by LR Potter
Chapter 11
She was lying on a soft raft floating in the middle of a lake. The sun beat down on her skin, yet a cool wind blew against her, causing her to shiver. She was cold. She looked far off to the shore, wishing she wasn’t so far away. She turned her head to find her mother lying next to her.
“Are you cold?” her mother asked.
“I am,” she replied.
“Well, hold my hand; maybe that will help.”
She tried to unfurl her fingers to link them with her mother’s, but they were too stiff from the cold.
“Where have you been?” she asked her mother.
“Here. Waiting for you.”
“I’ve missed you,” she murmured.
“I know. I’m sorry,” her mother replied.
“I’m scared, mom.”
“Don’t be. Things have a tendency to work themselves out,” her mother replied with a soft smile.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Just be strong and hold on,” her mother replied.
“Will you stay?”
Her mother sat up and looked away. “No.”
“Why? I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?” she said with tears in her eyes.
Ignoring her question, and in soft tones, her mother said, “It’s time to head back now. You ready?”
“No! I don’t want to leave you.”
Without another word, her mother jumped from the raft. The force of the jump shoved the float towards the far-distant shore. She watched the surface of the water for a long time, waiting for her mother to reappear, but she never did. Slowly and sluggishly, she began to paddle with her arms towards the shore. But it seemed no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t reach it.
She was tiring and the shore was just too far away. Defeat settled down on her like a weight. Numbly, she slipped to the side of the raft, and taking one last deep gulp of air, she eased into the inky water. The weight of her body caused it to sink gradually to the bottom of the lake. Through the shimmering water, she could see bright splotches of light. As weariness flooded her, she closed her eyes and melted into the peaceful abyss.
***
Her head felt as if it were filled with cotton. Her mouth was dry and her throat was on fire. She desperately needed something to drink. She struggled to pry her eyelids open. It took her several minutes to get them to obey her brain’s command.
She was lying in a room that was somewhat familiar, but wasn’t her room. She blinked slowly, trying to get her mind to focus and comprehend what she was seeing. She could see the television mounted on the far wall, but it was turned off. Somewhere close by she could hear a faint beeping sound. The sound was comforting for some reason.
She lay perfectly still, trying to remember where she was. But the effort was just too great. Exhaustion caused her to close her eyes and she allowed her head to loll to the side. In the far recesses of her mind, she remembered the dream about her mother. She’d seen her mother’s face, knew it as surely as if she’d just seen it yesterday. Weak tears slide out from underneath her lashes.
She swallowed and was reminded of the severe burning in her throat. If she could only have a drink of water she’d feel so much better. She struggled to clear the fog out of her head. With considerable effort, she fluttered her eyes back open. She began to blink her eyes rapidly as tears filled them again. Even through the dimness of the room, she could make out Rush’s form. He was standing with his back to her staring out the window, his hands buried deep within his pockets, just like the last time she’d seen him at the museum. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she felt vulnerable and weak. She tried to force the tears to stop, but it was almost as if she had no control over them.
She ran her eyes hungrily over his form and wanted more than anything to be free to go to him and wrap her arms around him. It finally dawned on her where she was and why it seemed so familiar. Her heart seized in her chest. The last time she’d been in the hospital, he’d broken up with her. The next thought that chased through her mind was about being pregnant. Was that why she was here? Had she lost the baby? With her chest heaving, she slid her hands down clumsily to her lower stomach. She whimpered against the pain of loss. First Rush, now the baby. She didn’t know if she could endure it.
Her painful keening must have alerted Rush that she was awake. He moved to the bed and gripped her icy fingers within his own.
With tears sliding down her face, she begged him. “No… Please no…”
He carefully crawled onto the bed with her and wrapped her in his massive arms and held her. He kissed her head over and over. “It’s okay. The baby is fine. The baby is fine and you will be also,” he murmured.
The relief of his words only made her cry harder. He ran his hands soothingly up and down her spine and just held her. She eventually cried herself out and exhaustion once again claimed her. In the comfort of his warm embrace, she drifted back into the healing powers of sleep.
The next time she woke, without opening her eyes, she inhaled his familiar scent first, then felt the warmth of his body. She snuggled into him, afraid to open her eyes in case it was a dream. She felt the brush of his lips against her temple. She blinked her eyes open and froze as she remembered his words, the baby is fine. He knew about the baby. She tensed in his arms.
“Hey,” he said quietly, apparently not wanting to disturb the quietness of the room.
She swallowed and the familiar burn made her groan.
“What can I do?” he asked.
“Water,” she croaked.
He started to rise, but she clutched his arms as her chest began to rise and fall in rapid succession. “Please don’t go,” she begged him with her raspy voice.
He pressed his lips against her head once more and she felt him shudder against her. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere. I’m just getting you some water, okay?”
He didn’t move until she gave a quick jerk of her head. He gently untangled himself from her and stood, stretching the broad muscles of his back. Her heart fluttered at what his knowing about the baby could mean. He poured water into a cup with a straw and brought it to her. She placed the straw between her parched lips and groaned against the fire in her throat. The effort of drawing the water into her mouth seemed to ebb her strength, and she dropped her head back down. She was just so tired.
He sat in a chair next to the bed and retrieved her hands within his once more. He stared into her eyes and smiled tenderly. Her chest burned with intense emotion.
“Why am I here?” she rasped.
“You were hit while crossing the street. Don’t you remember?” he asked softly.
“No.”
He brushed his knuckles against her cheek and her eyes once again filled with tears. He’d been tender like this before… right before he walked away, leaving Radcliff to scrape up the pieces and drive her home. She slowly rolled from her side to her back, her entire body groaning in agony. She removed her hands from his and immediately felt cold again. Her fingers began to tremble and she clutched at the blanket covering her lower body.
“How did you find out?” she asked.
He rubbed a tired hand across the strained lines on his face. “I told the nurse I was your husband. It was the only way they’d let me in here. The… uh, nurse told me not to worry, that the baby was fine. You can only imagine my surprise,” he said, his eyes fraught with accusation.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know how to tell you. We’d already broken up and… I… I was afraid.”
“When did you find out?” he asked.
“The night of the ball.”
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday at the museum? I could have protected you,” he demanded.
“I don’t understand… how could you protect me?”
He stared intently into her eyes with his jaw clenched, obviously at war within himself. Stiffly, he rose from the chair and moved to stand as he had been when she’d first wakened. H
e rubbed a hand against his neck.
“The hit-and-run wasn’t an accident.”
She lifted a hand to her quivering lips. “Why is someone doing this to me?” she whimpered.
He didn’t answer for such a long time, she was afraid he wasn’t going to. When he did, his question was so far removed from the conversation, she struggled to answer it.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do about the baby?” he asked quietly.
“Do,” she choked out, afraid of where he was going with this.
Again he hesitated. “Are you… planning on keeping the baby?”
She swallowed against his words and this time welcomed the lesser of the two pains, the greater being the huge hole in her chest. “Please don’t take my baby from me,” she begged raggedly.
He jerked his head in her direction. “I wouldn’t take the baby from you. What kind of monster do you think I am?” He laughed bitterly at himself. “I guess I know the answer to that.” He paused before asking, “So, you’re not going to… get rid… of it,” he asked gingerly.
“No,” she choked out, horrified that he’d even suggested it.
He inhaled deeply, and with an intense straightening of his shoulders, he returned to the chair he’d recently vacated. He reached for one of her hands and held it once more between his own. “Promise me one thing, I beg you,” he beseeched her.
She stared into his near desperate eyes. “If I can.”
“No matter what happens… please don’t keep my child from me.”
She studied his face trying to understand his words, which were as ever, confusing. “I won’t,” she promised.
He exhaled and closed his eyes as pain washed over his face. With slow, gentle movements, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. He lingered only briefly before pulling back. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Try to get some sleep,” he said as he tucked her hair behind her ears.
She stared at him for a long while. “Will you stay?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
He stared back just as intently, and his lips trembled slightly before he clenched his jaw to stem it. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Her chest felt hollow and on fire. She struggled against the pain of having this particular Band-Aid ripped off the wound yet again. She guessed in some far-off fantasy world, she’d hoped maybe he’d want to be a family with her and the baby. But would she really want him that way? While she’d like to lie to herself and say no, she knew she’d take him anyway she could get him. She swallowed painfully again and slowly withdrew her hands from his.
Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she whispered, “Rush, I really need you to leave now. I need for you to leave and don’t come back. I won’t keep the baby from you, but we’ll set up something through an attorney. I… I can’t have contact with you. It… hurts too much. Promise me you won’t try to contact me again.”
She stared straight ahead with unseeing eyes. After a few minutes, he leaned forward and brushed a lingering kiss against her head. He patted her clenched hands and whispered in reply, “Goodbye, Trinity,” before walking soundlessly out the door.
At his departure, she curled into a ball and stared dry-eyed at his recently vacated seat. Well, it’s just you and me, she thought to the little speck inside her belly. Tears trickled down her cheeks. This time, she didn’t try to stop them.
***
The entire right side of her body was covered in massive bruising. She ached from head to toe, but her baby was alive and that was all that mattered. Her father insisted she have constant security as she’d been attacked twice and vandalized just as many times. She didn’t argue, it wasn’t just about her anymore.
It’d been two weeks since Rush had walked out of the hospital, and as she’d asked, he’d made no attempt to contact her. She missed him. Missed what they’d had for such a brief point in time. She wished he’d have told her what the problem really was, but he’d always been so evasive. And now she was having a baby. Her father talked to her continuously about getting rid of the ‘problem’ and now she didn’t even argue with him, she just ignored his snide comments.
The doctor had finally cleared her to go back to work and she went gladly. She was thankful Gavin had not re-distributed her projects, so she had plenty to keep her busy. She knew she needed to begin looking for her own apartment, but everything seemed so hard and she was always so tired.
She’d been back to work for nearly two weeks and she’d nearly gotten to the point where she could almost forget about Mace Lewis, her now constant companion/bodyguard. Mace was quiet and he could stand for hours on end and not speak at all. She barely even gave him a second thought anymore. At first, she’d been so afraid of running into Rush at the museum, she’d refused to go there her first week back at work, but now into her second week, she’d begun the familiar trek. Mace never commented, he just drove and followed at a discreet distance.
She was sitting on ‘her’ bench in the atrium enjoying the quiet and the beauty when her cellphone chirped notifying her of an incoming text message. She didn’t recognize the number but clicked it anyway. The text prompted her to click on one of two links, which she did.
She didn’t understand at first what she was looking at, as the video’s angle was odd. And it wasn’t until she heard her father’s voice that she realized who she was looking at. Her father was sitting at his desk in his office at home. He was having a heated discussion with someone, and after listening, she recognized Alex Masters’ voice. She couldn’t see Alex, so he must have been standing just beyond the camera’s range. She turned the link off and restarted it and began to listen intently.
“I want to know what the hell is going on here, Arthur!”
“Whatever do you mean?”
There was a rustling of paper. “I want to know how this same picture, previously sent to you – threatening you – was then sent to your daughter. What are you playing at?”
Her father sighed deeply. “I don’t think it’s any of your concern. How I handle my daughter is my business.”
“This is bullshit, Arthur! I won’t be a party to this!”
The link ended abruptly. Her heart began to pound in her chest and her fingers began to tremble. Her father had sent the picture of the hung, dead woman to her? Why would he do that? Was he responsible for everything else as well? No, she refused to believe that. Numbly, she pressed the second link.
As before, Alex was apparently standing in her father’s office and her father was sitting at his desk.
“Arthur, I don’t know what kind of scam you’re trying to run on your daughter, but my crew and I will not be a part of it.”
“A part of what, exactly?” her father asked.
“Come on, Arthur! The minute she told me about the lightning bolt tattoo, I knew it was Shane. He has now since been fired. He told me how you paid him to ransack her room and destroy her paintings. Our services with you are now terminated. We run a legitimate business and do not want your kind of business.”
As before, the link stopped abruptly. The blood rushed from her head and she was forced to hang her head between her knees for fear of passing out. Her chest burned as it worked double-time trying to suck oxygen into her body. Her father had had her paintings destroyed. Did he not realize how that would hurt her two-fold? First it scared her, then he’d taken something she loved and mangled it.
Sweat popped out on her forehead. She slapped a hand over her mouth and ran past Mace into the ladies room. She’d barely made it to the bathroom stall before everything she’d eaten came back up. She heaved and heaved until only dry-heaves remained. She laid her forearms on the commode and began to sob. He’d deliberately set out to scare her, but why? She couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing. She’d always done everything he wanted. Her head snapped up. Until recently when she’d begun to date Rush.
She sat down heavily on the floor of the stall and wrapped her arms protectively around her middle. She remembered all
the times he’d told her to get rid of the baby. Was her father responsible for the hit-and-run? She couldn’t give a definitive answer to that question. Was he responsible for Rush breaking things off with her? Both he and Rush had said no, but Rush was always so evasive and seemed so torn.
She scraped herself off the bathroom floor. She went to the sink and wet a paper towel to try and repair her face. She scrubbed at the mascara streaked down her cheeks. She pressed the coolness of the paper towel against her eyes, trying to lessen their swollenness. She needed to know the truth… the real truth and not the half-measures she’d been given so far. If it hadn’t been for the security feed… the security feed! The feed must have come from her father’s home office. She glanced quickly at her watch. If she left now, she’d have enough time to search for other disks before her father came home. All she needed was the period of time she was in the hospital the first time. Things between her and Rush had been fine until then.
She eased the door opened and saw Mace standing a few feet away. His back was to her and he was apparently on the phone. She slipped her shoes off and silently moved out of the room and into the hall. She padded quickly out of the museum before stopping to put her shoes back on. She hailed a taxi and directed it to her home.
She punched in the code which turned the security alarm off and entered the house. She called out as she entered. “Hello? Hello?” Not receiving an answer, she moved swiftly to her father’s study. She searched quickly through every cabinet and every drawer, but couldn’t find the security disks. She tried to determine where the camera was in the room. She moved about the room until she arrived at the spot which looked like the same view from her text. She looked above her and over her shoulder to the bookcase behind. She eventually saw the small blue, blinking light of the camera. Directly below it, was a wooden box. She reached up quickly and pulled the box down and snapped open the lid. There were dozens of silver disks in the box, all neatly labeled. She flipped through them until she reached the disk with dates that fell within the period of time she’d been in the hospital.