by Gina Ardito
“Before the child’s second birthday,” he replied with a mournful sigh.
“Can’t her fate be changed somehow? Give her more time with her baby?”
Sherman shook his head, and his mane of white hair flowed like bridal ribbons. “Our lifetimes are finite, and while we, ourselves, can cut our lines shorter—as you well know—no one on Earth has ever extended his or her given time.”
“What if someone else volunteered to give up his time to extend her life?”
His lips twisted in a moue, and he furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Yeah, you do. If the Board wants a sacrifice, I’ll volunteer. Tell the Board to let Isabelle live long past when her child is grown, and I’ll do her time here on top of my own.”
Sherman’s eyes widened. “Why?” The question came out as a harsh whisper. “Why would you make such an offer?”
A million reasons. But one in particular. “The world is a better place because Isabelle’s in it.”
“I’ll convey your...” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “...proposal...to Verity.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather do it myself.”
Sherman gave a curt nod. “I’ll let her know you wish to speak with her.”
Chapter 21
The woman, dressed in a tangerine tube dress that enhanced every supple curve and made her ebony skin glow, reappeared in her dream. Hammered gold jewelry adorned her throat and wrists, lending her a regal air. This time, they sat together on a covered porch swing in the middle of a wildflower-filled meadow on a beautiful spring afternoon. The air smelled of sweet honeysuckle, birds chirped from leafy trees on the perimeter, and the sun bathed her face with golden warmth. Cottony clouds dotted the pristine azure sky.
Isabelle couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed such a lovely day. She, herself, wore a high-waisted white sundress splashed with daisies and rosebuds, espadrilles on her feet, and a yellow leather watch as her lone accessory. Despite the simplicity of her outfit compared to her companion’s magnificence, she felt pretty as the scenery. Relaxed. Perfect.
“Hello again, Isabelle.” The woman pushed off from the dirt ground with a jeweled sandaled foot, propelling the swing into a slow to-and-fro.
“Xavia with an X, right? Sean’s friend?”
“That’s right.”
She tensed, wondering why this woman had returned. Where was Sean? “Is he okay? How much trouble is he in? They haven’t hurt him, have they?”
“Of course not.” Xavia’s smile revealed dazzling white teeth and reassurance. “He’s fine. His main restriction is that he can no longer be in contact with you. And that’s making him crazy, I admit. His only concern is you, what you’re going through right now.”
Her heart flippety-flopped in her chest. He hadn’t abandoned her after all. If she believed Xavia—and she did—Sean’s total absence from her life wasn’t his choice, but some kind of punishment inflicted by the powerful forces in his realm. Which, really, was so unfair. She’d called him to her that day, screamed for him. If anyone deserved punishment for what happened, she did. “They banned him from contacting me because of what happened during the gamma knife procedure, didn’t they?”
“Yes.” Xavia’s ruby-ringed index finger bobbed near Isabelle’s nose. “I know what you’re thinking, and it wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was.” The heat of shame bathed her cheeks and neck. “I even told him I didn’t care if he got in trouble for being with me during the procedure. I’m such a selfish jerk.”
Xavia patted her thigh. “No, you’re not. You were afraid and you called out for someone you trusted to comfort you. He went because he cared about you. He still cares about you. That’s why he sent me to you now.”
“Does he know...about the baby?”
“Yes. And that only adds to his worries. He’s not happy with your decision to carry this baby to term.”
“He sent you to talk me out of it, didn’t he?” At Xavia’s nod, she clucked her tongue. “Tell him not to worry. I’m completely at peace with my choice.”
“Yeah, I kinda figured that. I even told him so. But Sean’s not that easy to convince. He’s so sure he knows what’s right for everyone else, no matter how screwed up his own life—or death—is.” She shrugged. “He’s a man. Need I say more?”
“No.” Isabelle laughed. “God, no.” She liked this Xavia. Liked her sarcastic wit. But her take-no-prisoners attitude confused Isabelle. “Can I ask you something?”
“Hmm...?” Xavia’s expression was placid, as if she, too, enjoyed this pastoral break.
Now, Isabelle was about to pee on her begonias. “You’re a suicide, right? Like Sean?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Why? I mean, you don’t seem the type...” She let the statement trail off, understanding that some things were definitely better left unsaid.
“My only child was killed in an accidental shooting. After he died, I couldn’t...” A keening sound escaped her lips, a strangled coo, like a cote of mourning doves. “I couldn’t go on.”
Acting on a new mother’s instinct, Isabelle cradled her burgeoning belly. “I’m sorry.” Her gaze remained pinned to her hands around her own child. No matter how new her pregnancy, a primal protective nature had already kicked in, and Isabelle knew if anyone threatened her child in any way, they’d better be prepared for a total beatdown. “I didn’t mean to bring up something so painful for you.”
“You didn’t. Not really. It’s not like that information ever leaves me, you know. The ache of his loss stays with me during every tick of time through eternity. Like a hole I can’t fill.”
Isabelle shivered. God, she couldn’t imagine how painful it would be to continue living after losing a child—literally, a piece of herself. “How do you go on?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
Silence brewed between them for several minutes, giving Isabelle time and quiet to absorb Xavia’s words. She was the bravest woman Isabelle had ever met. Tough, but with a soft underbelly. The way a good mom should be.
At last, Xavia spoke again. “The thing is, though, I recently found out all the details of that night I’d never known. You see, my son was killed by a police detective who mistook him for an armed gunman. That detective was Sean.”
She sat up, rigid with shock. “Oh. Oh, God.” Her stomach pitched on a rolling sea of nausea. “Oh my God, you must hate him.”
“I did. But I’ve forgiven him.”
“You have?”
Xavia nodded. “I admit it wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done. But for all our sakes—mine, Sean’s, and my son’s—I had to forgive him. And he atoned in a very special way, so it’s all good.”
“Belle?” Justin’s voice yanked her off the swing and obliterated the beautiful landscape. “Belle, sweetie, wake up. The doctor’s here to see you.”
She woke the minute he spoke, but refused to leave the last vestiges of sleep behind. “A doctor making house calls?” she grumbled, rolling over to a supine position. The ever-present I.V. line snapped her skin, bringing her to complete wakeful status. “What year is this? 1955?”
“I called him,” Justin replied. “I’m worried about you.”
Opening one eye, she peered at her friend and the fuzzy outline of Dr. Regalbuto hovering behind him. “Hello, boys. Is that a stethoscope in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”
“Good morning, Isabelle,” the neurosurgeon replied. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I want to sleep a bit longer.” Get back to that meadow with Xavia. Find out what Sean did to atone for killing Xavia’s son. It had to be humungous. After all, what price could possibly be placed on a child’s life? Especially since money, from what Sean said, wasn’t much use where they were.
She bit back a giggle. This other realm of Sean’s had better storylines than a nighttime television drama. Tune in for the next episode…
Uninvited,
the doctor sat in the chair at her bedside. “Tell me about Sean, if you would.”
Aha. Now, his impromptu appearance made sense. Justin must have panicked at last night’s confession, worried the brain tumor was affecting her sanity. She sat up and stared at both men, clear-eyed and solemn. No way they were going to make her think she’d gone crazy with a capital K. “What do you want to know?”
“Who is he?”
“A really good friend.” Who still cared and hadn’t abandoned her. “And the father of my child, of course.”
“And where is he now?”
“Dead.” She chose her words with precise care. “He died a while ago.”
“When exactly?”
She paused long enough to give Justin the stink-eye before replying, “Not sure exactly. A while ago.”
“Can you be more specific? Was it this month? This year?”
“Nope.” Folding her arms over her chest, she maintained a solid wall of stubbornness, impenetrable. “I honestly don’t remember.”
“Do you remember today’s date?”
“Of course.” She gave him the date, along with the correct answers to his questions about the name of the current president, the state they lived in, and then one-upped him by providing the names of the state’s governor and senators. “Anything else? Wanna discuss the latest bill to make it to the floor of the House of Representatives?” She hoped not, because she had no clue. The only reason she knew the senators was from a boring fundraiser she’d attended with Carlo. But the good doctor didn’t know that.
“No,” Dr. Regalbuto said. “Tell me more about Sean.”
“No.”
He quirked a brow. “Why not?”
“Because he’s mine,” she retorted with an air of resentment. “And I don’t want to share him.” She slid into the bed again, eased into the soft mattress, and closed her eyes, willing sleep to return. Maybe if she hurried, she could catch Xavia before she flitted off to…wherever she and Sean came from. “Thanks for stopping by, Doc. Nice talking to you. Justin, don’t call him again. I may be sick, but I’m not that sick.”
~~~~
Sean strode out of Sherman’s office and stopped short. Instead of the marble archways and confusing buzz of glazed-eyed newcomers in the Welcome Level, he found himself in the relative quiet of his mother’s kitchen with its yellowed wallpaper and misaligned cabinets.
Verity sat in her usual chair, pouring steaming amber tea into the familiar cups. “You wanted to see me?”
Wow. He didn’t know this place could still surprise him. Then again, maybe his offer to do Isabelle’s time had surprised the Elders so much they’d initiated this instant meeting to gauge if he was joking. Or suffered from some otherworldly fever. Hell, he’d stunned himself, and the words came out of his mouth.
“Thanks for making time for me.” Maintaining the good behavior cloak he’d donned with Sherman, he took the seat across from her and folded his hands on the faded Formica. No argument or disparaging remarks fell from his lips. Oh, they lingered behind his tongue, but he kept them in check. For Isabelle’s sake.
Nodding approval at his genteel manner, Verity slid a cup toward him. “Sherman conveyed your offer to me.”
He squirmed in his chair, antsy to say the right thing, to get the Elders to consider his proposal. “And...?”
“And even if such a thing were possible, why would you do it?” She lifted the cup to her lips, sipped. “She’s hardly worthy of such a noble sacrifice.”
“I disagree.”
“She has so many flaws.”
“Don’t we all?”
“Yes, but hers are too numerous for the Board to consider providing any kind of intervention on her behalf.”
“Yeah, right. Isabelle Fichetti: female Hitler.” When Verity didn’t even crack a smile, he thumped a fist on the table. “Oh, come on. You don’t really believe she’s some kind of monster, do you? Isabelle’s had a rough life, and that’s colored her perceptions somewhat. But she’s a good person with a generous heart.”
The Elder’s crystal eyes darkened. “She’s selfish.”
“She’s lonely,” he countered.
“She’s disagreeable.”
“She’s misunderstood.”
“She’s confrontational and suspicious.”
“She’s been betrayed by those who should have loved her most,” he retorted. “Anyone who’d been abused the way she was wouldn’t exactly welcome strangers into her inner circle with open arms. That doesn’t mean she can’t learn to love and be loved.”
Verity smiled over the rim of her cup. “I know. That’s why she’s carrying this child.”
He stiffened in his chair. “In other words, Sherman was wrong. This is a test, isn’t it?”
“No. You misunderstand me. By choosing to have this child, knowing she won’t be able to fight the tumor that will take her life shortly after the child’s birth, and by willingly turning the infant’s care over to her friends to create a family that might not otherwise exist, she has shown her great capacity for love. The Elders are like parents, Sean. We know our charges well: their flaws, as well as their gifts. Your defense of Isabelle’s character, while admirable, is unnecessary.”
Hope sparked inside him, but confusion demanded answers first. “If you know all this about her, if she’s not being punished for choosing the baby’s life over her own, why is she on Xavia’s roster of offenders?”
“We believe she needs to be monitored. I fear I must warn you.” Pausing, she sipped her tea. “This pregnancy won’t be an easy one, and her illness will only get worse as time goes by. Often, the greatest rewards only come to us after we’ve survived tremendous struggle. There is still a chance Isabelle might surrender to her demons. I hope not, but we feel it’s best to take precautions.”
“So, if she passes this...struggle...” Who did Verity think she was kidding? She could call it whatever she wanted, but Sean knew this was Isabelle’s big test. “...will she be allowed to live?”
Her smile flipped to frown. “Isabelle’s fate has been cast and cannot be changed. Much like your defense of her character, your offer to sacrifice yourself for her and the child, while admirable, is not necessary.”
And there went hope, snuffed out before it could fully ignite into a dream. But he wouldn’t surrender without a helluva fight. “Why? If she’s proven herself worthy of great love, why can’t she gain some kind of reward? Hasn’t she suffered enough for one lifetime? Give her a break. Please.” That argument oughta be worth something. He’d never before begged for anything from the Board, and he silently prayed this unusual turn of events would reflect the gravity of the situation.
“I’m sorry. That’s not your decision to make.”
“Is it yours?”
“No,” she admitted with a grimace.
“Okay.” He rose. “Who do I have to convince to change the rules?”
Verity placed her teacup on its saucer with a loud clink. “Sean, did it ever occur to you that you don’t get to dictate terms here?”
He shrugged and gave her his most self-deprecating grin, hands spread wide near his waist. “My mother always said, ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’”
“In this case, your mother’s wrong. You’ll have to take my word for it. We do appreciate your willingness to sacrifice your own future for hers.” She cocked her head to the side, her expression reflecting pride. “Such a heroic gesture won’t go ignored. The Board will, no doubt, reward you for your generosity. I’d suggest you return to work now. You have other offenders to see to. Let us worry about Isabelle.”
Before he could form an argument or ask about his so-called reward, the kitchen disappeared, replaced by his desk in the middle of the room at the Probation Department with his co-workers, focus honed on their clipboards.
“Sean?” Xavia stepped out of her office. “Come talk to me. Now.”
Like he needed to wait for an invitation to find out what happened with Isabelle. If he
’d had his way, he would have asked Verity to beam him directly into Xavia’s office to save time.
He covered the distance in three long-legged strides and closed the door behind him. “So? Did you talk to her? What’d she say?”
“Slow down, cowboy. Take a seat. Let’s talk.”
“What’d she say, Xavia?”
“She said she knows what she’s doing and she’s at peace with her decision. How’d the meeting with Verity go?”
He couldn’t stem the tide of sarcasm any longer. “Great! She said she and the Elders recognize Isabelle’s huge capacity for love.”
“That’s good.” Xavia must have caught the brittleness in his reply because she stared at him with open concern. “Right?”
On a sigh of defeat, he sank into the chair across from her. “It doesn’t change her fate. I even offered to let them tack Isabelle’s time onto my service here.”
Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull on springs—like in those old cartoons from his childhood. Awoooooga! “You did what? Are you crazy?”
“I just want Isabelle and the baby to be happy.”
“At your expense?”
He flipped a hand in the air, as if to say, “No big deal.” But it was a huge deal. They both knew it. “I can’t be there for her in any other way. But if I can give her a chance to see our child grow up—give her a life worth living—I’ll gladly spend eternity here for all our sakes.”
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You sound like a parent.”
“I am a parent—or, at least, it seems I will be.”
“You okay with that?”
“Everyone’s telling me I should be…so, yeah…I guess I’m okay with it. I just wish the Elders would let Isabelle stay alive long enough to watch her child grow up. She deserves that benefit for her sacrifice.”
“Gee, I never thought I’d see Sean Martino, badass cop, feel sorry about anyone but himself.”