“He wasn’t supposed to be. I remember I was shocked myself because they came in together. They were both bright-eyed, and Sandra was giddy. I watched them, suspicious, but there was nothing about their behavior with each other to support it. They were friendly, like two people who were about to begin a work relationship. But when I left, Sandra stayed behind. I didn’t think much of it until afterward. I wondered if there was any connection between what had occurred on Madison Avenue with my son taking that unplanned trip to White Plains. That perhaps Brent might still be alive if something different had taken place.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, Tom. You tell me.”
“Like maybe if Sandra didn’t have a child and a man waiting for her at home, Brent would have spent the night in the city with her?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I didn’t picture them together that way. She’s too old for Brent. She was Jack’s mistress. It didn’t seem morally correct for her to be with my son. Almost abusive. Except he’s a man. Was a man. I hoped he was growing up and that’s why he was trying to placate Mr. Hsu.”
“You think he was growing up, drugging and raping Sandra? Ha! You’ve got something mixed up there, Ms. Smith.”
“You have no proof, am I correct? None. As a matter of fact, you have no way of knowing that baby Brent isn’t your son because if I’m not mistaken, you have never bothered to get a paternity test done. It’s too easy to blame the dead for your inability to sustain a lasting relationship with Sandra.” Pam looked Tom in the eye when she said it, and he looked like he’d been slapped.
“Not only that, but Sandra tells me she has a baby picture of herself that looks exactly like the baby, so for all we know he is your son. I’d stop spreading ugly lies about my son if I were you and get some proof the kid isn’t yours. That would be an awful shame if he is yours because it just means you and your mother have wasted the past three months hating him and sending evil his way instead of worshiping him like you should be doing.” She lifted the knife and brought it down on the lettuce with a wham.
Tom sat at her counter like a deflated balloon, with barely the strength to keep his head up. “Can I have that coffee now?” he whispered.
Pam nodded and set about making a fresh pot. Just as she was ready to add the water to the machine, Annabelle screamed. Pam looked up at Tom, and he came to.
“What’s that all about?” he asked.
“Follow me,” Pam said as the scream was repeated. She ran to Bernice’s room, with Tom following close behind.
Sitting in a winged-back chair overlooking the night scene of the dark ocean, Bernice appeared at peace, but Annabelle’s behavior said she was dead. She was kneeling at Bernice’s side, crying, holding on to her hands. Pam rushed to her and put her hand on Bernice’s neck.
“She doesn’t have a pulse,” Pam cried.
“Call 911, Pam. Help get her on the floor, and I’ll start chest compressions,” Tom said. Between him and Annabelle, they slid her to the floor, and he began CPR while Pam called for help.
She stood close by while Tom worked on Bernice, looking up at Pam. He mouthed, I’m sorry. She nodded, frightened that her mother-in-law was gone. It was a blessing Sandra had asked Nelda to come home, or she’d be watching this horror. Every time Tom pushed on Bernice’s chest, her hand moved. It was her right hand, the fingers encrusted with diamond rings, six of them at least, and she was grasping a tissue.
“One and two and three and four…” She could hear Tom whispering as he compressed her chest and with each compression came the hand movement. Pam felt faint; she could no longer stand there and watch on the sidelines, so she dropped to her knees next to Bernice.
“What can I do?” she begged.
“Take her hand and talk to her. Tell her to breathe, to fight,” Tom said, doubt clear in his voice, but it was what he was trained to say, to give hope where there was none.
Pam took Bernice’s hand in hers, it was still warm, and bent over and whispered to her.
“Live, Bernice, live for these new babies we have! Don’t leave me, Bernice, don’t leave Nelda. We need you.” She spoke words that she didn’t think she meant, but as she repeated them, she realized they were true. She didn’t want Jack’s mother to die; she was the last connection Pam had to him, the last person on earth who loved him as much as she had. In Bernice’s eyes, Jack could do no wrong. She needed to live to represent him in a world that had no use for him now.
Commotion and voices calling announced the arrival of the EMS technicians, and Annabelle, in tears, ran to lead them to Bernice. Tom was sweating from the effort; he hadn’t stopped doing chest compressions, and it had been at least ten minutes. Suddenly the room was full of big people, chubby men and tall men, a tiny woman and a bigger one, all in dark blue, who crowded around Tom and Bernice on the floor.
“Can I relieve you?” a chubby man asked.
“Yes,” Tom said, breathless.
The man dropped to his knees, and Tom moved aside so the man could pick up where he left off while the tiny woman knelt at Bernice’s head and tilted her head back, inserted an airway, and began rescue breathing with an Ambu bag. Immediately, Bernice’s color improved. Another technician started an IV and administered drugs while the tall man stayed in contact with a physician on the phone. The bigger woman put leads on Bernice and hooked wires to the leads; soon the room was full of uneven beeps and static. The tiny woman inserted an endotracheal tube and attached it to the Ambu bag. The bigger woman brought an oxygen tank in and attached it to the bag. More drugs were administered. Someone unbuttoned Bernice’s shirt and pulled her underwear out of the way, attaching defibrillation pads to her chest.
“Stand back,” she said.
Bernice did a little jump, not much, just a shimmy off the floor, and the room filled with the steady sound of a beating heart.
Pam bowed her head and began to weep. “Thank you. Thank you,” she said to the air. When was the last time she gave thanks? It had been forever.
Annabelle was beside herself. Sobbing, she came to Pam and embraced her.
“Please let her live, God, please let her live.” Annabelle was a devout atheist, but in times of need, even she called out to the heavens. She looked at Pam. “Well, what if it’s true? I’d be an ass not to acknowledge that I don’t know everything.”
Pam raised her eyebrows and nodded her head. “Yes, I agree. If it’s true, we better take advantage of it.”
They waited while another team member brought a stretcher in. They gently lifted Bernice onto it and rolled her out of her bedroom. Pam followed them out.
“Where are you taking her?” They told her which hospital, and Pam said she’d follow. Annabelle would go in the ambulance, and Tom would take his own car.
When they arrived at the hospital, Pam filled out the necessary paperwork and waited while Tom talked to the EMS people; he was a NY cop who just happened to be visiting. Lucky for Bernice. He came and sat down with Pam when he was finished.
Taking her hand, he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry about surprising you tonight. I’ll do what you say and ask for a test. If he’s mine, I have a lot of work to do, don’t I?”
“Don’t worry about that yet,” Pam told him, patting his hand. “One step at a time. You need to get back to Brooklyn, though. Someone needs to tell my mother what happened tonight. She’s there, with Sandra.”
“Oh, I didn’t know,” he said sadly. “I’ve always liked Nelda.”
“Good,” Pam said. What difference did it make if they hated each other? Maybe Sandra was a snake, like Marie had always said. Although the idea that she’d had Brent’s child was nice, it would be something of his left behind, Pam was surprised that she hoped he was Tom’s baby. Tom deserved to be treated with more respect than he had been, maybe more than Sandra was capable of giving him. “Tom, if you think my son raped and drugged Sandra, you need to prove it. I can’t have you going around making such a horrible accusation about him whe
n he can’t defend himself.”
“Okay, you’re right. I’ll start the paternity thing. Then I can move to the next step, which is deciding what I am going to do about my life.” He looked out the bank of windows behind them, at the lit parking lot and another ambulance arriving under the emergency room portico.
“Why do you need to decide? You have a family who needs you. Isn’t that enough?” She knew it wasn’t, but was trying to give him an out, in case he wanted to stay in spite of the disrespect.
“You tell me. Is it enough? Would it work for you?” He looked directly at Pam, and she smirked, looking at him over her glasses.
“You’re asking me? I know what you think of me, Tom. Let’s not play games.”
He grabbed her hand. “Mrs. Smith, I am sorry. Please believe me. I had no right judging you. I am very regretful now of the way I acted after we first met. I was jealous of your husband and, therefore, of you. That’s my only excuse. I finally get it, I really do. I see how protective my mother is of me, yet if Thomas Brent is really my baby, how is she going to rationalize her part in this? She won’t be able to. She’ll have to do restitution big time, and I don’t see Sandra forgiving her anytime soon.”
“No, I don’t either, but we’re getting ahead of the game here. Do the paternity test, quickly. Not another day should pass without it, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll make it a priority.” He stood up, still holding her hand. Then he bent down and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for saving my mother-in-law’s life, Tom,” Pam replied.
“I guess that is the real reason I felt I had to be in Babylon tonight,” Tom said sadly. He smiled and gave her a little wave and walked off.
Pam couldn’t help staring at him as he left the waiting room. He was tall and handsome, a real catch. Why would Sandra want to get involved with Brent, knowing his behavior? Pam had her suspicions about her son thanks to Julie Hsu giving her an earful. If it were true, he was trouble. Did Sandra just want to have a Smith baby? Or was she trying to clean up the story behind the pregnancy for the sake of the baby? Who would want a child to think their father was a rapist? She was saved from these thoughts by the arrival of Annabelle leading a young female doctor over to Pam. Both were smiling, so Pam was hopeful it was good news.
“Mrs. Smith needs a pacemaker,” the doctor said. “We’ll admit her to the CCU tonight and do the insertion first thing in the morning. I believe she’s stable now, and we’ll keep a close eye on her. Any questions?”
Pam had none, so she followed the doctor back to see Bernice, who was extubated but still hooked up to the monitors and had an oxygen mask on.
Pam decided after seeing her that she’d stay the night with Bernice. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to the old witch when she was all alone.
Chapter 12
During the ride back to Brooklyn, Tom maintained the hopeful attitude he’d gotten from Pam and the positive outcome of Bernice Smith’s resuscitation. Pulling in front of the brownstone, he was happy to see lights. He needed to speak to Nelda. Wishing there was a narrative app on his phone, he was immediately sorry he hadn’t taken notes when Pam was advising him. Knocking on the door, he didn’t feel right about letting himself in. As Sandra came to the door, Tom watched her enter the vestibule and pause when she saw who was there.
Remembering that it was just that morning that he slapped her, he waved and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
“What do you want, Tom? It’s ten at night.”
“First of all, I’m sorry about this morning. That was uncalled for. I promise you it will never happen again. But I have some news that isn’t related to us, and I need to speak to Nelda if I can come in.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, but she stepped aside so he could enter the house.
“I went to Pam’s tonight.”
Mouth dropping open, she was shocked. “What in the hell would you go there for?”
“I thought you might be there, and I wanted to see you, to apologize,” he said. It wasn’t completely true, but it sounded good, and she bought it. “While I was there, Bernice had a cardiac arrest.”
Sandra gasped and grabbed his arm. “Oh my God!”
“She’s doing well, just needs a pacemaker, but Pam wanted me to tell Nelda. Then you and I have to talk.”
“Tom, it’s too late. I don’t mean too late to resolve anything; it’s too late at night. I’m exhausted.”
“I promise you I won’t take more than five minutes of your time.”
Resigned, she opened the door to the living room. Nelda was rocking the baby, watching a sitcom. Tom stood back while Sandra went to get the baby.
“Tom was at the beach tonight, and he has some news,” Sandra said to her questioning look.
Gently, Tom told Nelda what had happened, emphasizing that Bernice was fine now, but that she’d need a pacemaker. They spent time calming her down and answering her questions.
“We’ll put the baby in his crib,” Sandra said, leading the way to the nursery. When they were out of earshot, she spoke again. “So what is it that can’t wait?”
“I’ve had second thoughts about everything, Sandra. I want to make sure he isn’t mine before I walk away. Is it true you have a baby picture of yourself that looks like him?”
She nodded and motioned with her finger for him to follow her to their formerly shared bedroom. Opening the nightstand, she brought out a framed studio portrait of a towheaded baby wearing a white pinafore. Handing it to him, she studied his face to see his reaction.
“Why didn’t you show this to my mother? Why hide this from us?”
“You didn’t believe he was yours from the very beginning,” Sandra replied. “You even had me convinced he was Brent’s. I still think he’s not yours because of your precision condom use, as you called it. Because I’m so goddamned tainted you’re extra careful.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. We have Miranda. Had Miranda. I didn’t want to get sick because of her, because I need to keep working if the time ever comes that you can’t. I never considered you were tainted, I was just careful.”
Sandra didn’t reply right away. “So what do you want from me?”
“I want a paternity test. Then we can be sure. If he isn’t mine, we can separate. But if he is, I have some restitution to make. And you owe me an apology.”
She nodded her head. “Yes, I guess we owe apologies to each other. But I have to tell you, Virginia is on my shit list.”
“Mine too, Sandra. But let’s deal with that when we know for certain what the DNA test is.” He pulled her to his chest, and she submitted. “I love you,” he said, hoarse. “I can’t stand what has happened to us. But I have to know if you loved him.”
Sandra felt her heart rate increase. It was for her son’s benefit that everyone believes she was in love with Brent, if he was the father. That big IF.
“No,” Sandra admitted. “But if it turns out Brent is his baby, I will say I did love him for the baby’s sake. Please understand that. The truth is I didn’t even know him. He was confused, on a dangerous path. It’s clear that his girlfriend was running for her life when she left him.”
“Have you talked to her?” Tom asked.
“Not directly. But Pam has repeated everything she said, and it was horrifying. He was clearly troubled—obviously if we believe he drugged me and raped me.”
Tom started to kiss her. He hadn’t kissed her like this in over a year, and it was good, the way it used to be between them. He loved Sandra, had waited all his life for her to come along. She was his first serious girlfriend. That baby had to be his. Life wouldn’t be worth living if he weren’t. And while he kissed her, pouring his heart into the kiss, Sandra thought of the late Brent Smith and wondered if she’d ever be kissed like that again.
~ ~ ~
Baby Marcus woke Lisa up every two hours through the night, nursed and went right back to sleep. She didn’t remember Me
gan being such an easy baby, but maybe she had just grown up in the last two years.
Watching Dan sleep soundly while she fed the baby stirred something inside of her, not exactly resentment that he’d sleep while she was awake, even though it was Sunday and he didn’t usually go into the office on the weekend. She remembered feeling so lonely with Megan, blaming it on Ed. Now she was with a different man, someone she’d pegged as being exciting and supportive, and she was feeling the same way. Maybe it was just the condition of being married. Through every life event, the man’s life didn’t change. He still thought only of himself, was able to sleep undisturbed, fed his meals, focused on work, and the woman made all the adjustments.
And in Dan’s case, even meet his old girlfriends for a beer while his wife was home with the new baby. Lisa would make sure it would not happen again. She pulled the sheets away and quietly got out of bed, putting the baby back in his bassinet. Tiptoeing to Dan’s side of the bed, she took his phone and crept into the bathroom with it, first grabbing a pen and paper out of her nightstand. Putting the toilet seat down, she started scrolling through the calls he’d received that day, and sure enough, there was one from Cara Ellison. At least he hadn’t lied. Lisa had been worried he’d called her first. She jotted the number down on her paper and turned the bathroom light off, creeping back to Dan’s bedside to return his phone.
Cara would be receiving a call from Dan’s wife, and Lisa didn’t care if Dan was embarrassed or not. He could even leave her if he wanted. She just knew there was no way in hell he was going to see other women, even casually. Those freewheeling bachelor days were over for Dan Chua.
Gladys could hear Lisa getting up with the baby through the night. She longed to go and sit with her, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to barge in when Dan was there. Finally, at six she felt like it was late enough to get up. Trying not to disturb Ed, she got out of the sofa bed, holding on to the metal sides and hoisting herself up. It was like sleeping in a hammock. Quietly, she went into the hallway bathroom and washed up for the day.
In Memoriam: Pam of Babylon Book #7 Page 9
