by Sandra Scott
“Son, I’m going to visit your mother,” he said, his voice wearier than usual.
At George’s slow turn, Stefano leaped from his seat and entered the hallway. He gently placed a hand on the older man’s sleeve, stopping him.
“But, Papa, Jayson is coming home today.” Nausea hit Stefano’s stomach at the spark of life ignited inside his father’s eyes at the reminder. He swallowed hard at the bile that soon rose. “You want to be here when he returns, yes?”
Papa’s worn eyes filled with joyful, shimmering tears that threatened to spill. Stefano hoped they wouldn’t; he doubted Jayson deserved as much.
“Jayson,” his father said quietly. He nodded once and turned in the opposite direction to shuffle along the corridor that led back to his bedroom. “Yes, I forgot about Jayson.”
Stefano stood there with his fists on his hips, fighting to hold back a tidal wave of fury so great he wanted to release it on somebody. Momentarily, he too performed an about-face and returned to his chair. As if through osmosis, his body seemed to have absorbed his father’s fatigue, and as he lowered onto the cushy leather seat that used to bring him comfort, he felt only exhaustion.
A building rage soon pushed aside his weariness, compelling him to strike the mahogany desk’s surface. Loose papers fluttered at the disturbance.
He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
“Calm yourself,” he muttered in self-admonishment. “Think!”
Needing to regroup, Stefano once again gazed beyond the big picture window that handsomely framed the villa’s backyard.
Stefano rationalized that Jayson’s return home could be a good thing. With his baby brother near, he could talk some sense into him man-to-man and make him see reason. He’d convince Jayson to dump his present disgrace for a more suitable local Greek woman.
Stefano’s brow crinkled in the midst of his introspection. Another benefit to Jayson’s arrival was that maybe his presence would keep Papa from visiting their mother’s grave site so often.
He shivered, his thoughts producing an inward fear that one day his father would walk out the door never to return, his heavy mourning overtaking him to the point that he would be discovered slumped over the grave, his spirit finally crushed beneath the weight of his sorrow.
Stefano shook his head to clear it of the dismal image. Wearily, he gazed at his hands, which were becoming more unsteady by the second, again wishing he held a brandy and ice in one of them.
Curses usually come in threes.
Unexpectedly, the urge to cough engulfed him. Quickly, he reached inside his pocket to retrieve a handkerchief. He slapped it over his nose and mouth.
Pain gripped his frame once the hacking commenced, the tremendous force of it bending his body forward, rendering him helpless. The coughing seemed to stretch on for an eternity—Please, please stop, he thought—yet he knew once it finally ceased, the spasm would’ve lasted less than a minute.
As his cough tapered off, he leaned back in his chair. His actions meticulous, he used the cloth to remove any residual spittle left on his lips, and then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he pulled the snow-white fabric away to examine it.
To his confirmation, a large section was stained bright red.
Stefano folded the soiled cloth and placed it back in his pocket.
This time, his sigh was bathed in resignation.
Then, of course, there was that.
5
“Would you please calm yourself, child?” Al Williams asked.
Racine’s mother stopped her sewing. Concern painted her mature face as deep brown eyes followed Racine’s progress of imprinting a permanent trail into the den’s carpet.
“You’ll give yourself a stroke—and you’re too young for one.” Patting the cushion next to her, Al smiled. “Come sit down.”
Despite the gentle command, Racine continued to pace. Every once in a while, she stole a glance at the stunning older woman, whose birth name was Alexandria, though she preferred the nickname Al. Eventually, Racine exhaled dramatically and graced her mother with a look comprised of both impatience and love.
“Mama, you don’t understand. Andra’s made a terrible mistake—one she’s gonna regret for a long time!”
Her mother’s sharp teeth bit into the blue thread she was using to mend a torn blouse, breaking the string in half. Carefully, she pushed the freed needle into a tomato-shaped pincushion, dropping the newly repaired garment in her lap.
“Well, it’s been over six months now, and I don’t see any signs of the marriage crashing and burning into a heap of failure,” she teased. Again, she patted the cushion. “Take a load off, baby girl—you’re making me dizzy.”
Finally taking her mother’s advice, Racine produced an exaggerated sigh and defiantly crossed her arms, plopping onto the sofa. Her jostling caused the round decorative throw pillow to her left to slip out of place. She snatched it and positioned it exactly inside the couch’s ninety-degree corner. Critically eyeing the pillow, she rotated it a degree counterclockwise until it met her standards.
Sensing her mother’s curious stare, she stiffened. The room’s silence stretched out as if climbing a hilly mountain until it reached its uncomfortable summit. Racine whipped around.
“What, Mama?”
“Sweetie, why are you taking this so personally?”
“I’m not, Mama! This is not about me. It’s about her and how she’s ruining our—I mean her—life.”
“Seems to me you’re making this about you.”
“Well, I’m not, I tell you!” Hot tears bubbled up, and Racine angrily brushed them aside. She glared accusingly at her mother. “Besides, I don’t understand why you’re not more concerned! She’s on a plane right now, flying off to a foreign country where she has no family and no friends for support. She’s all alone over there with only him and his family!”
Al chuckled softly. “I’m kinda jealous, if you ask me.” Her eyes dreamily stared into space. “So romantic, flying off to Greece with the one you love.”
“Mama!”
The older woman grinned mischievously. “Stop yelling. I’m right here. Of course I’m worried about her flying abroad—the same as if it were you.” She paused to fold the repaired cerulean blouse and placed it inside the laundry basket at her feet. “However, like I told you before, this is Andra’s life, and it’s her decision. Besides, she’s marrying a man who’s going into the ministry.”
Frustrated, Racine threw up her hands. “Oh yeah, I forgot. Him being in ministry makes everything okay!” Trying another attempt at persuasion, Racine evened out her tone. “Look, Mama, Andra’s too young to get married. We never got a chance to do all the things we said we were going to do together.”
“So this is about you,” her mother said. At Racine’s tightly compressed lips, she continued. “Listen, honey, Andra didn’t abandon you—she simply got married. End of story.”
“Yeah, and she made one big, fat mistake in the process.”
At Racine’s stubborn expression, Al pressed on. “She’s a grown woman—a doctor, for goodness sakes.”
Racine couldn’t grasp the reasoning behind her mother’s rationality—if someone were a doctor, he or she must have good sense. As far as she was concerned, when it came to Andra and her recent choices, that perception had to be a misnomer.
“But, Mama,” she said, striving to inject logic into their debate, “don’t you get it? Marrying someone outside not only her race but also her culture and religion—everything—is asking for trouble. It doesn’t make sense.”
The room grew quiet as Al selected her next sewing project: a sock with a hole in its toe. After threading her needle with the right color, she commenced darning. The silence finally broke when she said, “Love rarely makes sense, darlin’.”
Exhaling in disgust, Racine sprang to her feet only to resume
pacing. “Don’t have time for your outdated clichés, Mother.”
The next silence was dense and compressed, amplifying small noises not usually noticed in the routine activity of daily life: the ticking of the wall clock’s second hand, the tweet of a backyard bird, and the vague sound of a car horn one street over.
Racine bit her bottom lip. She realized immediately she’d stepped over the invisible line of parental respect. Covertly, she peeked at her mother, only to observe her full dark lips pursed, carefully arched eyebrows lifted, and unusually beautiful brown eyes squinting in reproach.
Racine swallowed. Stopping in her tracks, she slowly faced Al’s displeasure. “Sorry,” she said sincerely. Racine retraced her steps back to the couch, this time lowering onto it wearily. She glanced over at the throw pillow to make sure it hadn’t slipped again. “I don’t know what’s with me.”
Putting aside her darning, Al slid over to Racine and draped her arms around her. Sighing deeply, Racine lowered her head onto her mother’s shoulder, breathing in her musk perfume and hating the fact that Andra’s marital fiasco had burdened her body to near exhaustion. Racine closed her eyes against the stroking of her short, perfectly styled hair.
“Andra’s going to be all right; she’s carrying around loads of good common sense,” Al said. She gently kissed Racine’s crown. “I believe I know why you’re afraid—and this is not that situation.”
Tense, Racine pulled away from her mother’s embrace. “What do you mean ‘this is not that situation’?”
Al dropped one hand to cover Racine’s tightly clasped fist. She squeezed, looking deep into Racine’s eyes. “You know, baby, what happened.” Shock kept Racine rooted to the spot as Al quietly continued. “Please don’t unintentionally punish your sister because of it.”
Shame-filled rage propelled Racine off the couch again. Her momentum drove her toward the den’s exit, and she refused to look back to see if the pillow had shifted out of place again. Damn the pillow! Her back to her mother, Racine finally allowed her tears to break free.
“Please, baby girl, wait.”
Ignoring Al’s plea, Racine bolted from the room to escape words that, if allowed to be spoken, would be too painful to hear.
6
“Please give her room.”
Pushing past a fidgeting Keven, Andra dropped to the floor across from Martie, who was already on her knees by Sapphire’s head. Placing her medical bag on the floor, Andra stifled her alarm for the patient when her body suddenly went limp.
“Can anyone tell me what happened?” Andra asked calmly, pressing fingers against Sapphire’s carotid artery to locate a pulse.
The room filled with nervous silence.
Quickly rummaging through her black bag, Andra retrieved her penlight. Andra parted one eye and then the other, flashing the beam across Sapphire’s orbs. “I believe she’s gone into some kind of shock,” Andra said.
The hovering attendants gasped.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help her,” she assured them. “Quick—is she allergic to anything you know of?”
Keven wrung his hands. “It beats me. Martie?”
First shooting him an annoyed glance, she nodded at Andra. “Yes, she’s allergic to tree nuts.” She sat back on her heels, her face contorted with worry. “In the past, she’s gone to the emergency room for accidentally eating a peanut.”
“Uh-oh!” Keven slapped a hand across his mouth.
Jumping to her feet, Martie glared at him. “Uh-oh what?”
“Sapphire came back here all angry, snatched my granola bar outta my hand, and tore into it,” he said. Keven shrugged helplessly. “She didn’t give me a chance to even tell her what she was eating! How was I supposed to know she was allergic?”
“Didn’t you ever read her bracelet, dummy?”
Keven’s expression was pathetically comical. “Well, Martie, I thought her bracelet was for show, not medical!”
Spotting the medical bracelet on Sapphire’s left wrist, Andra twisted it around and read the small words confirming the woman’s nut allergy. She shuffled through her medical bag again, this time pulling out a fresh EpiPen filled with a single dose of epinephrine. After ripping the package apart, she shoved the unconscious woman’s skirt further up her thigh. Positioning the needle over her upper left thigh, Andra plunged it into the exposed skin and injected.
Sapphire’s chest stopped rising.
“She’s going,” Andra said, withdrawing the needle. She swiftly dropped it into her black bag. “Jay, can you help me? Hurry, baby!”
Jayson jumped into action. “Sure thing, Doc!”
Lowering to his knees, he positioned himself alongside Sapphire’s chest. Time seemed to pause; the room went deathly quiet as husband and wife performed their tasks. Andra used sharp breaths to blow into the woman’s mouth, while Jayson sharply compressed the chest area with one-two-three synchronized movements.
“It’s not working,” Keven whispered hoarsely. With each passing second, his brown eyes grew wider, darting between Andra and Jayson. “Why isn’t it working?”
“Shh! Don’t panic!” Martie said, her rising voice projecting her own fear. “She’s a doctor—she knows what she’s doing!”
Dread weighed heavily in the atmosphere; the only sounds inside the small cabin came from Andra’s puffs of air and Jayson’s grunts as he worked.
“Look!” Keven shouted, pointing.
Sapphire’s left wrist produced a faint spasm.
After blowing more air into her patient’s lungs for good measure, Andra jerked back just as Sapphire’s body abruptly twitched to life. Sapphire’s pale lips opened to alternately cough and gasp for air; her closed eyes fluttered open. Her sky-blue orbs, at first dazed, suddenly cleared, transforming Sapphire’s expression from confusion to disgust as her eyes focused on Andra’s hovering face.
“Hey, get your hands off me!” Indignant, Sapphire pushed at Andra and struggled to sit up. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Saving your life—that’s what she’s doing,” said a gruff voice. Everyone’s attention went to the narrow threshold opening. Sturdily built Hog filled it. “And you’d better be grateful.”
Her adrenaline rush plummeting, Andra laughed with tired relief. “Hog, what are you doing back here? You’re supposed to stay in your seat.”
The Texan shifted to lean against the doorframe, his silvery head cocked to one side. Calmly, his sight traveled past everyone to settle upon Sapphire’s hiked skirt and shapely thighs. Nodding appreciatively at them, he shifted his stare to Andra.
“I hardly ever do what I’m told, young lady—except when it comes to someone tellin’ me how to make more money. Besides, I wanted in on what the ruckus was about,” he said. One bushy white eyebrow went up. “So, I guess you are a doctor, Doctor. And from what I can tell, a damn good one too.”
Andra caught a glimmer akin to admiration—as well as an indecipherable glimmer—in Hog’s eyes. Self-conscious, she rose to her feet, mutely thanking him with an uncertain smile.
Hog’s stare intensified as it briefly touched on Andra’s breasts before returning to Sapphire’s exposed limbs.
Seeming to blush at Hog’s scrutiny, Sapphire used unsteady hands to tug at her skirt’s hem, pulling it to her knees. With her coworkers’ help, she labored to stand on unsteady feet and then stumbled her way toward one of the narrow cots tucked away in the cabin’s corner. Unevenly, she sat down. “I don’t understand,” she croaked, the sound prompting Martie to fetch her some water. Sapphire gripped the proffered bottle only to pause. Her skin’s paleness blossomed into faint crimson as she stared Andra’s way. “You saved my life?”
“You experienced an allergic reaction from the granola bar you consumed, Sapphire,” Andra told her. The flight attendant appeared to go into temporary shock at her name being spoken, but Andra ignored it. �
��It was dumb luck I had some epinephrine in my medical bag to counteract the attack.”
“Not luck, baby,” Jason said, cutting in. “It was God’s providence, along with your preparedness.”
Beaming at her husband, Andra received his silent kiss. She then watched as he strolled over to Hog, and the men immediately talked in hushed, friendly whispers. Her peripheral view caught Sapphire studying her with an unreadable look, yet she decided she was too tired to decipher it.
Wanting to get in on the praise fest Jayson had created, Keven waved a carefree hand at Andra. “And don’t forget you and Mr. Doctor had to perform CPR on her,” he said. Hovering over Sapphire like a fluttering sparrow, he gently rubbed her arm. “Girl, my granola bar was chock full of peanut butter and nuts. It could’ve murdered you!”
Her nod disbelieving, Sapphire coughed nervously as she fumbled to open her water bottle. When Andra placed a hindering hand upon hers, the woman stared at brown skin overlapping white.
“Due to the fact we’re forty thousand feet in the air and I can’t pump your stomach, you might want to consider taking some syrup of ipecac before drinking that water. It will force your body to evacuate the remaining granola bar.”
At Sapphire’s continued silence, Andra pulled back. “Of course, I’m not your doctor. It’s just a suggestion.” She smiled as pleasantly as she could. “However, you don’t have to take it. It’s your call.”
“Yes, she’ll take it,” Martie said, staring hard at Sapphire. “It’s good advice.”
“Hey, don’t we have a bottle of that nasty stuff in the med cabinet? Man, I’m glad I don’t have to take it.” Making a face as if he’d just swallowed a spoonful of it, Keven quickly headed for the medicine cabinet on the opposite wall. “I’m on it!”
