Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  Upstairs, the track changed and the drumbeat quickened. ‘It’ll be over soon enough,’ Jerry’s voice echoed.

  For Alex’s sake, she prayed it to be true.

  Brittany stared at the photo of Jason on her mobile phone with an unreasonable longing, absorbing his big round eyes, long dark eyelashes, and classically cut hairstyle, as her memories crystallised. With a cushion pressed to her middle, she visualised his smiling eyes and angular facial structure as they shared a joke, and recalled the urgency in his kisses and the exploratory movements of his fingers. Then there was the electrifying buzz of their connection. It was real; Jason had been equally enamoured.

  But he had betrayed her, conspired with her mother. So why did she still hope that the doorbell sounded or the phone rang? Why did she yearn for him to present himself open-armed and apologise? Even if he contacted her, she should refuse. He had told her she was desperate and needy, but worse than that, he believed her to be dying and only felt sympathy.

  Pushing aside her defensive response, she forced herself to consider if there could be an element of truth in what he said. Her behaviour could have been driven by a fear of what was ahead. She struggled to believe she would reach her forties and fifties, and if she did, it would be with the aid of a dialysis machine. Her spontaneity would end; she would be unable to take an unplanned walk, she would be unable to go shopping at will, she would be unable to visit friends. Everything she did would be planned around a machine. Else she would die.

  Her gut twisted and a sickly taste settled in her mouth. No one would want to such an attachment; the days and weeks of heart-wrenching emotions, wondering if each day may be the last. There would be the sleepless nights, the heavy burden weighting the stomach, the listlessness and aimless meandering. Jason had been right; a relationship was expecting too much.

  Releasing a plaintive moan, she tried to release the gut-twisting ache of rejection and told herself to forget him. He was only with her because he had made a promise to her mother. He didn’t want a relationship. He had made that clear and she was better off without him. She could do without the curious stares when she was breathless and fatigued, and wanted someone who loved her for who she was, and not because of some enforced request made by a cruel, calculating woman.

  Stiffening, she flung aside the cushion and stomped to the kitchen. Dirty cutlery and crockery were scattered across the worktop, food was smeared across the hob, cupboard drawers were ajar, and crumbs littered the floor. It was a horrendous mess. She emptied the bowl in the sink and wiped away the smears, yanking and thrashing everything in her path.

  Feet sounded at her rear. She spun around.

  ‘I said I’d do that,’ Erin said.

  ‘Then do it. It’s disgusting.’

  ‘It’s not even seven o’clock. Chill!’

  ‘Chill? I can’t live like this. I thought we had an agreement, whoever cooks, the other cleans.’

  Erin was bewildered. ‘And I will. I hardly ever do it this early.’

  ‘Then it’s about time you did. You know how easily I catch infections.’

  ‘From this? Get real. It’s never bothered you before.’

  Brittany turned on the tap and squeezed in the washing up liquid. ‘It’s always bothered me. I just never said anything.’

  ‘Then I’m sorry. I’ll get on to it.’

  ‘Don’t bother.’

  Brittany could feel Erin at her rear, sense her eyes pressing into her back, puzzling, wondering. Unable to maintain her resistance, she turned off the tap and scurried out of the kitchen, her jaw clenched, her eyes down.

  Erin followed. ‘Is it Jason?’

  ‘Why should it be Jason?’

  ‘You’ve been a bit odd since your last date.’

  ‘He’s been seeing my mother behind my back.’

  ‘Speaking to her?’

  Brittany nodded, her fury dissipating. ‘He knows how I feel about her. How could he?’

  ‘What has he said?’

  She reached for the cushion, pressing it firm. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘He might be looking out for you. You shouldn’t assume the worst.’

  ‘He did tell me he doesn’t like talking to her about me,’ Brittany said, her tone softening.

  ‘There you go then.’

  ‘It doesn’t make it right.’

  ‘Then speak to him.’

  ‘It’s not that simple.’ Brittany looked to her lap and her skin warmed. They had been getting along well until he broke their moment of intimacy.

  ‘Then maybe you should visit your mother . . . ask her about it.’

  ‘I have and we argued. I was a little harsh with her. I should have stayed away until I’d calmed down.’

  ‘You’ve not made any progress at all?’

  Brittany shook her head and clenched her jaw.

  ‘Okay,’ Erin said, ‘so maybe it didn’t go as well as you planned, but it doesn’t mean it won’t happen later, or that she doesn’t care. She might be trying to help, as ludicrous as it sounds. Why else would she have decided to live so close by? If she hated you, she’d have moved away.’

  ‘So why doesn’t she speak to me.’

  ‘Maybe she will eventually. Give her time.’

  ‘Brittany scowled.

  ‘Try not to get so down about it. I’m sure it’ll all work out.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘She had photos of me, and other stuff I’d forgotten about. I’d have expected her to throw them away. There was a brooch I’d bought her - it was pretty awful - I’d never have expected . . .’

  Brittany’s mind drifted. It did seem as though her mother cared, even just a little. Otherwise, there were too many inconsistencies. As Erin had said, if she had not wanted contact she would have left the area. Perhaps there was hope.

  The doorbell sounded and her heart tingled. Could it be her? Or Jason? She scanned her reflection in the mirror, smoothed down her hair, and hurried to the doorway. It was Angela and her joy nose-dived.

  ‘I know we agreed to do this later in the week, but I was passing. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘No, come in.’

  They wandered to the living room. If truth were told, Brittany was glad to get this over with. It had been on her mind for days.

  Angela opened up a clipboard, retrieved a pen, and chatted about the procedure. There were numerous questions, and they would go through them together. She was told to answer them as honestly as possible and had nothing to fear regarding privacy.

  ‘I’d like to start with the transplant and the after care treatment. Did you feel sufficiently looked after?’

  A rock formed within. That was when she had just found out about her mother’s confession. It was surprising that she had recovered from the operation at all considering the stress. ‘Everyone was very kind.’

  ‘Was there anything that could have been improved upon?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was there anything you were particularly happy with?’

  ‘I liked the nurses. I didn’t want to leave the hospital, but my circumstances were a bit different.’ Brittany gulped, regretting her words. Telling Angela about her mother was far too sensitive an issue to voice.

  ‘I’ve heard about Michelle, your mother. All positive comments of course. Nothing nasty.’

  Brittany’s expression hardened.

  It must have been difficult. I heard you coped brilliantly.’

  ‘I got by.’

  ‘How is she doing?’

  Brittany glanced to the clipboard, urging her to continue with the interview. The last thing she wanted to discuss was her relationship with her mother.

  ‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t one of the questions. I was just curious. It must have affected your recovery, and that’s why it is important to me.’

  ‘My father was fantastic. He helped me through.’

  ‘Is she still in prison?’

  ‘She’s got parole.’
>
  ‘That’s good news . . . isn’t it?’

  ‘We have a few bridges to mend.’

  ‘Sure.’ Angela caught her eye. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I was told she’d confessed. Is that true?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘The nurse who mentioned it said she thought she’d been forced into a confession. She was saying ever such nice things about the both of you and couldn’t imagine Michelle ever killing anyone.’

  ‘Who said that?’

  ‘Oh . . . I forget.’

  ‘Was it Nurse Roberts?’

  ‘It could have been . . . yes, I think it was, although it was a while ago. She said it seemed out of character. If it was me, I’d be out for revenge.’

  ‘Revenge?’

  ‘Yes. For making it look as though I was guilty – for all the lost years.’

  Brittany’s suspicions were aroused. Did she know about the investigation? Her guard lifted.

  ‘If she has parole, I suppose it would be too risky to do anything about it,’ Angela continued, ‘she’s not going to want to go back inside.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Still. Twelve years inside for something you haven’t done must be hard to swallow. She’s going to have to be careful if she’s planning anything.’

  ‘I think she’s keeping her head down.’

  ‘Wise choice. How about you? You must feel very bitter as well.’

  ‘I have no feelings either way. It’s my mother’s business.’

  Fearing she had been too evasive, Brittany shuffled on her seat and watched as the scepticism flickered into Angela’s expression.

  ‘It’s probably just speculation that she’s innocent,’ Angela said.

  ‘Do you know something?’

  ‘No. I’m just babbling.’ Angela looked down trying hard to shield her irritation. ‘Right, the questionnaire.’

  Despite Brittany’s doubts as to the validity of the survey, she continued to answer the questions, mainly because Angela was swift to start and left her with no opportunity to raise her concerns, and partly because if there was any truth in the survey, it may help others.

  The interview covered the weeks following the operation and her bouts of sickness and the fears of rejection, through to her teenage years and the current date. Feeling a little edgy and deciding it was nobody else’s business, Brittany decided to lie about her current fatigue, urinary troubles, and future concerns. Instead, she claimed she was healthy, and today she was. She regarded it as one of her better days.

  ‘Thanks for this,’ Angela said, ‘you’ve been a great help.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’ve not said anything I’ve not said before.’

  ‘It’s good to gather it into one place and put it with the others.’ She shuffled the sheets into a pile and rearranged them on the clipboard. ‘I think you’ve done amazingly well, especially the first two years. The stress you must have been under.’

  ‘I still had my dad . . . and friends.’

  ‘But a mother and daughter relationship is special . . . hard to replicate. I know, I have a daughter.’

  Brittany tensed.

  ‘I’d heard she was by your bedside day and night.’

  ‘Virtually.’

  ‘She must have had her reasons to do what she did. It’s a real puzzlement to me.’

  Was Angela ever going to stop? ‘I thought you said you thought she was innocent.’

  ‘Oh I do. That’s what my gut says anyway. But having said that, no mother would confess without reason, not after everything you’d both been through.’

  Brittany nodded her agreement.

  ‘Maybe she was guilty of something else and this was the lesser of the two evils.’

  ‘Something worse than murder? I can’t imagine what that could be.’

  ‘No, I suppose I can’t either. I guess we’ll never know.’

  With a flood of words on Brittany’s lips, from her search for her mother’s motives to their failed relationship, she grabbed a mug and headed to the kitchen. Fleetingly, she admired the clean surfaces and took a deep breath. Angela was certainly persistent.

  She peeked into the room. Angela had returned the documents to her bag and was donning her jacket. Her large lips and coarse complexion were memorable and she knew she had seen her before. Her failed memory was irritating.

  ‘You should both be careful,’ Angela said, ‘there are some unscrupulous sorts out there.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If you’re mother’s out for revenge or carries someone’s secret, they’ll want to stop her.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’

  ‘No. No of course not. It’s conjecture. I often think allowed.’

  Brittany’s gaze softened. ‘I doubt my mother would have got involved in anything. She would have wanted to stay out of it.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’

  Brittany shuffled, uneasy.

  ‘I’m only telling you this because I like you. There are rumours flying around. Someone is going to get hurt. Be careful. Very careful.’

  ‘Were you told to warn me?’

  ‘No. I’m certainly no messenger. If they found out what I’d said, I’d be in deep trouble.’ She swept her hand across her hair and hurried to the door. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘Who is after my mother?’

  Angela shook her head. ‘I can’t say. I have a daughter to think of.’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘I can’t say.’ She pressed her hand on the door handle.

  ‘There is no survey, is there? This was all a ploy to talk to me.’

  Angela scurried through the door, then stopped and spun around. ‘Just be careful. Look after those you love.’

  Then she was gone. Brittany thrust shut the door and shuffled to the living room.

  Erin emerged from her bedroom. ‘What was she after?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. She claimed to be doing a survey on transplant patients, but I’m not so sure. She was asking a lot of questions about my mother.’

  ‘I heard. She was a bit pushy.’

  Brittany thrust her arms around her middle, calming her quivers. ‘She was warning me. I think she knows I’ve hired Luke.’

  ‘Did you tell her anything?’

  She shook her head, anxious.

  ‘You should tell Luke.’

  ‘Yes. I think I will.’

  As Brittany’s thoughts whirred, Erin flicked on the television and scanned the guide with the remote, and leaned back into the armchair. Then it dawned. Amidst their argument, Jason had also said her mother was in danger.

  ‘Oh no,’ Brittany said. ‘Jason knows something too. He told me Mum was in danger.’

  Erin passed her a cursory glance.

  ‘She must have had good reasons for keeping quiet. I should never have started this. I should have listened to her.’

  ‘I thought you said it was going to happen anyway.’

  Brittany scrunched her face. It may have happened, but no one else could be blamed for drawing it to Luke’s attention.

  ‘Well,’ Erin said, ‘I think you have to talk to one of them. Your mother obviously knows she is in danger if she’s spoken to Jason about it, so you won’t be helping her by reiterating the obvious. I’d say, speak to Jason. He’s more likely to tell you something.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can. I doubt he’d want to see me. We argued.’

  ‘Was it all your fault?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know.’

  Erin raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Okay, so maybe he was partly to blame. He made some comments that were uncalled for.’

  ‘Did he apologise?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ Brittany lowered her gaze. ‘I may have over-reacted.’

  ‘Then you have two choices. Forget him, or speak to him about it.’

  Brittany had already concluded that she couldn’t forget about Jason, and whilst she still wasn’t sure if a relationship was worth pursuing, sh
e did feel a need to understand more about the danger he spoke of. She should visit him in hospital tomorrow, after her appointment for her latest blood test results, and if he wasn’t there, she could get Ethan on her side. Children could be very persuasive when they wanted to be, and if necessary, he would persuade his father to speak to her. Brittany smiled. It was a fine idea.

  Chapter 20

  Dr Larson’s anxiety was seeping from his eyes and coating his face as he stared, pensive, at her notes. He was checking her history and mulling over his options, biding his time, and her impatience grew. She wanted to be gone, didn’t want to hear what he had to stay and wanted to check in on Ethan.

  ‘You’re creatinine levels are up a bit,’ he said.

  Brittany folded her arms and tightened her face.

  ‘And you’re blood pressure’s a bit high. Are you taking your tablets?’

  ‘Yes. I had a bad day when I had the blood test. I’d had an argument with someone.’

  Dr Larson turned to his computer monitor. ‘You must manage your stress levels better.’

  ‘I do. It was a one off.’

  ‘You are aware of how blood pressure affects kidney function, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ It was always the same conversation. Did he think her stupid? Even as a little girl, she had had everyone drilling into her the rights and wrongs of maintaining a working kidney. She doubted he had read her notes properly. He probably thought her kidney was the one she had been born with.

  ‘I could try changing your medication again.’

  ‘I’d prefer not. Like I said, it was a one off.’

  He caught her gaze and frowned.

  ‘I know my own body. I am okay.’

  ‘Do you have a blood pressure monitor?’

  Brittany nodded.

  ‘Do you know what you are looking at?’

  ‘Yes.’ She cringed. ‘I have a document that explains what’s high and what’s acceptable, and with the exception of that one time, it has been within the normal range.’

  ‘Then I’ll leave it for now, it’s only a little over. But you must promise to manage your stress better. Have you tried yoga or tai chi?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Check it out. A few of my patients swear by it. There are classes locally.’