Russell motions at the paper cup. “You going to drink that? ‘Cause you look like you can do with some caffeine.”
My gaze slips to Lina’s pale hand that lies on the white sheet. She’s hooked up to an IV line and heart rate monitor. As so many times since I planted my ass in this chair, I almost touch her. It takes enormous effort and some more to hold back. Touching her will only make what I have to do harder.
“You can do with a couple of hours of sleep,” Russell continues. “Maybe shave before she wakes up. You look like a caveman.” He scrunches up his nose. “Starting to smell like one, too.”
Lina has regained consciousness, but she’s on morphine. I doubt she’ll remember I was here. Maybe it’s better like this. The doctor said they’re reducing her pain and sleep medication from this afternoon. She’ll wake up soon. The surgeon said if she remains stable, she can go home in a couple of days.
It’s time.
My palms start sweating at the thought. Wiping them on my pants, I force my legs to stand.
“Are you staying?” I ask, hating, envying, and sadly appreciating Russell right now.
“Yeah.”
I slap his back. “I’ll have that shower, after all.” Before taking care of other business. “I’ll send you a cheque.”
He grabs my arm. “For what?”
I look at where his fingers dig into my skin. When he releases his grip, I say, “For services rendered.”
“Fuck you. I did it for Lina, not for money.”
“Doesn’t matter. You did your job. You’ll get paid.”
“Hart.”
I stop in the door.
He looks at me warily. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll send you instructions.”
“What instructions?”
“To wrap up the job.”
“It’s done.”
“Almost.”
His expression sobers. “Don’t be a selfish prick.”
No, this is the one unselfish thing I’ll do in my life.
His fingers tighten on the cup, denting the sides. “She loves you.”
Fuck, it hurts. Before he can say more, I push through the door. I don’t need a last look at my wife. She’s a permanent picture in my mind.
Drew finds the boy where Dalton said, in the care of a nanny, living on a secluded farm north of Pretoria. When I speak to the woman on the phone, she says Dalton told her the boy’s mother is mentally ill and a danger to herself and her baby. She doesn’t know more. Dalton settled the bills, but he didn’t visit more than once a year. It makes sense why he hid Lina’s child. He wanted Clarke’s fortune all to himself. In the case of an inheritance, a blood relative takes priority over a legal guardian. An heir meant the money would’ve gone into a trust fund until the child was of legal age.
Susan Bloem cooperates when I tell her about Dalton’s death and who I am. When I bring Reyno with me for a visit, she produces the birth certificate for Lina’s child on which the father was declared as Jack Clarke. Dalton or Clarke, whoever named the boy, called him Joshua, or Josh for short.
We’re standing in the lounge of the shabby house when she calls the kid to come and greet us. A chubby boy with Lina’s dark blue eyes and, fuck, her dimple, comes in from the backyard with a plastic horse clutched in his plump little hand. All kinds of emotions clash inside me.
I go down on my haunches. “Hey, Josh. I’m Damian and this is Reyno. We’re friends of your mom.”
“Mommy’s sick,” he says.
“Not anymore. She’s gotten a whole lot better, and Reyno here is a doctor. He says you can see her. Would you like that?”
He glances uncertainly at the old woman, who smooths a hand over his hair. “He’s shy. It’ll take some getting used to.”
She seems to be good to him. I stand to face her. “I don’t know how long it will take for Lina to regain her strength, but she’ll need a hand until she’s back on her feet, and seeing that you’re the only family Josh knows, I’d like for you to stay on until Lina makes a decision. I’ll pay you well for your trouble.”
“That’s mighty kind of you, Mr. Hart. Josh and I are close, and, well, work is scarce these days, especially for an old woman.”
“That’s settled then.”
I ruffle Josh’s hair. “How would you like to live in a house on the river with your own fishing boat?”
His eyes grow large and his smile wide.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I hope Russell knows how to fish. Otherwise, he’ll have to learn fast.
The thought is a bitter pill to swallow, but I brush it aside. After leaving Susan to pack, I arrange for a driver to fetch them tomorrow. There’s still the property deed and transfer of ownership to take care of, as well as Dalton’s estate. My attorney assures me Lina won’t be held responsible for Dalton’s debts. They’re not blood relatives, and Dalton never adopted her.
When I’ve taken care of the most pressing business, I go back to the big, empty house I won’t be selling, after all. In the quietness of the study, I light a fire, pour a whisky, and turn on the television. Dalton’s accomplice, a freelance mercenary called Samuel Rourke, was detained by the security company and handed over to the cops when, alerted by a body splattered on the pavement, they arrived on the scene. He took a shot at Russell as Russell was being hoisted up by the electric reel I’d fitted to the rail, but missed. Russell wounded him in the leg, ensuring he wouldn’t get far climbing his way down all those stairs. Wisely, Samuel made a deal. In exchange for telling the police everything, he gets ten years for kidnapping instead of twenty-five. Won’t matter much. I know people on the inside who’ll take care of him. For the part he played in Lina’s abduction, he deserves to die. For now, the cocksucker is doing me a favor, spewing the facts all over the news channels. He’s telling how Dalton paid him to kidnap his daughter, about the ransom, and Dalton’s plan to make his daughter’s murder look like suicide.
I down the rest of my drink and slump in my chair. I can’t face sleeping in a bed where Lina’s smell lingers. I can’t face tomorrow or the day after. Swinging back my arm, I hurl the glass into the fireplace. It shatters with a satisfying crash. A blue flame shoots up in the chimney. It lasts for all of a second before the flames go back to normal. Life continues quietly, making a mocking of my tantrum and laughing in my face.
Lina
When I wake up, Russell is there. It’s Russell who puts a straw to my lips and offers me water. It’s Russell who keeps the media away from my door and brings me a bag with my clothes, as well as a new smartphone the next day.
The fact that Damian isn’t here hurts. I don’t understand, but I’m not going to ask Russell for an explanation my husband owes. If Damian isn’t man enough to tell me to my face we’re over, so be it. We’ve been through more than what any couple should have to handle. Some damages are beyond repair.
When the doctor signs my discharge, I get dressed in the luxury of my private bathroom and brush my hair. Russell waits at the door. He takes my bag and leads me to his car in the parking lot. I get inside and buckle up without asking where we’re going. During the ride, he’s quiet. The bearers of bad news carry the kind of tenseness that sits in his shoulders, which is why I still ask nothing when we drive past Erasmuskloof and head toward the Vaal River. I’m not surprised when he pulls up at the cottage.
We sit in silence with him clenching the steering wheel and me staring at the water. After what feels like forever, he opens his mouth, but I’m not sure I can handle what he has to say. I shake my head, at which he clamps his lips together. With a sigh, he takes an envelope from the cubbyhole and places it on my lap.
It’s the first time I permit myself to speak. “What’s this?”
“Damian asked me to give it to you.”
I don’t want to open it, but I’d rather know what awaits me before I get out of the safety of the car and walk toward my future.
My fingers tremble as I break the seal and pull out a stash of d
ocuments. The first is the deed to the house, in my name. The second is a bank statement. Damian not only transferred my full inheritance, but he’s also paying a ridiculously big monthly allowance. The third is divorce papers. I don’t look at the other documents. A knot gets stuck in my throat. It feels as if my heart is wrenched out. This is why Damian didn’t come to the hospital. He’s finally done it. He set me free. I should be exuberant, but all I feel is a hollowness in my chest. Chewing my lip, I let the knowledge settle. My eyes remain dry. The shock will come later. I’m selfish about my pain. I want to suffer this in privacy. No one else deserves a part of it, not even Russell who helped to save me.
Russell’s voice sounds strange after such a long silence. “You all right?”
Reaching for the door handle, I nod. The essence of the days to come is survival. I’ll fill the hours with packing, moving, and unpacking. I’ll buy furniture and hang curtains. I’ll keep myself busy with starting a new life until I’m ready to face my losses.
“Wait.” Russell grabs my arm and flicks his gaze to the stack of papers in my hand. “You missed some.”
Reluctantly, I move the divorce papers to the back of the pack and look at the next document. It’s a certificate signed by Reyno. I focus and refocus my eyes. My sanity. He’s given me back my right to work, have a bank account, buy property, and make decisions. The emotional dry spell that’s been haunting me since the kidnapping breaks. Tears build in my eyes. The saltiness stings. For the first time in my life, I’m an independent adult. I’m free to make my own choices, and no one can stop me. The beauty of the gesture dawns on me. Damian isn’t giving me a clean break because he doesn’t care for me. He’s giving me freedom because he loves me. Clutching the papers to my chest, I inhale deeply, savoring the biggest love declaration of my life.
“There’s one more,” Russell says.
I’m my own woman. The house of my dreams belongs to me. Damian Hart loves me enough to let me go. I’ve made my peace with my past on that tower. I promised myself if I get out of there alive, I’d live every moment without regrets. What Damian and I had was perfect in its imperfection. We found beauty in our ugly worlds. I was just too damaged to see it. I have love, the deep and profound kind you sense on first sight and carry to your grave and into forever. I had Damian. I found a soul mate, and even if he never wants to see me again for the warped reasons he conjured in his mind, I’ll never need a single thing more.
Russell’s voice carries to me through the chirp of birds and the croak of a frog. “Lina?”
I haven’t noticed he’s opened the window. His eyes are warm and welcoming. I look away from the invitation in his gaze because I don’t want to hurt him.
He sighs. “Maybe it’s too soon.”
“I love him, Russell.”
He’s silent for a while. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its hopeful edge. “I know.”
“Are you angry?”
“I used to be, but I don’t think Damian is as bad as I thought.”
I laugh. “He’s worse.”
He joins me with a chuckle. “Damn right.”
“Is that why you’re here? Damian thought you’re a better man?”
“It doesn’t matter why I’m here. What matters is why you are.” He motions at the papers I clutch against my chest. “Finish it.”
This isn’t just about reading a stack of papers. It’s about moving on. Lifting the last document from the pile, I hold it to the light. It’s a birth certificate. Joshua Clarke. My heartbeat slows to a thump that falls loud in my ears. I check the date. It can’t be, and yet, deep in my soul I know the truth.
Covering my mouth with a hand, I suppress a sob. It takes a moment to regain my composure. I can only stare at the official words on the yellow piece of paper, a clinical record that reflects nothing of the devastation that shreds my heart.
Where is he? Damian’s words run painfully through my mind.
“Damian found the grave,” I say when I can speak again.
“Not the grave,” Russell replies gently.
I look at him quickly. “What?”
“He isn’t dead.”
I blink fast, trying to make sense of a meaning that refuses to sink in. “What?”
“The boy. Your son. He’s not dead.”
“What?” I shake my head. It doesn’t make sense.
“Go inside, Lina.”
“But… No. I don’t understand.”
He gets out and comes around the car to open my door. “Come on.”
“Russell.”
He takes my hand when I don’t move, pulling me out and turning me to face the cottage. An elderly lady and a boy stand in the door. I vaguely register her gray hair and homely face, but I can only focus on the child. He must be around two years old. He has my lips and eyes.
“It can’t be,” I whisper.
“They’re waiting for you,” Russell says behind me. “Go on.”
He encourages me with a hand on my lower back, but I’m stuck in fear. What if it’s a mistake? What if he’s not mine? He doesn’t know me. What if he doesn’t understand? What if he doesn’t like me? What if I screw this up?
Russell’s voice is patient. “She calls him Josh.”
Joshua Daniels. My maternal grandfather.
My heart leaps with a crazy beat. I take one step, and then another. That’s how we’ll do this. One step at a time. I walk until I’m in front of them, aware of their curious gazes.
Extending a hand, I introduce myself to the woman who I presume to be Josh’s caretaker. “I’m Lina. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Her handshake is strong. “Same here, Mrs. Hart. You can call me Susan.”
Going down on my haunches, I offer Josh a smile. “Hi, there.”
He sticks his finger in his mouth and drills his big toe into the ground.
“I’m Lina.”
“Are you better, now?”
“Yes,” I say, fighting my overpowering emotions. “Much better.”
“We have tea and cake waiting,” Susan says.
I hold my hand out to Josh. “Shall we go inside, then?”
He hesitates for a moment, but then folds his fingers around mine. They’re warm and sticky, just like I always imagined a child’s to be. Gulping down a sob, I straighten my spine. We have much to work through, and many answers I’d like. I want to know everything I missed, from his first tooth to his first step. I want to know when he smiled for the first time, and what his favorite food is. Yes, there’s much to learn, but we have time.
On the step, I look back to see if Russell is coming inside with us. He’s leaning on the car, arms crossed. He wears a thoughtful smile, the kind that says goodbye. I give him a small nod, offering my gratitude, before stepping over the threshold of a new life.
Two momentous things happen during the following weeks. I receive a newspaper clipping in the mail about a South African born woman who’d been found dead in her house in Switzerland. The cause of death was an overdose of sleeping pills. I don’t have to look at the name. I recognize her photo. I still don’t know what made her push the key under my door. Would she have done it if she’d known I’d kill Jack? The rage in me was too great. There was no other course of action I could’ve taken. If given another chance, I’d do it all over again. Despite the fact that Dora freed me, the torture had been going on for too long to find more than fleeting compassion in my heart for her passing. We never communicated. I never knew the woman who’d fed me an egg and slice of bread a day with a cup of water. When I’ve read the article, I flush the clipping down the toilet. Damian has been to Switzerland around the date of her death. You don’t have to be Einstein to connect the dots.
The second big event is the arrest of Dr. Dickenson and the closing down of Willowbrook. The staff, including the ones who’d been employed during my admission, were charged with fraud, assault, and the intention to do serious bodily harm. After Carte Blanche had received an anonymous tip-off, one of their
investigative reporters went in under cover with a hidden camera. The story made international news, resulting in an investigation and the uncovering of a hideous and cruel institution. It’s a scandal the country won’t live down for a long time.
After giving it much thought, I decide it’s time for the world to know the truth or at least a part of it. In an exclusive television interview, I tell what happened at Willowbrook. I tell the truth about how Harold framed Damian and stole his discovery, and how Damian went to jail innocently while I was pawned off to Jack in exchange for the mining rights. I tell the world about my imprisonment and torture, and that I shot Jack. My lawyer advised me against it, but it was part of the weight I needed to get off my chest.
An investigation that takes several days follows. In the end, the judges and psychologist who attended my hearing decide I had indeed not been responsible for my actions at the time, and no charges are laid. Reyno testified to my treatment and recovery, stating I’m a capable mother and no threat to society or myself. What I don’t talk about is Zane’s kidnapping and how Damian forced me into marriage. We’ve done him enough harm. I’m not going to send him to jail for a second time. He did what he did because he loves me. Since I told the truth about Jack and Harold, the media speculated that Dora’s suicide was due to her burden of guilt. A few weeks later, the investigation into Zane and Anne’s murders are closed due to a lack of evidence.
I take my time to settle in with Josh. I take my time to enjoy my autonomy and independence. The situation is new to all of us. We need time to adapt. I spend every free moment with Josh, reveling at the wonder of him, and when he’s in bed at night, I ask Susan to tell me stories about him.
Reyno offers me a contract, a real one for a real job that comes with health and retirement benefits. The day I sign it is one of the happiest of my life. It’s good to earn my own money. It’s good to figure out what I like, and to decorate a house that’s ours. I get my driver’s license and buy a car. When winter changes into spring, I plant sweet peas and daisies in the garden.
Beauty in the Broken: A Diamond Magnate Novel Page 41