had been several points where they could see the Mediterranean Sea, which was an incredible cobalt blue intersected with aquamarine. The stunning vistas nearly took his breath away and he could almost feel the joy of it but for the splinter in his heart.
There were tourists around them but widely dispersed. He felt a freshening breeze off the sea and turned his face into it and closed his eyes. There was joy in their lives, but there was a shadow that was always present. Anthony suspected there always would be. There were times when he wished that Thad had followed in his footsteps and had gone into the Navy. Perhaps he would not have disappeared. But, wishing for it got him nowhere.
He watched as his wife, Diana, moved toward a large building. It looked old and he thought it was the museum. He followed his family and smiled as Brent took pictures of his wife and daughter. Brent was a good man and his daughter seemed happy. A grandchild would help the pain that never quite went away. Anthony moved into the cool recesses of the building and looked around. He saw murals that had been chipped away by years and by the sea air. The colors were faded. He saw furniture of different centuries and statues and busts. Most were old but there were a few that were more recent.
The museum was broken up into a hodgepodge of rooms with mixtures of eras. His shoes clicked on the marble floor and echoed in the rooms. He stopped by a glass case to look at some beautiful wine goblets of Italian crystal. He jerked when he heard Diana’s scream and he ran from room to room, trying to locate her. He found her and her face had lost all of its color, her large eyes sheened with tears. He ran to her, taking her hands.
“What? What’s the matter?” he asked. Her mouth worked and twitched but she couldn’t speak. Instead, she turned him and he looked. A lightning bolt shot through his body and it buzzed in every neuron. He stared opened mouth at a bust of an ancient Roman. But it wasn’t an ancient Roman. It was Thad, carved in cold marble. He reached a trembling hand out and cupped the face, which was cold and hard to the touch and Anthony felt a frisson move through his tall frame. He saw his son’s strong features, yet the man was older by some years, but it was his son. He looked down at the placard and read it.
‘Thaddeus Amedeo Giangreco Pansa Senator 104 AD – 153 AD’
‘Gladiator Drago 92 AD – 94 AD’
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S.A. Ison, Yesterday's Warrior
