Ari's New Life

A Rose Called Miracle

Book #4, Part 7

Author's Note: This is the fourth and final Book of 'A Rose Called Miracle'. This is fiction. All characters in intimate situations are over 18. Any resemblance to real people, organizations, or businesses is simply coincidence. As with the first three books, it is made much more interesting by people of different races, religions, and sexual preferences. And I still believe the world would be a better place if Douravia really existed.

KARI'S NEW LIFE

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"You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair." Old Chinese proverb

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Book 4, Part 7

I woke up the next morning aching, stiff, and bruised. And no, get your mind out of the gutter, it's not what you think. When we arrived back at the embassy DNP Reinhardt held the door for us. As we walked back into the embassy, I was beside her, "I understand you won a medal in the Olympics?" I asked.

"I did."

"That must have been an incredible experience." I suggested.

She shrugged, "It was disappointing really."

"Oh?"

She went on to explain that she'd had to skip the opening ceremony because her first fight was the next morning at 0900. She'd watched the pageantry on a small TV in her assigned dorm room which was small, drab, uncomfortable, and shared with five other women. She described how she'd won each of her first five fights to reach the medal rounds.

"I should have won gold...but I was stupid." She said finally,

"What happened?" I asked. She went on to describe an easy victory in her semi-final match and getting ready for the final.

"In the final I had the woman under total control. She couldn't touch me. Right at the end she slipped inside and then tried to bite me. I stepped back and hit her twice; knocked out two teeth, broke her nose, and she was out cold, but they disqualified me and gave her the gold medal. I was lucky to still get silver. At the medal ceremony I remember they had to help her onto the podium. Her face was one big bruise, she was missing teeth, had two black eyes, and her nose...what a mess. I didn't have a scratch on me. They gave us our medals and played her anthem. I ignored her when she offered to shake hands. I remember stepping off the podium and looking around, 'Is that all there is?' I wondered. I left the athlete's village and flew home that afternoon. I haven't competed since then." She finished. "But if you're interested, I teach a self-defense class..."

"What, like karate or kung-fu?"

"No, it isn't one of those gym dancing things; it doesn't have a fancy name. I teach survival and how to fight when your life depends on it. We'll be in the gym at 2000. Wear loose clothes and trainers." We went our separate ways after that.

"Oh God!" I groaned as I tried and failed to roll toward Robert. "I ache in places I didn't even know I had places." I flinched as Robert touched my side.

"Erica says you did very well last night."

"If this is doing well...I'd hate to do badly." I groaned again, "Robert! I can't move my legs! Help." He laughed at me. If I'd had any strength I'd have smacked him. He kept laughing and pointed out that Nick and Nora were lying across my legs. They took their time moving after I yelled at them, but at last I could move.

"Come on Sweetheart," Robert encouraged me, "Let's get ready for a workout."

"Are you crazy? I can barely move." I whined.

"Come on." He pulled back the covers revealing my naked body. "Wow! You have a spectacular bruise on your bottom. How did that happen?" He said happily as he latched onto my hands and forced me to sit up. "Let's go Sweetie. The stretching and gentle yoga will do you more good than lying in bed feeling sorry for yourself." I stood up...with Robert's help...and groaned as I bent to don my exercise clothes.

We took the stairs; Robert refused to let me use the elevator. The usual crowd was in the gym, but the attitude was different. Many of them came over and said good morning. Most of them commented favorably about surviving my first session with DNP Reinhardt. There seemed to be no secrets around the embassy. Just before we started stretching, DNP Reinhardt approached me with a smile. She admitted she was surprised to see me. I told her to blame the prince, if I'd had my way I'd still be in bed.

She laughed happily. Then the smile dropped and she clapped her hands, "Right! Let's go!" She hollered and we formed up for the stretching routine. It hurt a lot more than the past couple days, but Robert stayed by my side and encouraged me. He even joined me for yoga. His fellow Douravians did their best not to laugh at his sorry attempts at a few of the poses.

I surprised myself by finishing the entire yoga session; then I walked around the track while Robert ran. Afterwards DNP Reinhardt approached me. Robert gave his head a subtle shake 'no' when I asked her to call me Kari. Anyway, she insisted on meeting every night for at least a month to reinforce the self-defense techniques.

When we got back to the apartment (Robert allowed the elevator this time) Robert showered first and got dressed for a series of meetings. After he left I showered, threw on a blouse and skirt, and went looking for breakfast. I was alone until Agatha brought in a bowl of oatmeal. She let me know that Val had eaten earlier and was down in the testing center taking care of her last final exam.

"Are you feeling well, Miss?" Agatha asked as I spooned up the oatmeal. "You look pale."

"I'm fine. Just stressed with the funeral proceedings and tired and sore after last night's session with DNP Reinhardt."

Agatha smiled, but didn't laugh. "Yes. Everyone is impressed by your stamina."

"Nah. I think she took it easy on me because of Prince Edwin."

"Don't you believe that for one second Miss. Birgit told me, that she'd heard from her boyfriend Nelson, who heard from Reinhardt's husband Gunther, that she actually did everything she could to make you quit. She's quite impressed by your stubbornness. You have to understand Erica, getting beat up is okay but quitting is unforgiveable. You took the beating, but you didn't give up."

I thanked Agatha for telling me. I took another spoon of my oatmeal.

"Oh, Ms. Kari, there's one more thing. After last night, Erica went to Col. Brasseaux and asked that if it ever becomes necessary, she wants to be your close-in bodyguard."

I really didn't know how to respond to that, so, I stayed silent. After I finished eating and washing my dishes. I went out to the family room and read one of the many newspapers the embassy received each day. There wasn't much known about Brett's Task Force; just that arraignments had begun and the federal courts continued to hand down new indictments. Rumors swirled that a member of the former president's cabinet had fled the country. After I got bored with the corruption stories, I also found a book called 'A History of Douravia' by Dr. Charles Devereaux. I was reading the book's introduction when Robert came out. I held up the book, "A relative?"

"My oldest younger brother. He's the person to ask about Douravia's minutiae." He sat down beside me. He took the book and thumbed through it. He handed the book back and pointed to a portrait. "This is Xavier, the first King of Douravia. He's my many, many, many times great-grandfather."

I didn't see much of a resemblance, but he certainly had an impressive beard and colorfully decorated uniform. "Do you have to wear fancy uniforms as a Prince?"

"No. As ambassador, I occasionally have to wear what diplomats call a 'morning suit'. More often, I have occasions to wear a tuxedo. Most of the time, though, I can get by with a nice three-piece business suit."

"And me?"

"Ah yes. After we announce our engagement, I hope that you will accompany me on the diplomatic social circle. I see you frowning. Is it because you don't want to accompany me, or is it because you're worried that you don't know what to wear?"

"Not frowning...thinking. I'd love to accompany you...I have to make sure all those women know that you belong to me! But the clothing...yeah, that's a little concerning."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Watkins is our expert on that; she won't let either of us out of the embassy if we're not properly attired for an event. You're still frowning Love, what is it?"

"My butterfly and rose bouquet...?" I left it hanging and hoped Robert would fill in the blanks for me.

Robert nodded. I could tell he was thinking carefully about what he wanted to say. "Do you like your tattoos?"

"Yes...actually it's more than that...I can't imagine myself without them. The butterfly was Brett's idea. The rose bouquet was mine."

"Then don't worry about them. Wear what YOU want to wear. If your ink shows...so be it. There probably will be occasions where Mrs. Watkins will 'suggest' covering up...trust her advice. Now me, personally, I love your bouquet, I don't mind at all if it shows."

"Really?"

"Really. It isn't just a tattoo, it's a piece of art...not to mention a tribute to a man you loved." He hesitated and lifted up my hand and almost kissed it. "I see you still have questions, but I think we need to start getting dressed for the memorial service."

We walked back to the bedroom. I showered and washed my hair while Robert sorted out his suit. I started combing my hair. it was getting close to that uncomfortable length where it was too long to simply run a comb through it; but too short to do anything really creative. "Hurry up and grow." I muttered as I combed it straight back.

Robert headed into the bath as I left. While he showered, I sat at my mirror and put in all my jewelry--including the nose chain. Once I was satisfied with the jewelry I went over to the closet and got out the dress I'd purchased for the memorial. The more I looked at it the more I disliked it. "To hell with it!" I put the dress back in the closet and started looking for something else.

I finally found what I was looking for: the little black dress Brett had selected for an evening dinner party with the Spencer Industries Board of Directors just before our disastrous Thanksgiving trip. I was sure Mrs. Watkins wouldn't approve because the dress was short (2" above the knee); semi-backless (my butterfly and two roses of the bouquet were visible); and short-sleeved.

I had just slipped the dress over my head and got it settled when Robert re-entered the bedroom. I looked back over my shoulder; his lean muscular body never failed to make me feel warm all over. "Honey, would you zip me, please?"

He strolled over to where I stood. I shivered as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "This doesn't look like the dress you and Mrs. Watkins decided on?"

"You're right, it's not."

Robert finished my zipper before he turned me to face him, "And...?" He prompted.

"Since I was informed of Brett's death, all I've done is cry. The last two days I've been mourning him and thinking of how much worse this world will be without him. And tomorrow, as he is buried, I will cry and mourn him some more." I pulled Robert to me and kissed him lightly--have you ever heard the expression 'like a butterfly with sore feet'? That would describe the kiss. I stepped back and reached for Brett's favorite shiny, black stiletto heels (yes, the pair I wore marching and prancing around his house naked while doing my housework), "But today I intend to celebrate his life, not mourn his death. I'm going to do my best to remember all the good he's done, the people he helped, and most of all how much he meant to Valerie and me."

I started to sit on the edge of the bed so that I could put on my heels; but this time Robert pulled me to him, but simply traced a finger down the side of my face. Tears welled up in his eyes as he let go of my hands. I sat down and he sat down beside me. Tears streamed down his cheeks. "Robert, Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

He swiped a hand across his face, "My wife, Sascha, died 16 years ago. As you spoke of trying to move from mourning a death to celebrating a life, I realized that for all of those years I've mourned her death. I've never celebrated her life or our time together. My God, I was so selfish."

I finished buckling my shoes while Robert sat staring at the picture of him and Sascha. I stood up. It took me a few seconds to balance myself because I hadn't worn really high heels in quite some time. I grabbed his hands and pulled him up, "C'mon, Your Highness, it's time for us to get moving. By the way, your eyes are red, you'd better go use a cold washcloth."

When he came out, he looked much better. He hurried over to his closet and dug around. He pulled out a bright red necktie and quickly swapped it for the dark tie he'd been wearing. "Thank you," He said as he took my hand and we walked out of the bedroom, "Sascha gave me this tie after our first Christmas--before we were married. She'd originally given me a blue tie with polka dots; then she saw I had several just like it. She took her tie back and exchanged it for this one. I never wore it before, but I couldn't bear to get rid of it. Come on, let's start celebrating life."

"Amen."

We walked out to the living area and found Valerie and Stephen waiting. Valerie stared at me, "Umm, Mom, I thought we were going to a memorial service?"

"We are. I'm wearing what Brett liked."

"Well wow. Even the nose chain."

"Yup. I'm honoring Brett as best I can."

"You look good; but now I feel kind of shabby."

"Get your coat, hat, and gloves and let's go."

For whatever reason, traffic was heavy. It took nearly an hour for us to cross the city to the military chapel. The base's security people had opened the gate and formed a corridor of blocked streets and detour signs that led us to the chapel. I noticed a temporary gate shack set up to control entry to the main base. We arrived about an hour before the service was scheduled to start and found the parking lot already 3/4 full of cars and people idling outside the chapel--not to mention being watched by armed security people. I suppose they were willing to invite civilians like us to the chapel--but had no intention of letting anyone wander around the rest of their installation.

The embassy driver stopped and hurried around to open our door. Robert got out first before assisting me, Stephen, and Valerie. We approached the building only to find the entrance locked. Robert knocked. After, perhaps 20 seconds, the door cracked open. "We'll be opening the doors in 25 minutes." A young woman in an Air Force uniform snapped.

"I'm Kari Noonan. My former husband is in there. May I have a few minutes?"

"Of course, I'm sorry. ID please?"

I pulled my dependent ID out of my purse, wondering if it would work. I guess it did; the uniformed woman with four stripes on her sleeve allowed the four of us in before slamming the door shut again. "Right this way Mrs. Noonan. The chapel is all set up. By the way I'm Staff Sergeant Mici Russo, the chapel manager." She led us inside. I looked around curiously because I'd never been in a church before. Even my obsessively religious fosters always left me at the house or in the car. It looked like all the flowers had been transferred from the funeral home to the chapel. They lined both sides of the chapel as well as both sides of the center aisle and surrounding Brett's casket. There was one large, framed picture of Brett in his uniform. It was on a stand right in front of the casket.

"Sergeant Russo, I don't recognize that photo. Do you know where it came from."

"It looks like a blown-up copy of the official photo from his personnel file. Every officer has one. If you'd like, I can get it for you after the service?"

"Thank you...but no. I got the picture I wanted yesterday at the second viewing." Did I mention that I'd successfully stolen the framed picture of Brett, Valerie, and me? Oh well...

We moved down the aisle. At the very front row Sgt. Russo pointed to the left, "That's your pew." I left her with Val, Stephen, Robert, and our two DNP bodyguards and moved forward to Brett's flag-draped casket. I maneuvered between a few of the floral displays and placed my hand on the blue field.

"Young lady?" A man's voice interrupted my thoughts, "You're not supposed to be in here." A middle-aged man in religious clothing stood there.

"I thought it would be okay to say goodbye to my former husband? I'm Kari Noonan."

"You're Kari? The times I spoke with Brett...I expected someone older with long red hair."

"I hear that a lot. A couple months after we...ended our marriage...I had a mad moment and had my stylist chop most of it off and then color what was left silver. I liked the look, so I kept it."

"Brett said you were quite beautiful. By the way I'm Father Henry Callahan, the base's catholic chaplain. I know this is personal, but how old are you? Brett said you looked very young."

"I'm 35."

"Really? I'd have guessed more like 25."

"Thank you. Umm, sir, how should I address you?"

"Father Henry is fine."

"Okay. Father Henry, will you be conducting the...services...today?"

"I'll be one of three, along with Chaplain Robinson and Rabbi Shore. Is there anything specific we need to know?"

"Will you fulfill Brett's request for Beethoven's 9th to be played?"

"Yes. Right toward the end. Colonel Noonan asked for the 'Ode to Joy' Chorale."

"Excellent. Would you do me one favor? I want you, and any other speakers, to emphasize that today I want people not to mourn Brett's death; but instead celebrate his life. There will be no talk of sadness--only joyful memories from having known him."

"That is a wonderful, very mature sentiment. I'll be happy to pass on your wishes. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time to open the doors."

"I don't suppose we could keep the doors locked and the service is just you and me?"

"A lovely idea...but no. You have to remember that I'm a priest, yes, but I'm also a serving officer. I have two bosses to obey. And my...earthly...boss has demanded a good show. Sorry. God be with you, my child."

He left my side. I returned my attention to Brett's casket. I tried to pretend it was just Brett and me; but I was aware of the rising background noise as the doors opened and the chapel began to fill. I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Robert. "Sweetheart, you should come and sit down now."

I did as he asked, but I kept staring at Brett's casket...at least until the three chaplains, led by Father Callahan, entered the room from a door on the left, and stood in front of their chairs. I noticed an organ playing softly in the background. Father Henry stood and moved to the podium...

After that I retreated to my memories: I only let in the good things. Robert, bless him, guided me through the service; I stood when he stood, I kneeled when he kneeled, I sat when he sat, I said 'Amen' when prompted. He also nudged me in the ribs and forced me to pay attention when General Watson delivered his eulogy--but I'd heard most of the 'semi-truthful' funny stories before. Rabbi Shore ended the service when she asked "Shalom...Go in peace."

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and found Kate, David, and all their kids in the pew behind us. Behind them stood Jamie, Nicole, Vera, and Naomi. I heard the 'Ode to Joy' chorale playing over the loudspeakers. I was sad that I couldn't remember if Brett had touched me the first time we listened to it. The three chaplains stepped down off the platform. We all shook hands, and I thanked them for the lovely service--which I didn't remember.

At last Robert put a gentle hand on my hip and guided me out of the pew. I thanked General Watson for his moving and amusing eulogy. "You look lovely today Mrs. Noonan. Again, my condolences." A tall, reed-thin, bottle-blonde older woman stood scowling next to him. The general introduced her as his ex-wife, Florence.