20. Ariella
My heart breaks at the mere thought that Kiernan has thrown Alex and me “under the bus” just to pay off a loan he never should have taken out in the first place. Now, Julietta has used that information to track me down, and for what? To end the line of succession in a poor attempt at a power grab? The more I think about it, the more preposterous it sounds to me.
Enjoying a brief moment of respite, I close my eyes and lean my head back on the couch. I send up a silent prayer, asking for guidance and clarity as we navigate this path of uncertainty. I want to stop hiding and face my adversaries head-on, but I’m unsure of who they are.
Patrick must think I’m asleep because I feel the weight of a blanket gently cover my body. As I slowly open my eyes and admire his handsome face, my lips curve up gently in appreciation of the gift I’ve been given. I pat the vacant spot next to me.
“I’m not asleep, and you’re welcome to join me. I was relishing the few seconds of quiet I had been granted.”
He sits beside me and places his arm over the back of the couch, giving me the option to cuddle with him. I don’t hesitate, quickly settling into the crook of his arm.
He strokes my skin absentmindedly with his hand, resting his cheek on top of my head. I think he’s fallen asleep, but he finally breaks the silence.
“I thought you were dreaming when I came in here. You were mumbling incoherently.”
“Nope. I was just talking to God. I want to go to battle and finish this, but I feel so unprepared. I don’t even know who my enemy is, Patrick. Is it Julietta? Is it Jordain? I’ve known both of them all my life and never would have thought either one of them capable of something like this.”
“We’ll figure it out together, Ari. You’re not alone in this. In fact, I’d like to show you something if you’re up for it.” He continues to lightly touch my arm, saying nothing and giving me the space to process my emotions.
A few minutes later, I stand up and neatly fold the blanket, placing it in the basket by the fireplace. I hold out my hand to Patrick. “Show me.” He smiles, taking my hand in his and leading me toward the garage.
“Are we going for a drive?” I ask.
“No. There’s another room attached to the garage. It’s my dad’s ‘man cave.’”
“Are women allowed?” He laughs at my question, but I don’t join him. “It’s not a silly question, Patrick. You called it a ‘man cave,’ and I am not a man!”
He pushes me up against the hallway wall, placing his arm over my head. He runs his left finger down the side of my face, neck, and arm until our fingers intertwine. He tilts his head slightly and leans forward, his lips brushing gently against mine. Once. Twice. Three times before he steps back. “No, Ari. You are most definitely not a man.”
“I’m not sure whether or not I should be offended that you felt the need to check,” I tease.
He rolls his eyes good-humoredly. “Your sense of humor is just one of the many reasons I love you. Come on.” He kisses my lips lightly once more before encouraging me to follow him through the garage. I see a door at the far end of the perpendicular wall to my right. Like the door leading to the living space, there’s a keypad entry requiring a code with a minimum of six digits.
I watch as Patrick inputs 12 digits before the door unlocks.
“Why so many numbers?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer immediately; instead, he reaches for a flashlight. “This is an ultraviolet light,” he says, then shines it on the keypad. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, fingerprints become visible. “If someone wanted to gain entry, they could simply tell what digits are used from the oil residue left from touching the keys. Fewer digits make it easier to break the code. We use each number once with a minimum of one other repeated.”
“Wow. I had no idea.”
Patrick sends a text, then pockets his phone before opening the door. The room is quite spacious, almost the same size as the garage. “How did I not realize this was here when walking around outside?”
“Without any doors or windows to the outside, it looks and feels like part of the house. It’s not a secret, but it’s not something my dad goes around advertising, either. It’s his personal space, and he only shares it with a select few. You’ve made the cut and now have the privilege to go where only one woman has ever gone before.”
Other than the unexpected size of the place, the first thing I notice is a pool table in the corner of the room. There are also a couple of recliners placed in front of a humongous, big-screen TV. There is also a bar area with a few stools. One wall is adorned with military paraphernalia from Don’s Navy Seal Days. Smack in the middle of all the memorabilia is a plaque that reads:
“Blessed be theLORD!For he has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy.TheLORDis my strength and my shield;in him my heart trusts, and I am helped;my heart exults, and with my songI give thanks to him.”Psalms 28:6-7 ESV
Patrick stands still next to me as I soak in the words. “Is this what you wanted to show me?” I ask. The scripture resonates deep within my soul, and a calmness moves through my body.
“Yes. You had mentioned wanting to go to battle and being unprepared. When you said that, the first thing that came to mind was this verse. You’ve prayed to Him, and He’s heard your plea, Ari. Trust that He’s put you right where you need to be and has given you the help you seek. There’s so much to be thankful for, even in the darkest of times and when hope is fleeting. When the battle call is sounded, you’ll be more than prepared. You’ll be wearing the ‘Full Armor of God’ and have your ‘Shining Knights’ beside you.”
Tears fall unbidden down my cheeks as I listen to Patrick’s heartfelt words. He uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe them gently away, staring deep into my eyes. The love and tenderness I see in their depths reflect my own. He would sacrifice everything, including his happiness, to ensure Alex and I survive whatever comes our way. It’s just as I had done years ago to protect him.
His lips barely touch mine when I hear the sound of the keypad beeping and the door opening shortly after that.
“Are you two decent?” Don asks, his hand covering his eyes. “There are some things a parent doesn’t need to see even though we know the truth of it all.”
“Knock it off, Dad. We’ve been here less than five minutes. How much trouble do you think we could get in with such a short amount of time?”
Don’s answer comes in the form of a raised eyebrow.
Patrick waves his father’s non-answer off and says, “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
Don stands beside his son, and I take a second to appreciate the family resemblance. I cross my arms and stand there, smiling at the two of them.
Don stands beside me and puts his arm around my shoulders. “What’s got you grinning from ear to ear?” he asks.
“It’s nice to know that Patrick will still be as handsome 30 years from now as he is today.”
“Ooh, I like her. Can we keep her?” Don asks Patrick, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“I’m doing everything I can to make that happen, Dad.” Patrick removes his father’s arm from around my shoulders, replacing it with his.
Don bellows out a laugh at his son’s faux jealousy. “Have you shown her ‘the room’ yet, Son?”
I look around, wondering what on earth he’s talking about. We’re standing in the room. What more is there to see?
“Not yet, Dad. I was giving her the grand tour of this one first. Plus, I thought you might want to do the honors. It was your project, after all.”
I gesture toward the wall with the scripture. “I thought you said that was why you brought me here.”
Kissing the top of my head, he says, “You asked if it was the reason, and I said that it is. But it’s not the only reason I brought you here, Ari. We have something else to show you that should make you feel even safer.”
Don goes behind the bar area, which doesn’t have liquor bottles like you would expect to see. It does have two taps for small kegs and a refrigerator full of bottled water and sodas. There’s an old-fashioned cash register butted up against the wall, framed by a large mirror with the word SALOON scrawled across it.
“This is…uh…very nice.” I turn in a circle to emphasize my taking it all in. Both Pat and Don laugh.
“Do you remember our wedding day?” he asks me. I nod. It’s a date etched in my memory, even though I’ve never been able to celebrate it with him. “Come over here and press the four-digit year, two-digit day, then two-digit month on the register.”
“Why in that order? Isn’t it normally the month, day, and year?”
“That’s precisely why we don’t do it that way,” Don explains. “Please, go ahead and input the numbers.”
I do as they ask, and when I press the last number, I feel a vibration in the floor as the entire bar suddenly shifts. Ahh! I scream, surprised by the unexpected motion. I watch as the entire area is repositioned, the process taking about 15 seconds to complete. “What is this?”
Patrick walks me around in a circle and shows me how everything from the stools to the refrigerators is on a raised platform that hides the tracks underneath. When we’re done, Don is halfway down a hidden stairwell. “Follow me! There’s more to see!”
There’s also a short, narrow hallway underneath the “man cave” with a door at the end of it. With wide, questioning eyes, I stare at Patrick.
“My dad built a panic room. Once you unlock this door, the one that we came through will automatically close.”
As soon as I cross the threshold, the door closes behind us. I’m amazed beyond belief by what I see. “This isn’t a panic room, Pat. This is a panic apartment!” There must be at least three bedrooms, a full kitchen, two bathrooms, and a huge pantry.
“It’s more than a panic room. It’s also designed as a ‘zombie apocalypse’ shelter,” Don says, half teasing and half serious. “A family of six can live comfortably down here for up to six months with the provisions that Charlie and I have stocked. If you and Alex need to come down here, you’ll have access to food, water, shelter, sanitation, and communications.”
I grip Pat’s hand. “Where will everyone else be while we’re hiding?”
Calm and confidently, he says, “Ensuring that it’s safe for you to come out.”