The Lottery

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The Lottery Page 4

by Alexandra O'Hurley


  “This surgery is not going to be cheap. After the surgery, you are looking at several months of organ therapy to replace the lost brain tissue. And then, of course, you would have to relearn any lost motor coordination, so that would be more therapy. There are options for assistance through the state. And I am sure I can pull some strings at the hospital, considering all your mother did for the place, and possibly some of the fees could be waived. But either way, I doubt it will all be covered. Photon surgery is inexpensive, but this type of surgery would actually require us to open her up. You have a lot of work ahead of you, Ethan. You need to consider your options.” Dr. Reding looked down again, as if she were embarrassed to proceed. “I know many women who would pay a great deal for a handsome young man like yourself. If you need my help in finding a patron, let me know. If I was only twenty years younger, I’d snag you up myself, but I am past my prime and full well know it. The occasional reminder that I’m not dead yet is fine, but for the long term, you need a woman closer to your own age.”

  Embarrassed by the bluntness of the conversation, Ethan shifted. “I’m sure I can find the path I need to take to make this happen, so let’s not worry over that now.”

  Chapter Four

  “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthdaaaay, dear Karlynnn……” Karlyn looked around the tableful of sisters, her brother, assorted cousins and aunts, the fake smile plastered to her face. Muscles she forgot she had in her chin and cheeks screamed in pain, but she knew she had to continue the façade if she wanted to attempt to be in her mother’s good graces for once. No matter how many times she told herself she didn’t care what her mother thought of her, ultimately, she desired her mother’s love and respect.

  Why do I even bother to try? Nothing I have ever done has made the woman happy, nor has it ever made anyone in this family happy. Except Dad. Karlyn turned her eyes to her mother. It didn’t surprise her any that Lydia stood against the wall, glaring at her and not singing. Tonight’s dinner was a ruse, just like the times before, where Lydia attempted to look like the perfect mother, trying to reach out to her wayward daughter in front of the entire Bowman family. Deep down Karlyn had known it was another of her mother’s feeble attempts to bring her back into the family fold, but denial was a powerful thing.

  As everyone finished the song and began to sit down, an awkward silence filled the room as all eyes turned toward Karlyn. She was seated in front of an inferno that was supposed to be her birthday cake, and everyone was expecting her to make her wish and blow out her candles, gushing her thanks to all invited there, just like they were expecting her to denounce her artistic nature and bow to her mother’s feet, begging for a company job.

  But all Karlyn could see was the hate chiseled in Lydia’s face in her furrowed brows and downturned mouth. In the darkened room, no one else noticed but her. Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let her mother get to her this way.

  Finally, after a few more moments, she made her wish. Yearning that her father was still there, Karlyn blew the candles out with all of her might. Cheers arose when she was able to extinguish the twenty-eight candles in one mighty puff, and the lights popped back on.

  Presents were next, and her paternal grandmother handed her a large beautifully wrapped box. Uncovering it, she was amazed to find a large bound sketchbook. Running her hand over the worn cover, she savored the feel and smell of the leather. Turning to the front page, she was surprised to see a beautiful sketch graced the page. Wonder filled her, wondering who had done these sketches. She turned to the next, followed by another.

  “It was your father’s. He, too, was quite the artist when he was younger. I found this about a year after he passed and had almost forgotten all the drawings he did in his youth. It must be where you get all that talent from.” Karlyn smiled up at her grandmother. Pulling the sketchbook to her chest, feeling her father’s presence with her at that moment, she reached up and hugged the woman. With her grandmother’s gift, her wish had been granted. “Thank you. I’m so very happy you came tonight, and this is the best present you could have ever given me.”

  The older woman’s eyes lit up, and she hugged Karlyn even harder. Pulling back slightly, she eyed her granddaughter before asking, “Maybe I can come visit you in that fancy loft of yours that your brother told me about and see what kind of artist you have become? I’ve missed so much over the years, and I think it’s time you and I caught up.”

  “Stop supporting her lunacy, Miriam. I wish now I hadn’t even invited you. I should have known you would have been like Michael and made her think this line of work was satisfactory for any young woman. It was fine for her to be creative in her youth, but she’s twenty eight years old now and she needs to learn that it is time for her to grow up and take responsibility.”

  “What, Mother, so I can be like you?”

  Lydia scowled at her daughter. “And there is something wrong with being like me? I am a responsible adult, doing what I was meant to do in this life and support this family.” Lydia raked her fingers through her hair and glowered even further. “I thought tonight would be the opportunity to lay down the olive branch, that you would have finally come to your senses after being on your own and living in poverty for these last few years. You had the whole world in front of you, yet you threw it all away. To be a starving artist. It’s absolutely pathetic.”

  Karlyn was appalled that her mother would attack her now, on her birthday, in front of the entire family. Normally she would have waited until everyone was gone and attacked her in private. Lydia was caving, since normally she was the polished mother of the year in public – even if that public was family members. She wished she had declined her offer of a party; she should have known this would happen.

  Looking around the room, she saw furrowed brows and tightened mouths on her sisters and aunts faces. They all agreed with her mother. They saw her as an utter disappointment. Rage burned like an ignited fire and suddenly filled her.

  “Why is it pathetic mother? Because I, for one, followed my dreams and did what I wanted instead of following your dreams and becoming a cog in the corporate machine? I refuse to be a robot, surviving in this world instead of living in it.”

  Lydia strode up to her daughter with fury filling her face. Pointing one finger into Karlyn’s chest she asked her, “Living? You expect me to believe that residing in that hell hole and scrimping pennies to eat moldy cheese is living? I have invited you here to offer you for the last time a position in the company. For you to live up to your heritage. This was your great-grandmother’s company. Are you finally ready to do your duty?”

  “Duty? When you do your duty as a mother, I will consider doing my duty as a daughter. Until then, mother dear, you can kiss my ass. I don’t want to become the bitch you have always been.” With that, Karlyn jumped up from the chair, and strode from her open mouthed mother. It felt wonderful to finally tell her mother exactly what she thought of her, even though a little part of her screamed at speaking to her that way. But after years of verbal abuse and abandonment, Lydia Bowman deserved no less than what she got.

  The familiar wink, the one that looked so much like her father’s, almost made the tears inside demand to come out, but she took control and burst out the front door into the cool evening.

  ****

  Ethan walked up the large stone staircase that led to his grandmother’s front door. The perfectly manicured landscaping made the front of the home look surreal. He still could not believe he was here, about to beg, but Bailey’s life stood in the balance, and he had already proved to himself he would do just about anything to save her. Facing this woman was just another length in how low he really would go.

  Knocking on the door, he felt the knot forming in his belly. He did not want to be here right now. The door creaked open and he noted a white faced young maid. “How may I help you, sir?”

  “I’m Ethan Spears. I’m here to see my grandmother.”

  “Grand
mother?” The woman looked bewildered. “Is she expecting you, sir?”

  “I didn’t know I needed to make an appointment to see my own grandmother.”

  “Hold on one second, I will check to see if she’s taking visitors.” The wide, white door closed in his face, making him feel like the outcast he knew he was, and for a moment, he considered turning and walking away. As he contemplated turning his back from the entrance, the door swung open again. “She will see you now. Please follow me, sir.”

  As he walked down the hall that led from the foyer, he recalled why he had hated this house so much. The pristine décor and sanitized aura always made him feel like he was in a museum versus an actual home. The only reason he was somewhat familiar with the rooms were from his occasional visits to Bailey before she had turned of age. If it had not been for those, today would have been the first time he had stepped foot inside this house. There never was any warmth here, and he knew he would find none today.

  He was in for a battle. Steeling himself as he walked along the Aubisson carpet, he rounded the corner and followed the maid into the morning room his grandmother used as an office.

  Evangeline Spears was seated at the large mahogany desk that stood before a wall of windows showing her manicured lawns behind her. Looking down at her work, she showed no indication that she noted his presence, and the maid scampered away without announcing him. He stood there for several minutes with the older woman ignoring him, seemingly entranced in whatever it was she was working on.

  “It’s so good to see you, Grandmother.” His patience lost, he tried very hard to be gracious and warm to this woman who had given him neither while he grew.

  She finally looked up from her desk, squinting her eyes as she looked him over from head to toe. He felt like squirming under her scrutiny, as she obviously looked for some flaw she could condemn him for, as she did when he was younger, standing before her in this very room. But she said nothing.

  Finally, after several more awkward moments, she spoke. “I assume you are here unannounced looking for money as your father always did. He stood in that very spot so many times I think he wore a spot on the floor with his squirming. At least you have the good sense to stand firm and tall before begging me for money.”

  The knot in his stomach doubled in size. She must have smelled the desperation on him. But he stood strong knowing the reason he begged was worthy, unlike his father.

  “Yes, Grandmother, I come begging for money. Why not just be blunt about it. But, adverse to what you believe, it is not to pay some gambling debt or other scandalous thing; it is to save Bailey’s life.”

  “And just what is she sick with this time?”

  “This time? Whatever do you mean?”

  “Your father used that very excuse so many times; I assumed the child would be dead by now.”

  Ethan stood dumbstruck, not believing the depths his own father’s corruption had gone. He had seen the depravity as he had gone through the estate, but never had he imagined Will going to such lengths as to lie about the well-being of his own children. “This is no excuse, Grandmother. After paying Father’s debts, paying for Bailey’s care, paying for the estate, and no longer having an income, there is little to no money left. We have had to sell off most of the land surrounding the house, and the house is practically all we have left. Bailey has been sick for several months now, and she now needs surgery to remove several tumors from her brain.”

  “Brain cancer? Well, I will admit that’s a new one for her. Although, you were always more flamboyant than your father. How much do you owe?”

  Ethan felt ill, knowing he would never reason with this woman. She only saw her son standing before her, not him. And she evidently believed he had been cast from the same mold.

  “If you could see past your own assumptions, you would see I am not Will Spears. If you had bothered to look into our lives in the past years, you would have seen how hard the two of us have worked trying to salvage our home. I know I was a spoiled brat; I was given everything I wanted, and I didn’t understand the value of anything. But living the life I did and then watching my sister wither away before my very eyes, well, that tends to make someone grow up. But considering you have never taken an interest in seeing how we were doing, seeing if we even lived or died, I don’t know why I even took the time or energy to ask you to try and save your own flesh and blood. You never cared when my parents were alive, so why would you care now? I am sorry for having wasted your time and my own. Good day to you, Mrs. Spears.”

  Chapter Five

  Karlyn stumbled over her rug as she dragged herself to the door. Since dinner the night before had been a disaster, and she had drank several glasses of wine to numb the pain. She had heard from her mother so many times that she was an embarrassment to the family and she would never make anything of herself. Over time, she almost believed the snide comments. Wine helped her forget.

  By the time she had gotten home, she was much too amped to go to sleep, and she used the pain of the incident, fueled by years of mistreatment, to paint a large canvas. Up until the wee hours of the morning, she was definitely not appreciating the early morning wakeup call at her front door.

  She still had sleep in one eye and could barely see. She was still wearing paint spattered clothing. Sure she looked horrid; she now regretted falling asleep after long hours of work as she spotted paint in her long blonde hair. But considering the audacity of someone holding down the buzzer on the front door, she hoped she could frighten them a little with her anger and her bedraggled look.

  Whipping the door open, she was ready to start screaming at whoever was standing there. As soon as she opened her mouth, she realized there was a crowd of people at her door. As well as a television camera, a lighting person, a smarmy looking woman with a microphone in her hand…all aimed her way. She self consciously combed her hands through her hair and looked down at her attire, realizing one of her worst nightmares had just come true.

  “Congratulations!” the crowd bellowed.

  “For?” Karlyn was sure they had the wrong apartment.

  “Karlyn Bowman, you are our winner! You have won the United Federation Lottery! We are here to congratulate you, as well as introduce you to your prize.” The sleazy announcer turned and motioned to someone behind the group clustered around the door. “You have won one calendar year with a hot, sexy, man toy.”

  A tall, handsome man approached her and her knees went weak. He plastered a smile that did not appear to be very sincere, but it was still devastating. The smile, of course, did not meet his emerald green eyes, but they were still stunning. She had very little interaction with men; even her brother was not a large part of her life, so being in the presence of one as gorgeous as him had an effect on her. Most men she had met over the years were plain.

  It seemed he had an effect on every female in the group as many of them looked upon him with blatant desire written all over their faces. Karlyn looked over the crowd, realizing the surreal nature of the moment.

  “You have got to be kidding me. I told Sam I would never win and there was no point.” Catching herself before she mumbled some very incriminating words, she looked up into the camera and started to laugh. Not just a giggle or a chuckle, she let out in bellows of nervous laughter, to the point her eyes began to tear and she had to double herself over to hold her stomach.

  When she finally got a hold of herself, she straightened, and looked at the shocked crowd around her. Evidently, no one had responded with crazed laughter before, but Karlyn was always unique. Mr. Emerald Eyes just stood there, with a shocked look on his face.

  “You can edit this all out, right?”

  “This is live television.” The oily looking, thick set announcer had thick layers of plastered makeup all over her face which was beginning to slide off with the heat of the bright lights directed their way. She sighed under her breath, and then smiled an unfriendly smile in Karlyn’s direction, before turning and facing the camera. “And th
ere is our winner, Karlyn Bowman. She will now enjoy a year of service from studly Ethan. The next winner could be you, so get out there and buy your tickets now, ladies. And now back to the regularly scheduled programming.”

  The lights cut off, and the camera was set down. She looked around at the under enthused looks on the women’s faces. Most of the women quietly collected their numerous cords and lighting fixtures while venomous looks were directed at Karlyn, others practically drooled on themselves as they watched the man candy…what did the announcer say his name was…Eric? Aaron? Ethan? Yes, that was it, Ethan. Karlyn still couldn’t accept she had won and waited for Sam to come barreling around the corner to scream, “Psych!” As they all collected their gear, quietly murmuring the under-whelming “Congrats”, the group moved away from the door and left, leaving Ethan still standing at her doorway with a couple of bags at his feet.

  They stood there staring at each other for what seemed like hours, but couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, Ethan, with one eyebrow cocked, and his hands on his hips. She was almost ashamed, but it was the first time she had seen a man this tasty up close and personal. Letting her eyes roam over his lean body, enjoying the way he filled out the pair of blue jeans, her eyes traveled from the top to the bottom and back up again. He was all lean muscle, from the short tawny strands on top of his head to the large booted feet that held promise for what he had inside those jeans. Hell, promise? The bulge at his groin was all the promise any man needed to offer.

  Ethan let out a soul deep sigh and asked, “Are you going to let me in, or am I going to bunk out here in the hallway?”

  “Bunk?”

  “As in sleep.”

  “You are going to be sleeping here?”

  “Those are the guidelines of the game. I move in and fulfill your every fantasy for the next year. And you offer me food, lodging, and necessities.”

 

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