Waters of Oblivion

Chapter 8.1: The Fantastic Husband

Instead of the previous duo returning, however, the officer who had first brought Reine in was standing at the door. "Please come with me, ma'am," she said.

The woman was also holding her carry-on bag, which Reine took as a good sign. Maybe they were ready to let her go. She pushed herself up from her seat at the table. The long hours of sitting in one place made her already tired body even stiffer.

The officer stood motionless until Reine reached the open door. Taking hold of Reine's elbow, she led her out of the room toward another door a few steps away.

It was marked 'No entrance - Authorized personnel only'.

Walking through it, they were now in a very long, brightly lit hallway with various doors on the left and right. Reine's palms began sweating again, and she hoped they weren't just relocating her to another interrogation room. To her great relief, they kept walking until they reached the final door at the end of hallway marked 'Exit - No re-entry'.

The officer pushed on the door and kept it propped open with her body while handing Reine her bag.

"She's all yours," she said to the man standing in front of them. When Reine hesitated, she encouraged with a bit more enthusiasm. "Well, go on."

They were adjacent to the area where other passengers were exiting from baggage claim. While not enthusiastic about being handed off to another official-looking stranger, Reine was happy to at least be in a public place.

She took a few steps toward the young African American man in a charcoal gray suit. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Mal Thompson," the man replied in a deep baritone, extending his hand formally. "Gray Iverson's my uncle. Didn't he tell you I was going to pick you guys up?"

She shook her head. "No, he must have forgotten. I'm pretty sure he's gone by now. I was held up."

"Yeah, I noticed. Uncle Gray took a cab, but he asked me to stick around to make sure you got out okay. Do you need a ride?"

Although she couldn't trust anyone, Reine was on the breaking point both physically and emotionally. "Sure."

They drove in almost complete silence. At one point, Mal turned around and the headlights of oncoming traffic reflected off his lean, dark complexion. "Want some water?"

"Thanks." She accepted the clear, plastic bottle and downed most of its lukewarm contents. She hadn't realized how thirsty she must have been, but knowing she was half way home relaxed her enough to finally be able to sleep.

In her dream, she was dining at a fancy restaurant when the man across from her reached over the table and took one of her hands into his. "I think we should get married."

He spoke with a distinct British accent and coupled with the venue's décor and the patrons' style of dress, Reine intuitively knew it was the turn of the Twentieth Century, maybe a bit earlier. Her counterpart in the dream was stunned by the proposal, and she was left awkwardly staring at the man instead.

"So, what do you say?" He urged after a few uncomfortable moments.

"Say no, Miss Baldovini. And then get as far away from here as you can," an authoritative voice instructed.

Looking up from her companion's face, Reine noticed an older man with gray hair standing behind her suitor. He had recently entered the restaurant and was still wearing an overcoat and bowler hat. Although just overhearing the tail-end of the conversation, he had strong objections against it.

Reine had no idea who he was, but her suitor recognized their visitor. "Emery, what are you doing here?"

"I had a feeling you were going to do something stupid today, my boy, and we just couldn't have that, now could we?" Without taking off his hat, Emery pulled out a chair. "May I?"