by Zoey Derrick
And now that I’ve seen parts of our future, I know that it is not just for her sake that I fight for her. It is for me, too. I can’t imagine my life without her. She is as essential to me as air.
Is it possible that she is seeing some of the same things that I’m seeing? Is that why she’s changed toward me?
While I know this battle is far from over, Elton made that very clear earlier tonight, I now know a glimpse of what the future holds for me, for us. Is that future set? Or is it up to me to protect her so that we get to that future?
Forty-Three
I can feel Vivienne moving in my arms, and my eyes open lazily to see morning light streaming in through the window.
“I’m sorry, I just have to go to the bathroom.”
“It’s okay. Do you need some help?”
“No, I think I’m okay.”
“Okay.”
She gets her legs over the side of the cot, stands up and starts for the bathroom, IV pole in tow. I’ll be dammed – someone changed the bag. She’s gonna be pissed. But I also notice – and it didn’t register last night – that she is without the oxygen. I just shake my head. When she climbed out of her bed and into mine, she removed it.
No sooner does the bathroom door close than the door to the hospital room opens and Amanda comes in.
“She went to the bathroom.”
“Ahh. How’s she doing?” she asks.
“Don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to ask. We just woke up,” I tell her, and she smiles.
I can hear the toilet flush in the bathroom and then the water starts running. A few moments later, the door opens. I haven’t moved from where I was in the cot, and she smiles slightly when she sees me. I jerk my head in Amanda’s direction.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her.
“Good. Tired, but good.”
“That’s good. Are you ready for some tests?” Amanda asks her.
“Um, no.” She scrunches up her face. “Can we finally ditch the IV though?”
Amanda laughs, “Yeah. You fell asleep so she just changed out the fluids.”
“I noticed. Can we please take it out?”
“Yes. Climb back up in the bed.” Amanda says, and I head toward the bathroom.
“Don’t go far, please?” I hear Vivienne ask.
“Nope, not a chance, just going to the bathroom.”
She nods, but I see sadness on her face. I smile at her reassuringly.
I begin to wonder whether she feels the need to be near me because she feels safe with me. I take great comfort in this thought.
When I come out, Vivienne is IV-free and Amanda’s pulling up Vivienne’s shirt. I stop dead in my tracks and start to turn around.
“It’s okay,” Vivienne says. “She’s just checking on the baby.”
I smile and ask, “Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Can you wait a little until the tests are done?” Amanda asks.
“If I have to,” Vivienne says sulkily.
My smile widens. “I’ll call Red and have him bring up some food.”
Amanda has finished revealing Vivienne’s stomach. The little mound stands out even further than it did a couple of weeks ago. The sight is actually really sweet. Amanda puts a microphone-shaped thing on the bump, and almost instantly there is a rapid whooshing sound. The image of Baby Callahan’s heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor the last time we were here comes to mind.
Vivienne’s face lights up at the sound. She smiles and looks right at me, then smiles a little more brightly at my returning smile.
I don’t know why I feel such a connection to her baby, but I do. I have this strange sense of hope that this is only the beginning of what’s to come with us.
The whooshing sound stops as Amanda removes the microphone from her tummy.
“Sounds great, and I got one hundred and forty-nine beats a minute.” She puts the equipment away and turns back to Vivienne. “Are you ready to go for a ride?”
“Can I walk?”
“No, you can either ride in a wheelchair or we can push the bed.”
“Wheelchair then,” she huffs.
“So feisty,” I say, and she scowls at me. I stick my tongue out at her and she bursts out laughing. “That’s my girl.”
When Amanda comes back with a wheelchair, Vivienne slides down from the bed and sits down in it.
“Are you coming?” she asks me.
I look to Amanda, who shrugs. “That’s up to you,” she says.
“If you want me to, I’ll come,” I say, looking at Vivienne.
“Yes, please.”
“Alright.” I slip into my sneakers and fall in behind Amanda. “Can I push her?”
“Sure,” she says and steps aside for me to take the handles on the back. “Follow me.”
Forty-Four
We return to the room about two hours later to find that Red’s already been here. He’s left sandwich fixings – more of a lunch-type food than breakfast, but that’s good because it’s nearly noon anyway.
Vivienne’s ultrasound went well, and Dr. Alston seemed pleased with what she saw.
Once Vivienne and I are alone, I put together a sandwich for her and she digs in. Probably not the best food on a weak stomach, but she dives in with gusto and I’m not going to stop her.
After a few bites she asks me a question I never thought she’d ask. “Why is helping and feeding me so important to you?”
I wonder if this is something that she and Dr. Alston talked about last time. I take a sip of water and swallow the bite of sandwich I’d just taken.
“My dad was not my father,” I begin.
She looks at me, puzzled.
“My dad, Shannon, met my mother when she was about six months pregnant with me. When he met her, she was nothing but skin and bones, living on the streets of Dublin. Her own father had kicked her out of his house when she told him she was pregnant, so she did what she needed to in order to survive.
“When she met my dad, he fought to take care of her. And of me.” Wow, this sounds very familiar. I’d never thought about it like this. “He wasn’t a wealthy man - he worked seventy or eighty hours a week to bring home squat for money and food - but he endured and managed to save enough money to bring my mom and me to the States. That’s when things finally started to look up for our family. There were times when we all still went hungry, but the Irish community in Boston I grew up in was very supportive, and we managed to turn things around.
“My dad taught me that persistence, perseverance and determination drive any man to do the things they’re good at. Mom taught me never to give up and to always help those that have less than you.”
I look carefully at her. “Because of that and my mom’s history, I’m a strong supporter of the shelters in Minneapolis and a big contributor to Hope House, which is a home for women, and specifically for pregnant women and their families.
“While I didn’t know you were pregnant when I met you, I did see a young woman who needed a good meal and a new lease on life, which is why I left you that tip and refused to take it back from you.”
I reach into my back pocket and pull out the now extremely wrinkled piece of paper wrapped around the cash still inside. “I’ve never opened this, and I never will. I brought it with me Friday with every intention of making sure you got it back. Now that you know the why, maybe you will accept it?”
My heart breaks to see the shiny wet spots on her cheeks. “Oh, Vivienne, don’t cry. Please.”
“I feel so stupid. I feel like...I feel like if I’d accepted your help when you offered it, not kicked you out of my hospital room...or if I hadn’t even shown up at your office that day-”
She sniffs and I reach for a Kleenex. “I feel like had all that not happened, I wouldn’t be here. After I kicked you out, Dr. Alston said that you really were just trying to help me. That it was a no-strings-attached kind of help and that I might be overreacting to your generosity.” She wipes her n
ose and the tears from her face with the tissue I hand her.
“But at the time, I was so determined to prove to myself - and only myself - that I could do all this on my own. I realized very quickly that you both were right, but I didn’t know how to swallow my pride and call you.”
I’m not entirely sure what to say to her speech. I’m completely blown away. “I understand what it means to swallow your pride. It’s not easy, and I understand why you couldn’t. I’d planned to be here on Friday for your appointment, hoping that I could convince you that all I was really trying to do was help.”
“I understand that now,” she says. “But you also need to understand where I’m coming from, too. I’ve spent so much of my life without a parental figure, struggling to survive everyday...but somehow someone was always there to pick up the pieces. It was never my mom, it was the little old neighbor lady. Or Riley.” I watch as her face distorts on his name.
I cock my head at her and she takes a deep breath, as if having decided something. “After my mom had her stroke, I was homeless, with nowhere to go except school and a little cubby inside my old apartment until I met him and he basically took me in.” She shudders. “I grew up in a house full of drugs, alcohol and abuse. It turned out Riley was no different, though instead of doing drugs, he dealt them. And that is something that I will have to deal with the rest of my life.”
“What if I told you that I would never let that happen to you again?”
“Mikah.” The sound of my name on her lips sends flutters through my body. “You can’t take care of me forever. I’m not your burden to bear.”
“You’re not a burden, and please do not ever let me hear you speak of yourself like that again. I give my help freely, Vivienne, and without strings. You and I both know that you can never go back to that apartment. So where are you going to go?”
Forty-Five
She doesn’t answer, and I know she is contemplating her options and how few they are. But I need her to answer me. Finally she says, “I can go back to the shelter until I can right myself again. I’ve done it before, Mikah, I’ll do it again.”
My heart breaks. “No, you won’t. I will not let you struggle to make ends meet. I won’t let you roam around the streets of Minneapolis, and I will not let you be alone. Viv, please. Understand that I cannot walk away from you. I care to much about you.”
She is crying again, but she doesn’t argue with me.
“Look, Viv, I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but I ask that you consider something for me.”
She nods slightly through the tears.
“I have a condo by the river. In my building I own three units - mine, Red’s, and one that was meant for Celeste, my housekeeper. Celeste refuses to live in the unit. I want you to take it.”
“Mikah, I can’t...”
“Please, just hear me out?” I ask, and she nods. “Alston said yesterday that you won’t be able to return to work for a couple of weeks. How are you going to make ends meet if you aren’t working?”
“So this would only be for a couple of weeks?” she asks.
“If you wish, but let me finish. The apartment is yours, to do as you wish, decorate how you like. My crew is at your disposal. When the time comes and you can return to work, I want you to come work for me.”
“Doing what, Mikah, I have no skills. That diner was the first job I’ve ever held longer than a couple of weeks.”
I’m taken aback by her rebuttal - not because she is arguing, but because she is devaluing her abilities.
“I have an entry-level administrative assistant position for you. It will pretty much be answering phones, taking messages, making copies, things like that. It’s easy, relatively stress-free work, and more importantly, it comes with a salary you can live off of. You won’t have to be on your feet, and it would even offer medical benefits so that you can pay your own way for the things you need if that is what’s important to you.”
“What about the apartment? There is no way that I can afford it, even with a salary.”
“We can work out a lease. You can pay me rent every month, if that’s what you need to do to feel comfortable.”
Her brows pull together. “How long do I have to think about this?”
“Until you’re discharged, but know this: I will not allow you back into that apartment, period. And I will not allow you on the streets or anyplace where Riley can track you down. So until he’s caught and this matter is resolved, I need you to come and stay where I can be close to you, keep an eye on you.”
She doesn’t answer me but nods, acknowledging that she’s heard me. I didn’t expect an answer from her, at least not right away, and I don’t get one.
Forty-Six
The room has been completely silent for a while, and the loud click of the door makes us both jump. Looking toward the door, we see Dr. Alston coming into the room.
“Am I interrupting?” she asks both of us.
“No,” we say in unison, and Vivienne smiles, giving me hope that she’s not upset with me.
Dr. Alston laughs. “Well, okay then. Vivienne, I have some good news.”
“Yay! Do I get to get out of here?”
“I’ll get to that. First of all, your shoulder and wrist look great. I will let you take off the sling, but I’d like you to wear the brace for at least another couple of days. You can take it off to shower, but put it back on when you’re done. Okay?”
“Okay, is that all?”
“Eager, aren’t we?” Dr. Alston smiles at Vivienne. “Your lung is still healing. While the outside is nearly completely healed, which is nothing like anything I’ve ever seen before, it’s still a bit inflamed. But it’s nothing that will keep you here in the hospital.”
“What about the baby?” I ask, and Vivienne looks to me for reassurance.
I move closer to her, hoping to provide a little more comfort, and she surprises me by putting her hand on my back. I feel a rush of pleasure through my body that has to do with something more than the fact that she is touching me, and I realize that she is tracing her fingers absently along my right wing. When her fingers cross over to normal skin, the difference in the sensation is marked.
“The baby is doing fine. You’re measuring a little bigger than fourteen weeks, but clearly that’s due to the fact that you’ve been eating more food.” She looks pointedly at the remains of Vivienne’s sandwich on the tray. “What with the unnatural rate at which you’re healing, I’m not going to be concerned right now about weight.
“Also...I didn’t ask you during the ultrasound because I didn’t want to get you worked up, but I was able to determine Baby Callahan’s sex, and I’ve taken the liberty of putting the proof in here.” She pulls out an envelope from her pocket. “I’ve never been wrong,” she says a little smugly, “but it’s not guaranteed. And I’d rather you look when you’re ready to find out. If you choose not to look, well, it will be a surprise when you have the baby.”
“Okay,” Vivienne says, taking the envelope. “I’ll let you know next time whether I’ve decided to look. Now can I leave?”
Dr. Alston rolls her eyes. “So impatient.” Then she asks, “Where are you going to go?”
My ears perk up and my heart sinks, dreading the answer.
“I can’t discharge you unless I know you’re going somewhere safe,” Dr. Alston continues. “Hospital policy. Do you have something set up?”
She nods.
I grow hopeful that she will take me up on my offer.
“Mikah has offered me a place to stay for a while, until I can get back to work and on my feet. I’m going to go home with him.”
YES! I shout inside my head, and at the same time Vivienne gently pats my back, right between my shoulders. I have the sudden thought that Vivienne has been in my dreams with me.
“I think that is a great idea. I’ve scheduled an appointment for you for two weeks from tomorrow at ten. And no working at least until then, okay?”
> “Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay, here are your discharge papers.” She hands Vivienne a stack of papers. “You cannot walk out of this hospital – it is a liability – but someone will come with a wheelchair to get you in a little bit. That’ll give you a chance to get packed up, and then that’s it, you’re free to go.”
“Thank you, Dr. Alston. For everything.”
“You’re welcome, Vivienne. It’s what I’m here for. I rather look forward to seeing you under happier circumstances. I will be in touch in a couple of days to see how you’re doing. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, but feel free to call me if you need anything before then.”
As soon as the door closes behind Dr. Alston I turn to Vivienne. “Thank you. For not putting up a fight about my request.”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, ‘cause you gave me so many options. But in the end, you’re right, I really have no place else to go, and I’d much rather be closer to you.”
I lean over and kiss her forehead. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“For what?”
“Giving me hope.”
CHAPTER THREE
Give Me Desire
Prologue
“Do not toy with me.” His anger radiates off him in waves and the temperature in the room rises.
“It is done, Master. I’ve completed the task you’ve assigned me.” He does not look upon the other man’s face as he speaks. He’s kneeling some distance away, causing him to shout to be heard.
“Get up!” The evil voice fills the room, stunning everything inside.
The young man stands but does not raise his head.
The scene changes, and instead of a small, dark room, they are in a cavernous one, with strange pockets of steam rising through cracks in the rock floor. Somewhere nearby echoes of the hollow screams of tortured souls can be heard.
“Your job was simple, you were to kill her. Here you stand, not only her blood but the blood of at least two others on you. And yet I do not believe you have completed your task, minion. Why is this?”
