His Substitute Wife... My Sister Book One

by Sylvia Hubbard

  “Aren’t there other tests?” Charisse asked. “I thought there were tests?”

  Impatiently, Chyna said, “You gave me nine months, Charisse. Nine months! You just said it and if we can’t hurry the process, you can’t hurry what you really want to do to yourself. The tests could take years and Cheyenne could find a way to get to you by then.”

  Charisse turned away in order to process what her sister was asking her to do. She needed more time to think. It was too much to consider right now. The room was quiet and it seemed as if she could hear the blood rushing through her veins.

  After a moment, her sister said impatiently, “They’re waiting, Charisse.”

  “Yes, I know,” Charisse snipped, turning around to Chyna. “But don’t you think I should take as long as I need?”

  “You’ve already given us permission to use an egg and the use of your body. We just didn’t expect it to be so difficult to fertilize.”

  “I did give you permission, Chyna, when I thought it would be done under some microscope and needles, not…not naturally! Are you sure Parker knows what this means?”

  The door to the doctor’s office opened. Parker filled the doorway like a man who was confident. He seemed to command the presence of all and Charisse found it impossible to believe that his sperm was weak. He was so formidable and yes, handsome. The more she looked at him, the more she found herself attracted to every damn thing about him and couldn’t find one thing not to be appealing.

  His eyes went to his wife first to see if it were good news, but when Chyna didn’t give him the visual or verbal response he wanted, he then looked over to Charisse with great concern.

  Her intestines felt as if they flipped over at his direct tannish brown eyes.

  ‘Stop it!’ she ordered herself. ‘He’s your brother-in-law. He’s not yours!’

  “Tell her, Parker,” Chyna ordered. “Tell her you agreed to this.”

  “Only if she agrees to it, Chyna. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable,” he said solemnly, looking quickly away from Charisse as if it were difficult to make eye contact with her.

  Moving in front of her to block Charisse’s vision of Parker, her sister said, “Charisse gives her permission.” Chyna’s eyes narrowed to threatening slits.

  Charisse could see her sister’s cruel look, but Parker didn’t. Charisse didn’t know what she wanted and she was terrified to look at Parker because she thought he would see her fear of her sisters. She might as well agree because Chyna was right. Soon Cheyenne would get to her and then there was nothing that could help her. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

  Parker released a sigh of release and Chyna turned to hug her husband screaming in delight. He moved his arms around her and held her close. His eyes went to that beautiful color of happiness.

  Slowly his eyes moved over to her and Charisse steeled her emotions to his warm beautiful gaze.

  He mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

  Charisse’s insides tripled flipped again and she quickly looked away to try to gather her thoughts again.

  Maybe if she accomplished something in life, she could accomplish her death.

  Chapter 8

  By the time they had gotten home, Chyna had been promised a full nursery and two shopping sprees for the baby. Parker had gotten dropped off at the hospital for the appointment and they all drove in the same car back home. The two of them acted like it was Christmas and for her sister, it was.

  Chyna snuck in that she’d have to get a whole new “mommy” wardrobe and get her own shopping trip as well, along with a brand new mini-van.

  ‘She’ll make a killing off this baby. This will insure him for life,’ Charisse thought.

  He was happy. Very happy.

  And he kept glancing back at Charisse in concern.

  Playing possum was getting easier and easier. As soon as the car stopped, she jumped out and was glad Rochelle opened the door.

  “I’m tired,” she mumbled. “I’m going to shower.”

  Rochelle nodded with a worried look on her face.

  “Where’s she going?” Chyna demanded.

  “She says she’s tired. She’s had a long day, ma’am,” Rochelle said sympathetically. “Please let her rest.”

  “But– “ Chyna started to protest.

  “It’s alright,” Parker said. “She is right, Chyna. Charisse has had a long stressful day.”

  When Rochelle was gone, he motioned Chyna to the family room that was off to the side on the second floor and closed the door behind him.

  “I really don’t think Rochelle will be receptive to your plan, Chyna, and if my sister-in-law doesn’t like touching how in the hell am I to do it naturally?”

  Chyna grimaced deep in thought. “Give me a few hours I’ll think of something and you come up with a plan to get Rochelle out of the house. Dr. Redmond said by next week, she’ll be ovulating, so we need all the time to get her pregnant.”

  “It sound so cold, Chyna. I still can’t believe she agreed to this.”

  “Just be able to do your end of the job and it’ll all be over with quickly.”

  “The doctor said she should be given a couple of days to rest.”

  “We don’t– “

  He knew how to put his foot down when he really wanted something from her.

  “Chyna, that’s not up for discussion or argument. Charisse needs a couple of days and we’ll give it to her.”

  Chyna huffed angrily, but Parker didn’t wait for her to continue before leaving.

  ***

  “What’s wrong?” Rochelle asked, coming into the bathroom where Charisse sat in the empty tub fully clothed with her legs drawn up to her chest.

  “Nothing,” she lied.

  “I can’t help if you won’t tell me, Charisse.”

  “Maybe I don’t want your help.”

  “You keep saying those nice words and I’m going to think you like me.”

  Charisse snorted, knowing the woman was trying to use humor to cajole information from her - old trick, but cute coming from the older nurse.

  ‘I think I just signed my soul over to the devil,’ she said to herself.

  Rochelle left when she knew Charisse really wasn’t going to say anything.

  Charisse threw cold water on her face and came out the bathroom. A mid-afternoon nap helped her and by dinner she was famished.

  The nurse insisted on having her sit at a table placed in the middle of the floor of the bedroom.

  “Is anyone here other than us?” Charisse asked.

  “No,” Rochelle answered. “Mr. Mills left for an appointment while you were in the bathroom and your sister just left. I don’t think they plan on returning very soon.”

  She relaxed and enjoyed her meal, trying not to think about what she had stupidly agreed to. Rochelle drew a bath while Charisse ate.

  After eating, she soaked herself in the warm bath; just staring stupidly at nothing. “Can I go to the library after I get done?” she asked when Rochelle came in to pick up her dirty clothes off the floor.

  “Sure,” Rochelle said. “You don’t need to ask especially if you’re in the house. Mr. Mills has certainly gone out of his way to make sure that the house is safe for you.” She sat on the closed toilet. “I’m not a doctor, Charisse, but I’ve been looking up your symptoms.”

  “Symptoms? I don’t have a cold.”

  “But you have a phobia,” Rochelle pointed out. “A fear of touch. It’s called Aphenphosmphobia.”

  “Sounds like a V.D,” Charisse said sarcastically. “Who cares?”

  “You should. It states it’s usually associated with sexual assault.”

  “Or seeing your father’s brain matter splattered all over your skin.”

  “And you think if you’re touched it’ll come back?” Rochelle questioned seriously.

  Charisse moved further down in the water, wanting just to disappear. After a moment of not responding the nurse assumed she wasn’t going to answer.

 
Just as she was about to leave, Charisse said, “Like my skin is burning all over and I can’t…I can’t breathe and…burning. It all burns.”

  The nurse stood at the doorway for a moment not responding. Finally she left Charisse alone.

  “Yeah, I know,” Charisse whispered to herself out loud. “I’m crazy.”

  After the bath, Rochelle placed a light blue cotton nightgown with a matching gown on the bed. White bedroom shoes were by the doorway and Charisse trudged down the stairs to the second floor where the only door opened was the library with classic books on the shelf. She found a hardback of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin and curled into the chair near a locked window.

  “You need anything? Warm milk? Cookies?” Rochelle asked from the doorway after an hour into reading.

  “No, I’m fine,” Charisse mumbled, trying to get into the book.

  Chyna’s resolution to the couple’s problem was just the most ridiculous thing Charisse had ever heard of. She was a virgin but she wasn’t stupid. She knew the process a little and had seen some of the patients around her engage in it when they thought she was too out of it to care. Yet, just the idea of Parker being that close to her – hell, being inside of her made her feel…it was unexplainable and every time she thought about trying not to think about it, which was confusing in itself, she felt weird. It wasn’t illness. She knew when she was sick.

  Charisse had always been a realist and she knew when she just couldn’t stand something, but this wasn’t something she didn’t know if she could withstand or wanted. The more she thought about Parker’s proximity to her, the dizzier she felt.

  That was what bothered her the most. Was he affecting her without effort? Is this what he had done to Cheyenne? Did he have this effect on all women?

  And how many times would Parker and she have to “do it” in order to accomplish conception?

  Her stomach began to quiver, but she wasn’t in a vomiting mood. Far from it. Her mouth was dry and her throat kept trying to swallow some imaginary lump.

  After half an hour more, she told herself Mr. Darcy wasn’t as fascinating as Parker.

  The devil himself showed up at the doorway just as she lifted up her eyes from her book.

  He took note of what she was reading. “I don’t think you’ll enjoy that book. They all live happily ever after in the end.”

  She closed the book and held it against her chest, trying not to notice that his tie was unloosed and the top of his shirt was opened. The sculpture of his collarbone heightened her senses and she felt like she had rubbed Icy Hot on every inch of her skin. Even the blood in her toes tingled. “But I already know it’s not real,” she responded, pulling her eyes away from him and looked down in the book as if she really wanted to read rather than look at him.

  He’d taken off his jacket before coming in and it was lying over his arm. Still as handsome as ever and didn’t even think so. “Can I join you?” he asked. “Unless Mr. Darcy has captured you completely.”

  “Mr. Darcy isn’t my type.”

  “I thought he would be your type. Cold, stoic and sarcastic – qualities you portray.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like how he was. I think his qualities are great, but he isn’t someone I’d want to date.”

  “Really and what kind of man is that?” He leaned at the doorway still not entering the room.

  How’d they get on this subject?

  Hiding her internal disquiet, she said dispassionately, “No man really has ever caught my eye. That would mean I’m actually looking forward to something.”

  There was a bothered expression briefly on his face and she decided to get to the issue at hand. “Why do you want to come in here? Did you have work to do?”

  “No, I just wanted to come and talk with you.”

  “Why?” she questioned warily.

  Parker was a little off centered by her question. The only other person he was use to rude bluntness was Jaelen.

  When he didn’t answer right away, she asked, “What do we have to talk about?”

  “Everything.”

  “Can’t you talk over there?”

  Just as if she were Jaelen, he confidently walked in the room, laid his jacket and brief over his desk and sat down on the settee next to the chair where she was curled up in.

  “I should have been here this morning,” he said. “For that I apologize. Honestly, I was terrified of your answer.”

  “I can perfectly understand you not being here,” she said as if that were obvious. “Work is more important than the child you want to bring in this world.”

  She had a way of making him look the fool easily.

  “No,” he gritted through his perfectly white teeth. “This is more important to me. Very important.”

  Getting out of the chair, she put the book back on the shelf and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m sleepy. I think I should go to bed.”

  “Please, Charisse.” He stood up and faced her. “I’d like to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “This! Everything.” He was a little flustered.

  Plopping back in the chair, she ordered, “Then talk.”

  He sat back down on the settee. “Why’d you agree? Knowing your condition.”

  “She’s my sister,” she said again as if it were obvious. Giving him her real reason would be too macabre. Quickly, she changed things around, wanting to get off the subject. “Why did you agree?”

  “Because I know the stigma of adoption. I know I’d like a child sooner than later. I know I’m willing to do anything for one but I don’t want you to feel forced in any way. Plus Chyna said you wouldn’t put up with all the tests that could take years.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, she just didn’t want to look at him anymore. It was making her feel funny inside. When she opened them, he had concern in his lovely light chocolate eyes. It was like looking at creamy hot chocolate after the marshmallows had melted and she had the warm glove in her chest after she had taken a swallow. “Gloves,” Charisse said quietly. “Lots of clothes.”

  Looking perplexed, he frowned.

  “When they had to handle me during my episode at the facility, the orderlies that knew me would use cotton gloves,” she explained, sitting back in the chair.

  Parker looked relieved. “Thank you. And somehow we’ll have to work on proximity issues.”

  “Yours or mine?”

  “I don’t have proximity issues with women,” he said proudly.

  “Oh yeah, yours is the fact you have too much proximity with women.”

  He cut her a look, but didn’t respond to that statement and instead said, “That might mean we’ll have to talk more to get comfortable.”

  Why’d it seem like he’d moved too close, but she didn’t see his body move, yet she could smell him very well and it wasn’t a bad thing. The definition of his collarbone was even more evident, along with how she noticed how clean his shave was and his skin in his neck pulsed calling for her to touch it. That tingling in her blood returned full force and more powerful creating a throbbing between her legs. “We’ll figure out the rest as it comes or Chyna could come up with another solution.” She blushed and abruptly stood up.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  ‘Did I have to use the word come?’ she asked herself. Out loud, she said, “Nothing. I’m really tired.” She wasn’t sick. She knew that, yet she couldn’t explain what was happening to her.

  “Wait,” he said, getting up and going over to the desk to take something out of his brief. “I have something for you.”

  Charisse faced him reluctantly, still wanting to die in embarrassment for what she had said out loud.

  Parker brought her two wrapped gifts. Opening the first, she saw it was from Sophie. It was a personal rooming kit with safety devices or items made out of strong plastic so Charisse couldn’t hurt herself and then a Tango CD. The second was a mini inspiration book from Lupe, but it was in Spanish.

  On the inside
, Lupe had written in English, ‘My grandmother gave me this same book in English when I arrived in America at fourteen. When I told her I couldn’t read English, my grandmother stated, ‘God never gives anyone anything they can’t handle.’ Be strong and I hope we can celebrate more birthdays to come.’

  Parker had read over her shoulder being careful not to touch her, but she could feel his breath on her cheek, which made her promptly move away and hold the items close to her chest. “Thank you,” she said.

  “You should thank them someday. You’re not the religious type, though.” He was referring to what Lupe had written.

  “And how would you know?”

  “Because you wouldn’t try to kill yourself,” he said obviously. “Even I know you’ll go straight to hell for that.”

  “Maybe I’m already in hell.”

  Parker only shrugged.

  “Didn’t get anything for your birthday,” she noted. “I didn’t even say happy birthday to you when it came. I should apologize.”

  “You already gave me what I wanted and I don’t even mind the lateness of the gift,” he said with that twinkle in his eye.

  Charisse quickly went to her room and went to bed, trying not to think that even when Parker was not dressed to perfection he still looked good.

  Chapter 9

  The comforter was suddenly snatched off her body. Awakening, she tried to move her arms, but someone had tied them down to the bed in her sleep.

  Someone had touched her?!

  “Rochelle!” she cried, but the nurse didn’t come out of the room.

  Looking down her body she suddenly realized she was naked. “Help!” she screamed. “Somebody help!”

  “Why should they help you?” Cheyenne’s voice came from the side of the bed.

  Even though Chyna and Cheyenne looked alike, Charisse could tell the difference because Cheyenne’s hair was kept shorter. Trepidation washed over Charisse’s soul because Cheyenne had that knowing look that could see the soul of any one and knew the truth behind all.