It's Only Make Believe

by Roseanne Dowell

  She wondered what they’d pick on her about this time. She certainly hoped it had nothing to do with Louise. Although they couldn’t know she was mixed up in that, since she hadn’t even had time to talk to Brad about it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Michele arrived at the club a few minutes late and greeted her mother and Myra with air kisses. Why they went through the ritual if they weren’t going to take the time to at least brush each other’s cheeks, was beyond her.

  Sitting down, she placed her napkin in her lap and the waiter arrived to take her drink order. “I think I’ll just have a glass of water with a lemon.”

  “Water?” Her mother’s look held a question that Michele ignored.

  Both women would like nothing better than to hear they were to be grandmothers. The idea almost made Michele snicker, how was she supposed to accomplish that with her husband gallivanting half way across the country?

  “How are things with you and Brad, dear?” Myra’s voice held the same inquiry as her mother’s question.

  “Fine, just fine.” Michele rearranged her silverware, avoiding the inquisitive eyes of both her mother and Myra. What did they want her to say? They both knew Brad was in California again, and she figured they knew with whom.

  Her mother sipped her martini and cleared her throat. “I hear you’ve been doing some redecorating. I’m sorry what we chose didn’t suit you.”

  Michele cringed. The disapproving tone and look always made her feel guilty. Her mother had a way of doing that ever since she was a child. She straightened, tired of feeling small in front of her. What was she afraid of? She was an adult, wasn’t she? She looked her mother square in the face. “No, it didn’t suit me. Besides, I am an interior designer and a darned good one. You could have at least consulted me.” She threw her napkin on the table and stood to leave. She didn’t need this interrogation. “Besides, it’s my home. I believe I’m entitled to change things when and how I please.” With that, she looked at both women and almost burst out laughing at the looks on their faces. “I’m sorry I have to leave.”

  “Oh do sit down and quit acting so foolish.” Her mother grabbed her arm. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You’ve become so rebellious. Can’t I even ask you a simple question?”

  The hurt look made Michele sit down and apologize.

  “Of course, it’s your home.” Her mother cut off the apology. “And certainly you can do what you please in it. I was only making conversation. My goodness, Michele, what is the matter with you? You’re so tense.”

  Tense, Michele almost laughed aloud. If she only knew. Of course Michele wasn’t about to share that with them. Somehow, she got through the hour and rose to leave. She leaned down to kiss her mother’s cheek.

  “Do bring Brad around soon, dear. We don’t get to spend nearly enough time with him.

  “Neither do I,” Michele mumbled under her breath, but Myra caught the words.

  “Well, personally I think it’s ridiculous the way he keeps running off to California when most of the problems could probably be solved over the phone.” Myra turned her cheek up for a kiss.

  Michele leaned in, blew the expected kiss in the air and hurried to her car. The words weren’t lost on her. Could Brad solve the problems over the phone? Were these trips necessary? She drove with restless abandon, her eyes blurred with tears. She looked up and found herself in front of her office, so engrossed in her thoughts she wondered how she got there.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Sarah looked up as she came into the office. “How was lunch? Never mind, your look says it all. Hey, what’s wrong?”

  Sarah came from around her desk just as Michele put her hand to her mouth. She waved Sarah out of the way and ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the sink before she vomited. She leaned against the sink, patting her face with cold water. Sarah knocked at the door.

  “Michele, are you okay?”

  Michele groaned and threw up some more. Finally, feeling relieved, she rinsed her mouth with mouthwash she kept in the cabinet. Grateful for the mint taste, she opened the door. Sarah’s look of concern made her smile. As irritating as Sarah was sometimes, she was a true friend.

  “I’m okay, must be something I ate. I think I’m going to take the afternoon off.” She picked up her purse and keys from the desk, where she’d dropped them.

  “Shell, are you sure you’re okay to drive home. Your face looks like you’ve seen a ghost, it’s so pale. Maybe you better sit down for a while, take some deep breaths.”

  Michele followed Sarah’s advice and took a seat in the chair across from Sarah’s desk. “I hope I’m not getting the flu. I don’t understand it. I felt fine until just now.” She rubbed her churning stomach afraid it was going to let loose again. She took a couple deep breaths, but that only worsened the condition, and she was soon off and running again. Fortunately, the wave of nausea passed without further eruption. Sarah gave her a glass of ginger ale and told her to sip it. Her stomach settled, and she decided to take advantage of the calm and go home.

  She walked into the house with an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. The smells of onions frying and olive oil turned her stomach and she ran to the bathroom. Anna met her on her way out.

  “Is Missy sick?”

  Michele looked at the worried cook’s face and shook her head afraid to open her mouth to answer.

  Anna felt Michele’s forehead and shook her head. “No fever.”

  “I think it’s something I ate. I’m going to lie down. Whatever you’re cooking is going to have...” Her stomach churned, a wave of nausea swept over her. She waved her hand and ran upstairs. The usually delicious aromas turned her stomach, and she wanted to get far away from them. She slipped off her shoes, pulled the covers off the bed, and climbed in clothes and all.

  The sun shining through the window woke her early the next morning. Michele looked at the clock, seven o’clock. Had she slept all afternoon and night? She turned over and stretched and a wave of nausea hit her. She groaned as she sat up, and raced to the bathroom. She came back in her room stripped her clothes off and got back into bed. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she closed her eyes and wished the feeling away. She must have caught the flu.

  The ringing phone woke her an hour later, but she was afraid to move, afraid the horrible feeling would come over her again. She laid still and when her stomach remained calm, she turned over cautiously, lest the movement cause the nauseated feeling. When it remained calm, she wondered if she should push it and decided to chance it. She sat up and put her legs over the side of the bed. Still okay. “Now what happens if I stand?” she said. She sat on the edge of the bed, debating if it was worth the risk. “Well you can’t lie here all day, you have a job.” She placed one foot on the floor and put a little weight on it, then the other. She stood and all seemed okay. She took her shower, dressed and went in search of coffee, hoping Anna was there and had started it.

  Anna glanced at her as she came in, poured a cup, and handed it to her. “Are you sure you not be wanting tea?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Michele sipped her coffee. “Famished, though, what’s good for breakfast?”

  “What Missy want, I fix.”

  Michele looked at her watch. “Maybe just toast and eggs, skip the bacon, I have an appointment at ten.”

  Anna fixed the eggs, while Michele read the paper. She glanced at her watch and wondered where Louise was this morning. Just as the thought entered her head, the door opened and Louise came in with Mikayla.

  “I’m sorry Miss, my sitter...”

  Michele got up, took the baby from Louise, and tickled her, loving the giggles. “It’s okay, Louise, I told you bring her whenever you want.” Michele had a feeling it was more that Louise was afraid to leave Mikayla after the letter she got from Patrick. Something had to be done about that situation.

  Anna brought her eggs to the table, and Michele handed the baby back. She ate with a relish, as if she had forgotten how g
ood food tasted. Of course, she had skipped dinner yesterday, having slept right through it. At least she felt human again today. She couldn’t imagine what she ate that caused such a reaction. All she had for lunch was a salad with Italian dressing, that shouldn’t have done it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Michele walked into the office in a better mood than she’d been in a long time, maybe because of the sunshine. Whatever it was, it sure beat the mood from yesterday. Of course the fact Brad should be home tonight helped considerably. Although she’d learned not to count on it, since he so often called at the last minute with a change in plans. She hoped he’d come home. There was so much to discuss besides Louise.

  Sarah came in just as she finished making the coffee. “You look much better this morning.”

  “I feel much better, I don’t know what came over me. It felt like someone knocked the wind out of my sails. I slept from the time I got home until eight this morning.” Michele went to her office and stopped in the doorway. “It must have been something I ate, but I can’t figure out what.”

  She picked up the Kirby file and the phone rang. The phone next to her desk buzzed indicating the call was for her. She picked it up. “Hello.”

  “Missy, I forgot...” Anna sounded out of breath.

  Michele leaned forward, alert, expecting something to be wrong at home. “Anna, what is it?”

  “I’m sorry, Missy, this morning the Mister call, when you were sleeping. He left message he will pick you up at twelve for lunch.”

  She blew out a breath. For a minute she thought Anna was going to tell her Brad was delayed again. “Okay, Anna, thanks for calling. We’ll see you at dinner.” Hanging up the phone, she stared out the window. Talk about luck. Brad was coming home and picking her up for lunch. Darn, she wished she would have known – she’d have worn something nicer than the blue denim jumper. A warm sensation raced through her- just the thought of Brad engulfed her body in heat. Finding it difficult to concentrate, she went out to Sarah’s office and sat down.

  Sarah looked up, and Michele saw the twinkle in her friend’s eyes. The little stinker had listened in. Michele grinned at her, in too good of a mood to get angry. “Okay, brat, when did you start listening in to my conversations?” She tried to make her voice sound angry and under other circumstances would have been. This was a serious matter and friends or not - inexcusable.

  Sarah’s face crumpled. The twinkle turned to hurt. “I did not listen into your conversation. I can’t believe you’d even think such a thing.” Sarah slammed her hand on the desk as her hurt turned to anger.

  Michele, stunned at the anger Sarah displayed, felt ashamed. “Then how did you know?”

  “Know what?” The angry tone persisted.

  “How did you know Brad is picking me up for lunch?”

  Sarah leaned back in her chair and looked surprised. “I didn’t know. What makes you think I knew?”

  Michele’s face burned as color crept up from her neck. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God, the twinkle in your eyes, I...”

  Sarah stared at her, waited for her to go on, and grinned. “Go ahead, finish, Miss Open Mouth- Insert Foot.”

  Michele stood and hugged her. “Sarah, I thought you looked at me that way because you knew.”

  Sarah laughed. “I’m not sure how I looked at you, but I hope I never do it again. I was a little concerned when Anna called, but I never suspected that was the reason.” She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I was afraid something bad happened at home. But when you looked so radiant I figured it was good news. So, Brad is picking you up for lunch. That sounds promising are you taking the afternoon off?”

  Remembering the last lunch she and Brad had together sent ripples of heat through her body. “I can’t I have to meet with Joe and Linda Kirby.”

  Anxious for the time to pass until lunchtime, Michele did little work. She and Sarah discussed the problem about Mark and Louise. Sarah definitely put too much stock in her, yet hadn’t she promised Louise to do something? Hopefully, Brad didn’t get angry with her involvement with other’s people’s problems, and the servants, to boot. She could almost hear her mother now, admonishing her to leave the servant’s business to themselves. “After all, they aren’t like us,” she always said.

  Why didn’t her mother think the servants had feelings just like everyone else? Although she did treat them with respect, Michele would give her that. But she acted like she was better than them. Sure, they didn’t have money and privilege, but they still had feelings and cared for their families. Michele almost envied some of her lower class friends, as her mother referred to them. They all had close knit, loving families, while hers felt distant, remote, and emotionless. Other than her grandparents, no one ever hugged or even kissed her. Air kisses didn’t count. She smiled, remembering her grandfather’s hugs, especially when she had a problem. She had never taken her problems to her mother, who always seemed too busy with club and fundraising events. But Grandpa Daniel always had time for her, even when he worked.

  Michele sat back and smiled at the memories, Grandpa Daniel getting her an ice cream cone and taking her for a ride or to a fancy restaurant when she got older. Silly problems, she thought now, like not making the cheerleading squad or having to go to summer camp. He always listened to her and though the problems didn’t go away, he made them tolerable.

  “Michele!” Sarah’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Brad’s here.”

  Michele jumped up, gathered her wits, and patted her hair. “How do I look? Stall him, Sar. I have to at least put on some lipstick.” She grabbed her purse and hurried into the washroom, hearing her friend chuckle as the door closed behind her. Fumbling through her purse, everything spilled onto the counter. Her hands trembled. She stared at herself in the mirror. “Get a hold of yourself, girl. What are you so nervous about?”

  Michele didn’t have the answer to that question, unsure if it was the topic of Louise or just the thought of Brad himself that made her so nervous. She took several deep breaths, ran a comb through her hair, and put on some lipstick. Smoothing her dress, she took one last look, another deep breath, and went to greet her husband.

  He leaned on the edge of the desk, looking calm, relaxed, and self-confident and he was flirting with Sarah. Michele almost laughed at the sight of her flustered friend. Michele cleared her throat. Brad winked at Sarah and came toward her. Michele swore she must have blushed at the look in his eye, his desire evident. He put his arm around her, moved his lips lightly across hers, creating sparks and shivers up her spine. Heat rose to her face and her pulse quickened. Much more of this and they could skip lunch.

  “Let’s go, I know this great little place nearby.” He took her arm, winked and nodded at the still flustered Sarah, and led her to his car. “On second thought, it’s a beautiful day, let’s walk.”

  Michele loved the feel of his arm around her. His nearness alone made her body quiver. Her stomach flip-flopped and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick again. She needed to keep focused, needed to discuss Louise. But her body betrayed her and the longing inside ached to be in Brad’s arms again. It was a good thing they were on a public street. Wise choice Brad made about not getting into the car, otherwise they might be going home now instead of to lunch. He opened the door to the small Italian restaurant. Italian spices permeated the air. Now, how to bring up Louise, she wondered while the waiter led them to their table.

  She cleared her throat. “Brad, you know about Louise and the baby?”

  “Yeah cute little thing isn’t she? What about them?”

  Michele sighed, took a deep breath, and sent up a prayer that her thoughts about her husband were true. “I told you she’s Mark O’Neil’s daughter.”

  He nodded, but she kept talking. “The O’Neils fired Louise and forbid the marriage. I’m not sure why our mother’s hired her, but that’s neither here nor there. Patrick O’Neil sent Louise a letter threatening to have the baby taken from
her if she doesn’t leave town. He offered her a large sum of money.”

  The shocked look on Brad’s face told her she’d been right. He wasn’t like the rest of them. He tapped the table with his fingers. “If the O’Neils forbid the marriage then I assume Mark wants to marry Louise?”

  “Yes, in fact he wanted to elope, but Louise won’t marry him without his parent’s blessings. She says she doesn’t want him to regret it later and hate her when they disown him. It’s a complicated situation.”

  “And you’re involved how?” The smile on his face relaxed her. Thank goodness, he wasn’t angry.

  Michele hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath and sighed. “Sarah is friends with Mark, she asked me to help, and I sort of promised Louise we’d help her.” She almost cringed as she spoke the last words, unsure how Brad would take her involving him.

  “Hmm...” Brad raised his brow and lowered his eyes.

  Oh great, now she’d done it. Was that an ominous sign? She was taking a big chance with her husband, but it was a chance she had to take. Louise and Mark’s happiness depended on it. She smiled inwardly. Up until a couple of months ago, she hadn’t even heard of either of them. Now here she was bound and determined to figure a way for them to be together. She held her breath and waited for Brad to speak again.

  “I’ll give Joe Kirby a call and see...”

  “Joe Kirby, the attorney?” Michele interrupted. The Kirby’s were her newest clients.

  “Yeah, do you know him?”

  “I, um, no not really. I have an appointment to meet him this afternoon. I’m designing their nursery. I’ve met Linda but not Joe. Do you know him well?”

  “Only through the club. He’s a regular kind of guy. He came up the hard way. Then married the bosses’ daughter, but not before he proved himself. He’s a good attorney. I think you’ll like him. What time are you meeting him?”