by D. S. Ryelle
“What are you doing?!” I cried. “Do not tie me down…I am here voluntarily! I am not a threat to anyone!”
But neither of them heard me…they were too busy debating whether they should lock me up. I cried out again, but a meaty hand quickly fell across my mouth. The second disappeared for a moment and when he returned, Nurse Dodge followed him. I seized my opportunity and bit my captor so hard I swore I could taste blood.
“Tell them to untie me!” I shouted. “I am here voluntarily, remember? I signed the papers myself!”
The nurse muttered something about the men being trained professionals as she dragged a small machine into the room. I tried to argue with her, but Sara ignored me as she stoically unwound a long hose. She signalled to the technician with the uninjured hand, who swept in and held my head immobile as she attached a snug-fitting mask. I yelled again, but the mask was effective at muffling my voice; even more so when the nurse turned a dial and the machine roared to life.
I watched the three of them file out, stunned. None of them looked back…the deadbolt shot home…I was alone. I tried to pray, but whatever was coming through the mask quickly drew me into its misty embrace.
The lock released after a few hours, but I was too drowsy to respond. After a moment, I struggled to open my eyes, but there was only darkness. I took short breaths in an effort to remain conscious, but nothing moved and the machine swiftly compelled me to sleep. I did not realize that I was not alone until I felt the mattress sinking a short time later. By that time, it was too late…my panties were down around my ankles.
~*~
“Were you able to identify your attacker?”
“When I opened my eyes the first time, he looked like my father…the next, like my brother…when my eyes finally cleared; it was a man in something like a gas mask.”
“Norman and Harry Osborn are dead!” Dr. Chrysler seemed to take particular delight in emphasizing the last word. “I’m sorry if that comes as a shock to both of you…but I shouldn’t be surprised…Mrs. Miraz told me that you shared the delusion that Dr. Osborn was still present in her home!”
“Ms. Osborn needs a rape kit and access to birth control,” David snapped. “Whether the rest of House Osborn is living or deceased has nothing to do with the fact that the Ophelia is in danger.”
The bodyguard waited a moment for his words to sink in. “But I’m sure the litigators of Dr. Osborn’s estate would be thrilled to discuss how you’re subverting his daughter. In a court of law.”
Edmund glowered. “Any other demands?”
“You could start by talking to me instead of over me.” Ophelia’s voice was crisp.
The doctor motioned for her to continue.
“My bodyguard will take the other bed in my room.”
“We cannot allow non-patients to reside at Shady Rest.”
“Then you will hire independent security professionals as part of your staff!” David snapped. “One of either gender to stand sentry outside Ms. Osborn’s room and a woman to take the second bed.”
“We need the other bed for our patients,” Dr. Chrysler argued.
“Then we will pay the difference!” Ophelia interjected.
“The candidates will be vetted by me, in the interest of Ms. Osborn’s safety,” David added.
Edmund made a surprising gesture of acquiescence.
“I will have Dr. Carpenter send a nurse tomorrow to take a rape kit,” the bodyguard said to Ophelia. “I will also request a prescription for birth control.”
“They won’t get past the front desk!” Dr. Chrysler barked.
“I am sure Dr Carpenter’s nurse will have no problem examining me once the board of directors learns that there is a malpractice investigation pending against you and Sara Dodge.” Ophelia’s smile was poisonous.
Nineteen
March 2008
Eduardo felt his stomach churn as he watched the couple kissing under the willows. His eyes lingered a moment longer before he found himself on his hands and knees, retching into a flowerbed. An early spring breeze ruffled his hair as he sat back, nearly muffling the voices of the couple, who had started to walk back toward the Institute. Eduardo paid them no heed…he would pretend to be examining the plants, then come to visit Ophelia another day.
“Eduardo?” a familiar voice asked.
His stomach rumbled again as he realized that his fears were true. A hand landed on his shoulder, but Eduardo didn’t turn.
“David, please help him inside.”
~*~
“Nothing appears to be wrong.” The infirmarian clicked off her penlight and stepped back to get a better look at her patient. “Did you eat breakfast this morning, Mr. Miraz?”
He nodded.
“Maybe it’s only stress, but I think you had better make an appointment with your doctor, just to be on the safe side.” She stuffed the light into a pocket and headed toward the door. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
The infirmarian was scarcely out of the room before Eduardo shot David a nasty look.
“Out!”
“I believe I’m fine where I am.”
Ophelia’s eyes darted back and forth for several minutes before she was certain that neither her husband nor her bodyguard intended to make the first move.
“Please excuse us, corazón. I believe we need to have this discussion in private.”
It took Eduardo a moment to realize that he was no longer “corazón”. He slithered back to his seat as David gave Ophelia a long, pointed kiss before sauntering out of the room.
“So it’s true.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I saw the two of you kissing beneath the willows,” said Eduardo. “I hoped that I was mistaken, that the two of you walking back to the building moments later was a coincidence.”
Ophelia did not seem to have a response to this.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he demanded. “That since I’ve been gone for ten months, I wouldn’t come back and you could get away with having an affair?”
“Mr Laurier drew up the divorce papers late last month,” Ophelia replied quietly. “After I found out I was pregnant, it took my counsellor a little while to add the possibility of ending the marriage to our already full discussion list.”
Her husband had gotten a little color back when he ordered David out of the room, but he paled once again. “You’re pregnant?”
“Elizabeth Rose Westbrooke will arrive in September.”
Butterflies danced in Eduardo’s stomach. She had Anglicized the name the name they chose long ago.
“How long have you been together?”
“David has always been there for me,” she reminded him. “He has begun to demonstrate the…extent…of his fondness only recently.”
Ophelia paused for a moment, glancing out the window.
“When you did not come for Thanksgiving he…he dried my tears. But he held back. I received a day pass for the Winter Solstice…you never came. I spent most of the day…receiving his affections.”
“Why did you do this to me?”
“Why did you do this to me, Eduardo?” she snapped. “How many times have you left me alone when I needed you? How many times have you turned your back when I wanted your support? How many times have you thrown a fit when I refused to do things your way?”
He looked aghast.
“Do I have to recount our entire relationship?”
“Please. Remind me.”
“When I came to this country to execute Norman’s wishes, you decided that I was going to elope with David and broke off our engagement. We went to counselling, where you lied to the therapist and said that you thought we were ready to get married. Every time I get sick or hurt, you always seem to be on a shoot outside of Manhattan and everyone has to scramble to find you. When I decided that I needed long-term care for my mental health, you argued, and when I would not bend to your will, you disappeared.”
Ophelia took a breath. “My bodyguard ha
s been with me since I was six. He was there when my parents could not be…the only person I knew when I moved to Australia and then New York. When you broke off the engagement, David defended you, saying that you were upset when I left you to finish my work at the atelier. When something goes wrong at work or at home, David is always there to take care of me. When you decided that you were not going to support my desire to enter the Shady Rest Institute, Mr Laurier made my bodyguard power of attorney in your place.”
“How could you go off and screw him like that? You always said he was like your father!”
“Mi padre, mi hermano, mi novio, mi amigo mejor…in short, everything you never were,” she said bitterly. “Athair wanted me to get rid of you…up until the last moment on our handfasting day; he continued to demand that I marry David instead.”
“You believe a vision?”
Ophelia turned and looked her husband in the eye. “When I kissed David for the first time, I realized what I had been missing.” She bit her lip. “I apologize, Eduardo. I always wanted to believe that I loved you, but I have spent the last ten years lying to you…and to myself.”
He watched a tear steal its way down her cheek, then made as if to leave.
“I am sorry.”
He stuck his head outside, ignoring her. After a moment, Eduardo and David stepped back inside.
“I wanted to congratulate the happy couple.”
Eduardo punctuated this by taking a swing at the bodyguard, but David was too quick.
“Stop it!” Ophelia yelled. She sprang to her feet and tried to separate them. “That is enough, you two!”
Ophelia ducked Eduardo’s punch just in time to see David slam her husband’s head into a table. He flicked some blood off his hand.
“Call security.”
Elizabeth
Sunday, September 14, 2008
You finally learned to take orders!
Ophelia’s head snapped around as she looked for the source of the voice.
“Are you okay, Ms. Osborn?”
After struggling in the fashion industry for several years, Nicole Crawford, Ophelia’s former assistant, had moved to America and found a job at Osborn Scientific in Ophelia’s absence. Nicole, now in her mid-thirties, had cleaved onto Ophelia as soon as the older woman returned from the Institute.
“I am about to deliver a baby. You may call me Ophelia.”
They paused while she had a contraction.
I hope that’s Westbrooke’s child.
Ophelia glanced up and saw her father’s shade for the first time in more than a year.
I don’t want scum for a grandchild! Norman hissed.
“Where is David?”
“We sent him out an hour ago,” Nicole said as they rounded the corner and headed back across the room. “The doctor left and you went into a tirade that Mr. Wes—David—said translated to, ‘Why the hell did you knock me up?’”
Ophelia tried not to show her concern. “Summon him.”
They were about to turn once again when Natalie appeared in the doorway with a pitcher of water.
“Ms. Osborn wants to see Mr. Westbrooke.”
Natalie nodded. “I’ll take over. See if you can find the doctor while you’re out there…it’s been nearly an hour.”
Ophelia’s past and present assistants switched places in time for Natalie’s hand to be crushed mid-contraction.
“You are too good to me.”
“What are assistants for?” Natalie smiled. “You’d do the same for me!”
They looked at each other and laughed.
“Mo chroí?”
The two of them automatically glanced at David, who had appeared in the doorway.
“I’ll come back in a few minutes.”
Ophelia nodded as she braced herself against the wall for another contraction.
“I saw Athair right before Nicole and Natalie switched places,” she whispered when her assistant disappeared.
“Is he tormenting you again?” asked David.
“He seemed pleased that you and I had conceived.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a pain-induced hallucination?”
Before Ophelia could answer, the doctor appeared in the doorway.
“Alright, Mrs. Westbrooke—”
“We are not married,” Ophelia said tersely.
“I apologize, Ms. Osborn,” the doctor replied. “Let’s get you down and we’ll see if your little girl is ready. Okay?”
David took Ophelia’s arm and helped her into bed. The doctor squatted at the foot for barely a moment before she sprang back up.
“Ladies, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Mr. Westbrooke, if you want to stay, please report to the nurse’s station.”
Natalie and Nicole darted in to squeeze Ophelia’s hand one last time as David slipped past.
“You’ll be fine,” said Natalie.
“Stay strong,” Nicole added.
They seemed prepared to continue their encouragement, but suddenly scattered at the arrival of a pair of nurses.
Even in the throes of labor, Ophelia was amazed at the number of people in medical attire pouring into the room. Only when one of them hurried to her side did she relax.
“This will be over in a few minutes.” Her lover’s eyes sparkled above his mask. “I promise.”
Ophelia forced a wan smile as she squeezed his hand.
“Ophelia, I need you to give me a nice big push…”
~*~
The doctor’s voice seemed to come from far away…perhaps beyond the horizon…Ophelia only knew the warmth of the sand between her toes, the caress of the waves under her feet…and the strength of David’s hand in her own.
“There is no one I want more in the world than you.”
The sleepy glow of an ocean sunset caught Ophelia’s silver bikini as David stopped and turned her so that they were facing each other. Their eyes met and Ophelia smiled as she lightly trailed her fingers along his abs.
“I cannot live without you,” she murmured.
They drew together and kissed slowly…sensuously…
Until Ophelia’s arm was nearly wrenched from its socket.
“My grandchild!” Norman roared.
~*~
“Get him out of here! Out of my sight! He should not be here! He is dead!”
Ophelia didn’t seem to realize that she had come back to reality, nor that she was screaming in Irish, until she heard a flurry of voices.
“She must be delirious!” said one.
“Check her temperature,” said another.
“Normal,” said a third, removing a thermometer from Ophelia’s ear.
On some level, she understood these voices, but on the surface, it seemed like gibberish.
“Are you able to translate, Mr. Westbrooke?” asked a voice Ophelia recognized as belonging to her doctor.
David hesitated. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Sponge her off and get back to work!” the doctor suddenly snapped. “One more push is all it will take!”
Ophelia felt a cool, damp cloth on her forehead…a warm voice murmuring in her ear. She screamed so loud that it felt like the walls were screaming with her…but the voices at her feet sounded victorious.
“A healthy baby girl!”
David translated this for Ophelia, but her attention was on the other side of the room.
Perfect! said her father.
“Go to hell!” she growled.
In spite of his lover’s outburst, David lowered his mask and kissed her glistening forehead.
“I love you, Ophelia Rhiannon Osborn.”
Her smile was stronger as she squeezed his hand yet again. So distracted were they that they nearly missed the beaming nurse who brought over their daughter.
“Welcome to the world, little one,” Ophelia murmured as she stroked her daughter’s hair.
“What’s her name?”
“Elizabeth. Elizabeth Rose Westbrooke.”
&
nbsp; David looked up then, his expression darkening when he noticed the doctor lingering in the doorway.
“Is she okay?”
“Of course she’s okay. Why?”
“She was speaking English when she was walking with her assistants, but now she’s speaking…” The doctor frowned. “What was that?”
“Irish.” David glanced down at Ophelia, smiling as if they were discussing a loveable quirk. “She tends to lose her command of the English language when she’s in extremely stressful situations.
“Fortunately, she hasn’t spoken much Spanish since her divorce—otherwise; she might have gone into a tirade that would have made more than a few of your staff members cringe.”
The doctor nodded. “I’ll be back in a while. Let the nurses’ station know if you have any problems.”
When she had disappeared into the corridor, David stroked his lover’s hair and wondered if she’d fallen asleep.
“Mo chroí?”
“Mmm?” Ophelia’s eyes fluttered open.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
She sighed. “I…drifted away…while I was trying to deliver. You and I were on a beach somewhere, walking with the sunset at our backs. You stopped me…we kissed…but then my father interrupted us. I thought he was going to pull my arm off…the sun flashed…the air went white…and then I was back in the bed, yelling.”
“When was the last time you saw your father?”
Ophelia was too busy admiring Elizabeth to respond. After a few minutes, she offered the baby to David, who politely refused.
“The last time you saw your father?” he repeated.