Virtuous Deception 2

by Leiann B. Wrytes

  “I feel it, too. Lies kept us apart; painful truths are bringing us closer. We are not going back to how things were. We can never go back there. When I thought Jacob had hurt you, something came over me. I barely remember driving to his office, but I remember swinging, the altercation, but it was not his face I saw.”

  Lisa gazed upon him, eyes full of understanding.

  “It was mine. I was beating myself up that day, punishing myself for my ignorance, how insensitive I had been. For how badly I had failed the only woman I ever loved. I wanted to protect you, but somewhere deep inside I knew that attacking him wouldn’t accomplish that. I couldn’t admit it until later, but that’s the truth.”

  “We both have to take responsibility for what transpired. I am not innocent in all of this either. Let’s just deal with what is on the table right now. Charlie. She is dangerous.”

  “Well, it’s unlikely she is going to try anything more here, if it is her behind this. We don’t know that for certain. I have a few enemies as well, people capable of hurting you to get to me. I did almost go down for attempted murder.”

  “That’s right. How did you get out of that?” Lisa inquired with a kind of peculiar look on her face.

  “Some lawyer from up north took my case and forced their hand. They really didn’t have enough to charge me, so they had to release me. Jacob handled the legal situation Stateside, and so that’s done, too. Still have to make a court appearance for it to be official, but that’s it.”

  “I really am sorry about that.”

  “Not your fault, Lisa, all right? Don’t do that. I made an emotional decision. Predicated on a lie, but it was still my decision. I understand.” Frank held Lisa’s hands as he spoke, sincerity dripping from his words. He truly understood her. He had cornered her, and she did whatever was necessary to free herself. “That is my bag. He was my friend.” Frank looked off into the distance as his mind raced back to that day.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I am not sure, but he was calm when I got there, like he was expecting me or something.”

  “I didn’t call him or anything.”

  Frank waved her off. “I am not saying that, but I think that perhaps there is something else he expected me to be angry about. He didn’t even bother trying to defend himself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I got the feeling that he was anticipating my rage. At the time, I thought he was being smug, but now I think there may be something else . . . some secret he’s keeping from me.”

  “Interesting. From my vantage point, all roads lead back to the States.”

  “Indeed, my love,” he said. “This time next week, we should be Texas bound.”

  Chapter 24

  Straining to transform the funeral palette of colors into the shapes he knew they were, Micah focused his wandering eyes, ignoring the slight stinging sensation it caused. It was a gift to his irises left by the smoke that still smothered his nightmares. The morphine drip was nearing its end and death’s dance rushed him, expanding his cranium, pummeling his chest, performing an un-choreographed number with the pieces left of his ribs.

  The faint touch of burning gas decorated every breath he drew, completing his trifecta of torment. The nurse’s button was not within reach. The morphine trip, a flight through space, a conglomerate of everything beautiful, would soon be over. Soon, he would be lost to the thing he had come to hate more than anything in his life, the inevitable pain awaiting him. He gripped the hard, white plastic railing of his hospital bed, failing to limit his movement, as the brittle bones’ recital caused his body to convulse violently.

  A short, plump, elderly woman walked into the room. Too deep into the recesses of his personal hell, Micah did not notice her. In less than a minute’s time, she replaced his morphine bag with the one of the fresh pints she’d brought into the room with her.

  “That simpleton never listens to a single thing I tell her. Good English is simply wasted on some people. That is the third time in two days. She is fortunate her father has deep pockets.” She rested her hand on Micah’s forearm, waiting for a visual cue that his pain had subsided. The writhing ceased within seconds as the liquid medicine cooled his veins, sending his pain into some far distant place. “Darling, are you okay? Hmm . . . does that feel better?”

  Opening his eyes, Micah found Ms. Vida, the night charge, with her full head of misty white hair pulled back into a polite bun and cinnamon-brown eyes staring down at him from his bedside.

  “Can you speak?” Prompted by his calm, she busied herself fluffing the pillow around his head and re-adjusting the thin hospital blanket. Micah, distracted by the sudden cloud of freshly picked strawberries, did not respond immediately.

  “Are your ears functioning? Is your tongue swollen, preventing you from answering my question?”

  Micah smirked, enjoying Ms. Vida’s sarcastic humor. “Yes, ma’am. I feel much better.”

  “Well, good, I am relieved your lips still work,” Ms. Vida joked while she stocked his cabinet with fresh blankets and sheets.

  Puckering his lips and scrunching his nose, Micah inhaled, pretending to suck in an exaggerated amount of air. He purposely posed the question so that it came out more suggestive. “Did you put on some special fragrance for me, Ms. Vida?”

  Not missing a beat, Ms. Vida, answered, “Darling, if you are trying to get an extra cheesecake or something, you need only ask. This little flirt thing you are trying is not a good use of your oral skills. As it is, I consider you more like a son than anything else. Furthermore, it is not necessary.”

  “Ms. Vida, I was merely commenting on how pleasant your perfume is.”

  “Darling, that is nothing but lotion. Ms. Vida does not wear perfume.”

  “Oh.” Micah cleared his throat, feigning embarrassment. “It’s really nice. Perfect for you. And you don’t need any cheap perfume anyway,” he stated, punctuating his sentence with a wink.

  “Thank you, darling. As long as I do not smell like my garlic-loving mother, or those dreadful mothballs, I count it a victory. But, if I were to wear some perfume, it would not be anything cheap.”

  Micah burst into laughter again. “I think we all would count that as a win. Somehow, though, I think you could make us love that, too.”

  “Darling, if I did not know any better, I would think you were a little sweet on Ms. Vida.”

  “Better believe it. I must admit, though, those Mother Goose glasses took some getting used to.”

  “Excuse me, young man?”

  Smiling, Micah continued, “I didn’t even know they still made those. Where did you find them? Did Ms. Muffett have a garage sale?”

  Pressing her palm against her bosom, Ms. Vida exclaimed in between bouts of laughter, “Mother Goose glasses? There is nothing wrong with my bifocals. These Mother Goose glasses keep me from mistaking your eye for an arm.”

  Micah laughed until tears streamed down his face. Ms. Vida had quite an effect on him. Her presence disarmed him and empowered him simultaneously. Her daily visits gave him something to look forward to, and she had yet to miss a day. She poured so much of her life into him that he couldn’t help but love her. The medals she acquired from living glistened in the pictures she painted. Her Nina Simone tune seemed to put him at ease with her every utterance.

  Ms. Vida reminded Micah of his fourth foster home. The lady of the house spoke plainly as she did, but that was where the parallel ended. That woman wielded her whit like a weapon, bringing many grown men to their knees, especially her husband; but he did not believe that Ms. Vida had the heart to be so cruel.

  “I am only kidding with you, Ms. Vida.”

  “How is your pain level now, darling? On a scale of one to ten?”

  “What pain?”

  “That is what I like to hear,” she stated, shaking her head, acknowledging the mistake that was made. “That never should have happened. I apologize about that. I should have checked your vitals and liquid levels m
yself. It will not happen again.”

  Struck by the sincerity in her eyes, Micah didn’t doubt her words. He was not certain who had dropped the ball, but he was confident that Ms. Vida had nothing at all to do with it.

  “Promises, promises,” he joked. “Seriously, I don’t blame you. You have been looking out for me ever since I arrived.”

  “That is my job, darling, and my pleasure.”

  “Not all of it.”

  She slowed her movement but did not stop.

  “I appreciate what you did,” he said.

  Ms. Vida stopped working to peer into Micah as she spoke. He felt her eyes climbing into his mind, searching for a space to land. “Darling, you were scaling the slopes of eternity. That crash scrambled your brain, took out a few ribs, almost crushed your leg, punctured a lung, and I imagine it gave your soul a good lashing. I was not even certain about your ability to heed my words or comprehend enough to retain the information.”

  “But I did hear you, and I thank you for telling me. For talking to me.”

  “Prayer is a powerful tool. It was not my place to say anything, necessarily, but I thought you should know about the person in the accident with you. My mother kept raving about some horrible accident she saw on the news. The timing fit perfectly with yours, but they did not release any names. One night, you started screaming for a Rachel. I rushed in, but you were not coherent. That confirmed what I had suspected about that accident being yours, and I decided to tell you about her. It only seemed fair since you kept asking for her.”

  “I just wish I could remember what happened—or her, for that matter. I cannot remember anything.”

  “I know, but there is no need to stress yourself about it. You are lucky to be alive.”

  “I am not lucky; I’m blessed. I could have been stretched out on the highway. I’m in pain”—Pausing for effect, he then continued—“but at least I’m here.”

  “Darling, that is nothing but the truth. Thank God for that, and count your blessings.”

  “I do, with every breath.” That was only a partial lie. Gratitude hit the nearest exit whenever the pain hit. He supposed he hadn’t evolved to the point where he could appreciate it yet. “Did you reach Brianna, Ms. Vida?”

  Ms. Vida smiled, grabbing the clipboard at the foot of his bed, giving it a quick once over.

  “Ms. Vida? Did you reach Brianna? I know she must be worried about me.”

  “I did not want to tell you. It may not mean anything, but that number you gave me is no longer in service, chile.”

  “What? What do you mean? It could not have been that long ago when we last spoke.”

  “Micah, she has not looked for you. You have been in this hospital for nearly three weeks. That is ample time for her to have located you if she so desired.”

  “Ms. Vida, Brianna is . . . special. Our relationship is a very complicated, intense game of cat-and-mouse. She is probably waiting for me to find her, not thinking that something is wrong.”

  “After three weeks, Micah?”

  “Each time we get close, she pulls away. She’s terrified of what our being together would open her up to receive. I love her dearly, and she wants that, but the potential pain is too much for her to risk. She won’t let me in completely. It would take some extremely traumatic event for that wall to come down.”

  “Like an accident that nearly sent you to the grave?”

  “Probably. I just want to see her.”

  “Well, I’ll see what I can do about finding her for you. Okay?”

  “Thank you, Ms. Vida.”

  “Have you had your medication today?”

  Micah weighed his options before answering. He really didn’t want to take the medication. The nothingness he experienced once it took effect seemed worse than the symptoms of his condition to him. Besides, he had done fine all this time without that blasted medication and figured he didn’t need it now, either. Still, Ms. Vida more than likely could see from the clipboard that he hadn’t taken it today. There was no sense in lying to his favorite nurse.

  “No, ma’am. I have not.”

  “I know. I did not see any notation for today. I swear that girl is good for absolutely nothing. I am going to send someone in here with them.”

  “Okay.”

  “You need to take the medicine, darling. Do not roll your eyes to dismiss my request, either. We all have a little bit of crazy in us, some more than others. Just be glad yours can be helped with some medicine. There is no hope for some folks.”

  “I know. I just hate the way it makes me feel.”

  “Feelings fluctuate. Emotions are not concrete. They are subject to change. Happy one minute and wanting to end it all the next. That is life, darling. With your situation, the natural shift is intensified and even more sensitive.”

  “That’s the problem. I kinda don’t feel anything but a numbness I can’t shake.”

  Lightly patting the foot of his bed, Ms. Vida responded, “Darling, I will not pretend to know the details of who you are and how you came to be this way. However, I will share with you my opinion on the subject in question.” Lowering her glasses, giving him greater access to her eyes, she continued. “There are different levels of crazy. Refusing to utilize every medical advantage available to you in regards to your health is the worst kind. The results are not favorable for the patient and devastating because it is one hundred percent preventable. Now, maybe you do not like the pills, and I sympathize with you. My diabetes got me swallowing cylinder blocks, too, and I do not care for it much myself. But those pills are putting distance between myself and that funeral plot I purchased when I got my diagnosis two years ago. I cannot make the choice for you, Micah. I cannot force you to choose to save your own life, you must decide to do that on your own.”

  “Ms. Vida . . .”

  “Death is not prejudiced, Micah. This is serious. We have been back and forth all week about this medication. We all have an expiration date, but some of us rot long before.” Pointing her finger at him, she offered, “I don’t know how you turned that Benz into a piece of scrap metal, but someone died, Micah. Records show you have been off your meds for a very long time. Maybe that had something to do with it, or maybe not. It is impossible to know for certain since you cannot recall the events leading up to the crash, but chances are it did. It was an accident, but that does not mean that it could not have been prevented. I do not believe in coincidence or bad luck. Some things are the result of bad decisions. Karma keeps an impeccable record.”

  Micah lifted his hand. “Ms. Vida, I was going to say that I’ll take them. For you, I will take the meds. The speech wasn’t really necessary.”

  “I will never know, and neither will you. Nothing is for nothing. Perhaps you had long ago decided to comply, but something I said may be of benefit to you some other time.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Besides, you could be deceiving me. Biblically, your name means ‘the deceiver.’”

  That took Micah by surprise. “That is interesting. Well, I’m not.”

  “Well, I hope that is true. I know that it does not seem fair, but fairness is irrelevant when it comes to living. The vital aspects of your life rest in your hands. The single most important thing is your ability to make a decision. From where I am standing, your choices have been questionable, but it is not too late to change.”

  “I won’t lie to you, Ms. Vida, ever.” He meant every word. He felt a connection to Ms. Vida that he had not felt with anyone. She made him feel safe, protected.

  “I believe you, darling. Enough of that. I need to run before my other patients think I have abandoned them.”

  Micah scoffed, “You mean I’m not your only patient, Ms. Vida?”

  “Now, you know better than that. Besides, you have a visitor.”

  Chapter 25

  Micah peered around Ms. Vida’s bubbly frame and into the hallway. The confusion in his eyes was evident. He had no idea who would be visiting him. Mike, maybe?
Brianna was a long shot.

  “I didn’t hear anyone knock.”

  “Oh, I had him wait at the nurse’s station.”

  Micah’s eyes widened in shock. “All of this time, Ms. Vida? Why didn’t you tell me when you first walked in?”

  “Well, you were shaking and perspiring like fire ants had a tight grip of your coconuts. I got sidetracked a bit.”

  Micah shook his head. “But a lot of time passed, Ms. Vida. What if they left without seeing me? I have no idea who it could be.”

  “I doubt that. He did not seem like the type to leave without what he wanted.”

  “He? How so?”

  “The fact that we are well beyond visiting hours and the hospital director contacted me personally, advising me to allow him in to see you. He must have done some Olympic-style maneuvering to get in here this late. Especially since he could have come tomorrow without any hoopla.”

  Micah’s interest was extraordinarily piqued at the last comment. “What is his name?”

  “Apparently, that information is above my paygrade, but his cufflinks had the initials R.S. on them. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Micah could not think of anything offhand. “I don’t think so.”

  “I will send him in—and remember to take your medication, Micah. I will be by later.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ms. Vida closed the door behind her and headed toward the nurse’s desk.

  Micah leaned back in the bed, closing his eyes, trying to conjure some idea of who the mystery man could be. He could not think of anyone with the credentials required to manage what Ms. Vida had suggested happened, but before his thoughts traveled too far, the door opened, and a deep tenor halted his trip.

  “Micah Javan Harrison . . . or is it Harris now?”

  Micah’s eyes sprang open and settled on the man to whom the voice belonged. His face warmed as his emotions went into a frenzy.