Love’s Unselfish Gift Read online

  “Maybe you don’t need Marco’s money, and if not, stop acting like you do,” I snapped. If Marco were alive today, he’d shake his head in disapproval. Marco left his family plenty of assets, including a few million in life insurance listing his parents and brother as the beneficiaries.

  Anna’s expression changed while we talked. “I’ve spoken to a real estate agent, Suzy. We’re selling the house. I asked Alanzo to stay with you for a while because you need someone around to take care of some things for you, like Marco used to do.”

  “Like?” I hoped she didn’t suggest Alanzo pick up exactly where Marco left off.

  “For starters, the women back home seem to think he’s pretty good at sex.”

  “God help me.”

  “I’m kidding.”

  “That’s not funny,” I said. Anna had a peculiar sense of humor and sometimes it really hit a nerve. “Call Alanzo and tell him not to come. Please, Anna. It’s not fair to either of us.”

  Anna stood up and patted my shoulder in passing. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

  * * * *

  The afternoon flew by with one event after another. I spoke at two high schools, taking Marco’s position on drunk driving and teaching responsible drinking to teens. When Marco talked to kids, he never talked down to them, and rather than uphold the law as if he believed teenagers wouldn’t dare drink, he approached them from a different angle.

  His message remained more along the lines of “If you drink and you might, then have a designated driver, pal up with your buddies, and make sure one of you remains sober and takes on the responsible role of designated driver.”

  I tried to convey his message each and every time I stood behind the podium, but lately I felt like such a hypocrite. I wanted a drink. I longed to lose my sorrow in the bottom of a bottle. I hadn’t stooped to my previous level, the drunken stupor the tabloid reporters once loved to write about. But the inner demons chased me. The desire for booze haunted my every waking hour.

  Marco and I had promised one another various things throughout our relationship. He swore off cheating and as far as I knew he never had an affair. In return, I agreed to remain sober.

  I clutched the steering wheel harder upon entering Preston Hollow. The last time I visited my palatial mansion, I met Marco there for a little hanky-panky.

  Pulling into the driveway, I stared up at the house Marco didn’t want, the place he refused to live, and I wondered. Could I return there? Did I want to go back when Marco once allowed for the opportunity to move forward?

  There were several signs and dead flowers at the iron gates. For some reason, many of Marco’s fans believed we still lived there. When memorials were placed, the little cottage we’d made into our home went unnoticed. Instead, fans gathered in front of a home suitable for a PFC player, placing signs of their never-ending grief and leaving floral arrangements for the dead hero who never wanted any of this.

  I left my brand new Honda Accord, slamming the door behind me. I drove an economical car and yet my three-car garage still had over two hundred thousand dollars in vehicles parked there. I stared at the massive front door with the brass doorknocker and resisted the first temptation to slam my fist against the walnut encasing the tiny beveled glass windows.

  Like a silly school girl, a child without one make-believe friend, I knocked and waited. “Hmm,” I whispered. “I guess no one is here.”

  The tears came. No, no one was home. No one lived there anymore. No one wanted to reside there when they had a cozy, comfortable cottage less than ten miles away.

  Love once lived in the cottage. A drunkard once resided at the Preston Hollow address.

  I sat on the stoop leading to the ostentatious house and knew where to find temptation, the worst of all evils. I needed to heal and I fully intended to do it on my own terms.

  Standing immediately, I opened the car door, and grabbed my keys and my purse. Then, I unlocked the front door, disarmed the security code, and returned to a very lonely place.

  Chapter Two

  Two Days Later

  “Suzy? Are you here?” My mother-in-law’s voice rang throughout the house. With the ceramic tile floor, high ceilings, and large open spaces, the echo bounced off the walls.

  “Suzy? Honey? Where are you?”

  I heard more footsteps right above me, and then I heard Mark, my ex-husband scream out in what I translated as sheer panic, “Suzy? Where are you? Damn it baby, answer me!”

  Baby? Get fucking real! I rolled over and heard the clang of bottles, so I squirmed once and managed to tumble in the other direction.

  “Suzy? Answer us!”

  My heart stilled. “Marco?” I whispered. “Marco, is it really you?”

  “Suzy!” Mark screamed again, an outburst far too dramatic for my liking.

  The smooth, familiar texture of a cold bottle alerted me to the fact that I wasn’t in bed. I immediately remembered what had happened.

  A long time ago, Marco asked me to toss out all liquor bottles. Instead of trashing quite a stash, I boxed everything up and moved the alcohol to the basement. I never forgot where my liquor was stored and between aged scotch and fine wines, I’d tied on one hell of a drunk and didn’t just fall off the wagon, but let the booze drag me completely under the wheels.

  The concrete floor beneath me wasn’t comfortable, but at least, there in the basement, I finally had time to mourn. Sip after sip, gulp after gulp, I relived every day of my life with Marco, relishing in kisses remembered and so many cherished times together.

  “Suzy? Are you—” I heard Anna at the top of the stairs. “Oh my God, Mark! Alanzo! She’s here!”

  Alanzo. I’d only seen him once after Marco died. Looking into his face and eyes would prove too painful. Being around him would ignite a mixture of emotions, some of which I once faced even when Marco was still alive.

  Alanzo and I once enjoyed friendly flirtations, but we never crossed the line. Now, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t need to hear his voice. He made me feel vulnerable. And I feared the worst. He could inevitably breathe life back into a body that had been dead since we’d buried Marco.

  “Mark! Alanzo!”

  Dear God, someone shut that woman up! I longed to scream, but instead I remained perfectly still, surrounded by Lord only knew how many bottles.

  “Shit! Suzy!” Alanzo called out and I heard a rush of footsteps pound against the wooden planks. Two or three people hurried down the stairs. A light flickered overhead once Mark entered the basement. Only three people knew where to find the ridiculous location of the light switch—on the far wall right behind the water heater—and one of the three no longer walked among the living.

  Alanzo brushed my hair out of my face. I didn’t have to look up to know who touched me. His hands were similar to Marco’s. For a second, I lost myself under his fingertips. He gathered me up and held me against his chest, stroking my hair and whispering. “I gotcha, Suzy. I gotcha.”

  Rocking back and forth, he cradled me for what seemed like hours and for the first time in a very long time, I felt safe and secure, wanted and loved. Then, the illusion stopped and I freaked.

  “Don’t touch me!” I yelled, pushing him away and glaring at Mark, then Anna. “What are you doing here?”

  Mark squatted next to me. “Suzy, the question is, what are you doing here?”

  “Do you know what day it is?” Anna asked, apparently disgusted.

  “Tuesday,” I replied. Hell, maybe Wednesday rolled around. After all, Alanzo was here, so yes, Wednesday seemed logical.

  “It’s Thursday,” Alanzo said, caressing my arm.

  I looked around at the empty bottles. “So much for crashing a party, mine apparently ended hours ago.”

  At least seven liquor bottles were strategically placed around me. Evidently, I drank until I passed out, woke up, and drank some more. I remembered something along the lines of taking a few sips here or there before the room started spinning.

 
I’d crawled upstairs a few times to go to the bathroom and then sat on the top stair and scooted back down again. Sliding over one wooden plank after the other, I kept my eye on the prize, finding my just reward in more booze.

  Anna glared. “So, you go to the local high schools and preach about drinking. Then, you come here and to honor my dead son you drink yourself into a splendid stupor?”

  “Something like that, yeah, Anna.” I was sick to death of her condescending voice. I wanted her gone. Maybe she meant well but I meant business. She needed to go. I looked at Alanzo and with pleading eyes, I gave him a meaningful glare. Maybe he read minds. Marco always understood what I needed.

  Alanzo didn’t, but my ex did.

  Mark said, “Anna, tell you what, Cassie and Corby just brought in a big barbeque picnic from a new downtown restaurant. What do you say we run over and grab a plate for Alanzo and Suzy?”

  “Well, I…I…”

  “Mother, barbeque sounds good. I’ll help Suzy get cleaned up, and we’ll expect you back in say…a couple of hours?”

  “Sure, two hours should give us time to visit with the clan over at the house. Coach Tomlinson, the new offensive line coach, is over there. I know he’d love to meet you, Anna.”

  I owed the ex something, not sex of course, but something. Anna loved talking to the Rascals coaches. She remained committed to one mission, to keep her son’s memory alive and make sure everyone remembered Marco Giovanni, one of America’s favorite quarterbacks.

  Anna didn’t object. I never thought she would. Mark escorted her upstairs and I was left alone with the one man I feared most.

  When they were gone, Alanzo plucked the bottles from the concrete and lined them up on a nearby empty shelf. After he carefully picked up a few pieces of a shattered bottle and then swept the remains, he gently lifted me from the floor and started up the steps.

  “I can walk.”

  “I’m sure you can, but I’ll carry you.”

  Chewing on my bottom lip, I wondered if he realized how his presence affected me. I wanted to ask, needed to know if he even cared that I had a hard time being in the same room with him, let alone his arms.

  When we walked across the foyer, he casually reached over and locked the front door.

  “No!” I exclaimed.

  “What?” he asked, startled,

  Dizzy, I wiggled out of his heavy arms and almost fell in the process. He caught me around the waist.

  “Get your hands off me,” I stated flatly.

  “Suzy, I’m not here to take advantage of any situation. Mom asked me to come and help my brother’s widow get back on her feet.”

  Pun intended? Probably. I glared at my husband’s twin, the duplicated man who would forever remind me of what I’d lost, what I’d never experience again.

  “I want you to go,” I whispered. “Go back to South Padre and never come back here again.”

  “I can’t do that,” he said, reaching for his jacket thrown over my banister. “And after you read this, you probably won’t expect me to leave.” He searched through an inside coat pocket and then extended an envelope.

  “I’ll uncover some of the living room furniture and see what I can do about the cobwebs around here. When you’re ready to go upstairs, yell for me. I don’t want you teetering around when you’re obviously inebriated.”

  I stared at the hand holding what I presumed was a letter. Since I saw five or six hands, I went for playing it off and swiped my hand across the area directly in front of me until I snatched the envelope.

  Taking a seat on the bottom step, my vision cleared up, and I immediately understood sitting trumped standing. I pulled the letter away from the envelope and stared at the bottom of the page. It was from Marco. Glancing toward the top, I saw whom he had addressed.

  “Read it, Suzy.” Alanzo walked away with a sorrowful expression, and I focused on every heart-wrenching word written by my husband:

  Dear Alanzo,

  If you’re reading this letter, then I’m dead. It’s kind of peculiar to write but a necessity because this request concerns my wife.

  You know my history. You were there when I lost Francine. You always knew what she meant to me, how much I loved her even after she died.

  I never thought I’d find another woman to love, one who would hold a candle to my Francine, but I did. I found a wonderful woman in Suzy and discovered the greatest love of my life.

  Now don’t get me wrong. She wasn’t always easy, but she was worth the effort and became a treasure, one I adored and cherished. Suzy was my second chance at love, the only lover I’ve ever had or ever will have.

  Now, I must ask you a favor. It’s not a hidden secret the two of you have a mutual attraction, something I could explain if you’d give me a day, but I don’t want to encourage you to bed my wife, unless of course, I’m dead. Then again, I’ll try to remember I already am if you’re reading this.

  You once told her that you didn’t believe one thing you read about her in the papers. Well, you should’ve believed one written piece—that article about her being bad in bed, yeah as in naughty, that part…oh God, brother…that part is all true. Maybe I need to convince you she’s safe for you to pursue now, and if you want me to persuade you, then that one fact alone is something to consider.

  Alanzo, I love her and because I love her, I never want her to be alone. I don’t want her to have to worry about who will be there for her.

  You be there.

  I don’t want to die and go on to the next life unable to leave this world completely behind because of my love for Suzy, but somehow I know I’ll never be able to rest in peace until she’s truly happy. She will never find peace if she goes back to her old ways, to the Suzy who barely functioned on her own before I met her, before my love changed her.

  I’m sure this is an odd letter to read as my brother but there is only one other man on the face of this earth who will love her like I do. That man is you. I know because from the moment you first saw her, new life came into your eyes and a bright light flickered. It pained me to know that I had the one woman who would’ve been just as perfect for you.

  The alarming truth is, I should’ve shared her.

  I should have offered an arrangement between the three of us because you would’ve done the same for me. Only, I was greedy with love and lust. And so damn crazy about her it would’ve driven me mad if another man touched her.

  I lost myself in her eyes and thanks to her, I’m a changed man. She’s a special lady who made me become a better person. Let her into your life and you’ll see. Suzy Illiani Giovanni is a woman with heart and spunk, a woman who loves with passion.

  Go and find out for yourself, Alanzo, and if I’m not there with you now, then you love her for me. Love her for you.

  I believe a piece of her heart was always yours anyway.

  You are loved and relied upon,

  Marco

  I read the letter twice. “No,” I whispered. “No, no, no!” How dare Marco do this?

  Alanzo appeared in the archway separating the formal living room from the foyer. He stared straight ahead, apparently waiting for me to speak again.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. Then, I snapped the paper a few times again. “This isn’t right.”

  “It may not be right but…” He paused and then said, “It’s true.”

  My eyes darted in his direction, and I narrowed my gaze. “What do you mean, it’s true?”

  He didn’t move but his eyes softened, and I could see he wanted to come closer, hold me while he told me whatever he had on his mind. “Suzy, I’m in love with you, and I have been since my brother introduced us. Don’t insult me by pretending you didn’t know. Marco realized I had real feelings for you, and if he knew, you did too.”

  “How dare you say that to me?” I screamed, storming over to stand in front of him while shaking the rippled paper. “Do you think this letter changes something? Do you?”

  “Suzy, you may think my love
comes with conditions but it doesn’t. I’ve loved you almost as long as Marco. Maybe he met you first. Maybe he loved you first, but I plan to love you last.”

  “He’s your brother!” I screamed, my fists balled up at my sides.

  “And if I’m damned for loving my brother’s wife, then I’m damned. But after Mother gave me this letter and told me to read it, I accepted the truth. You need to accept what’s right in front of you, too, because you’ve always felt something for me.”

  “Don’t you see what this is?” I shook the letter in his face. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes, I know what it is. Marco always had a great fear of dying young. He wanted to make sure he expressed his feelings and relayed those in a letter.”

  “I wasn’t married to your brother for over five years without knowing him, without understanding the way I handed over my life to him. I am who I am because I changed for your brother and what did I get in return?” I paced a few steps. “A man who still wants to control me from the grave!”

  Alanzo pursed his lips and his face turned red. I noticed then that even in his anger, Alanzo looked exactly like Marco. “You don’t mean that, Suzy. Marco loved you.”

  Sarcastic laughter filled the air. I barely recognized my own voice. “He left me with nothing!”

  “How can you say that? He gave you everything!”

  Through the tears and the pain, I said, “He stripped me down to bare bones and then left me with absolutely nothing.”

  The bitterness new, the odd way I looked at my relationship with Marco right then didn’t reveal my truest feelings. Marco was my life and without him, I wouldn’t have made it this far, but I was mad. I had a right to feel angry. Marco tried to manipulate me, and he wasn’t even alive to do it in person.

  I had to find out through a letter to his brother what he always suspected, what I’d always chosen to ignore. Sure, I held a special place in my heart for Alanzo. How could I not?

  What was the old adage? If it looks like a duck, waddles like a duck, then it’s damn sure not a goose? Alanzo was Marco’s carbon copy and their similarities went beyond their physical bodies. They acted alike, supported a lot of the same charities, and shared a strong belief system in doing for others, fitting into their appropriate roles as community servants. The almighty dollar meant nothing to them.