“No, I’m okay,” Petra lied. The kind nurse pried the blanket gently out of Petra’s fingers. “I just had a bad dream.”
“I brought you some food,” the woman said, setting the small tray of food on the table by the recliner. “It’s not gourmet, but it’s healthy, and you need something in your stomach, trust me.”
Petra looked at the food with no interest. The nurse had brought her a bowl of chicken soup and a couple rolls with butter and jam. A large mug of steaming tea completed the small meal. “Drink the tea at least, honey,” the nurse said. “It’s chamomile, it will help you steady your nerves.”
Taking the hot mug from the nurse, Petra thought that if a cup of chamomile tea could indeed calm her nerves it would be a miracle, but she was willing to try anything at this point. She sipped gingerly from the hot mug while the nurse busied herself checking on Sam again.
“Is he going to be all right?” Petra asked in a small voice. The doctors had already told her that, but her dread was so strong she kept wondering whether she had dreamed it.
“He’s going to be just fine,” the nurse replied, tucking the sheets tighter around Sam’s big body. “The bullet hit an upper rib and got lodged in his scapula. It didn’t hit any vital organs. He will be sore for a while, but judging by the other scars in his body, he’s used to it.” The nurse smiled at her. “Are you dating?”
Somehow, dating didn’t seem to be the appropriate word for what she and Sam had. It was so much bigger and intense than dating. You dated strangers to get to know them. Sam was part of her now, a better part of herself. Without him she felt naked and incomplete, as if she was missing a leg or a vital organ. The sun came up and went down because Sam was in her life. He was her life. And she had almost lost him because of Jonas.
“Are the police still in the hospital?” she asked suddenly, wanting to lash out at Jonas, wanting to lash out at someone, anyone. She had spoken to the officers already, but she had been of very little help, still immersed in the strange stupor that took control of her after the kidnapping. “I want to talk to them again.”
The nurse looked at her, a little surprised. “I think they may still be around somewhere. Do you want me to find out?”
What she wanted was to be alone with Jonas and beat him senseless. She had never in her life lifted a hand in anger toward anyone, but now, the need to show him how much she hated him, how much she resented him for everything he had done was so strong she could almost taste it. “Do you know if they apprehended Jonas Linden yet?” she asked. “The man who hired the guys who shot Sam?”
The woman, a forty-something small female, approached her and whispered, “I heard that they’re waiting for a full confession from the guy who survived.”
Petra almost jumped out of her seat. “I’m going for a walk,” she announced, sliding her feet into her shoes and grabbing her phone from the table. “If Sam wakes up, would you give me a call?”
Soon, she was hailing a taxi and giving the driver directions to Linden’s house. He was by now surely aware that his scheme had gone awry, but did he realize that the police were holding information against him as well? She wondered whether he was packing to leave the country or just relaxing in his house, drinking that old, expensive cognac and seducing some empty-headed twit. Was he sweating bullets or cool as a cucumber? Blinded by anger and driven by an overwhelming urge to finally stand up to her ex-husband, Petra ignored the obvious danger she was putting herself into and dove head first into her misguided quest.
At the break of dawn, the taxi made it to Jonas’ high-end neighborhood and parked right in front of his house. She could see the lights on in several of the windows and she knew he was home. For a second, she wondered if what she was about to do was dangerous, but the moment was fleeting and faded away almost as soon as it appeared. She told the taxi driver to keep the meter going and climbed the steps to the front door.
Jonas answered the door looking sleek and elegant as usual and she hated him even more for it. Just as she had thought, he had a glass of cognac in one hand and an expression of annoyance on his face. However, when his eyes fell on her, his face took on a more dramatic tone. “You?” he exclaimed in a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
Her hands were itching to close into fists and let loose on his handsome face, his perfect shoulders, his expensive designer clothes, but she controlled herself. “I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice level but her hands trembling. She didn’t wait for his permission but pushed herself past him and into the house. Shocked to meekness, Jonas followed her into the formal living room, a few steps from the front door.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this very early morning visit?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. At closer examination, Petra realized that he had dark circles around his eyes and that his hands shook a bit. He must not have slept at all last night. Good, she thought.
“I came to tell you that I survived,” she said, staring him straight in the eyes. She didn’t want to miss a second of his reaction. “And so did Sam.”
Licking his lips, Linden set the glass down on a coffee table. “What do you mean? Survived what?” he asked unconvincingly, avoiding her eyes.
“Your plot to make yourself look pure and wholesome in the eyes of the law,” she replied, her voice low but steady. “You are a monster, Jonas, and I’m so ashamed that I once thought I loved you.”
“Oh, because you were perfect, right?” he retorted, forgetting to rebuke her accusation.
“Far from it,” Petra answered, taking a step closer to him. Instinctively, he took a step back. “But I was faithful, and I was willing to do whatever it took to make our marriage work. What did you do?”
“You were too meek and too willing,” he spat out maliciously. “Too bland for someone like me who loves beauty and color.”
Petra felt a sudden need to crush him with her fists, but she took a deep breath and looked at him. His hands were now clenched tightly and she could see his arm muscles protruding against the thin material of his shirt. “There was a time, Jonas, when you may have made me feel guilty,” she said, her voice calm in spite of the turmoil inside of her, “but I have grown and evolved. I have broken the bonds that I had created between you and me. You can’t hurt me anymore, and you most definitely can’t make me feel bad about who I am.”
“And who are you, exactly?” he growled, baring his teeth like a rabid dog. “A little less than nothing? A poor excuse for a wife? Oh, Jonas, I can’t go on the yacht. I get seasick,” he cruelly mimicked her. “Oh, Jonas, can we just stay home and cuddle on the couch tonight?”
“Yes, I can see how that would get anyone on edge,” she said, trying to keep her voice leveled. Not an easy task when her heart was burning and her guts seemed to be about to explode. “You were unfaithful to me because I bored you?”
“Yes, you bored me to tears,” he said emphatically. His eyes were red, feverish. For a moment she wondered whether he was intoxicated, but she knew that Linden would not ever drink to the point where he was out of control. “You bored me on our wedding night.”
Petra was not going to let him see her heart bleeding. “For a while, Jonas,” she said, hiding her trembling hands behind her back, “I thought that you had a good man inside of you, that maybe you just had never learned how to be a decent human being. But now I see that there’s nothing there. You have an empty soul, an empty heart. You weren’t even able to remain faithful to your first and biggest love.”
Linden almost screamed, spittle flying off his mouth, “You were never my love, Petra. You were nothing.”
A sob choking her, Petra brought a hand to her heart. “I’m not talking about me,” she said. “I’m talking about art, your one true love. You even betrayed that by getting involved in these criminal activities. You have betrayed yourself. Is there anything or anybody that is sacred to you at all?”
Jonas’ body was tense, like a tight coil that could spring forth at an
y time. She could hear his ragged breath, and for the first time that morning, she was scared. She now realized that he was past rational, past common sense; he had crossed to the dark side. Petra couldn’t trust herself to speak anymore. A wrong word and Linden may very well attack her. However, she heard herself speak, “You are the lowest of the low, Jonas.” Her voice came out in a whisper. “I do blame myself for one thing, and that’s having once believed in you.”
Nostrils flaring, Jonas let out a guttural roar as he made a sudden move toward her. Bracing herself for a physical attack, Petra brought her arms across her trembling body and closed her eyes. But the expected blow never came. Instead, she heard a loud thumping noise and a thud. Cautiously, she reopened her eyes to find Liam standing over a prostrate Jonas, his right fist still hanging in the air over the other man’s body.
“Liam!” she exclaimed, relief flooding her entire system. The British man’s arms opened up in invitation and Petra ran to their protection. “I’m so glad you are here. How did you find me?”
“Coincidence,” he confessed, rubbing her tight back muscles with his hand. “I was coming to confront Jonas, and when I saw the taxi waiting outside I figured you were probably here.” He kissed the top of her head. “What were you thinking, coming here alone? Jonas is obviously not the man we thought he was.”
“I was just so angry at him,” she admitted, her face smashed against the soft fabric of his sweater. “I just had to let him know that I wouldn’t let him hurt me anymore. I know it was stupid, but I just had to do it.” After a few seconds of silence, Petra dared a glance toward the moaning figure on the floor. “What did you do to him?”
“What he deserves,” Liam said with a nervous chuckle. Petra knew it couldn’t have been easy for him to hurt his best friend, a man he considered a brother. “He’ll be fine. He’ll experience a lot worse behind bars with his pretty face and fancy manners.” He guided her gently toward the front door. “Let’s go pay the taxi driver and I’ll drive you home.”
Petra allowed herself to be led outside, still warm within the protection of Liam’s arms. “No, I want to go to the hospital,” she said, looking at him for the first time. “Sam hadn’t woken up yet when I left.”
He gave her a nod and soon they were on their way. Snuggled in the sports car’s comfortable seat, Petra drifted off to sleep again. She felt exhausted, physically and mentally spent. Liam had turned on the classical channel and Bach was playing softly in the background, lulling her to sleep.
She was back in her watery jail where the beautiful furnishings seemed to gleam in the semi-darkness of the deep. Floating almost exactly in the middle of the underwater room, she once again looked around and wondered at the beauty surrounding her. Beautifully colored fish swam by, disinterested and fluid, sliding through the water with such elegance they reminded her of graceful ballerinas. She smiled and realized she wasn’t drowning anymore. She held her breath with the ease of an expert diver and her hands and feet were actually able to move her back and forth, up and down. Not a prisoner anymore, just a visitor.
***
Sam
The sun peeked through the thick curtains of the hospital room, telling him it was morning. He had been awake for at least an hour, enjoying the cozy feeling of being in a warm bed, safe and sound, with an angel wrapped up in his arms. Sam couldn’t take his eyes off her face. She was deep in slumber, peaceful after a night of nightmares and tossing and turning. He may have been the one who was shot, but she was the one seriously wounded. Gently, so as not to wake her, he swept a lock of her hair away from her face with his hand. “Beautiful Petra,” he whispered as if singing a lullaby. “Holding my heart hostage, and I—well, I don’t mind.” He didn’t want to break the magic of that moment, so he closed his eyes and willed away the nurses and the army of professionals that seemed to come in and out of his room in a constant human flow. No one came, and the morning progressed in a slow, sated pace while Petra slept her worries away.
Since the moment she collapsed in the lobby, Petra had been quiet, withdrawn, not willing to talk about anything other than the here and now. He barely recognized the spitfire he had fallen in love with, and it worried him. The bullet in his shoulder blade had been removed and he was expected to make a full recovery. Once he was given enough blood to replace what he had lost, he regained consciousness and strength enough to not only advocate, but also fight for his love. In a heated argument with one of the hospital officials, he had finally managed to get permission to keep her with him in his room. Liam had also expressed his concern, having never seen her in such a state, not even when his friend Linden had betrayed her trust again and again. It was like she was broken.
There was sudden movement in his arms as Petra opened her eyes and stretched. “Morning, sunshine,” he said. Her eyes focused on his face as if trying to remember where she was. When they met his bandaged chest and shoulder, they opened wide in panic. “Petra, I’m okay,” he assured her, wanting to erase that pained look from her face. “Everything is all right.”
She hesitated for a few seconds and then kissed him full on the mouth with the enthusiasm of someone who had been apart from their love for a long time. His body responded immediately to her probing lips, those lips that he swore had been made especially to fit his. Her hands began exploring his hospital gown, seeking an opening, pulling and untying. Sam placed his hand on top of hers and stopped her. “Not that I don’t appreciate the attention,” he said with a crooked smile on his lips. “But we may want to wait until we’re in the privacy of our home.” He realized with surprise that he did indeed think of her house as their home now, even though she had not officially asked him to move in. “I’m going home this afternoon.”
A storm clouded her chestnut eyes. “I don’t want to go home yet,” she said. “We should stay here longer,” she said, sounding desperate. “It’s safe here.”
“Sweetheart, they got the guys that did this,” he told her, caressing her flushed cheeks. “It’s safe at home.”
“Jonas is still free,” she said in such a low voice he thought for a moment he had imagined it. “He can hire somebody else to come and kill you. I keep playing the moment that thug pulled the trigger on you in my mind, over and over again. I remember how scared I felt, the anger and fear that made me do—what I did.”
Hugging her tighter, he kissed the top of her head. “Linden is under house arrest, Petra,” he said. “He won’t be hurting us anymore. Why are you so afraid of him?”
It came out in a flood of words and thoughts—all she was feeling, all she had felt for the past three days, for the past how many years. Having discovered she had married an adulterous liar was bad enough. The feeling of betrayal, of worthlessness, of guilt and doubt had been overwhelming. It stung and left her bleeding for a long time. She hadn’t been able to trust anyone until Sam came along, but then she knew what they said about love—simply two lonely hearts protecting each other. He had come to fill an emptiness within her life and within herself, an emptiness she thought would never again be filled. Sam had been the balm on her emotional wounds, a salve of such power didn’t just soothe the sore, it had healed it. But then, the kidnapping…Petra had wanted so hard to believe Jonas’ innocence, because in some strange way it reflected their relationship and ultimately her own worth. Having chosen someone morally and legally corrupt marked her as corrupt herself, didn’t it? So she made herself believe he was innocent. To find out he had allowed the thugs, his partners in crime, to kidnap her to save himself had torn those healed wounds wide open. The knowledge that the man she had once loved and hoped to be her life partner thought so little of her was heartbreaking. To top it off, Sam had almost lost his life trying to rescue her. The guilt she felt was unbearable. She was not fit to love or be loved.
“Petra, don’t even think that,” Sam begged, sitting up on the bed so he could better look at her. “You are so fit to be loved. You are an amazing woman. Linden is an idiot, and you shouldn’t measur
e yourself by his ruler.”
“You almost died,” she said in a whimper, “because of me. Because I was weak again and in need of rescuing.”
“No, I almost died because I was investigating Jonas,” he corrected her, rubbing her arms tenderly. “I was already investigating him and his buddies before I met you. He just took advantage of our connection, that’s all. Not your fault at all, you hear me?” He sounded harsher than he meant. To balance that, he pulled her to him and kissed her lightly on the lips.
Her voice went down an octave. “I killed a man, Sam,” she said, her eyes tearing up and her hands shaking convulsively. “Me, who has never handled a gun, who thinks no one should be allowed to carry a gun. I killed a man. I ended a life with my own hands…how do I get over that?”
What could he say about that? He knew just how she felt, having killed before. It still haunted him sometimes, and it didn’t help to think he had had no choice. It was war, kill or be killed. She had killed to save him, and undoubtedly herself. No words would ever make it better. So, he kissed her again and held her in his arms for a long time in silence.
“It’s all my fault,” she finally said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No matter how you look at it, I caused all of this with my nosiness and skewed sense of fairness. It’s my fault that you were shot and that man is dead.”
“Stop feeling guilty, please. I need you to be my Petra.” His voice was tender and beseeching. Her lips parted slightly as a glow spread over her face, dispersing her sadness like the mist of a summer morning. Brown eyes met green and whatever remaining sadness and fear she had disappeared from her eyes. For now. “I need you to be the spunky woman who drives me crazy with her stunts and makes me jealous every time she looks at another man.”
We Will Always Have the Closet Page 17