Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four

by RAE STAPLETON

  “Ye know, Sophia,” he said as he stood at the door. “If ye knew…ye know what…never mind.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, following him out the door. It was clear to me that he was drunk, too. His eyes were red, and his face flushed. Had he been drinking before he got here? “Sam, wait. I’m lashing out at you because I’m furious with Cullen. Please let me call Leslie and she can come pick you up.”

  He kept walking. I knew I’d said some harsh things. If I were him, I would have walked away from me, too.

  I turned and hurried to the kitchen table where I’d left my cell phone. My legs were slow and clumsy and I bumped into the wall and then the chair before dialing Leslie’s number. Hurrying back to the open door, I realized Sam had gone. His tail lights disappeared down the drive.

  I was alone in the dark and the tree line started swaying. I began to imagine shapes coming toward me. Suddenly I wished I hadn’t sent him away. I slammed the door shut and turned the lock just as Leslie answered the phone.

  I lost consciousness, unsure whether I’d spoken to her aloud or just in my head.

  SIXTY

  T he beating in my head was in sync with the song that played on the radio. I opened my eyes and covered my face with my hands.

  “Are you okay, Sophia?”

  “How did you get in,” I asked, my voice muffled against my hands. “I locked the door.”

  “You gave me a key, remember? You wouldn’t answer me after you called so I was worried. I raced over here and found you on the floor in front of the door. I managed to get you up on the couch. You know, for a skinny broad, you sure weigh a lot. “

  I laughed and then grimaced as a knife went through my skull.

  “You look pretty rough,” Leslie commented.

  “Thanks,” I said, staring at the ceiling. “I feel worse. You have bags under your eyes, too.” I pointed out.

  “I sat up all night in case you vomited. I was worried you’d choke,” she said.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I whispered, looking up from the sofa and grimacing against the light as Leslie handed me a glass of water and some Advil. “Being put out of my misery might have made for a nice change.”

  I popped the pills in my mouth and almost gagged as I swallowed them down.

  Leslie walked to the kitchen and popped a couple of rounds of bread into the toaster. “Don’t say that. Besides, it wasn’t a problem, I was alone anyway. Sam left.”

  “I appreciate it,” I said, attempting to sit up. “Ouch.” I brought a hand to my head.

  Leslie brought over the tea.

  “I don’t deserve you,” I said, taking a sip of the tea before breaking out into a cough. “Oh, this is one mother of a hangover,” I complained, setting the cup back down. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you and I’m sorry Sam doesn’t either. I’ll talk to him.”

  “What do you mean, Sam didn’t believe me? He did. He just had to leave on a story.”

  I paused. I’d been so drunk. Had I imagined the night?

  “Where were you last night when I called?”

  “At his apartment. I asked him to stop by and check on you on his way out of town. He did, right?” She looked at the door suddenly. “What the hell is that?” she said, getting to her feet.

  I turned my head to see what she was talking about, and noticed something sticking out from under the bottom of the door.

  “My God,” she said, picking it up.

  “What is it?”

  She covered her hand over her mouth and handed me the photo.

  I took the photo and ran to the sink to get sick. Thankfully there were no dishes in it. I wiped my mouth and looked at the photo again. It had been taken up close. Cullen’s head was thrust back. His eyes were closed, and a gag was tied visibly tight around his mouth.

  “Is he alive? I can’t tell,” I whispered.

  “We’d better call Ó Cléirigh,” she mumbled.

  “Leslie, I know where that picture was taken. I’ve been there.”

  I took a deep breath, forcing my stomach to settle and then ran to the junk drawer in the kitchen. We would need a flashlight. Next I headed outside, grabbing only my purse and keys as I went.

  “Wait,” Leslie said, as she chased after me. “Where are we going? You can’t drive like this. You don’t even have shoes on. Get in the passenger side.”

  “Fine,” I replied, my hands shaking as I reached for the handle. “But we have to get there fast.”

  She chucked the ballet slippers she’d clearly picked up for me and we were off.

  SIXTY-ONE

  I wrinkled my nose at the musty smell that rose out of Dunlace Castle as I pushed open a creaky, wooden door that led into the basement. It may have been in better shape than the ruins we first visited but its hinges were still worn and decaying. It opened none the less and we made our way inside.

  “You’re sure he’s down here?” Leslie whispered as we traveled further down the dark stairwell.

  Her voice was muffled. I looked back at her; she’d pulled up the neck of her sweater until it covered her mouth and nose to block the mustiness that was clearly invading her lungs, too.

  I nodded. I couldn’t bring myself to speak. My heart was thumping loudly in my chest.

  She dropped her sweater back in place. “Do you think we should wait for the Inspector? What if his captor is down here too? This could be a trap, Sophia. We need to think logically.”

  She was right; it would be stupid to go in empty handed. I stopped and picked up a large rock.

  She followed suit but rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, yes, I feel so much better now. The bad guy will surely be quaking in his boots when he sees us armed and dangerous.”

  The stairwell appeared to be empty and, if I hadn’t tumbled through the castle wall myself in the sixteenth century, I never would have guessed that there could have been any sort of secret room half way down, but there was. I turned back and put my finger to my lips. Leslie held the large, jagged rock high over her head.

  Upon entering the room, my flashlight afforded me a glimpse of the space. Dust floated into the air. Gaining confidence that the room was empty, I took another step in. Stacks of books still surrounded it, but someone had covered the window, blocking the natural light.

  I shined the light up and down the room, almost dropping my flashlight when I caught sight of a lumped form in the middle of the floor. I stepped forward but stupidly dropped the flashlight.

  It hit the hard stone with a smash, and we were immediately engulfed in darkness.

  Leslie screamed. “What on earth’s the matter? Sophia, is he here? Are you being attacked? What’s happening?”

  My knees were shaking.

  “I think I saw him. Get the flashlight!” I screamed.

  As soon as Leslie located it and it was back in my hands, I banged on the end where the batteries were connected and managed to get the light to come back on. Slowly standing, I shined the light toward the center of the room again, and almost collapsed.

  The first thing I saw was Cullen’s bare feet, blackened with dirt. Then as I moved the light up, the horrific scene became clear.

  “Oh, please, no,” I cried, as I saw Cullen’s face. Fear gripped my belly. Dried tracks of blood snaked down from his hairline and spread out across his cheek.

  He wasn’t moving. As I slid down onto my knees, I heard Leslie’s voice.

  She was on the phone calling for an ambulance.

  But it all seemed so far away. Blinking through the tears I stroked Cullen’s hair, something I had done thousands of times before, but never really appreciated until now. A million questions swarmed through my mind as I tried to comprehend what I was seeing.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry I ever doubted you. I love you so much.” Had he been here the whole time? Why hadn’t I thought to check here? Because it doesn’t make any bloody sense!

  The fear that had started in my belly moved up until it
paralyzed me entirely. Small hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end. Something pulled me toward the words, forcing me to utter them even as I tried to swallow the sounds coming from my mouth.

  “Leslie, who would have known to put him down here? Only you, me and Cullen knew about this room. Unless you told…him? Did you, Leslie?”

  “Who are you talking about?” She hung up the phone and dropped to her knees beside me. “Told who? Are you talking about Sam? Of course, not ... maybe Cullen told someone. What about his crew? Or what about the couple from the inn? You thought they were creepy. They could have overheard us while we were researching.”

  I placed my head on Cullen’s chest and closed my eyes. My heart was in overdrive, pounding through my body and into my head, dominating my senses. But then I noticed something.

  It was Cullen’s heartbeat.

  SIXTY-TWO

  “ Sophia, wake up,” Leslie said.

  I opened my eyes and it took a few seconds for reality to break through. I glanced around, first at Leslie, then at the hospital reception desk opposite, where a couple of nurses were filling out forms. Realizing where I was, and why, was an exhilarating and yet frightening feeling. We weren’t out of the woods yet.

  “What time is it?” I said, kneading at my stiff neck.

  “Nearly one o’clock in the morning. A nurse just came by,” she replied. “She said we can go in and see him. They’ve put him into the private room over there,” she added, pointing to the room in the corner.

  “Did they say how he is?” I asked, standing up.

  “She didn’t say anything else,” Leslie replied.

  But the nurse didn’t have to say anything. Just one look at Cullen lying in bed, hooked up to a ventilator that controlled his breathing with its constant artificial inhales and exhales, told its own story.

  In many ways he looked more ill now than he had in the basement of the castle. His head was bandaged, hiding the injury, and his face was ashen.

  “Can he hear things?” I asked the nurse, keeping my eyes trained on him.

  “We haven’t really a firm idea,” the nurse admitted. “But people who have come out of coma do say they remember things from when they were unconscious, so it’s better to assume that they can hear everything ye say. We also recommend that ye try not to talk about the person indirectly while ye’re in the same room as them. Ye’ll find it strange at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

  “How long have we got with him?”

  “Ye can have a few minutes, to be sure, and then the doctor will need to come back.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, stepping up close to the bed and grasping the handrail.

  “Hi, baby. It’s good to see you. I thought you might be…”

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, I broke down. I swayed against the bed, expectantly dizzy.

  “Everything is okay, Sophia, everything is going to be okay now,” I heard Leslie say from behind me, but her voice was cracking with emotion, too.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a brilliant idea.” The nurse moved to the base of the bed. “Maybe ye should come back tomorrow after you’ve had a bit of sleep, and a bite to eat. Ye’ve all been through a lot, but Cullen needs your strength now and ye don’t look well.”

  I turned to look at Leslie and held her gaze. The nurse had made a good point. I needed to pull it together for him. He was still in there fighting for his life.

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “We’ll go.” I turned back to Cullen. “We’ll see you first thing tomorrow, baby” I promised. I placed a hand on his cheek and held it there for a few seconds. His skin was worryingly cold.

  “Thanks for letting us see him,” I said to her, as she walked us out of the room and down the hall.

  “Aye, it’s no trouble. We’ll see ye tomorrow mornin’ bright and early now. I know Mr. O’Kelley will continue to demonstrate that battle-worthy spirit.” She smiled. “Ye just be sure to bring yers. And I’ll remind him tonight that ye’re comin’ back for him. Give him somethin’ to look forward to.”

  I smiled and the nurse smiled back at me.

  “It’s not as bad as ye think. I’ve been workin’ here for nearly twenty years and I’ve lost count of the number of people who weren’t really given a chance, but then recovered against all the odds. I always used to wonder why people who had the worst injuries recover, while some who don’t seem as badly hurt don’t make it. And do ye know what I realized?”

  “What?”

  “Love, my dear, love can make the difference between life and death. I know it sounds sentimental, but I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. And that’s why having ye here is so important. I’ve already had calls from his da and granny and even his brother. I can tell ye that lad is surrounded by love.”

  “His brother?” I questioned.

  “Aye, he called about five minutes ago,” the nurse continued, “to ask after his brother—must be hard for him bein’ so far from home at a time like this.”

  I must have looked as confused as I felt.

  “He’s away now, isn’t he? Out of the country, is he not? That’s what he said.”

  “Are you sure it was his brother who called?” I asked, trying to get my head around what she’d just said.

  “Liam, is it not? That’s what he said,” she replied.

  I covered my mouth with my hand. I could feel my stomach rolling. This was impossible.

  “Did he say anything else?” I asked, my head buzzing with scenarios.

  “He just apologized. Said that he couldn’t be here with ye.”

  SIXTY-THREE

  I looked up to be met by a fresh-faced man leaning over Cullen’s bed. He wore a white coat and a stethoscope hung around his neck, although he looked much too young to be in charge.

  “Are you Cullen’s doctor?”

  “Dr. Kearney,” he said, holding out his hand, “And you’re Cullen’s fiancé, I presume?”

  I shook his hand and nodded. “Is Cullen going to wake up?”

  He maintained a straight face and motioned for me to follow him.

  “Let’s have a chat out here, shall we?” the Doctor began. “Let Cullen rest.”

  Leslie and I followed him into the next room. I sat down but practically perched on the very edge of my chair, scrutinizing his face for clues to guess just how bad the bad news was going to be.

  The air in the room was stale, and warm enough to make me feel like I was going to pass out, but I pinched my leg to stay focused.

  “It was precarious for a time, but the team worked very hard and thankfully Cullen fought through, which makes a huge difference, and as you saw, Cullen is very much alive,” he announced, somewhat factually.

  “But?” I prompted, not really wanting to know but desperate to get it over with.

  “I’m afraid Cullen has slipped into a coma.”

  I wasn’t surprised by the revelation. The fact that he had remained unconscious throughout the journey to the hospital pointed to possible coma. At least he was still alive.

  “Cullen has suffered a subdural hematoma,” the doctor explained. “The pressure on the brain often leads to coma.”

  Leslie took my hand. “He’ll come out of it, won’t he?” She asked.

  “I hope so. All we can do now is watch and wait,” he stated. “It’s impossible to predict. A large number of my patients do wake from coma.”

  “But not all,” I said.

  “That’s true. There’s always that possibility. Some don’t,” he admitted. “I know it’s difficult, but you must try and be as positive as possible. The first few weeks are crucial. I hear that the two of you are due to be married soon and Cullen has a big family, right?”

  I nodded. “Yes, we’re supposed to get married on Christmas day and yes he has a big family. His mother and his brother died in September, quite tragically, but there’s his Da and his Móraí and many more cousins.”

  “Well it’s good if everyone visits,” he said. “Not all the doctors l
ike visitors, but there is plenty of research that shows patients in coma respond to familiar voices and smells. You could help greatly in his recovery – like I said, just try and stay positive, force it if you have to.”

  “Of course. We’ll be here every day with our pom-pom’s in hand,” I said.

  The doctor’s brows furrowed.

  Did they have cheerleaders in Ireland?

  “Just try to keep the visits to the main hours. We don’t want to go ruffling the nurses’ feathers. And don’t forget to take care of yourself. Do you need something to help you sleep?”

  “No. I’ll be fine now. Thank you so much,” I said, following him to the door.

  Leslie and I wandered back inside Cullen’s room. He was so pale. I forced myself to smile, even as a tear escaped my eye. At least I knew he was safe now. I could go to sleep without imagining him being tortured in some awful place.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  W e’d no sooner arrived at Da’s than he’d carried in a tray of tea and biscuits.

  “This looks amazing. Thank you for this and for everything. It’s so nice of you to let Leslie and me stay here. I know I really need to get back home soon, at the very least to grab more clothes and check on Daphne, but I just hate the idea of being so far from Cullen in case he wakes up. “

  “Don’t mention it, love, really,” he replied, sitting down on the sofa next to me. “It’s been nice having ye here the last couple days. I just wish he’d wake up sooner as opposed to later.”

  “I know,” I said, staring into my tea.

  It was Sunday evening, more than seventy-two hours since we’d found Cullen unconscious. We’d returned to the hospital every day but so far, he hadn’t even blinked.

  “Have you been able to sleep at all?” Da asked.

  “Not really,” I admitted. “I must have woken up over twenty times last night – I probably slept for about three hours or so in total. Every time I woke up, I just kept replaying seeing Cullen in the castle basement and the hospital. In the end, I turned on the television.”