Our baby. My son.
He was smaller than I expected, though I hadn’t imagined I’d meet him so soon. A white knitted cap covered his head. I double-checked to make sure he had all ten fingers and toes.
I longed to hold him, to wrap my arms around him and surround him with my love, but I could only touch him inside his isolette.
“How long will he have to be in there?” I asked.
“A week or so. Maybe less,” the nurse said.
Though I couldn’t cuddle him close to me, I was ecstatic to be near my precious little one. The last few hours had made it clear to me just how fragile life was.
I wanted to stay with my son forever, but my body quickly tired as the medication wore off. The nurse took me back to my room while Marc remained with our baby.
When the nurses came back in to check on me, they teased me about what a doting father Marc was. One said, “We practically had to chase him out. It’s good to see a man who enjoys being a father.”
I let the drugs work through my body and pull me toward blissful sleep. I had misjudged Marc. He enjoyed being a father. Maybe we could still become the happy family I craved.
Just before I dozed off, Kevin came to visit me and tied balloons proclaiming, “It’s A Boy!” to my bed table. “How long are you going to be out of commission?” he asked.
“The hospital has me for four days, and it will be a couple of weeks before I’m totally myself.” Putting words together in any discernible order was a challenge.
Kevin gave me a hug. “Get better soon.”
Soon I was alone. Just me and my medication. Happy drugs. Almost as good as alcohol. I wrapped the sheets around me and dreamt about the moment I would be able to bring little Daniel home. They were the most peaceful dreams I’d had in weeks. I wanted them to last… and last… and last…
Something startled me out of my sleep. I bolted upright. Someone else was in the room.
“Who’s there? What do you want?” I demanded.
“It’s just me. I didn’t want to wake you.”
I nearly cried with relief at hearing Norman’s voice. “It’s after visiting hours.”
His eyes were bloodshot. “Have you been drinking?”
“No, Darlin’. All work and no sleep. I needed to know you were all right.”
“You should be at home in bed, not up here, visiting me.”
“I love you, Traci. I’m not sure how long I’ve felt this way. All I know is that I want to take you away from the stress. Away from all of this unhappiness that keeps clouding your life.”
“Please don’t do this.”
“I’ve kept my feelings bottled up long enough.”
“Norman, this is not the time.”
“When will it be the time?”
My mind reeled, unable to think clearly. “I’m not sure.”
“Do you love me?”
“Don’t ask me that.”
“This will stay between us. I have no intentions of harming your relationship with Marc.” Warm and solid and strong, he kissed me on the forehead.
“How did you get past the night nurse?”
“I just flashed this.” He pulled out his identification badge.
I laughed.
“Good night, Darlin’,” he said, and left.
Chapter 27
On the day I was discharged from the hospital, Dr. Tellis checked on me and handed me a few sheets with instructions on how to care for my stitches. He was positive about my recovery and even more positive about the strides Daniel was making.
“Where there any signs of the syndrome in Daniel?”
“No, Traci, no effects of FAS were present. I still want to keep a close eye on him as he gets older to see if he develops seizures or developmental delay. The good sign for the moment is Daniel’s weight gain,” he said, smiling.
A huge weight lifted from my chest.
“Traci, I need you to realize that other FAS symptoms may not be present right away. I have given you a referral to a colleague of mine in your discharge papers. She’s a pediatrician and FAS specialist. She will be able to help you more than I can.”
“I understand.”
Before I left, I went in, touched my baby, and promised him I would be back every day. I was still a little bruised from my fall. Both knees and my lower back ached, and the stitches from my Cesarean forced me to use my cane just to move from one spot to the other.
An elevator dinged in the distance as I entered the hallway and sat in the wheelchair.
“My cab should be waiting for me downstairs,” I told the nurse.
“The cab was cancelled,” the nurse said, wheeling toward the male figure coming toward us.
Norman
“Thought I’d stop by and act as your chauffeur,” Norman said, talking the wheelchair.
“You didn’t have to come to the hospital.”
“I was already here.”
Soon we were in Norman’s truck and on our way to my house. Along the way, Norman stopped at the grocery store and picked up a week worth of food.
Later that afternoon, I received an unexpected visit from a uniformed officer. He was first on the scene after my fall. I found it ironic that he managed to sit in the same spot as Detective Delgado.
“What were Ms. Ward and you fighting about?”
“She had something that was mine, and I wanted it back.”
“What was it?”
“My house key.”
“Why did she have your house key?”
“My ex-boyfriend, Marc Drake -- he’s her boss -- lost it and she found it. We’ve had this long-standing feud and just didn’t get along. I chalked it up to her being petty.”
“Did she give it back?”
“Yes.”
“The janitor said you and Ms. Ward were fighting before you fell. Is that correct?”
I don’t remember the actual fall.”
“Did Ms. Ward push you?”
Would Dana deliberately try to hurt me? Of course, she would.
“From what I can remember, we struggled, and I fell.”
“And there is nothing else that you want to tell me?”
I shook my head.
“Okay,” the officer said, rising to leave. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Collins. If there is anything else we can do, let us know.”
I waved him off and tried to get in touch with Olivia. Now that the police had questions regarding what happened, I thought it was best to end the winding roads of questions that lingered and put a stop to this now. My calls to Olivia’s phone went straight to voicemail.
Two days later, my concern for Olivia increased. She hadn’t called or been home.
I told Norman my fears that night after dinner.
“She’s over eighteen and can do what she wants,” Norman said. “Let’s give her another day.” He rearranged the letters from the text messages. “What is ‘OLIANA?’”
I woke up my laptop from sleep mode and typed in the word in the search engine. “Using the way we have it spelled, it says its origin is from Hawaii, and it’s occasionally used as a girl’s name. Some sites say it means oleander. It’s toxic.”
“That’s probably the reason why it’s not popular.”
“Olivia’s a poisonous shrub?”
“So, what – or who – is Oliana to Olivia?” Norman said.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I bet Dana does.”
Norman spoke with Dana and arranged for us to meet at Cherry Creek State Park. I didn’t trust Dana and insisted on something close to the parking lot.
No gate attendant was on duty when we arrived, so Norman took a self-serve pass, then parked near Shop Creek on East Lake View Road.
We waited.
The cloud cover shadowed the rolling hills and prairie while boats in the marina rocked gently next to the dock. After a short while, Dana’s Hybrid came to a stop a few spaces away from Norman’s truck on the driver’s side.
She came alone.
“Those texts,” Dana said. “I sent them, but I never intended for you to get hurt. It was an accident.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
“You had information that could hurt my cousin.”
“The police are asking questions about what happened before I fell.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I want answers,” I said. “Olivia said the number the texts came from belonged to Bruce. How is that possible, when the phone is registered to the firm?”
Olivia squared her shoulders. “Bruce took my phone.”
You’re not making sense Dana. Am I getting ready to catch you in another lie?
A coupled walked the bike path with their dog.
I watched until they disappeared over the bridge. “Are you telling me you’re not responsible for the texts?”
“Bruce scheduled them, knowing I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone because they made me an accomplice. He doesn’t care what it takes, and there is nothing I can say. He won’t listen to me anymore.”
“Who was it that broke into Traci’s house?” Norman asked.
Dana looked away.
“It was Bruce, wasn’t it?” I said.
“Yes. He was hoping to find something on you.”
“I need you to tell me what else Olivia’s hiding.”
“It would be better if you spoke to Bruce.”
“We’d rather see him face to face,” Norman said.
“That should be fine.” Dana tapped the steering wheel as she scanned the park. “I’m not condoning what Bruce did, but Olivia needs to make a decision.”
A decision? “About what?”
“She can’t keep playing with people’s minds the way she does. Especially, with those who depend on her.”
After speaking to Dana, my faith in Olivia started to lessen with each passing hour we didn’t hear from her. What was she keeping from me that was so important? What did she believe she couldn’t tell me even after everything I had done to keep her safe?
Norman stayed behind to help me out around the house. When Olivia returned, she was in good spirits.
“Does the word ‘Oliana’ mean anything to you?” I said.
She froze, her eyes dark and wary. “Why?”
“What aren’t you telling us,” Norman asked gently.
“I want to talk to Traci alone,” she said.
“Not going to happen,” Norman said.
“Why all the secrecy?” I asked.
“My secret is a part of me. I thought I had all of this figured out, but my past is still haunting me. I’ve wracked my brain about how to get you out of this without pulling you in any further, and I keep coming up empty.
“Just know that I’m making arrangements with my attorney and that’s all I can say.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. By the look on his face, neither did Norman.
“Olivia, if anything else happens, we have no choice but to go to the police,” Norman said.
“Nothing else will happen. I promise.”
“No more break-ins. No more threatening messages. How can you promise that?” Frustrated, Norman walked away.
Silence fell between us.
I took a deep breath and stared at Olivia. “I can handle what you’re hiding.”
“I know you can.”
“This needs to be a safe environment for my child.”
“I understand more than you know.”
I shivered, though I wasn’t cold. Her statement lingered in the air like thick fog in a cemetery.
I could tell Olivia was not going to budge. I didn’t believe she would jeopardize our relationship, but her secret was precious to her. She had pulled out all the stops to protect it.
I let the subject drop. For now. “Norman,” I said, “I’m ready to go see Daniel.”
We arrived at the hospital just as the nurses were changing shifts. We had to wait for the next set of nurses on duty to read charts and check on the babies before we could go inside.
When I walked up to Daniel, I noticed he had a little more color to him. It was such a relief to see him respond to my touch as I slipped my pinkie finger into his tiny hand. His fingers gently grasped mine. I missed feeling him flop around inside of me. I desperately wanted him to be at home with me.
I stayed with him for the remainder of the day and made arrangements for an overnight in a room down the hall. Norman slept in the lounge.
The next morning, I went to visit Daniel one more time before I left.
“Stay strong, Daniel. Mommy loves you.”
Each day it got harder for me to leave him but knowing that he was getting stronger helped me feel better. On my way out, Norman helped me take off the paper gown, throwing it into the trashcan located outside the room.
“What’s he doing here?” Marc asked, rounding the corner.
Norman said, “She doesn’t owe you an answer.”
“I don’t want you near my son.”
Norman shoved his hands into his pockets. He kept his voice low and measured. “Listen, Johnny come lately, I’m here for Traci and that’s the way it’s going to continue to be as long as she lets me. And as long as I’m around you’ll show her more respect.”
Marc turned to me. “Keep tractor boy away from me.”
“Tractor Boy is a surgeon,” I said. “I have no intention of keeping him away from anything.”
Marc stalked past me, headed for the nursery.
“Mama would say he’s got an attitude as ugly as a mule,” Norman said.
I smiled. Why’s Marc being so possessive? Or was it all about being in control? It didn’t dawn on me until that moment that during our relationship, he made most of the decisions. Like an idiot, I agreed with whatever he said, like a puppet on a string.
Dana lived up to her promise. Bruce called me that night and left a short message on my phone. “My cousin said you wanted to talk. It’s best that I call you. I’ll catch you later.”
The call originated from an “unknown” number. No way to call him back.
I waited, and I waited.
Three weeks had passed since Bruce’s message. Though I was recovering well from my surgery, I had nearly given up hope of getting any answers from Dana’s cousin.
Olivia was diligent in staying on the right track with her parole officer, and as much as she hated it, she attended the counseling sessions as ordered. She even started job hunting. Every day she went out looking and even had a couple of interviews, but she wasn’t successful. They told her she didn’t possess the experience they were looking for.
To keep her spirits up, she continued to write songs in her journal and pluck them out on her guitar. At times she would emerge from her room and ask me to listen to her latest one, filled with disappointment and longing. No matter how sad, she managed to mesmerize me every time.
We talked some, but her lips remained sealed about her secret.
Then one night while I was home alone, my doorbell rang. Sam went crazy, barking like she needed to alert the neighborhood to an alien invasion. Now you want to keep a stranger out.
“Who is it?” I asked leaning on the door.
“Bruce.”
I grabbed my cane, put Sam on her leash, opened the door, and eased outside.
Bruce rocked back and forth on his heels under the porch light, keeping his distance from my dog while I sat in my swing. His stern facial features, baggy jeans, and slicked-back hair gave me the impression that he lived life on the edge. “What do you want to know?” he asked.
“Did you find what you were looking for in Olivia’s room?”
“Yep.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
“Nope. Olivia wants to be the one to tell you.”
“She’s aware that you were here?”
“Yep.”
A motorcycle raced down the street.
“Why are you harassing me?”
“Am I harassing you, lady?”
&
nbsp; “We’re done,” I said, moving as if to stand up.
Bruce held his face in his hands. “Wait. Wait. I’m sorry. Out of line.” He sighed, a long, drawn-out breath full of disappointment. “I may have been harassing you in the past. Maybe. And if I was, it’s because you’re the only way to get to Olivia, and since she’s not listening, I have no other choice but to go through you. She’s played me long enough.
My skepticism must have shown on my face. I found it hard to believe that anyone could play this man.
Bruce said. “I’m already taking care of her ten-year-old responsibility. It’s not something I want to do anymore. Hell, it’s not something I can do anymore. Not after all this.”
It took me a moment, and then it dawned on me.
“Oliana?”
He nodded.
“Olivia has a... daughter?”
“She’s been living with me while her mom was in and out of the wards. I’m not her dad. I’m not her guardian. I didn’t sign up for this stuff.”
“Wait.” I shook my head in confusion. “If you’re not her legal guardian, why is she still living with you?”
“Olivia and I are married. After Livvy’s last whack out, the kid needed a place to stay. I didn’t want her on the streets like her mother and me.”
“Can’t she stay with her dad?”
Bruce stared at me as if I were a Class A idiot. “He died. A few months ago.”
Chapter 28
When Bruce left, I remained motionless on my porch swing, my hand petting Sam on autopilot while my thoughts ricocheted around in my head. The stress of the last month finally took hold of me and the sweet, tempting voice from my drinking days snaked its way back in, whispering provoking thoughts I wanted to hear. All I wanted to do was get away for one night. To sleep without dreaming.
I found my keys and took my favorite drive.
“Hello, Max,” I said putting my six-pack on the counter.
“Long time, no see.” Max scanned the beer. “You put on a little weight.”
I looked down at where I’d so recently carried my baby. My stomach was flat. As if I had never carried Daniel. As if he didn’t exist. “I haven’t put on that much.”
Burned Bridges: Oliana Mercer Series Prequel (Crossing Series) Page 12