by LLP, Lan
“Really?” I ask and pace excitedly out of bed to join him in the shower. I’m free like the wind.
~~~~
I rush Carson out the front door with a piece of toast, his briefcase, and no coffee because he had spent too much time making me happy in the shower. I don’t want to be the reason for his third or fourth tardy at work. His boss would not be happy with me. “Bye, honey.” I try that word on for size again and it’s not so bad. “I’ll see you this evening. Have a great day at work. Love you,” I holler in the hallway, tossing him an air kiss.
“Love you, too, angel,” he hollers back with a wide grin that spans from cheek to cheek and then disappears into the elevator.
As soon as the front door is closed, Luke appears stealthily in his corner. This is our first encounter since I knocked him out. “Um…good morning, Luke,” I stammer, hunching slightly.
“Morning,” he replies rigidly, sitting with his shoulders squared and feet planted solid with dark glasses over his eyes, concealing a quarter of his face.
“I…I’m sorry about last week. That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I feel terrible about it.”
“What’s done is done. Let it go,” he tells me impassively. He hates me. My stupid stunt ruined whatever little friendship we had.
“Okay, thanks,” I reply and walk away dragging my feet with my head slumped to the floor feeling crappier than I felt before I talked to him.
He stops me. “Lily, you gave us one hell of a scare. I’m thankful you’re okay,” he discloses. He doesn’t hate me after all. “In my eighteen years of military service, no one has ever been able to successfully take me down until last week,” he adds with a visible grin. “I’d say that’s an impressive accomplishment.”
With a pursed smile, I tell him, “I swear it’ll never happen again.”
“Trust me. It won’t,” he declares, tracing his squinted eyes to mine and back to his with his index and middle finger. “I’m on to you. No more delicious smoothies for me,” he chuckles, making me laugh out loud with him. The tension between is quickly thawed, making me believe we’re tight again.
“No more bad smoothies. I promise. How’s your father?”
“He’s better. Thanks for asking,” he answers concisely but with a subtle tenderness only discernable to me.
“No problem. After I have my morning tea, I’d like to visit Gabby at the hospital if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. That won’t be a problem,” he answers, switching back to his unsmiling bodyguard mode.
As much as I hate Jean’s tea, I brew myself a steamy cup and chug it down as quickly as I could tolerate the heat because I know it’ll keep the nausea away. I talk myself out of gagging several times and then finish the remaining bitter black liquid.
Wasting no time after my quick breakfast of toast with butter and apricot jam, I rush into the bedroom to change out of my pajamas. Sifting through the drawers on my side of the closet, I pull out a loose pair of frayed denim and a pink t-shirt that still has a price tag of seventy-five dollars on it. Wow. That’s ridiculous to pay that much for a plain old t-shirt. Prior to Carson, I never owned any clothing item that costed more than twenty bucks. In fact, most of my clothes were hand-me-downs from Belle and Emi and I never minded at all. They went through their wardrobes and shoes as often as their parents would spoil them—that was practically every weekend almost. I had more clothes from them than my closet could handle. Slipping into my jeans and shirt, I catch my side profile in the wall-length mirror. Scrutinizing, my eyeballs move to and fro to see if I can distinguish a baby bump, but it’s not obvious yet. Why am I so anxious about having a big belly? Soon, I’ll be as large as a blimp and swollen from head to toe with twins. I should enjoy my little body while I still can.
~~~~
Rollin drops us off at BGH Cancer Center where Gabby’s a patient. On the way, I picked up a darling fleece hat at a children’s boutique to keep her hairless head warm. It has short, fluffy, white ears and round owl eyes with long lashes that scream Gabby. She’s going to love it. Standing in front of the glass and brownstone high-rise building, I take a minute to appreciate the impressive fusion of old and modern architectural design. The multicolor glass dome over the main entrance filters natural white light into vibrant orange, green, blue, red, yellow, and purple color beams. It’s mesmerizing and a clever way to temporarily distract an ailing person’s mind from their sickness. The expansive lobby with signs and arrows pointing in all directions overwhelms me. Thankfully, a helpful receptionist greets my confused expression and offers me precise directions to Gabby’s room. I’m anxious to see her angelic little face and hear her tender voice that’s always full of life. Jane mentioned several times that Gabby’s been asking for me. I told her to keep my visit on the down-low so she can be really surprised when she sees me.
After a wrong turn to medical oncology and passing several pint-sized cuties roaming the hallway with their IV poles and baby blankets, I finally make it to Gabby’s room. My heart could barely keep it together, seeing all those ill children with pale skin and lethargic expressions in one place. The despair that weighs on their parents’ hearts and minds is beyond my imagination. It hurts just trying. Lil, get a hold of yourself. Be a pillar of strength. I remind myself and a forced smile appears.
The door is ajar enough for me to enter, but I knock twice out of respect and then listen for a response. “Come in,” Jane calls.
I slip inside without opening the door more than I need. The room is dim with soft, lulling music playing in the background. Stuffed animals of various sizes align a ledge by the window. I keep my inhales shallow because the unpleasant hospital smell is almost intolerable to my nose. I’m thankful I drank Jean’s tea before coming here or I’d make a disgrace of myself in Gabby’s bathroom. Encircled by pillows, her tiny body looks even smaller lying in an oversized twin hospital bed with two layers of blankets. She’s sleeping peacefully with her arms wrapped around my songbird, oblivious to the beeping noise of the monitors and IV pumps. Jane spots me first, waving her hand to greet.
“Good morning, Jane,” I whisper so I don’t wake Gabby. Leaning down to Jane’s tired, gaunt frame, I give her a small squeeze.
“Hi Lucy,” she replies, hugging me back with a sweet grin. Argh! It’s that name again. “She just fell asleep a few minutes ago.” Jane’s eyes sweep back to Gabby’s restful face, watching her tenderly.
“That’s okay. I’ll stop by again. I just wanted to see how she’s doing. Can I leave this hat for her?” I hand Jane a pink gift bag and then sidestep closer to Gabby’s bed. I stroke her baby hand with the back of my fingers. It’s soft and warm. She’s the most perfect little cherub.
“Yes, of course. She’ll be really upset that she missed you.”
“I’ll try again tomorrow,” I tell Jane, hiding the disappointment in my voice as I make my way for the door not wanting to take away Jane’s down time while Gabby’s napping.
Reaching for my hand and holding me in place she asks, “Lucy, can I have a word with you?”
“Yeah. Sure. What is it?”
“There’s a small family room we can chat in,” she tells me and leads us down the hallway.
“Is the drug not working for Gabby?” I ask, terribly concerned before we get to our destination.
“No. She’s responding very well. This isn’t about Gabby,” she assures me and points to a small room with a loveseat, two armchairs, and a large bookcase with children’s books. Thank goodness. She gave me a fright.
“Then what is it?”
I sense something disheartening coming my way. There’s pain in her wary expression. She exhales a troubled sigh before she begins to speak. “It’s Francine. Her cancer has spread to her spine. She’s suffering badly,” she cries. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell you or Mr. Bradley, but it’s killing me to see her hurt so badly.”
With a soothing arm, I rest it over her quivering shoulders. “Take a breath,” I encourage. “Wh
y doesn’t she want you to tell me or Mr. Bradley?” There’s hesitation in her sodden eyes. She wants to reveal her secret but her loyalty to her friend makes her reconsider. “Go on,” I insist, curious as hell.
“I enlisted her name for a clinical trial similar to Gabby’s but she doesn’t know anything about it,” she admits.
“I know. Coincidentally, I just received her file yesterday. Car…Mr. Bradley is reviewing it.”
“Oh my God. That’s wonderful,” she rejoices, wiping her tears away with the back of her hands. “There’s hope for her.”
“Why is she being so secretive about her cancer?” I ask again, dying to understand Francine’s illogical reasoning. “We’d be more than willing to help her.”
“She has her reasons,” Jane mutters.
“You know them, don’t you?” I accuse. She nods in response. “Please tell me then.”
“I’ll share what I can, but it’s up to Francine to tell you the rest. She’s also here as a patient at this hospital.”
“She is? But I thought she went home to Indiana.”
“Her son flew her back to Boston.”
“Which son? Is he one of the twins?” I blurt the first thought that came to mind.
“How…do you know she has twins?” Jane appears stunned from my comment.
“I deduced it from the information I read from her chart and what she told me when we met last time.”
“His name is Wes Montgomery. She gave him and his brother up for adoption. Wes came searching for Francine about two weeks ago.”
Shit! Did she just say Wes Montgomery? That guy keeps popping up everywhere. He’s the common link to everyone. No wonder Francine acted so oddly when she first met us. Did she know his family is Carson’s opponent, the one who kidnapped his researchers? She couldn’t have possibly known. That was privy information. His father, Chandler Montgomery, is the asshole who schemed with Bianca and Edison to capture me, and I was the idiot who made their job so easy. Oh my God! I think Edison mentioned something about a niece. Shit! What did he say? I blacked out right around that time. Everything from that day is still a blur to me, but the scars that Bianca carved into my flesh will never let me forget how terrified and close to death I came. I can’t seem to stop the incessant rambling in my head.
“They must’ve had a warm reception if he brought her here to care for her. Am I right?” I pry while the back of my mind continues to piece this confusion together.
That’s right. Wes isn’t a real Montgomery. Andrew mentioned awhile back that he’s Chandler’s adopted son. He also told me Bridgette and Wes are or were lovers. Why was Bridgette at Kat’s house and why was Carson okay with that? Nothing is adding up for me.
“Yes. He’s very good to her from what she’s told me. He welcomed her almost instantly.”
“Does Francine know where her other son is?”
Jane appears uneasy, avoiding my eyes. Her hands are fidgety as her body shies away. Obviously she knows, but I don’t think she’s going to give me the answer. “I…I can’t give you that information. You’ll have to ask Francine.” I was right. Her lips are sealed tight like an untampered lid of a glass jar. “Don’t be surprised if she refuses to tell you,” she adds.
“What floor is she on and what’s her room number?” I request. I have to get to the bottom of this twisted mystery or it’s going to drive me insane.
“She’s on the fourth floor in room 444,” Jane volunteers without hesitation. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I swore to her that I wouldn’t say anything.”
“No worries. A promise is a promise. I respect your loyalty to your friend. And by the way, my real name is Lillian not Lucy. It’s a long story that I’ll have to tell you another time.”
She smiles with curious, narrowing eyes and tells me, “I’m intrigued and anxious to hear your story. Thanks again for stopping by. You’re a sweetheart. Gabby adores you to pieces and can’t stop talking about you.”
“You’re welcome and I adore her, too. Please give her a kiss for me. I don’t want to wake her.”
“I sure will,” she agrees.
Chapter 28
Lillian Ly
Closing the door behind me, I stand outside Gabby’s room troubled and baffled in the most confusing way. I need a diagram to figure out how to unscramble that chaos. One thing’s for sure, Wes Montgomery is the common factor that connects everyone together in this complex equation. Is he a good guy or a bad guy? I don’t know, but I know who does. I dig into my little shoulder purse to pull out my phone and touch the screen to dial Andrew’s number.
“Hey, cutie. What’s up?” he answers.
“Did I get you at a good time?” I ask before bombarding him with all my questions.
“I always have time for you, Lillian,” he replies. I hear chopping and lively Latin music in the background. He must be preparing food for tonight’s dinner party while his feet and hips dance to the energetic beat. “Do you need something?”
“Yes. I’m at BGH and just left Gabby’s room.”
“How’s she doing?” he checks and then rattles prepping instructions to Stewart. “Not too much or it’ll be too hot,” he suggests.
“Good.”
“Praise the Lord,” he rejoices in a singing voice. “Stewie, the drugs are working for Gabby,” he shares. Stewart celebrates along with him. I can picture them doing the happy dance together.
“Andrew,” I interrupt, ending their merriment. “What can you tell me about Wesley Montgomery?”
“Huh? What? Where did that come from?” He sounds as if I just slapped him on the back of his head with my off the subject inquiry.
“I can’t get in to the details now. Can you just give me a quick lowdown on him?” I insist desperately, rushing him.
“What do you want to know?”
“Is he a good person?”
“Yes. Stewie has a lot of respect for him. They’re really tight. Wes is nothing like his father. Right, Stew?” he speaks to me and Stewart both. “He has a really big heart.”
“They’re cousins, right?” I confirm.
“Yes. Why are you asking me about Wes?”
I ignore his question and continue talking. “Did you know that Wes just hooked up with his biological mother who happens to be Francine Mann?”
“No. I did not. And who’s Francine?”
“She’s Gabby’s healthcare representative.”
“Holy shit! What a small world!” he yells through the phone. “That’s unbelievable.” I can hear Stewart mumbling in the background. He’s probably wondering what all the excitement is about.
“That’s not all. Wes has a twin brother and Francine is suffering from cancer in her spine. She’s here at BGH. The kicker is she doesn’t want me or Carson to know anything about it.”
“Hold on. That’s a lot of info to process from two sentences. Let me get this straight. Wes is a twin and Francine has cancer but she doesn’t want you to know. Why not?” he inquires perplexed in a high pitch tone.
“I know. Right? I asked myself the same question,” I tell him. “It doesn’t make any sense to me unless she’s hiding something from us.”
“What could it be though?” Andrew ponders out loud.
“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out. I’m walking to her room as we speak.”
“Lillian, why does trouble follow you wherever you go, cutie?”
“I have no idea.”
“Be careful,” he advises me.
“I will. I’ll call you when I get my answers.” I end our conversation before entering the elevator to the fourth floor.
Why are hospital layouts so confusing? Every hallway looks identical to me no matter which direction I turn. I flag down a short, young nurse in scrubs with a cancer-ribbon print to ask her if I’m heading in the right direction for room 444 since I haven’t seen a sign for it. She smiles and tells me I need to go past the nurse’s station and then it’ll be on my left. I thank her and proceed to Francine’s room wi
th a growing stir in my chest. How will she react to my meddling? Is this really any of my business? It isn’t, but I’m driven by some unknown obligation. I can’t understand my desperation to figure this all out until I see Bridgette with Carson exiting the room that I’m looking for. Jealousy is the first emotion I feel and then confusion follows. I don’t get it. There’s nowhere to hide. They see me right away, stopping me in my tracks. The closer they approach, the better of a view I get of Carson. He looks everything like Carson, but he’s not my Carson. I know my lover better than I know myself. This man’s astringent scent is nothing like Carson’s heady, velvety aroma that I crave and ingest greedily every chance I get. His face is mysteriously hidden behind his goatee and his hair is wavier and darker. Always at the most inopportune time, my phone rings and vibrates in my purse, but I’m too distracted to see who my caller is.
“Hi, Lillian. You look good. How are you doing?” Bridgette perks up, appearing surprised to see me here. The man who looks like Carson stares at me as his mind wanders distantly. He seems preoccupied and troubled by something personal.
“Hi, Bridgette. I’m fine now. Thanks for asking,” I answer. “How odd to run into you here.” In denim and a low scoop neck sweater rather than her stuffy business suit, she doesn’t look as conceited and unbearable.
“Um…yes, we were just visiting a…friend,” she tells me in a manner that makes me believe she isn’t being completely truthful.
“You know Francine? How?” I pry without reservation.
Avoiding my question she introduces me to the man standing next to her instead. “This is Wes, Lillian.”
“Hi,” he exhales softly, shaking off his stupor.
His name hits me like a ton of bricks—hard and overwhelmingly. Finally, I meet Wesley Montgomery, the man connected to everyone, including Carson. How can anyone deny they’re twins? Just look at them. I don’t need a DNA test to confirm they’re brothers. Oh my God! Carson was adopted. How do I tell him this news—or do I? Is it my place? What will it do to his relationship with Kat and Michael? How will he react? My knees buckle under me, swaying me to fall against the wall. They both reach their arms out to me.