‘It’s kind of hard not to take that personal,’ I said trying to inject humour into my voice.
Carol clutched my coat, pulling it tightly over her chest. It wasn’t to fight the cold but to hold onto something while she admitted something she felt uncomfortable with.
‘It’s wonderful to at least have someone out there who knows I exist and who tried to help me, but ...’ she hesitated.
‘You can say it. Come on, out with it. You can’t lose me, remember?’ I smiled. I could see the tension subside from her shoulders.
‘When you and I are done talking, you go back to your life, and I go back to mine. Not to be nasty, Katie, but your life is happy and safe. You have a job, and you make something of yourself. When I go home, there is nothing for me, just a mean bastard who beats me black and blue or ignores me as if I don’t exist,’ she said.
‘But we’re going to get you out of there soon. Don’t lose sight of that, Carol,’ I reminded her.
Suddenly Carol’s face was hard again. ‘It’s too late,’ she said. ‘He’s won. I haven’t got any fight left within me.’
‘No, Carol, don’t give up. Not yet. We’re near the end of the road. I’ve got an appointment to see a solicitor this week to see if we can get around the red tape. When I show her the photos, I’m sure she’ll be able to help,’ I assured her.
Carol did not respond this time. She just sat there, inhaling deeply until the butt almost scorched her fingers. Her eyes briefly caught mine, and then she looked down to her bare feet.
‘Thank you, Katie. For everything. I would never have made it this far without you. And I’m truly sorry for any hurtful things I’ve ever said to you.’
‘Hey, don’t be silly. I know you never meant it.’
Carol looked up at me, her tears glistening in the glare of the bright spotlights the police had mounted down in the street. I wanted to hug her but could not interrupt her while she was getting everything off her chest.
I could hear her breath shiver as she forced out more words. ‘You know what? All my life, all I ever wanted was a child. If I’d have had one, at least someone would have needed me. I would have gone home to someone who needed my company and my nurturing, you know? But that bastard even took that chance away from me. He had a vasectomy without even telling me.’
I shook my head in sympathy, waiting for her to get it all out.
‘Maybe I would have felt worthy, regardless of what James thought of me. A child; children, would have given me a reason to go on, because when they grow up, you’re rewarded for your work,’ she said dreamily.
I realised how right Carol was. Until now, I couldn’t quite put my finger on the need I felt for a child, but she made it clear. And I felt the same. Like Carol, I wished for that meaning, that purpose in life. At Carol’s age, it was unlikely she could still have children, but I still had an opportunity to make it happen for me. Her ordeal was an unfortunate sign for me to follow my heart. Carol Wicker, I felt, was sent to me for a reason.
‘You’re so very right. Children give us something to look forward to, no matter what life throws at us,’ I said with a smile.
She smiled sorrowfully at her missed chance. ‘No matter how James belittled me or beat me, my children would have thought the world of me, filled my life with meaning,’ she reiterated.
My instincts told me that her continual statements were not a good sign, but as I considered the psychosomatic reasons for her repetition, Carol simply leaned backwards and sank beneath the other side. The last thing I saw was her smile and her hands clutching my coat, instantly disappearing as she plummeted to the concrete below.
I heard a blood-curdling scream and realised it was mine. I tried to stand, but my legs failed me, and the last thing I recall was the icy wetness underneath me as my head connected with the roof floor. From my fading consciousness, I only heard the police officer’s concerned voice. Before my eyes closed, I saw him lurch over me in the vicious and merciless gale force wind.
Chapter 11
When I woke, I was in a haze. My eyes hurt from the blinding white light all around me. Hollow and indecipherable, words and sounds whirled through my thick ears. Did I have cotton wool in my head? Only when I tried to move did the pain greet me.
‘Ow,’ I uttered unintentionally, but I couldn’t hold my sore skull thanks to the sharp sting in the back of my hand where the IV was administered. My neck ached and felt horribly stiff so that I couldn’t move it much without being in excruciating pain. My ears hissed as the voices became a little clearer.
I was in hospital, and the voices I heard were announcements somewhere outside the ward I was in. Throughout my body, a persistent agony tortured me, sending wave after wave of lightning through my skin. I groaned softly, hoping not to be discovered until I had fully regained my sanity and my composure, not to mention my basic senses.
‘She’s awake. I’d better call Dr Pane,’ I heard one of the nurses whisper from the entrance to my room. Apparently the nurse was watching me from the other side of my bed, which I couldn’t face with my sore neck. I heard Dr Pane being paged while she approached me slowly.
She was no older than twenty-five, petite, with a sweet, mousy face. The epitome of pretty, the sandy-haired nurse took my hand and whispered, ‘Welcome back. Glad to have you with us.’
I could only nod as my throat felt like sandpaper, burning and sore. The astute young woman immediately poured me a glass of water and held it to my eager lips. Oh, what heavenly coolness it was to feel the water coat my raw gullet! I swallowed zealously, only then discovering just how thirsty I was.
‘Not too quickly,’ she warned. ‘You’ll be sick. And I’m sure you’re not feeling that great as it is.’
She was right. I felt awful, weak and feverish. I just nodded at the pretty girl who seemed genuinely caring. She carefully took the soothing clear liquid from me and wiped my lips with a cold, wet washcloth. With a kind smile, she checked my drip and waited at my bedside until Dr Pane appeared in the doorway. I knew it was her because my friendly white-clad serf addressed her as she entered.
‘And how is Mrs Winston feeling?’ the petite, red-haired woman asked. Her gait was exceptionally confident as she made her way to my bed, receiving my medical chart from the nurse.
‘Is this the latest?’ she asked her.
‘Yes, Doctor,’ the nurse replied.
‘Thank you,’ the doctor said. After checking my vitals, she asked me generic questions as she bothered my sensitive pupils with her sharp little searchlight. She stared intently into my eyes to examine my reflexes and level of cognitive perception, but she looked satisfied. ‘You suffered a concussion from the impact of your fall when you passed out. We’ve also run several tests because you had a high temperature when you came in, and you have a kidney infection.’ She paused momentarily. ‘I heard about the situation, and I’m sorry for your loss.’ She said the words so sympathetically, I wanted to cry as the memory came flooding back. Carol.
I tried to say something but found that my raw throat felt like hell for a reason – I had no voice inside my swollen, dry throat. My hand gestures must have betrayed my attempts at clarification because she caught on instantly.
‘Now, there’s no damage been done. But we’ll keep you in overnight, just to be a hundred percent sure. I’ll pop in before I officially discharge you with a course of antibiotics to clear up the infection, alright?’
Just a nod sufficed this time. I was done trying to communicate, yet the crude burn of my flesh around my voice that swelled up to the back of my throat alarmed me. After Dr Pane left, I was elated to see the familiar face of my husband peek around the corner.
‘Hey babykins.’ He smiled warmly, flashing me a bouquet of flowers. I smiled. Thank God I could smile! However, just about everything else I tried to do hurt with fury. My hands stung from the little silver bites of syringes and bruises caused by some inept nursing sister, no doubt. All over my body, even the slightest movement of my limbs
sent jolts of painful agony through my nerve endings when I tried to reach out for Jordan, but I wasn’t going to deny myself a long embrace from my sweetheart.
‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he said as he gently enfolded me in his strong arms. ‘Look at my eyes!’ he said, ‘do you see how bloodshot they are?’ Jordan blessed me with a cosy, loving stare that made my heart jump. I nodded, smiling at his playful reprimand. ‘They’re like this from lack of sleep and worrying about you,’
Then his face was serious, and he lowered the volume of his ranting to a gentle and genuine admission, ‘I thought I’d lost you. When they brought your lifeless body out of the church, I thought you were dead.’
His hands caressed me painfully, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his touch hurt me. Jordan’s love was the only constant I had in my life, and I wasn’t going to ask him to keep his affection at bay, not even for the moment or for the sake of alleviation. Right then, I knew that I would take all the pain in the world for the love of my life and by the closeness we shared, even Martha would not part us.
‘I— love ...’
‘I love you too, babe,’ he said smiling. ‘Don’t try to talk now, alright? Dr Pane said you mustn’t say anything until the rawness in your throat goes away,’ he informed me, sounding equally as insistent as my doctor. I tried to gesture, but Jordan wasn’t too sharp at charades, I’m afraid.
‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Shall I get a pen and paper?’
I nodded. Whatever it would take for him to understand my inquiry would be fine. From the back of the medical folder, he withdrew a blank piece of paper and pulled his trusty golden Parker from his pocket. ‘Here.’
I wrote, ‘Where’s Carol?’
I stared at Jordan, waiting for a decisive answer, but he eluded eye contact with me. Eventually, I slammed my hand against the frame of the bed in anguish to get his attention. Jordan knew he had to report, whether he wanted to or not.
‘They released her body yesterday,’ he sighed.
Yesterday! I scribbled what day is it?
‘Babykins, you’ve been out for two days. From what I read in the paper, she’s being cremated tomorrow.’
I scrawled Carol’s name in large capital letters. ‘CAROL HER NAME IS CAROL.’
‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Carol is being cremated tomorrow.’
At that moment, I could not have wished more to have my voice at my disposal. I had a lot to say and wanted to say it loudly and firmly, but I couldn’t. All I could do was to make sure he could see my discontent. I forced my voice, but all I could muster was a whisper, ‘That bastard! He finally got what he wanted.’
‘Don’t speak!’ he warned with more concern than conflict. His hands cupped my jaw gently, and his eyes darted between mine. ‘Try and forget about it. You’ve just got to focus on your own life now. Think about your own needs for a change.’
Jordan’s voice was urgent and sincere. I could tell that he meant every word. The irony was overwhelming that such notions came from the one man I could not tell my true wishes or share my dreams with for fear of losing him.
Chapter 12
After a night spent grieving Carol and confusion about my yearning for a baby, I spent the morning finding my voice. To my delight, it had come back slightly, enough not to force. I constantly tried to say something, just to explore the reaches of my vocal ability. I hated not having a voice. Not until one loses the ability to speak does one realise how precious such a seemingly mundane action can be. I still felt ill, but there was no way I was going to share this information with anyone. It would just be an excuse to keep me in for longer.
I was dressed and waiting for Dr Pane to give the heads up to discharge me. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and I was sitting on the edge of the bed when I realised with dismay that Carol’s funeral would be over by now. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye. I swallowed back a sob, which was shortly replaced with anger. I’d seen Carol’s obituary online and had nearly flung my phone out the window when I read the bullshit James had to say about his ‘beloved’ wife. His punchbag wife he meant. I wondered if Carol was at peace now, wherever she was. Was she happy to be released from the clutches of James? Had ending her life so suddenly been worth it after all.
Martin had been sending me text messages to keep up on my progress, but we mentioned little of Carol. I figured he wanted to spare me having to relive the incident over and over again. Though it hurt immensely to know that I couldn’t save her, I had to respect Carol’s decision of how she wanted to live or in this case end her life. If I took that away from her, I was no better than James. For the first time in her married life, she finally had control.
‘Good morning!’ Dr Pane chimed as she entered the room.
‘Morning,’ I croaked.
‘I bet you can’t wait to get home,’ she said.
I nodded my head in agreement. Couldn’t wait was an understatement. I craved some privacy and not to be poked and prodded at random intervals.
‘Just make sure you take it easy when you get home. You need lots of rest and plenty of fluids.’
‘Of course,’ I said. Though I couldn’t imagine staying in bed another day. I’d go stir crazy.
Without much toil, she checked my vitals, noted on my chart. ‘I’d advise you take a week off work to recuperate.’
‘A week?’ I gasped, immediately thinking of being left alone with my thoughts and having no distractions.
‘Yes, at least. And on that note,’ she added, ‘you’re good to go. I think I saw your husband at the nurses’ station when I came in.’
Having said her piece, Dr Pane turned to go.
‘Doctor Pane?’ I hastened before she disappeared again.
‘Yes?’
‘If a person fell to their death from over two hundred feet, would they have suffered?’ I asked.
Her eyes looked vacant for a moment, and then they filled with compassion as she said, ‘I have no doubt they wouldn’t have suffered at all.’
Thank you, Doctor,’ I said with a smile.
When she disappeared around the corner, a sudden wave of grief hit me again, with more force than before. In my morose state, I was grateful for the solitude of the room, and I was its only occupant. Carol’s face haunted me beyond solace. Her words, those very final admissions of regret for the very omission from her life of that which I was now considering, slammed against the inside of my skull as my memory recited them incessantly over and over.
‘You know what? If I had had children, at least someone would have needed me. I would have gone home to someone who needed my company and my nurturing, you know?’
My hoarse voice bent under my inadvertent gasping and whimpering as my body convulsed under the force of my sorrow for Carol’s demise. Not just did her death cut me, but the feelings that she must have felt instilled a terrible sadness in me. Oh, how alone she must have felt! Such a dreadful, lonely existence she suffered for which her husband still punished her to drive the stake deeper.
I was doomed to end up like Carol Wicker – a used-up, weary and humiliated woman that endured emotional torments at the hands of those who did not want to allow her the happiness she knew she needed to be free of their persecution.
At the hands of my husband and his manipulative mother, I would never be allowed to have children. I knew if I didn’t open up to him and tell him the truth, I wouldn’t stand a chance of maybe getting him to change his mind eventually. And if he didn’t change his mind, I would be trapped under their immovable palms to be a good little wife who did as she was told to ensure the happiness of all except her own.
‘No matter how James belittled me, my children would have thought the world of me, filled my life with meaning.’
I could not end up like Carol. I refused! Even if I weren’t planning on having children right away, it would make a world of difference to my disposition and my capacity to be a good wife if I knew that Jordan at least supported my decisions
about our life, about my life. Soon, I would have to at least discuss it with him because the secret was slowly killing me inside.
His mother’s concession to every bad decision he made and her support of him even when she knew he was utterly wrong cultivated this horrendous personality trait in Jordan. Good God, to see a 36-year-old man pouting like a spoilt little boy would surely be something any mother would frown upon. But oh no, not Martha. Her little boy could act like ... well, like her, and still they would both accuse me of being the melodramatic one for always bringing up those damned annoying logical things that threatened to force them to see reason beyond their own selfish needs.
My tears for Carol’s fate hid quite well my fear for my own. The thought of having to talk about the two obstacles barring me from a happy life made me cry even harder.
‘Katie!’ I heard Jordan’s voice, but I ignored him. Thinking of his negative side at that moment escalated my resentment for him, regardless of his current demeanour. This was unfair of me, but in this state of abandon and raw feeling, I honestly couldn’t care less. ‘Babykins, what’s wrong?’ His hands clasped around my wrists, and he pulled me close. ‘Is everything alright?’
Looking into his concerned eyes, I felt like such a bitch. Jordan had done nothing wrong, and I was punishing him for my own state of mind. ‘I’m fine,’ I whimpered.
Jordan softly pushed me away from him and cheerfully asked, ‘Did I just hear that sweet voice again? Is your voice back?’ I nodded. Jordan smiled and pulled me painfully against him again, but again, I didn’t alert him to the agony his touch caused me.
‘That’s wonderful,’ I heard Martha say from the doorway. My stomach churned with disdain even at the thought that she was there. ‘Her voice and her colour are back, Jordan. Isn’t that just wonderful?’
‘Yeah, keep up the fake kindness toward me in front of him, you cowardly witch,’ I hissed in my head. Having my face buried in my husband’s chest and away from her spared me the misfortune of her traitorous countenance.
Mine To Lose Page 6
