Betrayal of Trust

by London St Charles

  “Again … self-defense. And if she’s half the woman I’ve pegged her to be, she’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” Priscilla paused, touching Cedrick’s leg. “She’s a mother … she’ll understand. Trust in your wife, Cedrick. Trust in her love.”

  * * *

  Sierra drove home, changed clothes, bandaged her injured feet, slipped on patent leather Mary Jane’s, then rushed to the office building. She swapped the comfortable shoes for a pair of three-inch heels on the ride up to the twentieth floor. Flats were frowned upon in the workplace. She shot off the elevator moving as fast as she could. It was difficult at times because her feet throbbed in pain. The usual buzz around the office was subdued, a sure sign that company was on the floor.

  She whizzed by her desk, eyeing the disarrayed papers and scowled.

  “Where’s Edward?” Sierra asked, Yvonne, Mark Smithe’s assistant.

  “In his office stewing,” she warned, never shifting her focus from the computer. “He’s been ringing your line every two minutes. Be careful, girl.”

  “Great,” she mumbled, checking the time.

  She had twenty minutes to spare, that was enough time to go over the documents for the meeting. Glancing at the disarray on her desk again, she fixed her face, then tapped on the door.

  “Yes,” Edward responded in an agitated tone.

  She entered, masking the shock on her face at the equivalent mess on his desk.

  Edward pushed upward with force, sending his chair rolling backward, crashing into the bookshelf. He took long strides around to the front of the desk. “You had me worried for a minute,” he snapped, glancing at his watch. “But I knew you’d come through.”

  The sarcasm in Edward’s tone made her blood boil. Sierra clipped the words that were about to roll off her tongue and apologized for the mix-up. She opened the file and went over the specifics, all the while disturbed by her bosses’ lack of empathy.

  “This is great,” Edward commented, straightening his tie and fastening his suit jacket. “Take care of this mess.”

  “Would saying please and thank you be too much to ask for you asshole?” she mumbled after he left the office. Slipping off her heels and sitting in his chair, she tried to breathe through the pain. She was starting to regret not letting the paramedic see to her injured feet. At the very least she could have gotten something to relieve the pain.

  Sierra called her husband as she arranged the files in alphabetical order, according to the client’s last name and placed them in the file cabinet. Sierra felt like she was cleaning up after one of her children. Pushing that thought out of her mind, she tried to hurry through her task.

  “Hey, honey. How are you feeling?” Sierra asked when she heard Cedrick’s voice. She placed the scattered business cards in the cardholder.

  “Still waiting on the test results,” he replied in a sad tone. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  “No––– I’m sorry for running out the way I did,” she countered, lifting the two picture frames that were laid face down on the desk. “I shouldn’t have left you like that, regardless of what you said. My job is never more important than you.”

  “You shouldn’t have to risk losing your job because of something I did, Sierra.”

  “We’ll discuss it later,” she soothed. “Did mom make it?”

  “You didn’t have to call my mother.”

  “Someone needed to be there with you.” She shook her head. “You shouldn’t be there struggling with things alone.”

  She glanced at the photo of Edward and his wife, Jenesis, and wondered how she could love such a temperamental man. Placing the frame in its spot, Sierra grabbed the second photo, a wedding picture of Edward’s son, Lennox and his wife, Victoria.

  “Say what?” she mumbled under her breath, resting her elbows on the desk.

  “Have you checked your emails today?” Cedrick inquired, his voice skittish.

  Sierra glared at the beautiful woman in the sweetheart neckline wedding gown with the gorgeous patch of white hair swooped to one side––– the same as the woman’s hair from the restaurant. She’d seen that photo a million times, but it never held her attention until today.

  “Huh?”

  “I sent you an email. If you haven’t opened it yet, please delete it,” Cedrick instructed.

  Sierra couldn’t tear her eyes away.

  Edward talked emphatically against Lennox moving to his wife’s hometown of Reno. He eventually accepted it, later praising his son for honoring her wishes no matter how much he was opposed. Edward hadn’t mentioned Lennox being in town. Why was his wife here, and why was she talking to her husband? This was too close to be mere coincidence.

  “What’s the woman’s name from the restaurant?”

  Silence floated in the air.

  “The fangirl,” Sierra said between clenched teeth. She quickly pulled the phone away from her ear when the office door opened.

  “Dad, it’s me,” a woman said happily peeking her head in Edward’s office.

  For a few uncomfortable seconds, both women were transfixed staring at each other.

  “Never mind,” Sierra spoke into the phone with slow deliberation before gingerly standing up. “She just walked in.”

  “Sier–––”

  She placed the handset back in its cradle ending the call.

  “I’m looking for Edward Banks,” the woman said. “He’s expecting me.”

  Sierra glanced down at the picture. “And you are?” she asked, even though she knew the answer, sliding her feet into her heels and coming from behind the desk. Sierra embraced the pain. It kept her calm.

  “Victoria Banks,” she confirmed, stepping into the office. “Didn’t I see you yesterday with Uwez––– Cedrick?”

  “Yes. And how do you know my husband?” Sierra inquired, folding her arms and leaning her backside against the desk.

  “We grew up together. We’ve been best friends since the fourth grade.”

  “You must take me as some kind of fool, Victoria,” Sierra remarked, glaring at the beautiful bombshell. “You’re not even from Chicago, so how did y’all grow up together?”

  Victoria stepped closer. “You seem to know more about me than you let on.”

  Sierra grabbed the wedding photo from the desk. “You’re Lennox’s wife.” She shoved the picture in her direction. “And you’re from Reno, Nevada––– try again.”

  Victoria’s expression was unreadable. “Kindly tell my father-in-law I’m here,” she said, taking purposeful strides to the door. “I’ll be in the lobby.”

  Chapter 8

  Something was going on, and Sierra was determined to find out what. The same woman at the restaurant just strutted into her boss’ office like she owned it.

  Sierra’s employer closed the deal with Eastside Development. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve been thrilled, but the outcome resulted in extra paperwork that had a swift deadline. The kind that consumed the entire day and squashed any opportunity Sierra would’ve had to speak with Victoria.

  She wanted answers, but Sierra hadn’t been able to reach Cedrick since they’d spoken earlier, and Priscilla’s phone was going straight to voicemail. Her insides knotted with worry.

  Five o’clock couldn’t have come soon enough. Sierra slipped on her flats, signed out for the day and drove to the hospital. Crazy thoughts filtered her mind, but she forced herself to focus on Cedrick’s well-being until he could tell her what was up with Victoria.

  * * *

  “I’m here to visit Cedrick Dalton,” she said to the security person at the desk.

  “What unit?”

  “I’m not sure,” she replied, dialing Priscilla’s number for the umpteenth time. “He was in the ER this morning, but they said he’d been admitted and that I had to come to the main entrance.”

  “Last name, Dalton, right?” the security person repeated, typing the name into the computer. “He’s on the ninth floor, ICU, room 903.”

 
; A sudden intake of air, dried her throat, leaving her tongue pasty. “Thanks,” she mumbled, heading to the elevators, oblivious to the people and noises surrounding her.

  Why didn’t Priscilla call? She’d promised to keep her updated on Cedrick’s condition. Worst case scenarios filled Sierra’s thoughts, and she could only imagine how his mother might be feeling. Her only son tried to… Sierra shook her head and leaned against the railing inside the elevator. She couldn’t allow herself to think about that.

  Sierra stepped off the elevator on the ninth floor. Instant sadness washed over her as a flood of sobbing people spilled out of the family waiting area a few feet down from where she stood.

  “Pardon me,” she said with a gentle tone while maneuvering through the grieving crowd.

  “I can’t believe granny’s gone,” a woman cried, embracing an older gentleman with sparse gray hair.

  “It was God’s will, my darling,” the man responded dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. “My sweet lady will always live in my soul. She’s resting with our heavenly father now and has eternal peace. I can’t be sad about that.”

  Sierra tried not to make eye contact, but she couldn’t help it. How could this man be so positive after losing someone he loved? Clearly, he understood the meaning of life in a way she didn’t. Her husband attempted suicide. He chose to leave her and the girls behind. Sierra could never understand that.

  “Sorry for your loss,” Sierra said, offering a compassionate smile.

  “Thank you,” he replied, breaking the embrace with the young woman he’d been talking to, then placed a hand on Sierra’s forearm. “My prayers are with you and whomever you’re here to visit. Know that God is able.” Then he stepped aside to let her pass.

  “I appreciate your kind words.”

  Sierra walked to room 903 and froze in the doorway for a moment, then made a beeline to a sleeping Priscilla. “Why is he in that?” she asked, pointing to an oversized clear cylinder while tapping Priscilla on the shoulder.

  “Hey, sweetie. It’s not as bad as it looks,” Priscilla explained, extending her arms above her head, yawning. “It’s an oxygen chamber. His blood test showed that the carbon monoxide levels were higher than expected. Dr. Simmons said the chamber provides pressurized oxygen which will enhance the body’s natural healing process much faster than the mask alone.”

  Sierra dropped her tote on the window ledge, then examined the contraption. “Can he hear me?” she asked, gazing at her husband lying on his back with his eyes closed.

  “Sure, he can,” Priscilla replied, leaning on her cane as she scooted to the edge of the reclining chair. “The doctor gave him a sedative. He’s been a bit worked up.”

  Sierra placed her hand on the chamber; it was cool to the touch. She took a moment to gather herself. This was just too much.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you with an update, Sierra. I know this must be overwhelming for you.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Sierra choked out.

  “Oh, honey. I feel horrible. I was planning to step out and call you to let you know how Cedrick was doing. The next thing I knew you were waking me up. Pull that chair over,” Priscilla instructed. “He’ll be sleeping for at least another hour. Sit down. Give yourself some time to relax.”

  That’s what Sierra needed, to turn her brain off, but that was impossible. She drug the chair alongside her mother-in-law, then lifted her phone and laptop from her tote.

  Priscilla placed her hand on Sierra’s knee. “Contrary to what this looks like, Cedrick’s a fighter. Don’t you worry. He’s going to bounce back from this.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he’s been through much worst,” she replied.

  “Like what?” Sierra asked, angling her body toward Priscilla.

  A shadow crossed his mother’s face. “Cedrick’s a good man. He loves you and those girls with every fiber of his being,” she stated, squeezing Sierra’s knee. “Don’t hold his past against him.”

  Sierra tilted her head to the side. “What does that mean? Why would I ever do that, Priscilla?”

  When her mother-in-law hesitated, Sierra grew impatient. She stood up and began pacing.

  “What is going on, Priscilla. I can feel it. There’s something hovering over us right now that I can’t see, but I know it’s there. Cedrick wouldn’t just up and try to commit suicide. He wouldn’t just check out on the girls and me without cause. He’s stronger than that,” she said in a voice laced with anger. “We are stronger than that.”

  “He was protecting me,” Priscilla blurted out.

  Sierra stilled. “Who?”

  “Cedrick. Haashim was an evil man, and an even worse husband and father.”

  “I thought Cedrick’s father’s name was Brian.”

  “It is, but his given name’s Haashim,” Priscilla responded, wringing her hands.

  Sierra frowned, taking in the change in Priscilla’s demeanor. “He’s Muslim?”

  “Yes,” she said, gazing at Cedrick.

  “Okay. So, what’s the big deal?” Sierra replied, “I’m confused.”

  “I’ve said too much.” Priscilla leaned forward on the cane and stood. “I’ll be back.”

  “Wait,” Sierra called after her mother-in-law, but she hurried out of the room. Sierra started to go after her, but something she couldn’t name kept her rooted to her spot. Was it fear? First, Victoria showed up out the blue, then Cedrick tried to take his life, and now Priscilla’s speaking in code. What the hell’s going on today? Sierra wondered. She’d give Cedrick’s mother some time, but she was determined to get to the bottom of all this. Tonight.

  Needing a distraction, Sierra called her mother to give her an update and check on the girls.

  “Mommy,” Carrington squealed. “Where are you? How’s daddy?”

  “I’m at the hospital with daddy and–––”

  “Is he okay?”

  Sierra glanced over at her husband, pursing her lips. “He’s going to be just fine. The doctor wants to keep an eye on him, but I promise he’s okay.”

  “Can I see him?” Carrington asked.

  “Not today, but soon,” she replied, firing up the laptop. “Where’s your granny?”

  “I’m right here, honey,” Marva said. “Carrington, how do you take this phone off of hands-free?”

  Sierra allowed herself the luxury of a chuckle. Carrington always had to show her granny how to operate her iPhone. Anything beyond making a phone call was foreign territory for her mother.

  “How’s Lena?”

  “She’s sleeping, finally.” Marva exhaled, her voice filled with relief. “She knew granny needed a break and petered out twenty minutes ago. How’s Cedrick?”

  Sierra filled her mom in on everything that Priscilla told her, including the strange conversation, as she opened her personal email.

  “I love you. I’m sorry,” Sierra said, reading the subject of an email she received from Cedrick early this morning.

  “I love you, too, but what are you sorry about?” Marva questioned.

  Sierra skimmed the text. Her heart plummeted faster than Number 45’s approval rating.

  “Mom––– Cedrick sent me…” Sierra’s voice faltered, “A suicide email.”

  The silence on the other end of the phone matched the emptiness in Sierra’s soul.

  Priscilla entered the room with two brown Styrofoam cups with black lids. They exchanged a glance, and Sierra knew beyond any doubt, that the conversation they had ten minutes earlier, had everything to do with what she’d just read.

  “Momma. I have to go.”

  “I can drop the girls off at Crystal’s if you need me,” Marva countered. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  “Thanks, but please don’t bring auntie Crystal into this. I’ll be fine,” she sniffled. “Priscilla’s back. I’ll keep you posted. I love you.”

  Sierra ended the call and placed the phone face down in her lap.

  Pris
cilla extended a cup to Sierra, but it hung in the midair. Instead, Sierra stared at her with an expectant look. With a deep, soul-wrenching sigh, she lowered the cup to the table and sat down across from Sierra. Folding her hands in her lap, she stared her daughter-in-law in the eyes. “Cedrick killed his father.”

  A loud gasp escaped Sierra’s mouth.

  A single tear trickled down Priscilla’s face. “As I said earlier, Haashim was an evil man.”

  Sierra balked, walking toward the window, gazing at the panoramic view of Lake Michigan. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that. I thought it was an accident. That maybe he fell and hit his head, or something and Cedrick didn’t do anything to help him.”

  Priscilla hobbled over to the window. “He who is without sin cast the first stone.”

  “Don’t spout bible verses at me,” Sierra warned. “Thou shall not kill.”

  Anger spurred Priscilla into action. She stood up to her full height, her cane forgotten. “Don’t you dare judge me…or my son. Haashim was an abusive man who beat Cedrick daily,” she spat through clenched teeth with knitted brows. “He was an extremist when it came to Islam. Cedrick never had the kind of childhood that Carrington and Lena have. Can you imagine what that’s like? How hard it was on both of us to walk on eggshells day after day? Not knowing what would set my husband off, or throw him into a rage?”

  Sierra remained silent. Tears flowed haphazardly down her cheeks. Numb, she turned and blankly stared out the window. At that moment, she realized that she didn’t know her husband at all. His past and what he’d been through in his childhood. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  Priscilla slowly crossed the room. She placed her hand on Sierra’s shoulder. “He wanted to protect you, Carrington and Lena from his past—from his pain. Cedrick couldn’t ask questions or make demands. He was seven years old the first time Hasshim hit him with a closed fist––– all because he asked why he prayed to Allah instead of Jesus like his friends?” Priscilla frowned. “He was seeking understanding. It didn’t warrant a thrashing.” Priscilla’s voice cracked with the remembered pain. “Cedrick couldn’t even leave the dinner table to go to the bathroom, without getting backhanded. And if he wet himself, he got it ten times worse.”