Chapter Twenty-Five – Marcella

"I'm so happy that UNLV has a good occupational therapy program so I can stay here with you and Linc for college," I say, lacing my fingers through Nixon's. We're sitting at the huge island in our gourmet kitchen, talking about our favorite thing. The future.

Even though the house is in my name alone, I don't consider it mine. It's our house, the one where we'll raise our family and grow old together as we love each other right into eternity.

"I have a confession to make," he says, giving my fingers a squeeze.

"Uh oh." I give him a fake menacing look. "I'm not sure if I like the sound of that. I have enough to deal with helping Linc and preparing for school. What are you up to, Nixon Caldwell."

Nixon had a state of the art occupational therapy lab built on the bottom floor of this huge house. Now, I can help Linc every day, and when I'm done with my degree, I can work from home. Things couldn't be better.

"I bought you something. A gift."

My face floods with heat. He's got to stop buying me so much. I'm going to get spoiled and turn into a woman I no longer recognize and don't like. I'm not very good at the receiving thing yet even though I'm enjoying the journey toward learning.

I scan the room, thinking a box or package might jump out and bite me. When I can't stand it anymore, I turn toward Nixon. Then the door slams and Linc thumps into the house before I can assuage my curiosity.

"Present's here!" In spite of his braces, he's moving pretty fast and bouncing up and down on his feet, out of breath in his excitement. "Come see, Cella! You're going to love it. I just know you will!"

I follow behind my two favorite men in the entire world until I'm standing on the front stoop. Our house has a grand entrance, and there is a flight of stairs from the circular drive to the double mahogany doors, complete with gold lion's head knocker. I scan the acreage, looking for the present he's just promised me. I hope he didn't buy me a peacock yet. I wouldn't know how to care for it, and I'm so strapped for time, I wouldn't be able to give it the proper attention.

A stunning, white horse prances toward me, its long tail flagged in the air. The shiny alabaster coat resembles cultured pearls flashing in the Vegas sunlight. Its black nostrils are flared, and as it tosses its head, its long mane and forelock twirl in the breeze. A man is leading it with jet black hair and…what the fuck? Is that Wayne Newton?!

My heart sings with such joy and elation I want to break into the chorus of "Danke Schoen" in his honor.

"Are you Miss Castillo?" he asks, that thousand-watt smile lighting his handsome face. He's the best looking dude in his seventies I've ever seen. He's tan and tall, and his trademark black hair is swept back from his face. But it's his eyes that do it for me. They sparkle and flash more life than a lot of twenty-year olds that I know.

I step down to greet him, taking his outstretched hand. "Mr. Newton, it's such an honor. My mom was such a fan of yours. She's no longer with us, but she won tickets to see you at the Stardust, and she talked about it until the day she died. She was in awe of your musical talent and how you could play so many instruments."

I stop because tears threaten to overflow my eyelids. I'm not sure if it's from Wayne, the nostalgia and close feeling to my mom, or because the most stunning horse I've ever seen is pawing the ground in front of me, but the emotion overwhelms me. But this time, it's a good cry.

"Well, that's so nice to hear," he says. "The Stardust was a favorite venue of mine, and I had the showroom named after me. It was a sad day when it got imploded. But life moves on, and you have to move with it. If we're not growing, we're stagnating."

Ain't that the God's honest truth.

The door shuts behind me, and Nixon bounds down the front steps, taking them two at a time. He's wearing a huge smile of his own, and it looks good on him. He's so much lighter lately, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. It's been happening so much more since the war with Dante died down. For now.

I'm happy that he's happy. We're happy together. Maybe Wayne could sing a song about it. I think there's one from the sixties, years and years before either Nixon or I was born.

"Wayne," he says, shaking the legend's hand, and taking the horse from him. "Marcella, my love, I wanted you to have the best, and Wayne breeds some of the best Arabian horses in the world. This is Anja, and she's yours, my angel. Isn't she beautiful? You can ride her around the property. Wayne assures me she's gentle and perfect for a novice."

"That she is," Wayne says, handing over the reins to me. Anja nuzzles my shoulder, and I pat her velvety nose, admiring her beauty and grace.

"Welcome to the family, beautiful girl," I say, whispering the words low into her ear. She must like it because she nickers and nuzzles in even deeper. A bond is already forming between us. I love animals so much, but I've never been able to have one. Anja is my first pet, but I can't wait to get cats and dogs from the local shelter. Between Nixon, Linc, me, and our furry menagerie, we'll be a happy home full of rescues that no one ever thought would make it.

Nixon seems satisfied that his gift will be cherished and adored. "Thanks so much for the horse, Wayne. You know, we have an empty headliner arena at the Armónico just waiting to be filled. Maybe I could talk you in to doing a run at my house?"

Wayne laughs, causing those flashing eyes to sparkle even more. I'm falling in love with the man just like my mother before me. I wish Manny were here to see this, but he's fallen off the wagon again, and I told Nixon he can't help him anymore. Manny has to step into his adulthood and learn to do for himself. If we continue to save him, he'll just fall lower, and we'll be nothing but enablers.

Wayne turns to leave after we say our goodbyes, but something pops into my mind, and it won't be ignored. "Mr. Newton?"

He turns back to me, and I blush, feeling like a goofball. He must get this all the time. I start to talk but then chicken out. He gives me a gentle smile. "What is it, Miss Castillo?"

"I know it's rude of me to ask, but my mom talked about you so much and seeing you is making me feel closer to her. Could you sing a few bars of her favorite song?"

"Of course," he says with a wink. "Believe it or not, that's hardly the most unusual request I receive from fans. Now, if you asked me to strip down on your lawn, that would be another story. Which of my songs was her favorite?"

"Daddy Don't You Walk So Fast," I say, remembering how my mom used to sing it when she washed the dishes at night. Manny, Lita, and I would be playing outside, and her melodic voice would wind outside and hit my ears through the window screen.

Nixon hisses in a breath, and I turn toward him. "No way, that was my mom's favorite Wayne Newton song. She used to sing it around the house whenever she was vacuuming."

Just as Wayne bursts into the familiar chorus of the song, a monarch butterfly flits through the air and lands on Anja's back. It stills and seems to listen right along with us.

Thanks, Mom. You've brought me the ideal man. He's not perfect, but he's perfect for me. I'm so happy. Now, if you could just work on Manny, things would be good.

As the last few words of the chorus float away on the air, I press my hand to the place I'd been branded, the skin still feeling a little raw from the tattoo. Last week, I'd had the brand transformed from Dante's hateful initials to a beautiful pair of angel wings in honor of my parents.

It was fitting.

And it was time.

I might never be rid of the past, but I can be in control of my the future.

As my fingers link with Nixon's, I believe that with all of my heart.