“Let’s go to the car. We can call your sister on speaker phone.”
“That’s fine.”
Brianna and Dr. Baxter walked back to the car. Dr. Baxter turned on the bluetooth and dialed Michelle’s number from his phone. She answered after three rings.
“Hello?”
“Yes, hi, Michelle, this is . . . your mother’s friend.”
“How did you get my number?”
Dr. Baxter shot a quick glance at Brianna, who remained mute. “That’s a long story, but your mom is in trouble. I think it’s really bad.”
“That is too bad for her, I guess.”
“I won’t pretend to understand what is going on between you and your mom, but there are lots of police here, and she isn’t. Do you have any idea where she might go?”
“To hell, would be my guess.”
“Michelle, you don’t mean that,” Brianna interjected.
“Wait a minute. Brianna? What the fuck? I don’t have shit to say to you! I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but leave me out of it.”
“Michelle, wait. Your mother . . . she might be in very serious trouble here.”
“She is a big girl. I am sure she can handle it. Now, I don’t know how you two know each other, and I don’t care. Lose my number.”
“Michelle, wait—”
Click. Michelle disconnected the line.
Dr. Baxter took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks in an exaggerated fashion. “So, Brianna, still don’t want to talk about it?”
Brianna reclined the seat back. “Is this the therapist or the dad?”
“Both.”
“I slept with Armand.”
“With who?”
“Her fiancé.”
“You did what? Brianna!”
“I know. I feel terrible about it, but she won’t speak to me. I’m just trying to move forward.”
“You are going to have to face this at some point. Maybe not right now, because I want my grandchild to be well, but eventually.” Dr. Baxter cranked the car, pulling out of the driveway.
“I know. I will, hopefully.” Brianna was not avoiding her sister, but she knew she was not in the right mental state to deal with the berating that would come with a confrontation. Part of her was glad that Michelle chose to ignore her; it allowed her to ignore the situation, too. She definitely wanted to make amends, though, and start this new phase of her life on solid ground. She needed at least one part of her family to begin with the truth.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Clearly, your mother is not with Michelle. She is not with you. I only know of one other place to look.”
“Where is that?”
“Her parents’ house.”
Brianna got queasy, but she shook it off. She would be lying if she said she was not apprehensive about meeting her grandparents, but at least her father would be with her. She would not be going into this alone.
She looked at Peter. “So, are you going to make me ask?”
“Ask what?”
“I know you know what’s going on. We cannot have secrets. My life was destroyed by them, and you and I cannot have them between us. So, you need to tell me whatever you know.”
The worry lines in Peter’s face increased with her demand. Sharing this information was clearly something he was not comfortable with doing, but Brianna did not care. The hardest lesson she took from her life exploding was the fact that loose ends covered with lies end up being the thread that destroys the fabric. She did not want that anymore. No more lies. No more secrets.
Peter still had yet to utter a word.
“Dad?”
Peter sighed. “Listen, Brianna, I don’t want any secrets between us, either, but this really isn’t my business to tell.”
“She’s my mother.”
“I am aware of that. Trust me.”
“Well, then, tell me.”
“Fine, but I need to warn you that it’s not good. Try and keep an open mind about it.”
“It can’t be worse than her selling me to some no-name stranger in a hospital,” Brianna remarked. Peter countered with a look that suggested it might. “It’s worse than that?”
“Well . . . maybe. If it’s what I think it is.”
Brianna got comfortable in her seat and prepared to hear the worst.
Chapter 52
Grayson shook his head at Michelle. She raised an eyebrow, trying to understand why he had given her such a disapproving glance. “What? What is it?”
“Why did you do that? Your mother could really be in trouble.”
“I don’t care, Grayson. She has squirmed her way out of any type of reckoning for her sins for too long. Maybe it’s just time for her to pay up.” Michelle paced back and forth beside the island in the kitchen. “What am I supposed to do, anyway? It’s the police!”
“You could have at least talked to your sister or this Dr. Baxter guy.”
“But I don’t want to talk to them. If they are so worried about her, let them figure it out.”
“You are worried about her, too. Look at you. The floor has grooves in it from you walking.”
Michelle stopped pacing and sat down on a stool. “I am tired of them. That is a lot of drama, and I don’t need it. If you could have heard the way she spoke to me this evening.” Michelle shook her head in disbelief. “It was like she was someone else.”
“But you said she was drunk. Drunk people—”
“Speak no lies.”
“No, I was going to say that they do and say things that they don’t mean.”
“She meant it.”
“You don’t know that, Michelle. You’re hurt, and you’re being unreasonable.”
“Grayson . . .”
“Seriously, I get it, but this . . . is not the way to handle things. You cannot keep running.”
“I’m not trying to run.”
“Sure you are. You have been running since the night I climbed into your car outside of Doug’s Gym. Maybe even before then. That is just when you ran into me.”
“I am not running.”
“Michelle, keep it one hunnid. Have you talked to her, straight up? You told me you suspected something was going on between Bri—”
Michelle cut her eyes at him, forcing him to pause.
“Between Brianna and your ex. Did you ever say anything to her about it?”
Michelle did not bother answering. Grayson knew what she would say. She had told him as much previously.
“Rather than confronting the issue head on, you went on some goose chase to find your grandparents?”
“That was not a goose chase.”
“It was busy work, Michelle. Come on.” Grayson hit the countertop with his hand, emphasizing his point. “Finding them wouldn’t have resolved anything. It literally would not have helped any of your relationships at all.”
“I thought it was worth a shot.”
“No, you didn’t. You knew then, just like you know now, that the only way to mend things is by talking to your mother, or your sister, or both. Direct and deliberate conversation. But instead, you ran down a rabbit hole, trying to disappear.”
“I did not run! I have never run from anything in my life. Ever.”
“Really? You ran from your father. Your mother. You stayed with Armand even though he had been lying to you for two years. Why? He was an escape from the lie you grew up living.”
Michelle shook her head, contesting his observation.
Grayson did not relent, intent on being the mirror she needed to look into to see the part she played in the whole production. “He allowed you to run from the lies your mother told. Hell, you even tried to run from us. Until life out there . . . sent you running back.”
“I am not running.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To get some love. That is why I came here. You’re right. My life is crap, and it’s chock full of crappy people—people that I call family—and I . . . I just
cannot . . . I don’t have anything to give them. I am running on empty. So, I came back because I didn’t want to end up stuck in the middle of nowhere. I’d rather just be here.”
“Come here.” Grayson pulled Michelle up from her stool and wrapped her up in his arms. “Nothing changed since you left this morning. I got a lot of love for you right here.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“I know you’re concerned about my social activity, but stop.”
“I left here with the best intentions, but the world is sooooo cold out there.”
“Cute, but I’m serious, Michelle.”
Michelle locked eyes with him, trapped by the intensity she saw in them.
“I can be a part of the movement for social justice and be here for you.”
She closed her eyes to enjoy his embrace and let his words work their voodoo. “My happy place was destroyed hours after I left you. I should not have gone.”
“Don’t try and butter me up, being all soft and whatnot.”
Michelle snuggled closer to him, burying her face in the nape of his neck. “I don’t want to think about any of them.”
Michelle forced her family out of her mind, delving into the moment, losing herself in Grayson. Giving into her desire for him felt a lot better than the hurt she couldn’t escape without him. She planted a light a trail of kisses with each breath she took.
“Michelle, don’t get nothing started, now.”
“But what if I want to?”
Grayson lovingly pulled her shoulders back, creating a little space between them. He peered intently into her eyes. “I know this sucks, but you are not alone. I know you don’t really want this right now.”
“Yes, I do,” Michelle purred.
“No, you don’t. You left here because this is not good for us. I didn’t want you to leave, but you were right about that. We need to move slowly.”
Michelle felt herself tearing up. She dropped her head to the ground, too ashamed to look at him. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
Cupping her face with his hands, Grayson gently lifted her face until he had control of her eyes. That was what it felt like for her: like he had more control over her body than she did. “Aye, and if you needed me to pull a Martin Payne and drive all night from Detroit to Chicago to find it, I would.”
Michelle chortled lightly.
“But you don’t need that. The things that you have been through over the last few months would have been more than enough to break the best of ’em, but you are still here.”
Michelle was not feeling like much of a fighter. She was tired of fighting, tired of being strong. She was exhausted with it all. “I am too tired. Too hurt. Too . . . everything.”
“I know. I see you and what you need, Michelle. I will meet that need, but you cannot stop being who you are. If you stop, it doesn’t matter what I give you. It won’t ever be enough.”
“Where have you been all my life?”
“Rescuing puppies, waiting on you.”
Michelle took a deep breath and relaxed in his arms, freeing herself to be comforted by his touch. This, whatever was brewing between them, felt too fast for her, but she discarded the idea. She needed what he was giving her, and there was no crime in that.
Grayson’s next suggestion was a long shot, but he put it out there for posterity. “I think you need to call your sister and talk to her.”
Michelle’s muscles locked for a moment.
“I felt that. Don’t do that. Not right now, but you need to write that on your agenda.”
“I will, Grayson. I need time. She is already fragile and . . . she doesn’t need me to unload on her. I am angry with her, but she hasn’t been fully functional in a while. I didn’t know how to help her. She was going to counseling; she had Armand, my mother. I was alone, and I thought I could manage.”
“None of us go very far trying to do it alone, myself included. I didn’t know I needed you until you told me you were leaving. I started missing you. Common was sad, too.”
Michelle smiled. “Thank you. Your words have healing power.”
“Nah, I stole that from Iyanla,” Grayson joked.
Michelle stood up, shrugged her shoulders, trying to rid herself of her uncertainty regarding her decision. “So, what would Iyanla advise me to do now?”
“Hey, my screen has only stopped on OWN while the remote was under your control.”
Michelle rolled her eyes. Arghh! “I guess we are going to join the circus of clowns gathering at my mother’s.”
“Proud of you.”
“Let’s just go before I change my mind.”
Chapter 53
“So, what are you saying? It was regular toxin?” Frank, the doctor, and Detective Baptiste sat in Frank’s office, discussing the results from the tests administered to Lisa.
“I am not sure what you mean by regular toxin, but I am saying that it is likely that there was no toxin injected at all.” Dr. Ojirika paused, allowing his words to resonate before continuing. “I know that you were convinced that someone poisoned your wife, but the tests I ran don’t support that.”
“Well, what happened? Something happened. She’s dying in there.”
“Upon my initial examination, I suspected that she had some type of bacterial infection, but I could not be certain where. Given her injury, it only made sense to start with her lungs. Indeed, my assumption was correct. She has a bacterial infection in her lungs.”
“So, the difficulty breathing, the fever . . . lack of appetite. All that is from a lung infection?”
“Not exactly. The bacterial infection rooted in her lungs is the seed. From that seed, your wife is in the early stages of septicemia. I did not say anything the other day because I thought it more prudent to wait for confirmation. You seemed anxious enough, and I didn’t want to make matters worse.”
Frank was bewildered. He exchanged glances with Detective Baptiste, who seemed to have a similar thought.
“And this isn’t anything someone could have given her?”
“It is possible that someone injected her with a bacteria, but it is more likely that it was something that developed as a result of her wound not being properly cared for.”
“Septicemia?” Frank still did not know what to make of this news. “What does this mean for my wife? Is her condition reversible? Is this fatal?”
Dr. Ojirika shifted in his seat. “Fortunately, we caught it fairly early, and so I believe that with the treatment, she will be fine.”
“That’s great news! What is the treatment, and how soon can we get started?”
“My new intern is administering it to her right now as we speak.”
Frank’s heart dropped as he sprang to his feet. “What new intern? I have to personally clear anyone that sees her.”
“He started working for me a couple of days ago. He has been vetted through the proper channels, and I assure you he is qualified for the position!” Dr. Ojirika yelled as Frank practically clobbered him, leaping over the desk to get out the door.
Frank bolted down the long hall and around the corner to his bedroom with Detective Baptiste a few steps behind him. “Move! Move!” Frank hollered to the guards he expected to find guarding his bedroom door. Not only were the guards missing, but as he turned the handle, he found the door locked from the inside. “Who locked this door?”
Together, Frank and Baptiste begin banging the door with their shoulders, forcing it open.
“Lisa!”
Lisa was unresponsive. The new intern stood over Lisa, pillow in hand. Frank had interrupted him again, but Frank was not letting him get away this time. Every muscle in his body twitched in anticipation. He stared at the intern with death in his eyes.
“Get away from my wife.” Frank stepped farther into the room. To either side of him stood Detective Baptiste and Simmy, who had caught wind of the commotion. The three of them cautiously closed in on the would-be killer. Frank moved to rush the guy, but a strong
arm across his midsection stopped him, forcing him to suppress his instinct to manhandle the youngin’ in order to bear witness to Detective Baptiste’s craftsmanship.
Baptiste gingerly stepped toward the intern, speaking to him with the authority of a father and the empathy of a young mother. Frank stood, mildly impressed with his ability to verbally disarm him. It was just like any movie Frank had seen.
“You can’t leave, ya know? Just lay down, put your hands behind ya back. No one has to get hurt.” Detective Baptiste lifted his arms in front of him. “Go on, now. Lie down. Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”
“Listen to him. I cannot let you hurt her. I won’t.”
The three amigos made it within five feet of the intern, and he pulled out a knife, held it over Lisa’s chest, halting their progress.
“I don’t want any trouble. I just . . . he made me do it. I didn’t want to . . . but he’ll kill her . . . if I don’t. I don’t have a choice!” the intern sputtered with tears pouring from his eyes. He stepped away from Lisa a bit, pacing from the bed to the nightstand, indiscriminately swinging the knife as he spoke.
“Who is makin’ ya do this? Who sent ya here?”
Frank kept his eyes on the intern but signaled to Simmy, who stood off to his left, to move toward Lisa. Without a second thought, Simmy dropped to the floor. Frank’s legs nearly gave out, but by the grace of God, he managed to stay upright. Moving in complete silence, Simmy shimmied, out of sight, to the far side of the king-size bed.
Frank thought his eyes would pop out of his head as he watched in horror, praying Simmy’s antics didn’t attract any unwanted attention. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or strangle him. Fortunately, the intern was too distracted to notice the activity. Baptiste had him under his spell.
Simmy would not be able to move Lisa very far with the IV chaining her to the bed, but Frank hoped that he could at least position himself to protect her. To avoid staring at Simmy, Frank watched through what felt like a complicated series of stolen glances, but when he spotted Simmy worming his way across the thick comforter to Lisa’s side, he almost blew his top.
His heart pounded so loudly that it was all he could hear from the moment Simmy made his move. If the intern caught Simmy, neither of them would get to Lisa in time. He couldn’t get caught, and Frank wanted to chuck something at his head for not finding another way.
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