Chapter Eleven
The days leading to that particular weekend were chaotic. There was mix-up in the delivery of the materials the mason needed. The cast stone did not fit the adjacent component and she was very specific about the size of the cut stone.
Carla was not happy with the mason’s suggestion to use grout to cover the small spaces in between. He came in late and the materials have been unloaded when the mistake was discovered.
Carla couldn’t get hold of the merchant to return the materials and instructed Jacques to keep on trying. An hour passed when Jacques arrived with the message that he had no luck either.
“Shit,” Carla muttered.
Minor problems kept cropping up. Ordinarily, she would be unfazed. She realized that the reason she was so stressed was because Falcon had been acting rather strangely. He seemed preoccupied and temperamental. Carla attributed it to work he left behind in New York.
She thought it would help if she suggested that he visit New York over the weekend and catch up with things there. She was taken by surprise at his reaction.
“Are you trying to get rid of me,” Falcon asked angrily.
“No, of course not. I know how much your work means to you and you have been here for weeks.”
“I can’t leave you alone here,” he replied.
“I can manage. Everything is according to schedule. And Jacques is here to help me with whatever I need.”
Falcon snorted. It was clear to Carla that something was bothering him.
“Falcon, is there something wrong?”
Falcon stared for what seemed like eternity. Then he said, “Are you keeping any secrets from me?”
Carla was taken aback. Her heart beat fast. Did he know about the baby? But that was impossible. No one else knew except her. Maybe he was referring to the construction. But he was in on every decision she ever made.
“What-what secret are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.” He retorted.
Carla stemmed her irritation. If he was going to attack her it had better be for a good reason.
“If you’re not happy with the work I’m doing, just tell me.” She replied hotly.
Falcon threw his hands up in the air and left the room.
Carla watched him go with mouth agape.
What the fuck was that all about. It was the strangest conversation they ever had.
It didn’t help the situation that he was morose all throughout dinner that night. Carla, wanting to avoid any more confrontation between them, decided to keep to herself. That only made matters worse. By the end of the week, they were hardly speaking to one another.
Friday night, she was tempted to knock on his bedroom door and clear things between them. But pride got in the way. In her heart she knew she didn’t do anything wrong. The whole situation bothered her. She missed Falcon, the old Falcon, not the surly one of the past few days.
It wasn’t surprising that she had a fitful sleep. She was tired and exhausted when dawn came Saturday morning. She vowed to talk to him as she finally drifted to sleep.
She thought she was dreaming when she heard the sound of something familiar. She raised her head groggily and cocked her ear. There it was again. Now she was sure it was a helicopter. She rose unsteadily to her feet and walked to her window. The whole estate was still and quiet.
Falcon’s Black Hawk was normally parked a few kilometers away from the house. But a copse of oak trees was blocking her view from the bedroom. Carla searched for her bedroom slippers and donned a robe before making her way down the hall to his bedroom.
She knocked softly at his door thinking she had imagined the whole thing. She didn’t want to awaken him. She twisted the knob which opened silently. She tiptoed in. If he was still sleeping then she could retreat hastily without waking him.
Falcon’s bedroom was empty.
“Falcon,” she called out, thinking he was in the shower.
