Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  As Tavish’s threats became even more harsh, Emma whimpered.

  But he was past caring. He would not let her walk away without giving him all the videos and photos she had.

  Tavish put her hand on his arm and forced a smile on his face. “Smile and behave, we’re leaving. And you’ll never, ever come near them again.”

  As she walked by his side to the Park Lane entrance, surrounded by luxury, she knew she had lost.

  How much, only time would tell.

  Emma Miller’s Apartment

  12:28 a.m.

  Tavish looked around, disgusted. He had never imagined how far his brother had gone. “For once, these many torture devices are going tae serve a purpose.”

  He pushed Emma to the cross of St. Andrew and shackled her to it.

  Searching her apartment, he opened all the drawers and then moved to the dressing room. She whimpered. He didn’t know if she was afraid of what he was going to do, if she was in pain, or if he had just found where she was hiding everything. He pushed all the clothes to one side and started to knock on the wooden panels at the back. His hands easily located the crevice and pushed. A safe appeared. “Code.”

  “For what?”

  “Doona try me, Emma,” he growled.

  She gave him the numbers and it opened soundlessly. Inside there was money, jewels, many USB sticks, and documents. Tavish shoved the flash drives in his tuxedo pocket and leafed through the documents, snorting as he found small notebooks with many names, telephone numbers, and sexual preferences jotted down; and an envelope with a safety deposit box key and the number and address of a bank in Switzerland. He took them too.

  “Password,” he demanded, sitting on the bed with her notebook on his lap. She informed him and he changed the password to one of his. “I’m taking the computer. I’ll be checking up on you.” He gave her a thoughtful look and bared his teeth to scare her a bit more. “Ye know I have been in a psych ward, don’t ye? That I’m a war psycho.”

  Emma absolutely believed he was. “I’d never judge you—”

  “Better ye fucking doona. Just keep in mind that I’m crazy.” There wasn’t a sliver of doubt in his eyes. He leaned forward towering over her. “One more thing. If something—anything—happens to any of them…if I ever find out you’ve been near Sophia or my family again…” Tavish made a throat-slitting motion.

  Emma knew he would make good on his promise. She was beginning to feel very ill.

  Because she knew there was no way out from the rabbit hole she had eagerly jumped into.

  The Park Suite, In Alistair and Sophia’s bedroom

  11:21 a.m.

  For the first time in longer than he could remember, Alistair slept in late. Usually, by this time, even on weekends, he would have already worked-out and ran for an hour and a half.

  He slipped his arms around Sophia and she rubbed her cheek on his chest.

  “Good morning,” she whispered, looking up at him with a smile. “You were really tired.”

  No. I was angry, scared, and ashamed. It took me hours to sleep.

  At the end of the ball the night before, Leonard, Tavish, and Sophia gathered in their suite living room to tell Alistair about Emma. Sophia had taken out her cell phone from her purse and asked him to erase the email. She avowed she had not seen them. And he believed her, because afterwards they had made love in the sweetest way.

  As the minutes ticked by and he listened to her breathing getting deeper, he had decided to look at the photos before he erased them. He was shocked. The problem with greed and extortion was that it never ended. The photos sent to Sophia were graphic ones. He didn’t even remember participating in those scenes.

  What would she think if she had looked at those pictures? Would she understand? He shooed away the thoughts of the previous night. The only thing that mattered now was keeping her safe. He inhaled deeply and asked, “Gabriela and breakfast?”

  “Of course.” She rolled to the edge of the bed and made the calls.

  When Gabriela ran into the living room, they had already changed and were having breakfast. She flew into her mother’s arms and spread kisses over her face. “Mamãe, Mamãe. I know what I want for Chanukah next year.”

  “Next year? Chanukah is in three days, you mischievous little girl,” Sophia said, messing with her light blonde hair. “Your pony is waiting for you at Richmond.”

  “You can even choose its name,” Alistair told her.

  “I know. This is for next year,” Gabriela nodded. She looked shyly at Alistair and asked in a loud whisper in her mother’s ear, “Can you give me a sister as nice as Ariadne?”

  Alistair choked on the croissant he was eating. He washed it down with orange juice and stared unbelievingly at Gabriela, who begged an affirmative answer with happy eyes.

  “But—” Sophia was addled. “Chanukah next year—”

  “Babies take time to arrive, Mama,” Gabriela said it in such a wise way that Sophia was aghast. “You’ll get very fat, you’ll travel for a day, and come home with the baby.”

  “I will not get fat. I’ll—It’s—” She flushed bright red, embarrassed.

  Alistair tried to contain himself, but his lips curled up and he burst out laughing. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. This girl is absolutely fantastic.

  “Yes?” Gabriela asked. “Yes, Daddy?”

  Sophia didn’t know if he was having a nervous fit of laughter or if he was really happy. “Now, Gabrie—”

  Alistair cut in with a big smile. “I can’t promise you a sister, but I can promise you a sibling. A wee one. Is that okay?”

  Sophia’s mouth opened and stayed that way. So soon? We haven’t even talked about it properly.

  “Can I carry it?” Gabriela’s blue eyes beamed. “Yes, Mama?”

  Alistair’s fingers pushed Sophia’s chin up. He breathed in her ear, “Tell her yes.”

  “Aaah…” Sophia peered at him and he grinned, confirming. “So…” She cleared her throat and started again. “So…yes, then. But, Gabriela, I—”

  “A wee baby,” Gabriela squealed happily and threw her chubby arms around Sophia’s neck.

  “Aye,” Alistair answered with a cheerful grin, squeezing Sophia’s shoulder. “Next year.”

  Gabriela jumped down and ran to the door to tell everyone about the news when her mother’s voice stopped her.

  “Gabriela.” She didn’t know how she managed to speak without betraying her trembling. “No kiss for Alistair?”

  The girl ran back again and flung herself in Alistair’s open arms. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “You’re welcome.” If Gabriela didn’t notice Sophia’s unnerved state, he did. He sat her on his knees, regarding her steadily. “Can I ask you something in return?”

  Gabriela bobbed her head.

  “Let’s keep this as a special secret, between us three, until we are certain when the baby is going to arrive. You’ll be the first to know so you can tell everyone, okay?”

  Gabriela grinned even happier.

  He quickly changed topics to distract her. “Do you want an apple with honey?”

  Alistair had discovered within himself an unlimited well from which he could draw buckets of happiness.

  Atwood House

  7:56 p.m.

  “I’m hungry.” Alistair knocked on Sophia’s bathroom door and put his head inside. “Let’s grab something?”

  He almost ignored his rumbling, starving stomach. Sophia had just walked out of the shower, glistening with water.

  She wrapped a towel around her body, saying without enthusiasm, “Okay.”

  He had seen her brightness diminishing throughout the day. He rubbed his flat stomach as he walked to stop behind her, kissing her neck and passing his arms loosely around her, trying to cheer her up. “Pizza? Saporitalia?”

  “No.” She looked at his face in the mirror, but instead of her rugged husband wearing a pink, blue, and gray sweater with dark gray jeans, she saw many other male faces and bodies over
his.

  Ugly and fat men.

  Short and lanky men.

  All different kinds of men that didn’t resemble Alistair. She shook her head hard.

  “Hey. I understand. No pizza tonight. Where do you want to go?”

  “Somewhere calm, cozy. Where we can talk.”

  “Petrus?”

  She shook her head.

  “Gordon at Claridges?”

  She shook her head again.

  “Hélène?”

  “Maybe.”

  Her lack of eagerness pierced him.

  Jesus. Mary. And Joseph. Tell me once and for all. “Okay, Sophia. It’s eight o’clock and I’m done with your silence. What is it?” He searched her eyes in the mirror, but she turned in his arms.

  It took a great effort to stare into his eyes and whisper, “I’m afraid.”

  Afraid? “Of taking out the IUD? Does it hurt that—”

  “No, Alistair Connor. I’m not worried about any pain. Besides, it can’t hurt much more to take it out than to put it in.” She bit her lower lip and chewed it, before exhaling hard. “I’m just surprised at the speed—” I’m petrified. Scared to death. “And I had never really considered conceiving with sperm from someone I don’t know.” If it’s not yours, I don’t know if I want a baby.

  Hmm. I see. “And what do you suggest we do?”

  “Adoption.” Nothing.

  “Well...” I want to feel our baby growing. I want it to be as beautiful as you. “Why no’, Sophia? You told me yourself it was a viable way to…make up for what I can’t anymore; that we could consider it when we wanted babies.”

  “I know. But that doesn’t mean…” I can’t change my mind. “Besides, why do we have to start trying this year?”

  “Why not? I’ll be thirty-six in February. I’ll probably be thirty-seven by the time the baby’s born.”

  An old man!! Oh, please! “But—” She interrupted herself. “Can we postpone John’s appointment a bit?” I want to think about this for a while. And I have to consider the legal and psychological aspects of it. “I need more time.”

  His disappointment shimmered in his eyes for a brief moment but it was overcome by his love for her. “Of course, mo chridhe. I don’t want you to feel pressured about anything. Especially about this. It was just that when I saw the glow of happiness on your face when I told you about having a baby and when I heard Gabriela’s wish this morning, all I wanted was to see your faces light up in joy, and a baby in your arms. Why don’t we grab something in the kitchen and talk about it?”

  “I’m not hungry. There’s a ham and cheese pie in the refrigerator and I’ve made Gabriela’s chocolate cake. Why don’t you grab a plate and come back while I get dressed?”

  Sophia was sitting in the TV room, chewing her lip. She was gazing at the screen of her MacBook Pro as if she were looking right through it.

  He had time to think while he was downstairs arranging a small picnic for them. Alistair set a huge tray on the center ottoman and sat beside her. He put her notebook on the side table and pulled her into his arms, taking her lip from between her teeth. “Hey, Wife. You know what that does to me.” But she didn’t smile. “I brought you a piece of pie, and wine too.”

  “Thanks, Husband.” She smiled weakly at him.

  Okay, mo gràdh. Here we go. “Listen, Sophia. In our culture, manhood is measured by one’s virility and that is inherently connected with the ability to produce babies. You and I, we know I don’t have any problems with virility. I didn’t want this out because I don’t want my history with Heather brought up again.”

  I want your baby. A chubby, dark-haired, green-eyed baby to cuddle and raise. She felt like crying but she held the sadness inside and nodded, “I understand.”

  “Plus, we don’t need to do it here. There are clinics in the US that specialize in fertilization. We could take Gabriela to Disney and ask Carol to help us for a few days while we go to the Mayo Clinic and do the insemination.”

  “I thought about that. I spent days and days researching when you first told me about your sterility. And I…I was not working this afternoon. I was researching the clinics again.”

  My love, you don’t have to carry the burden alone on your shoulders. He sighed. “I saw you crying, Sophia. I thought I should give you some room. I’m sorry. I should have guessed. The many emotions that must be filling you are hard to deal with. But believe me when I say I understand the worst of them very well.”

  How can you know? You’re not a mother. “And what is that?”

  “Loss.”

  She gaped at him for a moment before she wound her arms around his neck and burrowed her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

  Alistair could feel her hot tears wetting his skin. His hand smoothed her hair soothingly. “Aye, it fucking hurts. I feel it too. Grieving takes time, and if you have to work it out, do. However...half of the baby would be forever linked to you, as is Gabriela. And I will not love it less.”

  That only made her hug him tighter.

  “Shhh, it’s okay.” He remembered his father’s words when he told him he was going to propose: ‘What you want is immaterial, Alistair Connor. You shouldn’t rush her into making a life changing decision so quickly.’ His warm hand moved from her hip to her stomach. “I’d like to be a father, from the very beginning. But this will be your choice. Only yours. Take your time to think about it and sort out your feelings. I’ll back you up, whatever you choose.”

  How I love you. She was moved by him not imposing his will on her, but, at the same time, she felt compelled to discuss all the points that were also nagging her. She was not used to feeling so unsettled and insecure about her desires. She shifted to better judge his reactions. “We’ll have to tell our child from an early age and also the family from the very beginning. How can we keep such a secret? Can you imagine the shock if he or she received that kind of news as a teenager or an adult? Immense, and I dare say, not so easy to overcome. Secrecy is not good. Especially were children are concerned. Our baby has the right to know about…about everything, including its genetic origins.”

  Aye, you’re right. “We can tell our families from the beginning. No matter what, she, or he, will be very much loved.” His sigh was full of regret. “I’m done with family secrets that undermine trust and lead to conflict. Heather was my one and last experience.” He paused for a moment, considering all the events that had rushed him into promising a sibling to Gabriela so impulsively.

  She wiped her tears with the back of her hands. “Thank you, meu amor.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. Your happiness, Gabriela’s and yours, are the only things that matter in my life.” His thumbs wiped away the remaining wetness and he kissed her forehead. “I insist on leaving all options open. This will always be your choice. Insemination or adoption. Or, sweetheart, no baby at all.”

  He understands. And then Sophia realized that it was much more than understanding. What Alistair had done was an act of pure, unselfish love. He had stripped himself bare of his desires, and putting his happiness aside, he had respected her feelings. “Alistair Connor, you’re an amazing man. I love you, you know?”

  “I do,” he nodded, content that she had relaxed and was confident in herself again. “I love you too. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  Chapter 10

  Kensington

  Dr. Guilhermina Kent’s Office

  Tuesday, November 30, 2010

  9:28 a.m.

  “You know about all the legal details? I can bet you’ve been researching thoroughly since he told you about the sterility, haven’t you?”

  “Yes and yes. And I know I’ll have to tell the baby about it. But what is the best way? When?”

  “Sophia, in my experience, there are no rules, but it is better to start early, even before your child can talk.”

  “Really? That early? Keep babbling to a baby that it was conceived by insemination?” Sophia was edgy.

  “It may seem
quite weird, but it allows you to become familiar with talking to your child, Gabriela, and Alistair about how the baby was conceived so when questions start to pop up, it is already part of your life and you’ll deal with them better. Donors are encouraged to provide detailed information including a short description of themselves. You may find this helpful once your child starts to ask detailed questions.” Dr. Kent relaxed in her armchair and put her feet on the ottoman, observing Sophia. “Some, Sophia, even leave a message of goodwill, which I find extremely helpful and endearing. We can work on this more and more until you are certain of it. Let me ask you a very important question: How does Alistair feel about it?”

  “He says he’ll never be ashamed of how our baby is conceived. That he doesn’t feel threatened by me having a child that would be only, quotes here, half ours. I’m certain I want a baby created by Alistair and me. I don’t think insemination would be such a bad choice, since he wants it so much. What even I don’t understand is this fear.” She was really perplexed at her indecision. On the night of the ball, she had thought she would jump head first into it as soon as Alistair talked about the issue again.

  “This is not so difficult to explain. First, of course, it would be great to have a baby made in a night of love; just the two of you, instead of doing it in a sterilized clinic, even though Alistair could be by your side. Second, you don’t like clinics.”

  Sophia flicked her hand in the air. “I guess I have overcome this problem. I’ve been in so many clinics lately and been so well-treated that I can’t complain anymore.”

  “Okay, if you say so.” Dr. Kent smiled at her gently.

  What is your problem today, Mina? “Yeah. I do believe it,” she emphasized.

  “Peace.” Dr. Kent raised her hands for a moment. Sophia would have found it funny if it weren’t so serious. “I could go on and on listing many things you’re scared of, but the most important of all, Sophia, is that yours hasn’t been an easy path. To say the least. Will you pardon yourself for not being that enthusiastic about losing control?”

  Sophia’s face expressed her confusion. “Can you be clearer, please?”