by Dara Girard
“Yeah, I went,” he said dismissively, confusing her for a nurse.
“I’m with hospital administration, making sure that your stay here is as comfortable as possible.”
“Uh huh.”
Gloomy, but she didn’t know if that was his personality or just the situation. Although she didn’t expect to get much from him. She’d just wanted to see him.
“May I help you?”
That voice. Yes, that voice was still distinct. Clear. She’d never forget it. Catherine steeled herself before she turned and faced Joscelyn.
“I was just making sure the accommodations were adequate,” she said.
“The room’s a bit chilly,” Joscelyn said.
“I like it,” Aaron said.
Joscelyn walked over to his bed, resting her handbag on the chair. “That’s because you settle for whatever comes.”
“I don’t care.”
She tenderly touched his forehead. “You’ll be out of here in no time.”
Catherine gritted her teeth at the tender moment. She’d taken her place. She should be the one comforting her brother. She should be the one at his side. What right did she have to show a kindness she’d never shown to her? To anyone?
Joscelyn adjusted Aaron’s bed sheets. “Is there a reason you’re still here?” she said in a voice that made it clear she felt Catherine had overstayed her welcome.
Yes, I want to annoy you. I want to study your face and imagine seeing it crumble when I destroy you. “No, I’m glad things are fine.”
“We didn’t say they were fine,” Joscelyn corrected her. “They’re adequate, but that will do for now.”
Catherine left the room with renewed vigor. She hadn’t changed. Still cold. Something she hadn’t noticed when she was younger. She’d found Joscelyn distant, but she’d always attributed it to their difference in age, but now she saw her in a new light. She saw the cruel touch of her jaw, the tightness of her lips. No warmth, she was the kind of woman who could hurt others and not flinch. She would enjoy making Joscelyn suffer.
Catherine went to the main floor of the hospital, surprised to still see Greg in the waiting room. She saw traces of the young man she’d known. He’d been kind to her, so how had he ended up marrying Lorna when they were such a poor match? That wasn’t her problem anymore. She still remembered the dream he’d told her. Clearly he had hadn’t followed any of the suggestions his dream had given him.
She went into the ladies room and saw Lorna washing her hands at the sink, but the way her dress fell was strange. She couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it didn’t fall naturally.
Lorna caught her staring in the mirror. “What is it?”
“That’s a lovely dress,” Catherine lied quickly recovering herself. “It’s just the sash is coming undone.”
“Oh dear,” she said, looking down.
Catherine rushed forward. “Let me help you,” she said grabbing the sash. As she tied the sash, she saw something underneath the dress that stunned her. She quickly made the adjustments then stepped back. “When are you due?” It was always a dangerous question to ask a woman so early in her pregnancy—or at all—but she needed to confirm her suspicions.
Lorna patted her stomach. “In the fall.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Catherine went into one of the empty stalls, unable to stop a satisfied smile. A delicious opportunity had just fallen in her lap. Clearly there was tension in Lorna’s marriage because she’d seen padding which meant one thing: Lorna wasn’t pregnant.
36
“Do you have to flirt with every woman you see?” Lorna asked Greg as they drove home from the hospital.
“I wasn’t flirting,” Greg said with a sigh, tired of the same conversation. “I was just talking.”
“I wasn’t in the bathroom for a minute and you just happen to find a beautiful woman to talk to?”
“She was ordinary.”
“She had a great figure or are you going to pretend not to notice that too?”
“Let’s not do this.”
“I know I haven’t lost the baby weight from the last pregnancy and now with another on the way.”
“One we hadn’t planned for,” he grumbled.
“Why do you act as if this is my fault.”
“I didn’t say that, I’m just…I thought we’d done enough.”
“A vasectomy isn’t 100%.”
“Right, but it had been working and you were also supposed to—”
“There’s no point going back. We’re having another child and there’s nothing we can do.”
Greg ran a tired hand down his face. “It’s just the wrong time.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know things haven’t been good between us for a while.”
“No, I don’t know that. I’m happy, the kids are happy. You’re the one who’s finding reasons to be unhappy.”
“Why do you think I’m flirting with every woman I see?”
Lorna rested a hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry, I’m just feeling a little insecure right now. I don’t mean to take it out on you. It’s just the thought of ever losing you scares me.”
Greg gripped the steering wheel. He couldn’t tell her how many times he regretted his choice. How many times he wondered what his life would have been like if he had followed his heart and done something else. Instead he’d stayed with her. He’d told himself it would just be for a while. After Catherine’s disappearance, she was so broken he couldn’t imagine leaving her alone. It had taken her so long to get over it. By the time she did, they’d become comfortable together. A habit he’d gotten used to. He couldn’t remember if he’d proposed to her or the other way around. He’d started to get cold feet and thought about calling it off. His father had even encouraged it.
“If you can’t do this, then stop it now,” he’d told him. “Marriage is a huge step.”
“I know, but we’ve been together so long.”
“You’re still young. Five years is not a lifetime. Try fifty or sixty. Are you ready for that?”
No he wasn’t ready and he had seriously considered calling off the wedding. He’d been practicing how he would do it when she’d shown up on his doorstep in tears.
“Emery’s dead,” she said, then fell into his arms and sobbed and he knew he couldn’t abandon her now. Not when her stepfather had just died. He didn’t remember the ceremony. Just felt the heaviness of the gold band as she slid it on his finger. He wondered if other men felt as if their world was coming to an end when they got married.
He dismissed his thoughts, thinking they were the result of the death of his single days that made him feel uneasy. Lorna had her good side and he could see them starting a family and he wanted that. They both did.
But after the birth of their first child, he knew it wasn’t enough. As much as he loved his daughter, it didn’t heal his relationship with her mother. She was still obsessive about his free time. Obsessed about his calls and texts.
He found himself staying later and later at work. And to his shame, he did think about other women, although he never acted on those thoughts. He’d never hurt her like that, but when he couldn’t even talk to someone other than her, he felt tempted. What was the point of being a good husband when she never treated him like one?
And now they were having a third child. It had come unexpectedly. Although they were still intimate—she made sure of that—it wasn’t as often as it had been in the beginning or even as much fun. Not that he’d admit that to anyone. His friends always joked about how their wives barely gave out, but his wife…sometimes he found her exhausting. Insatiable and demanding. He had to always perform and it was starting to feel like work. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d call it making love.
He glanced at her. That was the biggest problem. He didn’t love her anymore. Wondered if he ever did. He’d liked her a lot once, but even that had changed. They had a histor
y together and a family, but that was all that kept them together. He wondered how long that would last.
Lorna rubbed his thigh, wondering what she should say to him. She hated when he got quiet. She didn’t know how to reach him then. He was so successful and good looking she could understand why any woman would want to take him away from her. But she wouldn’t let them. He was hers for life. They were meant to be together, although at times he seemed to forget that. They had a wonderful life. She loved cuddling with him on the couch as their girls watched a movie, having a date night every month and didn’t he love when they’d taken salsa lessons? She remembered another time like this several months back when he’d been quiet as they finished a show, the girls asleep in bed.
“…Need to get away for a few days to think things through,” she heard him say, his words shaking her out of her thoughts. He’d said he wanted to talk, but she hadn’t been listening.
She turned to him. “Think what through?”
“Us.”
“There’s nothing wrong with us.”
“We can’t keep pretending that things aren’t going wrong.”
“I’m pregnant.” She didn’t know what made her say that—desperation, survival, fear or a combination of all three, but the words tumbled from her mouth.
Greg stared at her wide eyed. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“But you can’t be.”
“I am.”
“You’re sure?”
“I wouldn’t make this up.” But of course she had. On the spot. But she had to. She didn’t want him talking about needing space, moving out, reconsidering things. What they had was perfect. He was meant to be by her side--forever. After telling him the lie she’d hoped to get pregnant so that she could make it real, but to her horror his vasectomy held so she had to feign the pregnancy. She didn’t know for how long. She would have to miscarry, but maybe after another month. She needed more time. A miscarriage should give her another year or two, but after that…
No, she wouldn’t think that far. She couldn’t imagine a life without him in it. He was her world. Her first and only love. A little deception wouldn’t hurt anyone especially if it kept her family together. She needed him and so did their girls.
Later that evening, as she drifted off to sleep, she didn’t know what made her think of the woman in the ladies’ room who’d helped her with her sash. She’d seemed a little strange. When she’d first caught her staring, she’d felt chills, but then realized it was nothing. Other women generally envied her wedding ring, her home, her family, her looks so being the object of desire was nothing new, but the woman’s look had been so intense, an expression she’d never seen before.
But then she’d explained that she just admired her dress and helped her with her sash. But for some reason when she congratulated her, she made Lorna uneasy, because her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
37
Destroying Lorna’s marriage wouldn’t take much, but toppling Joscelyn would take more planning. Catherine sat in her room staring at the two files she’d created for her stepsisters. She had a smaller one for Marie. She closed Lorna’s folder and stared at the one for Joscelyn. She tapped her pen against a recent article about Joscelyn published in the American Medical Journal, Catherine had to resist drawing a circle around her sister’s face and stabbing the image as if she’d hit a bull’s eye.
Joscelyn was not an easy target. She didn’t have many weak spots. She’d remained single, had no children, was a stellar worker at her hospital and had a lucrative practice. She invested modestly and did nothing to excess—shopping, drinking, men.
The doorbell rang. Catherine quickly snapped the file closed and put it away. She walked downstairs as the maid led Jason to the conservatory where the table had been set for a light lunch. She’d invited him over when she knew both her parents were away visiting friends. She’d considered inviting Jason to her office, but she wanted to see how he’d respond to the wealth her father liked to display.
“You look beautiful,” he said when he saw her, not seeming to pay attention to anything around him—the pool, the expanse of manicured land—except her. He held out the chair for her.
Catherine sat down, amazed at his unwavering interest. “Thank you. Did you bring what I asked?”
He sat down in front of her with a feigned look of hurt. “I feel like I’m being used.”
Catherine motioned for the maid to start serving lunch. “You won’t after you’ve eaten.”
Jason handed her some documents. “I really don’t have much. It’s still going to be hard to prove.”
“That’s fine.” Catherine said flipping through one manuscript. “I have time. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“That’s what I love about you.”
Her head snapped up, alarmed. “Don’t fall in love with me.”
“You think I can help myself?”
“Jason—”
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same about me yet, just don’t tell me to stop.”
“I do care for you, but…”
“You’ve been hurt and you’re afraid to trust.” He leaned back and placed his napkin on his lap when a plate of spicy collard greens with shrimp covering a mound of yellow rice was placed in front of him.
“Something like that,” Catherine said.
He picked up his fork. “I’m patient.”
Me too. I doubt you can wait that long. “I have to travel next week.”
“I wish I could go with you.”
“You sound as if you mean that.”
“I do. More than you know, but my parole officer would have a fit.”
“Oh yes, I forgot about that.”
He fell silent and glanced out the window. “Are you sure that me being an ex-con doesn’t—”
“How long before you can travel?” she interrupted, not wanting him to finish his thoughts.
“Two years.”
“And where would you go first?”
He thought for a moment. “Andalucía, Spain.”
“Okay, it’s a date.”
He grinned. “You shouldn’t give me hope like that.”
“I know, but making you smile is becoming regrettably important to me.”
“When you come back, let’s go to the theater. There’s a new show coming to the district.”
“I look forward to it,” she said, both annoyed and amazed by how much she meant it.
He was going to miss her when she was gone, Jason thought as he walked up his apartment stairs. Time with her was never enough. He sighed. Why did she have to travel now? Things were finally progressing between them. It was at times like these when he really hated being on parole, but it was better than being inside.
He turned the corner on the landing, then paused when he saw the tall lanky frame of a black man curled up on the stairwell. He nudged the man with his shoe. “Sleep off your hangover somewhere else, you’re blocking the way.”
The man stood up. “Jason, my man.”
Jason looked him up and down in disdain, then continued up the stairs. “I don’t know who you are.”
The man’s mouth dropped open. “What the f—? It’s me. Duane. We shared a cell together.”
“A cell? You think we’re related somehow?”
“What’s wrong with you, man? Come on, Jason, it’s me. You said I could look you up when I got out.”
He opened the door to his floor and walked towards his apartment. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but I hope you find him.”
The man’s face fell. “I can’t believe you’re gonna do a brotha like that.”
Jason stopped in front of his apartment, opened the door, then turned to the man. “And I never would.” He flashed a wide grin. “Come on.”
“Damn!” Duane said grabbing his shirt as if he’d been shot. “You had me good, bro. I thought you were totally shittin’ me.”
“Never,” Jason said, giving his old friend a hug. Duane
had been his cellmate and protector. He’d been inside for a drug charge and had shown Jason tips to surviving inside. They’d formed a bond that could never be broken.
Duane stepped back and stared at him. “Damn, you look good.” He looked around. “And this place.” He let loose a stream of expletives, then said, “It’s really yours?”
“Yep.”
“You keep some of the money you stole?”
“I didn’t steal anything.”
“Oh yeah, you’re innocent. That’s right.”
Jason knew Duane didn’t believe him, but he didn’t care. He’d met so many liars and those claiming their innocence, he could understand his attitude.
Duane lifted up a couch cushion. “Damn, look at that.”
Jason came around and stared. “What?”
“No cockroaches. Man at my aunt’s house they’re setting up apartments.” He put the cushion back. “Got anything to eat?”
“Yes, as long as you have some news.”
“Not much yet. Still looking for work. I’ll be honest with you, man. I didn’t want to see you at first. I’ve got so much going wrong already.”
Jason sat in front of him, concerned. “What do you mean?”
“No real place, no job, and I’ve got child support payments and debt so high I feel like I’m already drowning before I’ve even begun. You know what it’s like paying for a kid I hardly get to see? I’ve been tempted to start my own little enterprise again.”
“That’s what got you locked up in the first place.”
“How’s a man supposed to make a living on minimum wage? He’s not. I had to do something. I can try to go straight, but it would take me forever to get out from under this mess.”
“I may be able to help you. As long as you’re willing to work.”
“I always am.”
“Legally.”
A wide smile spread on Duane’s face. “As long as the pay’s right, I’m your man.”
38
“Someone’s looking into the Jason Redmon issue.”