"Sir… you can come now." The nurse returned minutes later.
Trent got up to follow her.
Through the clear glass outside of the Unit, Trent could see his son in the incubator. He was sucking his thumb again.
"Do they usually start sucking their thumbs this early?" He asked Nurse Rodgers who was standing next to him.
"Actually, some babies start sucking their thumbs from inside the womb," she replied.
"Really?"
"Yes indeed. Have you and your wife chosen a name for him as yet?" Rodgers asked.
"His name's Foster. We decided to name him after my grandfather."
"Foster Matheson?" She asked.
Trent nodded.
"Was your grandfather the owner of First Provincial downtown?"
"Yes, ma'am. He was."
"Oh my… I had no idea that you were his grandson. He was such a nice man — helped my father out of some pretty tight spots when no one else would. It's such a pleasure to meet you today."
"Likewise." Trent smiled.
"Now that we're talking about this, I do see the resemblance," she added. "You definitely got your good looks from him; he was a very handsome man."
"Thanks." Trent blushed a little.
"Well, I'll leave you to it. The doctor will be out shortly to speak with you."
"Oh?" Trent wasn't sure he liked the sound of that.
"No worries… just procedure," Rodgers indicated, sensing the apprehension in his voice.
* * *
"Have a great day!" Solange smiled at the elderly couple who had just gotten up from the table.
"You too, dear," the woman, bent over slightly, replied as she walked off hand in hand with her husband who appeared to be a little less feeble than she was.
"Working double shift again today?" Sonia asked after clearing a table nearby.
Fung's was not so busy that time of morning. A crowd had been there earlier and another was expected around lunch-time. Sam Fung could be seen in the kitchen checking on progress as usual.
"I need the money, Sonia." Solange placed the dishes onto the tray and began wiping down the table. "The apartment I have now isn’t exactly cheap, you know, and it's not like Mister Fung pays a lot of money here."
"Good for you that Chrissy just up and quit like that. Sam letting you work her shift was a nice gesture on his part," Sonia said.
"It's only until he finds someone else," Solange indicated.
Sonia had a cunning look on her face. "You and I both know that he could get that spot filled in an instant. I think he's prolonging until you say you've had enough. What gets me though is I can see these shifts are already taking a toll on you, girl. It's been two full weeks! You wouldn't have to be here slaving like this if you'd stop being mule-headed and go claim what's rightfully yours!"
"Not that subject again. I really don't want to hear it," Solange picked up the tray.
"Well, you need to! Who in their right mind would struggle like hell to earn a living when a truck load of money, you might as well say, is up for grabs? You need to work up the guts to speak with your brother, Liza. He's out there on easy street while you're here working your butt off for measly change!"
"Please… please, just stop," Solange shook her head tiredly. "Just give it a rest once and for all, Sonia. I told you whenever the time comes, I'll deal with it."
"Okay, but just know that I'm only looking out for you," Sonia said. "Most people would've already run towards what you're running away from without giving it a second thought."
"I know," Solange replied before they both walked off in different directions.
Sam Fung approached Solange after she entered the kitchen. She had just put the tray down. "Are you all right?" He asked.
"Yes, sir." She mustered up enough energy to sound convincing.
"Had enough of this double-shift yet?"
"No, sir. I'm doing fine. Thank you," Solange answered.
"Okay. Just let me know then."
"Yes, sir. I will." She hurried back out front to tend to customers coming in.
3
Despair
Azure wall-paper with little brown teddy-bears spotting it covered the walls of the nursery. The carpet was a matching blue and fairly fluffy. Little Foster was asleep in the large, maple crib - a white umbrella with attached animal ornaments hung a few inches above it.
"I still don't think we should've put this carpet down," Trent whispered near the doorway, holding Tina at the waist.
"The carpet is fine, honey. I understand your concern about allergies and all, but once the rug is kept clean, it won't be a problem," Tina remarked.
"I need to hire a full-time house-keeper now that the baby is here. She can also help out with the baby when you need a break."
Tina looked up at him— his eyes were enough to hypnotize her with burning lust every time she gazed into them. "The once per week cleaning service you have is quite enough and I'll manage just fine with the baby when you're at work," she said. "I wanna do everything I can for our son; that's why I'm not going back to work anytime soon. Sorry for the late notice, boss."
Trent smiled.
"He's so peaceful," she said, massaging Trent's hands that were now locked around her tiny waist.
"Uh huh. Don't you think it's time we started making plans for the wedding?" He was nibbling her ear.
"I was thinking about that — now that he's here. Let's go out front where we can talk," Tina replied, leading the way into the living room.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" She sat down next to him.
Trent was shocked by the question. "What do you mean? If I wasn’t sure that I wanted to spend the rest of my natural life with you, Tina, I never would've asked you to marry me in the first place. I already told you — you're the only woman I've ever truly loved."
She lowered her head. "It's not that I don't want us to get married. I guess I just can't understand why in the world you would even want me."
"How can you say that?" Trent gently raised her chin, her face now exuding a sadness he had seen before.
"I'm damaged goods, Trent. I know I shouldn't still be thinking this way, but I just can't forget the past. I can't forget what he did to me."
"Your father?"
"Yes." She nodded.
"Remember what I said to you before, honey? You are not defined by the things that happened to you. Your father was a creep. What he did has nothing to do with who you really are on the inside."
"I know." She shook her head. "I thought I was over it for the most part, but sometimes the negative thoughts drift back to the surface and when that happens, I don’t feel like I deserve anything good — especially your love."
Trent held her closely. "You are the most beautiful, wonderful, special, loving, gentle, kind, sweet…" Tina started to chuckle, "...human being I know. You deserve much more than I can ever give you, but I swear to you that I will give you my very best."
"I love you so much." She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"You know… maybe you should consider therapy to really get this thing behind you," Trent suggested.
"No. I don't need a shrink; I'm fine. Just knowing that I can talk to you about these things is good enough therapy for me," Tina returned.
"Are you sure? I may be a good listener, but a therapist can help you in a way that I probably can't. I just want you to be happy, Tina."
"I am happy, Trent. Now, that's enough of that talk," she insisted.
"So when are we gonna do this thing?"
Tina reached over to retrieve the small calendar from the side table. "Umm, let me see…" She sifted through the pages. "How about a December wedding?"
"December? Way up there?" Trent frowned.
"It's only five months away, honey."
"Our boy will be grown by then!"
"No, he won't!" Tina spanked his arm. "That will give us enough time to arrange something really nice."
"How many people are we
inviting? Sounds like you're thinking about the whole town," Trent commented.
"You know, before I had the baby I wanted something grand and extravagant, but now I just kind of want something small — mainly family and friends," Tina said.
"It doesn't take almost half a year to plan something small, honey. Can't we do it in like two weeks or something?"
"Two weeks?!"
"Sure. Why not?" Trent was deathly serious.
Tina stared at him. Those eyes again… no wonder she had fallen head over heels in love with the guy. "I don't understand why you're in such a rush. Our baby is here, we're all together, we're in love…"
Trent took her hand. "That's exactly it, honey. With everything you said, we're just missing one thing…"
"And what's that?" Tina asked.
"Our public declaration of commitment to each other. It's not about a piece of paper, Tina. It's about me openly committing to the woman I plan to spend the rest of my life with — however long that's going to be. I've waited a long time to meet the perfect woman for me and I don't want to waste another moment if I don't have to."
Smiling, Tina looked down at the calendar again, slowly flipping the pages, then her finger slid across to a date. "Okay, how about the fifteenth of September? That's a Saturday. I'm thinking a morning wedding - maybe eight o'clock?"
Trent smacked her on the lips. "Perfect! In two months, you'll be Mrs. Tina Matheson… my wife."
"My friend Taylor, of course, will be my maid-of-honor and Amy, Dianne and June will be the bridesmaids," Tina added.
Trent loved the excitement in her eyes.
"Who will you get to be your best man?" She asked. "I know if Peter was here…"
Trent lowered his head for a moment. "Yeah."
Tina could see that the pain was still fresh. It had only been several months since Peter's lifeless body was discovered on the beach.
"Have you heard anything recently about the murder investigation?" She asked.
"Peter's or the others?" The subject had clearly dampened Trent's mood.
"Peter's."
He shook his head. "No. Since the interrogation, I haven't heard a thing."
"I wonder who would want to murder all those people. And what's so strange is that every single one of them worked for our company," Tina noted. "I feel like they were targeted."
"Most of the staff is still afraid because they don't know if that's the end of the killings and if not, who will be next. Remember… ten people resigned since Peter's death and you know what it was like scrambling to fill those positions so we wouldn't fall behind with all the deadlines."
"I know," Tina affirmed. "Needless to say, I was shaking in my boots too. Thankfully, since Peter's death, there's been nothing and I hope and pray it stays that way."
At that moment, Trent wished that he could unburden himself and tell Tina exactly what had happened to Peter and all the others. Yet, he knew that revealing the identity of the killer would be a futile undertaking: No one in his right mind would believe his assertion, particularly when there was no human being he could point them to.
* * *
Alone at a table in the back corner of the restaurant, Solange sifted through the envelopes she had just retrieved from her purse. "Still nothing," she muttered. "Nothing but utility bills." Victor had not written for months and he had not responded to the last two letters she had sent him. Solange was beginning to worry that something might have happened, but calling his residence was out of the question — it was just too risky. They had never communicated in that manner since she had left France more than a year earlier.
"Everything all right, Liza?" Dolly asked while passing.
"Yes. I'm fine," Solange replied, shoving the mail into her purse again.
She looked around the restaurant. Tables were beginning to fill as usual for that time of day. She glanced at her watch: Five minutes left on her break. She picked up her purse, took it back behind Sam's office door and returned out front to resume her duties.
"You're doing it again. Aren't you?" Sam said as he headed to his office.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean, sir," Solange replied.
"Cutting your break short! You never take your full break — you always cut yourself short. Think I didn't notice, eh?" Sam jovially pointed to his chest. "I notice everything around here."
"I'm sure you do, Mister Fung." Solange smiled and went on her way.
"I think Sam has a thing for you," Sonia whispered after scribbling an order.
"Oh, stop talking foolishness!" Solange whispered back. "He treats me no differently than he does anyone else."
"Boloney! You couldn't even say that with a straight face."
"Well, I did!" Solange exclaimed before walking off. The only thing on her mind right then was Victor's deafening silence. She knew that someway, somehow, she had to get in touch with him.
Later that night….
The key inside the lock was a bit stiff coming out, but after the usual tugging and twisting, it finally freed itself. Solange entered the apartment, slid the band off her pony-tail and shook her long, black hair loose. Kicking off her shoes, she threw the ring of keys onto the center table. She had slept on the bus that night almost the whole way and couldn't wait to arrive home.
Exhausted, she walked into the bedroom and flopped onto the bed. Lying on her back and looking around at the room with its peach walls, she reflected on how far she had come. Having fled France after Ferdinand and then Greg — whom she was certain was a real psychopath — she had finally attained a sense of stability again and what a relief it was! Now…Victor. He was the only family she had left and her only connection to the part of the world she would likely never see again — the place she had once called home.
Shifting to the left, she looked at the phone nearby, then glanced at her wrist-watch. It was 10:20pm. The frightening reality was that she was entertaining a thought she knew was clearly forbidden, but she just had to know how he was doing. With all the risks considered, she cared too much about Victor to simply ignore his silence.
She sat up and placed the phone on the bed in front of her. She must have stared at it for a good ten minutes before actually mustering up the courage to pick up the handset. At that point, she found solace in the fact that she would soon be hearing his sweet, gentle voice for the first time in such a long time. Placing the receiver to her ear, she slowly dialed the number.
"Hello…" a female answered seconds later.
Solange instantly assumed that Victor had finally gotten himself a lady friend.
She cleared her throat. "Hi, um… is Victor there?"
"Victor?" The woman authoritatively pronounced the 'tor' as 'tore'.
From the sound of her voice, Solange gathered that she was elderly. "Yes. I'd like to speak with him please."
"Who is this?"
Solange suddenly got an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, simultaneously thinking that her best move right then and there would be to hang up. "I'm a friend of his — just checking in to see how he's doing," she finally responded.
"Were you a good friend of his, Miss?" The lady asked.
"Yes. Why do you ask?" Solange was even more convinced now that she should disconnect the call, yet for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to do so.
"Because I'm his first cousin and in my humble opinion, a good friend of my cousin, Victor, would have known that he passed away in March of this year. You're four months late, dear. What type of friend were you? What is your name?"
Solange abruptly ended the call. She covered her face with both hands and burst into tears. "Oh, no! Not Victor!" She cried. "Not him!" She could see his face — the wrinkles that revealed a very hard life, yet a softness that branded him the epitome of kindness, gentleness, and selflessness. She knew he had taken her secret with him to the grave. Now she was all alone in the world.
Solange held her stomach as she wept. Inside her heart, the pain was almost as unbearable as i
t was when she had lost her own parents.
After what felt like hours of sobbing, she eventually lay back in bed and wetted her pillow with a seemingly never-ending ocean of tears.
4
The Invaders
Trent rested the silver, oval tray on the bed, then looked at Tina who was busy nursing the baby. He reached over and kissed her on the forehead, and did the same to his son.
"Enjoy your breakfast, my love," he said.
"Thanks, honey. I'll be done soon," Tina replied.
"I'll just fold these clothes over here in the basket."
"Aw… you're so sweet. I could've taken care of them after breakfast, you know."
"That's okay. I washed them, now it's time for me to fold them."
Tina smiled; he had warmed her heart.
"If I could've breast-fed in order to help you out sometimes, I would," Trent added.
"Trent! How gross! I know you wanna be helpful, but the thought of that is a bit over the top."
Trent chuckled as he folded the laundry.
After burping the baby, Tina positioned a small blanket in the center of the king-sized bed. "Well, that's it for now, you beautiful, spoogy-woo." She kissed the infant softly before resting it onto its tummy. "Time for Mommy to have her breakfast now."
The child was lying quietly on the blanket, slowly drifting off to sleep.
Tina reached forward for the tray and placed it over on the night-stand. "The coffee smells delightful!"
"It does?" Trent glanced back.
Tina slipped out of bed and approached him from behind. "Yes… and so do you." She wrapped her arms around his waist.
Immortals- The Complete Real Illusions Series Page 20
