by Kira Blakely
“Natalie, I went along with the plan because I thought that’s what you wanted. If it wasn’t, I’m sorry. I’ll be out of your way in the morning,” I said, and turned toward my old room.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked in a snide tone. “That’s my bedroom now. You can have the couch, but be out in the morning.”
I cringed from the bitterness and anger she was dumping on me. I knew I hadn’t earned it, and old conditioning wanted me to absorb it, but I was past that. “Sure, no problem,” I said, and laid down on the sofa and closed my eyes. It had been a horrible day.
* * *
Natalie was slamming pans around in the kitchenette. She was obviously intent on getting me out.
“I’m getting up,” I said sleepily.
“Well, I have company coming, so get it going, huh?”
I struggled to sit up, my back stiff from lying in one position all night. “Have you been catching up with your old friends?” I asked, as pleasantly as possible.
“Have you been catching up with your old friends?” she mocked me in a singsong voice. “What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll go back to my old habits, and your boyfriend will have wasted all his money? Well, not that it’s any of your business, but no, I won’t be seeing the old gang. That’s bad news for a recovering addict, didn’t you know that? Kenny is coming by, if you have to know.”
“Bolt’s Kenny?”
“You think Bolt owns everything, don’t you? How about you? Does he own you too?”
Natalie’s words stung and added another layer to my angry indictments against Bolt. I’d have to think all that through once I got some peace and quiet to myself. “No one will ever own me,” I told her and rose to my feet, folded the afghan, and threw it over the back of the sofa. I could feel my nausea returning—evidently, I was going to be one of those morning-sickness types. I headed directly to the bathroom and was sick, running the water to hide the sound. Natalie had turned the radio on loudly, so I don’t think she heard me. I washed my face, rinsed my mouth, and emerged to gather my things.
“You want breakfast?” she offered, a subtle sign that maybe this resentful Natalie, once having purged her anger at me, could calm down and be somewhat of a sister. At least she was clean and sober. That was really all I cared about.
I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I appreciate the use of the sofa. I hope you like the apartment now. Bolt and I worked hard on it. It was… a good time we spent together,” I added, getting teary-eyed again. I missed him already, and although I knew very well that it was my choice to leave, he’d given me good reason to do it.
Geez, why was I getting so emotional lately? It’s like everything was magnified.
I found the Audi parked in my old parking spot, and even though it meant giving in a little to Bolt, I was glad. After all, I could sleep in the car if I had to. I drove to a supermarket and picked up an apartment rental guide. I wanted something close to the studio. I planned to open it full-time again. I went from complex to complex, but none of them were right for me. They were expensive, to begin with, and then there was the neighbor noise. Doors could be heard slamming all around where I stood in the model, and the parking was first come, first served. I wanted parking at or near my door. I drove idly down Third Street and spotted a sign that read Apartment For Rent. I pulled over and went up to the door. There were some flyers in a plastic shoebox on the porch. The pictures were a poor reproduction, but the phone number was clear at the bottom. I called, and the owner said they’d come over in about ten minutes and show it to me.
I was lucky. It was a main-floor apartment and had two small bedrooms. That gave me one for my things and a second for the eventual nursery. I could begin accumulating a crib and other baby things as I could afford them. It had a small kitchen and a single bath with a claw-foot tub and shower sprayer attachment to the faucet. I loved the charm of the old woodwork and its many layers of paint. There was even a postage stamp-sized area of grass in the back where I could spread a blanket and lie in the sun with the baby. I planned to take it with me to the studio—I’d put a small playpen for sleeping and playing in my office there.
The rent was reasonable, and I knew I was lucky to find a ground-floor unit. I signed a lease and stood in the middle of the living room and looked around. I didn’t have a bed, anything to sit on, or any food to put in the old ’50s refrigerator. There was work to be done.
The furnishings came from secondhand stores, but I bought new bedding and towels. My stomach was often upset, so there wasn’t much food necessary. I made an appointment with an obstetrician. I already knew I was pregnant—a half-dozen home-pregnancy tests don’t lie. I bought the first when my cycles stopped and then the second through sixth in subsequent weeks as each returned a positive result. I knew I needed pre-natal vitamins and a general exam to make sure everything with the baby was OK.
Bolt could not find out. With his power and connections, I couldn’t trust him not to strip me of the baby as soon as it emerged from my womb. I’d never see it again. Then there was his father, who I knew would be furious that his only grandchild was out of a mongrel and out of wedlock. He was dangerous enough to try to harm the child. I wouldn’t let that happen. Not ever.
Chapter 17
Bolton
If you love something, set it free. Wasn’t that the old adage that should apply to Lilly and me? I didn’t think so. She didn’t appear to be coming back. I kept an eye on her from a distance as she went into the studio each day. I’d asked Kenny to keep me posted via Natalie, but he outright refused me. “This doesn’t involve me, and I wouldn’t appreciate someone spying on me. Make it right with her, Bolt. Step up, and do the right thing,” he shot back at me when I’d asked.
Kenny didn’t know I wasn’t always on buying trips when I left the country. It was one of the reasons I left the service in the first place. My opinion on what was vital stood in stark contrast to the government’s opinion. I could sacrifice my integrity and not be truthful with the people I cared about if it was in the interest of national security. But I wasn’t on board if it was simply multiple agencies trying to compare the relative sizes of their balls.
So, there I was. The two most important people in the world to me both thought I was a cheat and they couldn’t trust me. Who was supposed to fix that?
I called Lilly as often as I dared over the long weeks, but that particular day, it was important.
“Hello?” She sounded tired.
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Yes?”
“How are you?”
“I’m OK, under the circumstances.”
“You only have to say the word, and I’ll come and get you. I miss you, sweetheart.”
“I know.”
“Meet me for lunch? We can pick somewhere near you so you won’t be gone long.”
“Where and when?”
“How about one o’clock today, at that new salad place on the corner of Fifth and Broadway?”
She paused, and I held my breath. “See you there,” she said finally.
* * *
Lilly looked tired, and that didn’t sit well with me. Her natural rosy glow was missing, and her beautiful eyes lacked their normal sparkle. I stood to greet her as she came in and walked up to the table. I held out my arms, and she came for a brief hug. I tried to hold her just a second longer, but she stiffened and pulled away. Was she avoiding giving any ground, or did she find me repulsive? I couldn’t stand the mental debate, so I handed her one of the restaurant’s giant green menus. “Pick a salad, any salad,” I said in a mock con man’s voice. “If they don’t have it, they’ll go out back and pick it.” I was referring to the restaurant’s promotion of using locally sourced fresh ingredients grown by boys with community-service hours on their hands on abandoned west-side lots. I thought reinvesting in your own disintegrating neighborhoods an excellent way to handle their idle time.
She smiled at my attempt at a joke and ordered. I
held up two fingers to the waiter and he left us alone.
“How have you been?” I asked.
“I’m OK.”
My brain was screaming that was a lie, and yet I couldn’t voice it. “You look a little tired,” I hazarded, and her hand immediately went to her cheek.
“Do I?” she asked, a worried expression on her face.
“I’ve missed you,” I countered.
“Don’t, Bolt. This is hard enough.”
Our salads appeared, and it seemed to take an excruciatingly long time to add dressing and refuse the offered French bread with butter. The waiter finally left again.
“Talk to me, Lilly. Tell me how you’re feeling. I promise, no arguments, no fights. I just want to know what’s going on in your head.”
She sighed heavily, her pale, delicate hand lifting an overly large glass of iced tea to her lips. I wanted to kiss those lips and not stop there.
“Bolt, I just can’t do it anymore.”
She dropped her fork, and I signaled the waiter for a fresh one, noting that her hand was shaking. He brought it, wrapped in a fresh napkin, and when she turned back to me, I smiled and nodded encouragingly.
“What can’t you do?” I prompted her.
“You know! I didn’t make a secret of anything, unlike you. That’s all you had were secrets. Double-talk, huge gaps in our conversation, the inability to make solid plans—what are you hiding, Bolt?”
I read the emotions on her face and couldn’t say a word.
“See? That’s what I mean. You’re hiding something big, and for some reason you don’t trust me enough to tell me what it is.”
“I wish I could.”
She put down her fork. “Did you murder someone? Is the mob after you? Are you in the witness protection program? What is it?”
I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. I knew other men told their wives they worked with the government, but that’s where it stopped. Lilly would have to be my wife, and she’d need to undergo a security background check before I could even admit who I worked for. Natalie was a problem. She ran with a bad crowd and had a history of being out of control. If Lilly knew, it would only be a matter of time until Natalie knew, or at least thought she did. Sisters were close and read each other’s minds. I couldn’t chance it. Anyway, I had decided to back out entirely and was headed to Washington in a few days to do the paperwork and debriefing. They weren’t happy, but then, neither was I.
She frowned and picked up the napkins to dab at her lips. She’d hardly eaten anything. “I can’t be in a relationship with a man I can’t trust, Bolt. The thing is, I really don’t, in my heart of hearts, believe that you’re cheating on me or doing something illegal. But you won’t account for your whereabouts or the gaps in time when you’re gone and unreachable. You have to understand how disconcerting that is to me.”
I nodded. “Yes, I can.”
“And you won’t do anything to clear all that up?”
“I can’t, not yet, but soon.”
“What does that mean?” She looked at me quizzically, and I hated that I couldn’t explain. This wasn’t fair to her, and I’d had my fill. When they debriefed me, they’d give me some idea of what I could tell her. They’d have to.
She laid down her napkin. “I’m not sure why you wanted to meet, Bolt,” she said as she pushed her chair back and stood up. “It hasn’t done anything but underline what we both knew already. I can’t trust what I don’t understand, and you’re not willing to open up. For my own sanity, I need to be away from you. Make no mistake, I’m in love with you. I just can’t live with you,” she said.
I stood up. “Lilly, wait! I will fix this, I swear I will. But in the meantime, will you at least have dinner with me, or come out to the house once in a while?”
She looked hopeful, but like a cloud passing over the sun, the look faded. “I can’t come to the house, Bolt. That makes you accountable. Dinner once in a while, OK, I’ll agree to that. But you keep your daily business to yourself, and I’m going to do the same. Don’t look for me, Bolt, or I’ll disappear to somewhere you’ll never find me.”
She leaned forward and gave me a ghost kiss on the cheek, and then she was gone. I pushed away what was left of my salad and noticed she’d barely put a dent in her own. I knew all this was making her ill, and it was my fault. The sooner I got back from Washington, the better.
* * *
I was packing my bag for the trip to DC when my cell buzzed. Kenny’s name was on the caller ID.
“Yeah,” I answered brusquely. Kenny had been giving me the silent treatment since Lilly left, and I couldn’t really blame him. I just needed to get past this last trip, and I’d never hide a single moment from either one of them again.
“Bolt, hey, I’m with Natalie, man. Well, at least, I’m outside on the sidewalk, looking up at her in the window. She’s smashed.”
“Damn!” I’d been hopeful she could hold out, but the woman was a serious addict, evidently. “Don’t let her take off, Kenny. She’ll find a dealer. Lilly will kill me if she finds out Natalie is on the loose and looking for a fix.”
“It’s worse than that, man. I got here an hour ago and Natalie was already pretty drunk. She got a call from Lilly. Natalie was slobbering her words and didn’t even notice when I tapped the phone to put it on speaker. Lilly’s sick.”
“Sick? What kind of sick? Where is she?”
“Listen, Natalie will kill me. You’re not supposed to know. In fact, I told her she couldn’t go help Lilly because she was too drunk and Lilly would be worse if she knew Natalie had fallen off the wagon. Nat started swinging at me and threw a glass at my head, barely missed. Jesus! Anyway, she started screaming at me to get out, and I went, just to calm her down. But I’m not leaving, Bolt. I’ll sleep in my car if I have to, but she’s not going to get past me.”
“Answer me. Where is Lilly?”
“When we hang up, I’ll text you the address. I overheard it as she told Nat. She’s sick, must be awfully sick to ask Natalie for help, you know? I can’t go, and Nat certainly can’t leave the house. You have to go help her, man. You’ve got to.”
“Send me the address!” I shouted and disconnected. My next call was to Washington, postponing my trip. I was out of the house and on Highway 60 toward Louisville as I programmed the address Kenny texted into my GPS.
It took me to a house in Old Louisville. Not much of a place to look at, but I could see it was close to her studio, and that must have been the appeal. It had to also be pretty cheap. I reasoned that apartment number one had to be on the ground floor, and I went up to the door and knocked. There was no answer. I tried again, still no answer. I texted her. “Lilly, it’s Bolt. Open the door, sweetheart, I’m here to help.”
“Can’t,” came the short reply, and two seconds later, my shoulder splintered the wood of the door, and I was inside. It wasn’t difficult to find her—the whole place was smaller than my bedroom. She was buried beneath layers of cheap blankets that had seen better days. They swallowed her whole, and all I could see was her damp hair and perspiration-soaked forehead. I felt it, and she definitely had a fever.
“I’m calling a doctor,” I said, pulling out my phone.
“No!” she blurted. “No doctors!”
Damn! I couldn’t force her. She was her own woman. I wasn’t even a relative, and worse yet, she’d disappear if I didn’t do as she ordered. “Sweetheart, you’re sick and are running a fever. You need help. Let me take you to a doctor if you won’t let one come here.”
She slowly shook her head from side to side. “No, not yet. Just a cold. A customer…”
“OK, don’t waste energy talking.” I found two washcloths in the dingy bathroom and saturated both with cold water. I bathed her face and neck, but she pushed my hand away before I could wash her body. I knew she was trying to stay private, but God help me, I wouldn’t have touched her as sick as she was, no matter how much I wanted her. She needed to rest.
I call
ed a local Chinese restaurant I knew and ordered a delivery of chicken broth with egg drops. I knew she had to eat. I wondered how long she’d been sick. Another call brought one of the girls from my office with a delivery of aspirin and some flu treatments from the drug store. I met these people at the door, keeping them outside and out of hearing. Lilly probably wouldn’t have known, anyway. She was in and out of sleep, her face bright red from the fever.
I got her to swallow some aspirin and remedies to help with the congestion, but she pushed away the soup. I pulled a chair up to the side of her bed and settled down as sentry. I would continue to check her fever during the night, and if she got worse, she was going to the ER whether she liked it or not. I couldn’t let her die.
I continued to bathe her face, and finally, about three in the morning, her fever broke. She was cool to my touch. At last, I laid my head down on the edge of her bed and drifted off to sleep. My last thought was how much I loved her, particularly when her hand slid over and grasped mine. She was safe, and then I was at peace.
Chapter 18
Lilly
I felt like a limp noodle, but as weak as I was, I recognized it was Bolt’s head on the edge of my mattress. He’d found me! The fog cleared slowly, and I could remember being on the phone with my sister, telling her I needed her help. She didn’t sound logical, and in thinking back, I wondered if she was under some influence again. The entire previous day had been a blur. My hand went to my tummy, and although the child was still small, I could feel the growing mound and wanted the touch of knowing it was still there. Bolt stirred at my small movement, and I quickly pulled the layers of covers up to my neck.
“Hi there,” he mumbled sleepily, his arms reaching overhead to stretch before he remembered and put his hand on my forehead. “How are you feeling?”
