by Nella Tyler
He gently removed the bandages applied at the hospital and peeled back the dressings to see the stitches still in place. He knew that the infection and the size of the gallstones had prevented them from using a scope to remove them, so she would have a healthy scar across her abdomen for some time to come. He pursed his lips.
“Not too bad, if I say so myself. ‘Course it’ll be awhile before you wear a bikini again, but I think you can make do,” he observed, applying fresh bandages from a plastic tub filled with supplies that was sent home from the hospital with her. He tucked the blankets back over her and checked her vitals.
“You’re doing fine. Now, I’m going downstairs to let you get some rest. That’s your job from now on, understand?”
Gilda nodded, but said nothing as she watched him rise from the chair and leave the bedroom. Her head swiveled so she could look out the full-length windows opposite the door. The trees were blossomed and it was a beautiful day, but it may as well have been an ice storm, as cold as her heart felt.
Cole watched Dr. Keeler descend the staircase, his bag in hand. “Cole, let’s go in here and talk a bit, shall we?” he urged. Cole nodded and followed him into the living room.
“Well, from what I can see, she’s healing up well. They did a good job there at that little hospital — of course, there are lots of rich folks out here who need doctoring. They’re not going to settle for anything but the best.
“Now the part that’s going to be slower healing is her heart. She’s got a big one and right now it’s broken into little pieces. That’s natural, of course. Some of that is hormones resetting themselves, but the rest is something I need to talk to you about.”
Cole nodded, anxious to learn what the doctor had to say.
“Now, I might be sticking my nose in where it isn’t welcome, but I’ve known Gilda for a while, and I know a good bit about her past. How much has she shared with you?”
Cole swallowed hard. “I know she was married before to an asshole and they had the one son, Carson. I know the asshole, Scott, slept with her mother and with her best girlfriend, Mary. They were in cahoots, especially after she married me. I’m thinking they were looking for money.”
“Makes sense,” Dr. Keeler nodded and said. “How much did she tell you about Scott?”
“We didn’t go into a lot of detail; I didn’t want her to hurt. Why? Is there something there I need to know about?”
“Well…not sure how to tell you this and maybe it’s not my place to tell you. But Carson wasn’t the only time Gilda got pregnant, Cole. There was a baby after him.
“I don’t know all the details, but I did get her medical records when she came to work for me. Seems that she was only three months along when some sort of blunt-force trauma caused a spontaneous abortion. My guess is it was Scott, beating her. I don’t know that for sure, but when I asked her about it, she walked around the subject without answering.
“That’s not unusual for women in that situation. They are subjected to what we like to call ‘abused wife syndrome.’ You’ve probably heard about it. The woman becomes convinced she can’t survive without the man, no matter what the hell he does to her — especially if there’s another child in the house.
“He tells her he’ll see to it that she’s committed for lying and that he’ll swear she’s making it all up. That way, she’s afraid she’ll lose the child if she tries to divorce him. Nasty business,” he shook his head. “Nasty business.”
“So, Dr. Keeler, am I understanding that you’re suggesting that her frame of mind might have something to do with what sounds like previous abuse from the asshole that caused her to lose a pregnancy?”
“Yep.”
“How do I deal with that?”
“You don’t. She does. She has to get some counseling, Cole. I believe the sooner, the better, too.
“She’s in a fragile state right now, particularly due to the cholecystectomy. Her hormones are adjusting, her body is trying to heal from major surgery, she’s in a new environment, and nothing is familiar or routine to her yet, and there are more people in the house than she’s used to.
“Not to mention recovering from the kidnapping of Carson; she’s probably letting all this run together in her mind. She’s liable to be terrified that Scott can get at her or to the boy.
“No telling what she’s thinking, but my advice is that the sooner she gets someone to talk to, the better.”
Cole turned and faced the window, the muscle jerking in his jaw. He felt a cold rage threatening to overcome his ability to contain his emotions.
If he were in combat, Scott would be dead by friendly fire; that much was certain. As it was, he was going to put out a handsome reward for his, and Mary’s, capture. He would put an end to this nightmare for Gilda, and Carson, if it was the last thing he did.
“You have someone to recommend, Dr. Keeler? Someone who can come here to the house to see her?”
“Well, maybe, but maybe not. I’ll make a call and get back to you. If not, I’ll get a recommendation for someone who is close by. There ought to be a few in a place like this,” he commented dryly.
Cole got the distinct idea that Dr. Keeler was not entirely impressed with wealth. He had to agree with the old guy — there was so much more to life than money.
Chapter 37
Dr. Karen Dillon sat on the same side chair that Dr. Keeler had pulled to Gilda’s bedside. Her iPad was across her lap, and she was making notes.
Gilda lay quietly, wanting her normal life back. Her heart ached, and she felt an unusual fear deep in her gut. She couldn’t sleep, even after Dr. Keeler had removed the staples and the bandages were lightened. Cole held her hand at night or simply put his hand on her arm, letting her know he was there for her, but not moving excessively to cause her discomfort.
Now there was a new doctor here: a psychologist. Dr. Keeler had told her that he thought it might help her to talk about things, and while she protested, Cole insisted it wouldn’t hurt. He had called a female doctor intentionally, as Gilda had no female friends, with the exception of kindly Mrs. Crutcher, who was in position to help her. Mary had been her best friend and now Mary was part of the problem.
“Tell me about your first marriage, Gilda. What sort of man was Scott?” she asked.
What sort of man was he? Gilda’s first reaction was to defend him, the way she’d done for so long. Everyone in town had known he was bad news, but when Gilda had joined forces with him, he’d became her responsibility to defend.
“He wasn’t a very good man,” she began and the familiar sense of cold dread in her stomach started.
“Was he abusive?” Karen asked in a matter-of-fact voice.
“I think you already know the answer to that or you wouldn’t be here. Of course, he was abusive! He kidnapped my son and slept with my mother and my best friend. When I got ‘out of line,’ as he called it, he beat me and held a loaded gun to my head. How many types of abuse do you want to talk about?” Gilda blurted this tirade in an angry burst — but the doctor remained dispassionate. Gilda hated her for that. How could anyone not be affected by suffering?
“Did he abuse your son?”
“No. Carson was only one when we left.”
“Had he abused others? Old girlfriends? Sisters?”
“Why don’t you ask them? Why are you here, anyway? Cole! Dr. Keeler!” Gilda called out at the top of her weakened voice. She heard footfalls, and Herbert tapped and came in.
“Ma’am? May I be of service?”
“Get my husband or my doctor, please.” It was not a request, but an order. Herbert nodded and disappeared.
Cole and Dr. Keeler both came in moments later. “What’s wrong?” Cole asked her, alarmed that she’d interrupt her session to summon him.
“I don’t want to talk to any more psychologists. No therapists. No one. Dr. Keeler is here, and that’s all I need for now. Most of all, Cole, I need you,” she began to cry.
The tears grew heavier and so
on, she was sobbing in deep, gasping breaths. Cole climbed onto the bed from his side and moved to put his arm around her, laying her head on his chest. He motioned to the others to leave, and Dr. Keeler ushered a very indignant Dr. Dillon out of the room.
“Hush, now, sweetheart. You have to get hold of yourself. They’re only trying to help, you know. No one wants to hurt you or make things worse.”
“Cole, I just want normal…just a normal, average life with no one kidnapping my child, no betrayals, and no demands on me for a while.
“I’m so sorry I lost the baby, Cole. I’m so sorry I didn’t get to a doctor as soon as I started feeling bad. This could have maybe all been averted,” she sobbed.
His hand shot out and he held her chin, turning her to face him. “Now, I want you to listen to me.”
She continued to shake with sobs.
“Gilda! Listen!” he barked. She froze at the tone of his voice. She’d never heard him use that tone or pitch before.
“Now,” he began, reaching behind himself to snag tissues and wipe her face. “First of all, this is me beside you: your husband, Cole. Nobody else. I love you and I’m not leaving you, nor is anyone going to get to you or to Carson. I’m going to protect you; do you understand? Do you?” he repeated, and Gilda nodded.
“Dr. Keeler and I had a talk right after you came home from the hospital. I know, Gilda. I know about the other baby,” he told her as gently as he could.
Her eyes shot up to his face, but she saw no blame or condemnation in them. “How does he know?” she asked.
“It was in your medical records, but that’s not important. What is important is that you get better. The only way that’s going to happen is if you deal with the past and put it behind yourself. That is why Dr. Dillon was called in. She’s here to help you talk through it, to remove the demons, so to speak.”
“Didn’t like her.”
“Why not?”
“She’s a bitch.”
Cole had to stifle a smile, tucking her head beneath his chin. “And, why is she a bitch?”
Gilda squirmed in the covers and she let her head fall against Cole’s chest. “She’s asking questions like a medical form. She has no emotion; she’s not even good at asking her damned questions.”
“Then she’s the wrong person for you. We’ll bring in someone else. No problem. I want you to be completely comfortable.”
“Why do I have to talk to anyone?”
“You’re so sad, honey. Even little Carson is worried about you.”
“Cole, I’ve lost a baby…our baby…and if I’d gone to a doctor earlier, it could have been prevented.”
“Gilda, look at me. You are not responsible for the baby. I’ve talked to the doctors. They tell me that due to the size of the gallstones, there was no way they could have avoided going in. By the time you began feeling the discomfort, it was already too late to prevent it.
“It was just a tragedy based on timing — there was no negligence on your part, and I’m not going to allow you to take the blame for it. Do you understand me? None of it was your fault.”
Cole was trying to moderate his voice to be convincing, and yet not so loud or forceful to upset Gilda. She was breaking his heart. She hadn’t done anything to bring all that onto herself and yet she was suffering the most. It simply wasn’t fair to her, and he intended to spend the rest of his life trying to make up for the cruelty of others.
Cole looked down to see her reaction and saw that she had fallen asleep in his arms. He smiled, recognizing that her crying jag was done and she had evidently relaxed enough from her inner guilt to let herself sleep. He hoped he’d had something to do with her releasing the guilt.
Chapter 38
Everyone watched as slowly, Gilda began to regain herself, smiling a bit more, inviting Carson to sit on the bed and watch television with her, and coming downstairs for meals. Her surgery was healing well, and she could dress normally and move about with only an occasional twinge as the muscles that had been severed in surgery began to knit.
She napped frequently and Cole took advantage of these breaks, lying down with her. Although she was still too tender for what he’d like to do to her, he contented himself with opening her blouse and gently sucking on her breasts, petting her nipples — in general being loving and yet a little romantic; that made them both feel good.
“I’m sorry all this has sort of ruined our private time,” she apologized one afternoon.
“Are you kidding? Sweetheart, just being next to you is a thousand times preferred to being without you. We’ve got all the time in the world. I just want you to feel better so you can have the normal life you miss.”
“I love you, Cole.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, wrapping his arm around her and running his fingertips down her breasts and onto her pussy, which was bare since she’d just showered and had laid down naked between the sheets.
“Ahhh…” she moaned as her legs parted of their own volition. Cole smiled and slid toward the foot of the bed, positioning himself between her legs.
With gentle fingers, he separated her labia lips and began to suck her tender skin. Gilda’s eyes rolled backward as the remembered feelings began to once again flood her. “Ohhhh, Cole, honey, I’d forgotten how good you can make me feel,” she sighed.
“I’d forgotten how good you taste, sweetheart,” he whispered, feeding off her.
The tender flesh had been long ignored. She felt her orgasm coming quickly and called his name softly.
He knew she couldn’t bear his weight, especially while she was still healing, so he reached for her hand and put it on himself. They turned toward one another, kissed and while staring into one another’s eyes, stroking the other one until they crested and released.
Cole sighed as Gilda smiled and then closed her eyes to sleep. He’d forgotten how much he loved being with her. She was his entire life, and their recent scare had underscored that.
Cole napped briefly beside her, but his mind was working, and before long, he got up and went downstairs into his mahogany-paneled office. He flung himself into the tufted-leather chair and tapped a number on his phone.
“Stephens here. What’s the update?” he asked, his voice authoritative and in charge. “That is not acceptable.” More discussion and excuses from the other end. “You’ve got forty-eight hours to find this asshole, or I will find someone who can,” he barked and disconnected.
Cole sat there, the tension in his posture revealing the turmoil inside. He finally slammed his fist on the desk and picked the phone up again. “Cole Stephens here,” he said tersely. “You still available? Good. Packet coming your way — usual method. Get it done. Now.” He disconnected again and looked at the ceiling.
As much as he hadn’t wanted to ever make that call, he had just let loose the kraken.
* * *
With Gilda improving daily, Cole concerned himself with the business of organizing his father’s holdings. The estate had an entire wing dedicated to business: offices for himself and a small staff, a conference room, a small viewing auditorium, and a few guest rooms for those who would be staying overnight.
He called in the managers of all his concerns and one by one, received an update on each company’s status. He had decided to hire a professional CEO to consolidate most of the holdings, sell off those he didn’t want, and streamline the diverse holdings into a trackable entity that kept the income stream for all those employees involved, but left Cole free to live a life laced with Gilda, Carson, and hopefully, more children.
After some inquiries, he interviewed a sleek, professionally-attired ex-financier named Gregory Clintock. He came highly recommended, and Cole knew before the end of their first interview that he’d found the right man.
Clintock made no secret of the fact that he hoped to increase his personal fortune with Cole’s help and may even be interested in purchasing some of the smaller, outlying companies he was cutting loose. Thus, Clintock would work in
tandem, seeing to Cole’s interests, as well as his own.
Cole liked this idea; it kept things honest and transparent. There was no doubt Clintock knew what he was doing, but even so, Cole would never let go of the reins entirely.
Clintock sat in the tapestry-upholstered chair opposite Cole’s desk. His legs were long and well-clad in an expensive suit, one knee artfully laid over the other leg in a cunningly anticipated posture that indicated indifference and yet authority at the same time.
Cole didn’t trust him, and that’s exactly why he hired him. Clintock thought exactly the way George had and for that reason, he was the perfect choice to consolidate.
“Your objective?” Clintock asked succinctly.
“Anything that’s on American soil should be consolidated and expanded. Dump anything offshore. You can buy it, as long as the price is reasonable, but take it. I don’t want it any longer.”
“You do understand, don’t you, that doing that will be putting all your eggs in one basket?”
“I do. It won’t be the first time I’ve fought for my country, and it won’t be the last.”
“There are going to be some unhappy people, not to mention a free-for-all to scoop up your father’s work.”
“I realize that. They’re welcome to it. I want out. Is there a way I need to state that more clearly?”
Clintock looked doubtful. “You’ve made yourself clear; just seems a shame.”
“Is there anything else?”
Clintock’s posture shifted, and he stood and held out his hand. “No, sir. I think you’ve made things perfectly clear. I’ll keep you updated and make this a priority.”
“One other thing, Clintock,” Cole said as the man was almost out the door. He stopped, without looking around. “I want it kept quiet. Private meetings, quiet exchanges, hand to hand. I want no impact to reflect back on my American concerns.”
“Yes, sir, not a problem,” Clintock said over his shoulder and left.
Cole contemplated Clintock’s attitude and decided he had joined hands with the devil, but then the devil’s role model had assembled everything to begin with. It was time to tear the walls down.