143:Make it Enough

Jon held the counselor close, his nose buried into the sweet scent of her hair as she clutched at his back.  The embrace was as much to soothe and stabilize him as it was her, because while seeing Millie with the knowledge that they’d never see her again was poignant, Chiara’s tears left him feeling raw and helpless. 

He got psychology as much as any layman did.  Tears were a part of the grieving process, but that didn’t dull their effect on him.  He ached as much for her as for the harsh reality that they’d never be able to thank the old woman for what she did.  For the roadblock – cock-block – she eliminated so that they could move forward with their lives instead of hanging in limbo. 

“She was the Godmother.”

“What?”  He leaned back so that she wasn’t speaking into his shoulder, and found himself tortured anew by eyes that were more red than white. 

“The Godmother.  Can you believe it?  She put a hit out for us.”

A reluctant chuckle escaped as he cinched her closer.  “Yeah, she did.”

“I mean… I know that we sort of pieced this together already, but looking her in the electronic eyes and having it confirmed…  Holy Mary, Mother of God.  Why, Jon?”

It was a reasonable question. 

In theory, Millie knew very little about them yet had taken a huge risk on their behalf.  Then again, hadn’t he been willing to do the same thing for Chiara?  Knowing that a seemingly invincible woman like her was suffering – had suffered for so long – was a hefty motivator to do something that she couldn’t or wouldn’t do for herself. 

“She obviously cared about you,” he pointed out.  “And had the resources at her disposal.  It probably didn’t hurt knowing that she wouldn’t live long enough to suffer any consequences.”

A neutral murmur hummed against his collar bone but she didn’t speak for the longest time.  Jon must’ve stood there for a good five minutes just stroking her hair and taking reassurance in the dual beating of their hearts before her head finally tipped back. 

“What do you think the rest of the message is?  Why does she want to talk to me alone?”

He wondered the same thing himself but assumed it had something to do with their relationship before he came along.  “You’d know the answer to that better than I would, Counselor.  If you don’t, maybe you oughta go find out.”

Sunbeams glinted against her irises, adding a touch of gold to them as her lips pinched together.  “What are you doing for the rest of the day?  After we leave here.”

“I don’t have any specific plans.  Why?”

The arms snuggled under his suit coat constricted as Chiara burrowed her nose into Jon’s neck.  “Stay with me.  Let’s get drunk and fuck like lovesick monkeys until we fall asleep in each other’s arms tonight.”

Uncontainable laughter broke through the cloud of gloom, and he eased back to tuck a hand under her chin.  It was with amused affection that he inquired, “’Fuck like lovesick monkeys’?”

“It sounded more fun than the unvarnished truth,” she dismissed with a shrug. 

“Which is…?”

The eyes that connected with his were unguarded, giving him a glimpse of that beautiful purity she still harbored. “That mortality is weighing heavy on my mind and I’m suffering an unprecedented moment of clinginess.  I can’t stand the thought of being away from you.”

Jon had only thought that Chiara needed to be naked beneath him for her vulnerability to surface and steal his breath along with every fucking bit of good sense he possessed.  He was grossly mistaken. 

This woman standing before him without passion and desire as a scapegoat for her weakness, who simply confessed that she needed him…  She slayed him in a way he never imagined possible, bringing him to his knees with her naked honesty and making him feel fucking privileged to be there. 

While down there on his knees, Jon also received the message that he’d been waiting for without realizing it.  God and the universe – hell, maybe even Millie – were telling him to move forward and hand himself over on a silver platter.  No more holding back and no more indecisiveness.  It was time to take the steps that would tie a bow around the world and pray she’d accept it from him.

Not today, though. 

It was going to take more than a day to gather enough ribbon to tie that bow, and this particular day wasn’t about him.  It belonged to Chiara and Millie.  Jon was here for them.

“Monkey fucking is good,” he whispered against her lips.  “I don’t want you away from me, either.”

Her shoulders sagged with what appeared to be relief, and he wondered if the counselor had really been concerned about his reaction.  Really?  He didn’t understand how that was possible, but he also didn’t want to add to a scene that was dramatic enough on its own merits.  They were on the verge of being completely drama-free and he wasn’t willing to dive head first back into the deep end.

“Stay with me through the rest of Millie’s video.”

“Whatever you want,” he agreed easily, curious about what was still left for the old woman to say.  “Ready to do it?”

Soft lips touched his and clung for a brief eternity before she stepped back, capturing his hand as she did so.  “Yes.  Let’s go.”

Unfortunately, Carmine wasn’t on the same page.

“I’m sorry,” he told them regretfully, upon hearing their decision for Jon to stay.  “Aunt Camilla’s instructions are very specific.  She knew you’d want to be together through the whole thing but said that you’d have to deal with it.  Something about girl talk and that Charlie would end up being glad of the executive decision.”

Charlie could see that Jon was ready to politely give Carmine explicit instructions on how to get to Hell, but she laid a cautionary hand on his arm.  “If Millie was that set on it, then that’s what should happen.  She gave us everything, Jon.  I can do this for her.”

“You’re sure?”

Red was most often the color associated with love – even pink – but those people had never seen the emotion shining from eyes as beautiful as his.  For Charlie, love was a magnificent shade of blue that gave her the power and confidence to do anything.

Jesus, she was a lucky woman.

“I’m sure.”  She went up on her toes, laying a kiss against his jaw and instructing, “Save me some wine.”

After Carmine administered a two-second tutorial on how to operate the remote control, the men left her alone, closing the heavy oak door behind them. 

“Okay, Millie.  Let’s see what else you have in store for me.”  Depressing the proper button brought Millie’s smile back to life, but she remained unspeaking for several seconds.

“I know you wanted him here, darling girl, but this is a matter best kept between us,” she finally confided.  “Your Jon reminds me of Aldo.  Frankly, your whole situation reminded me of mine, which is perhaps why I reacted a bit strongly to Owen's intrusiveness.  I don’t make a habit of calling in those types of favors, in case you wondered.  It was my first time, but I figured…  Eh.  What the hell?  You only live once and what can they do to me?  I’m already making holiday plans with the Grim Reaper.”

The maudlin show of humor drew a smirk from Charlie as she tossed the wadded tissues into a wastebasket by the couch and reached for fresh ones.  The feisty old woman would probably have the Grim Reaper showing better posture in no time. 

“Because your situation reminds me of my own ancient history, I very much wanted you to have a different ending than I did.  You and your young man have all the ingredients for an explosively exquisite happily ever after, Charlie Girl – if your pride will allow it.  On more than one occasion, I recall hearing mention of a house in the Hamptons and your perception of having done a disservice to Jon with regard to that house.  Well, let me tell you something…”

Charlie was on the receiving end of that bony pointed finger now, and much as Jon had earlier, she leaned back into the sofa to avoid its reach and the stern accompanying look.

“You’re being an idiot, but you’re so strong-willed that telling you that is like spitting in the wind.  You'll never believe it without proof, so I'm going to give it to you.”

That had Charlie tipping her head to one side, curious as to exactly how that might happen. 

“When we’re finished chatting, you’re going to tell Carmine to follow the instructions I’ve left for him.  There’s an envelope with his name inside my copy of Great Expectations on the bookshelf behind you.  As executor of my estate, his instructions are to write you a check for four million dollars.”

There was a gasp torn from her that Charlie didn’t recognize as both her mouth and eyes went wide. 

“Close your mouth and listen carefully, young lady.  Jon Bon Jovi doesn’t want or need that money.  You need to give it to him so you can prove to yourself that the two of you are on a level playing field.”

Millie seemed to sag back onto the pillows, but her eyes were no less shrewd when accusing, “I have a sneaking suspicion that you’ve been trying to keep up with the Jovis, as it were, feeling like you’re the one lacking in this relationship.  That’s an unequivocal load of horse hockey and I expect you’ll hear that loudly and clearly from the man himself when you try and foist that money on him.  

“My only request is that, when he tears up the check, that you contact Carmine again.  He’ll have instructions to transfer the money from holding into a joint account bearing your name and Jon’s.  That’s one of only two strings attached.  The other string is that you use the money to build something together.  I don’t care what it is, only that it’s something that has your heart and his soul, or vice versa.

“He’s already created a legacy to leave behind, Charlie Girl.  Let us help you create yours.” Her smile was much weaker now than it was in the start of the recording and she sighed, resting her eyes for a moment before they popped back open.  “Oh.  You’ve no doubt asked yourself ‘why’ a dozen times during my little spiel, so let’s get that elephant out of the room while we’re at it.  ‘Why’ is because you reached out to someone in need with no thought for how it might benefit you.  Ensuring that I was watched after while you were on vacation, religiously appearing with that coffee and listening to an old woman blather on while actually giving a damn as to what she had to say.  Because you were my friend.”

Again, as she had with Jon, she touched fingertips to her lips and blew across them.  “Tell your sons I’m sorry for their loss, but don’t tell them I’m not sorry for yours.  Love without reservation and trust with the heart of a child.  Know that you’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.  May the Force be with you, live long and prosper and all that other corny shit.  That’s all I’ve got, Charlie Girl.  Make it enough.  I’ll miss you.”

The screen went as black as the hole in Charlie’s heart, and her shoulders shook with gut-wrenching sobs that prevented her from saying the words aloud, but she thought them. 

I’ll miss you, too, Millie.