Sarah leaned in close inspecting my face. From anyone else, I would have backed away from the invasion of personal space, but I wanted to help. She said, “Dad has a favorite fish restaurant there. We go to the mall to shop for clothes sometimes.”
I bolted for the stairs and waved for Sarah to join me. She hesitated outside the guest bathroom. I waved my hand. “Come on inside. If Mom has questions, she can talk to me.”
“She’s downstairs, but I think she’s working on her pots. She doesn’t hear anything while she’s doing that. I’m serious. I broke a pitcher once in the kitchen, and she didn’t notice. She’ll call us when it’s time for supper.”
Sarah was a sweetheart, and helping explain the basics of my male makeup routine was the relaxing late afternoon and early evening activity I needed after such an eventful day. “Some of the things boys and girls do are the same.”
I took Sarah through the process of washing our faces and applying moisturizer. I let her use my exfoliant scrub and a small dollop of my moisturizing cream.
“Do you do this all the time? I think Dad only shaves and brushes his teeth. He uses a comb for his hair, and that’s all of the time he spends in the bathroom.”
“No moisturizing?” I was horrified.
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
I sighed heavily and reached into my Dopp kit, pulling out an extra tube of moisturizer. “Here, give this to Dad, and tell him it’s my gift. He’ll see a world of difference if he uses it every day, and Mom will thank me, too.”
Sarah giggled. “He’ll think it’s funny.” She looked up at me and watched me work the creme deep into my smooth skin. “But I’ll do it.”
We talked about primers, foundation, and concealer. I put all of the elements on like I was getting ready to face a brand new day. For a moment, I considered filming the lesson for my video blog, but I decided not to push images of Sarah out to my crowd of fans.
She asked great questions and told me about makeup lessons from her mom, Naomi. “Do you wear lipstick?”
I smiled and pursed my naturally full lips. “What do you think?”
“Maybe a little bit.”
“Sometimes I add a little color. I did that this morning, but it was almost impossible to see unless somebody was close up to my face. I don’t do this just for fun. It’s all about looking your best.”
Sarah leaned in close to me and peered at the reflection of both of us in the mirror. “I think you’re handsome, Timothy. I wish you could stay here for at least a week. Then you could meet my girlfriends. We could have a party, and you could show us all how to do this.”
I didn’t mean to sound like I was advertising, but I thought my work could help out. “They can all look at my blog online, and they can follow me on social media if they use it. I don’t do anything that’s only for adults, so you can let your parents know it’s safe.”
My eyes opened wide when I heard a shout, “Oh, my God!” from downstairs. It was Naomi.
Without hesitation, Sarah barreled down the stairs to find out what was happening. I tucked all of my supplies back into my Dopp kit and followed a few seconds behind.
In the living room, we found Naomi sitting on the sofa in the living room staring at the TV with her hand over her mouth.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“It’s a news report. They interrupted my show. Someone bombed the clinic today.”
Reflexively, I reached up and brushed my hair back. “The clinic? Someone bombed a medical clinic? How awful.”
“No, it was OBU. The pictures are horrible, and they say there are injuries. This doesn’t happen here. People protest, but they don’t throw bombs.”
Sarah quietly joined her mom on the couch and snuggled into her arms. I saw fear on both of their faces, and a chill enveloped my body, too.
I asked, “Do they have any more details?”
“Come sit on the couch with us. I don’t know when they’ll go back to the regular program. It’s all the news reporters scurrying around trying to find out what’s going on.”
The images were horrific. The lobby of the clinic was a pile of shattered glass, tangled metal, and broken furniture. A crowd of emergency vehicles, first responders, and curious onlookers filled the coverage. The caption, “Bombing in Harbor” rolled across the bottom of the screen.
Naomi asked, “Isn’t that where you went today? I can’t believe it. I know some of the people that work there.”
“I was there a couple of hours ago. Everything was fine. The staff was so friendly.” I blinked my eyes in shock at what I saw on the TV.
A reporter did his best to look professional and calm. He was only partially successful. He tugged at his tie to straighten it on camera, and I saw the fear in his eyes. A smear of blush on his upper cheekbone was visible in the harsh light used for the TV cameras. When he spoke, I found it difficult to fully comprehend the meaning of his words.
“A crude bomb exploded late this afternoon ripping apart the front half of the OBU Artificial Insemination Clinic in Harbor, Maine. The facility was in the process of closing at the end of the day. We don’t have details on the source of the bomb or the explosive material. An unknown number of staff members were injured including the president and CEO.” After a brief pause, he added, “Our best thoughts and prayers go out to everyone impacted by the blast.”
My mind reeled. President and CEO—what happens to the clinic, and my baby, if… I didn’t want to think about the implications. Somehow, if I didn’t, I thought maybe it wouldn’t all be true. I didn’t know how the news could get worse, but a few seconds later it did.
An anchorperson from the station’s newsroom in Portland broke in. “Keller, if I understand correctly, you don’t have any details on what the injuries might be, but one of those harmed is Inteus Erickson?”
I whispered, “No!” and both Sarah and Naomi turned to look at me.
My head started to swim, and the shock nearly overwhelmed me. I’d never dug into the details of OBU’s management enough to find out that Inteus was the CEO. I recognized the name Erickson from eighth grade, too. It was my Inteus. Rhonda’s reluctance to match us suddenly made more sense. She would want someone more prominent for his match than Timothy, the video blogger.
Any concerns about the validity of our matchup quickly left my mind. I was worried about the new life that would grow inside me. OBU personnel followed the proper procedures, and Inteus was now the father of my child. And a terrorist injured him with a bomb. I rose from the couch and shouted, “Fuck, no!”
I heard the unsettled nerves in Naomi’s voice. “Timothy, what’s wrong? I know this is awful, but there’s something more. Do you know someone well who works there?”
Turning around, I stared back at the expressions of fear combined with concern. While opening and closing my hands and finally squeezing my fists tight, I said, “I know Inteus. I’m worried. That’s all.”
Naomi’s tense gaze melted into one of warmth and consideration. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Should you call? Come here, and I’ll give you a hug.”
I couldn’t call. I didn’t have that kind of personal information. It was apparent that the clinic couldn’t answer their phones. I stepped up close to Naomi, and she stood to wrap me in her arms. She smelled like clay, but her hug was soft and warm.
“I…I think I need to sit down.”
Sarah scooted closer to her mom, and I sat at the opposite end of the couch. “Of course,” said Naomi. “Would you like some tea?”
“Um, yes. I guess so. Yes.” I closed my eyes and tried to think about what to do. I wanted to know about Inteus’s injuries. Surely, he wasn’t dead, or they would have mentioned that on TV. I knew that it might be hours before they had any details on the severity of the injuries.
While Naomi headed for the kitchen to make tea, Sarah moved toward me. Her eyes were wide open, and she was frightened. I didn’t know how I might have reacted as a child if I saw the aftermath of a bomb ex
plosion in my hometown on TV. I grew up in a village in the Adirondacks not much larger than Harbor.
“I’m scared, Timothy.”
I opened my arms wide and wrapped Sarah up tight while Naomi returned with a steaming mug. She said, “I decided to make an herbal tea. I don’t think we need any caffeine to make our nerves more edgy.”
I tried to share a weak smile. “Thank you. This will be helpful.” After my first sip, I asked, “Do you know where they would take victims of this attack?”
Naomi scratched her head. “We have a small clinic here in Harbor, but if it’s anything serious, they’ll take them to Portland. It’s about a thirty- or forty-minute drive. I’ve heard that they’ve airlifted traffic injuries from the highway to Portland by helicopter.”
I shuddered. I didn’t want to think about Inteus or any of the staff members at OBU suffering injuries severe enough to require helicopter transport. “I think I should contact the hospital to see if I can find out anything about Inteus. I’m worried.”
“There’s more than one hospital they might choose. I’ll find the numbers for all of them. You can call if you want to, but you might have better luck if you go down there tonight. I think people will drown the hospital in calls if multiple people are injured.”
“That’s a good point. I’ll need directions, too.”
“I had an aunt who shattered a leg in a twenty-car pileup on the highway. We couldn’t reach people who knew anything on the phone, but they showed us right to her room when we got to the hospital in person.”
I wondered if I was making a rash decision. No relationship with Inteus existed that I could prove on paper. I decided that it would be best to tell hospital personnel that I was a close friend. Perhaps when I arrived, I’d find clinic staff who recognized me. Maybe Rhonda would be there or Mary from the front desk.
Naomi asked, “Will you come back tonight? I hope so, and we can extend your stay if necessary. Our next reservation is a week away.”
“Oh, thank you so much.” I turned toward Sarah, and she still had a hint of the fear in her eyes. I offered a hand and said, “Why don’t you come upstairs with me? I’ll show you how to look great when you only have five minutes to spruce up before you head out the door.”
Sarah turned toward Naomi with questions in her eyes. Her mom said, “Go, and Timothy, that’s sweet of you.”
I took Sarah’s hand, and we climbed up the stairs wedged together side-by-side. We were both giggling by the time we reached the top step.
As I fiddled with my hair in the mirror, Sarah spoke in a soft voice. “I’m really scared. What if this happened at my school?”
I immediately put the brush down and wrapped my arm around Sarah. “It’s not your school, and let’s go back downstairs. Tell your mom what you just told me, and I’m sure she’ll have some things to say.”
6
Inteus
I heard voices before I could open my eyes. They sounded like they were coming from far down a corridor, and I couldn’t understand the words at first. Then I heard a gravelly, masculine voice calling my name. “Inteus! Can you hear us?”
After a superhuman struggle to pull my eyelids open, I stared into the face of a strange man. He looked down into my face with kindly eyes. Wrinkles in the corners told his age. He wore a white coat with a stethoscope slung around his neck. I was hurt or sick or both.
With my eyes open, the words were clear when he said, “You’re in the hospital. You’re safe now, and we’ll take good care of you. Do you understand?”
Nodding, I wondered if I’d been hit in the head. The doctor talked to me like he was concerned I’d suffered a brain injury. I turned my head to one side and then the other. With another labored effort, I whispered the word, “Sick?”
The doctor shook his head. “I’m Dr. Bailey, and you’re not sick. You were in an accident. Do you remember anything about the explosion?”
I tried to inhale deeply, and my chest felt sore. I felt the impulse to cough but stopped it. I didn’t want the wracking pain that might accompany a cough. Trying to search my memory was like looking through a closet in disarray. Everything was tossed this way and that. Then a memory of shouting, “Duck!” flashed through my mind.
My eyes opened wide, and I knew something horrible happened at the clinic. I opened my eyes wide and started to sit up despite the sharp pain caused by the sudden movement. Dr. Bailey reached for my shoulders and gently pushed me back down. “No, it’s okay. Everybody is under quality care. This is good news for you, too. We were starting to get nervous about when you would wake up.”
I turned my head to the side again and saw a familiar face. It was Mary. She smiled at me and placed a soft hand on my chest. “Inteus, dear, it’s so good to see you. Please try to relax. You need your rest.”
I watched the doctor nod to Mary and leave the side of my bed. My voice was hoarse, and my throat felt as dry as the Mojave Desert when I asked, “Mary, the staff?”
She reached for my hand and held it gently. She was careful to avoid an intravenous tube with its needle sunk into the back of my hand. With the fingers of her other hand, she began to stroke my wrist. “No one’s seriously injured, thank God. I think three different people other than you suffered broken bones, but that’s the worst.”
While she spoke, I ran my free hand under the sheet and found both legs. One was wrapped tight in something heavy. I looked into Mary’s sympathetic eyes. “Who?”
“You’ll need to talk to the police about that. Everyone’s pretty sure it was one of the protesters, but we don’t know which one. They’re investigating. I’m confident they’ll get to the bottom of it. Now, please rest. You can close your eyes and go back to sleep.”
Even shaking my head was slightly painful. It was like I’d hiked more than thirty miles in one day and woke up after having slept on the hard ground. Exhaustion and pain collaborated to try and force me back to sleep.
I blinked my eyes and forced them to stay open. “Mary, I’m so sorry. I never meant for this. Please tell them all. It hurts.” I coughed. “It hurts so much to know I…” I closed my eyes for a moment.
“Inteus, sweetheart, it’s not your fault. Please don’t feel like that.”
“I’ll close OBU and go…back to Japan.”
Mary rubbed my wrist again. “That’s the fear and the pain talking. OBU’s a phenomenal thing for so many. We need your leadership to bring it back. We can’t let those awful people win.”
“But someone might…killed.”
I whipped my head suddenly to the side and groaned when I heard a loud voice just outside the door of my room. Despite the ache from such a sharp movement, I couldn’t stop a smile from filling my face.
“How’s our lead man? A hand grenade planted under his belly wouldn’t keep this man down!”
It was Blaze, my live-in personal chef. I lived alone in a twelve-room mid-century modern home perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean about ten miles south of Harbor. Blaze was the only other person living in the massive structure with me. When I met him, he was a recently retired professional wrestler who felt lost trying to figure out the next step in his life. He had a dream of going to culinary school, and I hired him and funded his education.
“Blaze…thank you.”
He hugged Mary with burly arms and lifted her slightly off the ground. She giggled. “It’s been months, Blaze. I think Inteus needs to bring you back to OBU for another staff luncheon. I still dream about that shrimp and grits dish and the chocolate dessert.”
I whispered, “No more OBU.”
“What?” asked Blaze as he turned his attention to me. “Do I hear the bold man giving up?”
“I told him that he couldn’t. Can you talk any sense into him?”
I forced myself to speak again. “Back to Japan. You come, too, Blaze.”
Blaze shook his head as I looked up into the friendly face framed by a black, bushy beard and wiry hair. “I can’t speak Japanese. I’m s
taying right here in Harbor, and so are you. Those were thugs that threw that bomb, and you’re going to build the clinic back better and brighter than before. I won’t go with you overseas unless it’s for a vacation.”
I didn’t want to close the clinic. It was the dream project of my life to open it, and, until the explosion, it was a phenomenal success. Unfortunately, the idea of reopening meant putting my staff in harm’s way again. I knew the protesters weren’t likely to stop at tossing one destructive bomb and go away, particularly if the police didn’t catch the specific perpetrator. My teachers in Japan instructed me on the importance of avoiding violence in all forms. Reopening the clinic would mean inviting more attacks. I couldn’t think about doing that.
Blaze shared the reason why I was in the hospital. He was matter-of-fact about it. “They told me you broke that right leg. I’ve been there and done that more than once. When they ship you home, I’ll get you set up on the fast road to recovery.”
“Fast? Days?”
With a shake of the head, Blaze added, “Man, you took a hard hit on that leg. This is weeks, maybe even a few months. You’ll start each day with OJ, bananas, and a tall glass of milk for building those bones back again.”
I was far too exhausted to argue. Instead, I gently pulled the sheet back from over my body to look down at my leg. It was covered in a thick, bulky brace and bandages. I thought about asking what more Blaze and Mary knew from the doctor when I heard additional familiar voices. Daniel and Rhonda stepped up to the foot of my bed. His right arm was in a cast, but she looked unscathed.
Daniel rocked back and forth from one leg to the other. “You’re a hero!”
My forehead furrowed in confusion. “Hero?” The only thing I could take credit for was getting everyone into a life-threatening mess.
“You told everyone to duck, and the firefighters said that might have saved lives. Unfortunately, you and I were closer to the explosion than the rest.” Daniel held his arm up and sighed.
His Big Secret: An MM Contemporary Mpreg Romance Page 4
