Текст книги "Lovers and Reprisals"

Автор книги: Lori Turner

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Dr. Monica Stone smiled when she said...

“Mr. Delors, you were right to bring her here.  There was extensive internal damage, and I’m quite sure that the Samaritan Hospital would not have been equipped to address her problems.”

“So...everything went well.”  Lucien repeated.

“Yes...everything went well.”

Lucien looked at the bags filled with IV fluids, then his eyes fell on her double casted legs.  One of her arms was wrapped in a half cast, and her head was bandaged, covering most of her raven black hair.  He watched the rise and fall of her chest, when he said...

“She’s still asleep.  Was their brain damage...or is she sleeping off the anesthesia”

Dr. Stone said...

“It’s a little bit of both.  I’m not going to sugarcoat this.  She had some ugly injuries.  Practically every speciality has had their hands inside of her.  Thoracic, orthopedics, vascular, neurosurgery.  Long story short...this little lady is lucky to be alive.”

“But...”  Lucien felt like he’d just been sideswiped and the carpet had been pulled out from beneath his feet.  Considering what he’d just heard, her prognosis didn’t sound like everything had gone well.  Dr. Stone noticed his expression, then she said...

“Mr. Delors...her outlook is a good one.  I just want you to understand that from this point forward, this young lady has a long uphill battle.  But she had a number of things on her side–and for now, I think we should count our blessings and be glad that she’s still alive.”

Dr. Stone eyed him when she said...

“Now...as for you...according to the nurses, you haven’t left this building from the moment she arrive.”

Lucien nervously laughed when he said...

“I didn’t want to chance leaving, and possibly missing a report.  I thought that, perhaps the best thing to do would be to remain here until I could see her with my own eyes.”

Lucien directed his gaze on the mystery woman, then he said...

“I don’t even know her name.”  he paused, turning his attention back on the doctor.  “Have the police provided any information?”

“I’m sorry...but I really don’t know.  I’ve been tied up in surgery all day and...well...identification and names...that just isn’t one of my concerns.  But...I can send the nurse down here, if you’d like.  I’m sure by now, someone has to know something concrete about her.”

“Samaritan...”  Lucien mindlessly said the word.

“What did you say...?”

He looked at the doctor then he said...

“She’s a Samaritan.  Or at least...that’s what the medical technicians had said.  I told the police officer on the scene to take a picture of her, and to send it to the Samaritan Conclave for identification purposes.”

Dr. Stone stared at him quizzically because his concern seemed unbalanced–given that her patient was a stranger to him.  On the other hand...she’d always heard nice things about Lucien Delors.

“Well...let’s hope that the police officer took your advice.”

“Yes.”  was all that Lucien had to add to the conversation.  He walked to the center of the room, then he turned, facing the bed.  He loss himself in the possibilities that lie ahead for this nameless woman.

Dr. Stone said...

“I’ll be in my office for an hour or two before I leave for the night.  If you need anything, please, feel free to stop by.”

She waited a moment, giving Lucien time to process what she’d just said.  Lucien remained quiet while he stared at the Samaritan woman.  He pressed his hand in his coat pocket, sensing the feel of fabric that formed the band.  He had to know what the band meant and what was its connection to this woman.  Hours ago, he’d been honest with himself.  He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t attracted to this woman; even though the idea was tasteless and beneath him.  No matter the reason, there was something about this woman that he couldn’t dismiss.  He looked at the chair that held his luggage.  Caesar had fill the bag with a fresh set of clothes, and Lucien still had not taken the time to change out of his white attire.  He closed his eyes, and a myriad of thoughts overtook him.  He didn’t have to look to see that Dr. Stone had left the room, leaving him to contemplate; exactly what?  He just didn’t know.  Lucien couldn’t place words or meaning to express his dilemma.  He only knew that he couldn’t move.  He wanted to remain here by this unknown woman’s side.

He was alone.  No–he thought to himself.  He wasn’t alone.  She was here with him.  Lucien crossed the room until he was standing along the side of her bed.  He placed one hand at the base on the bandage that covered the lower half of her head.  His finger glided a path, tracing the edge of the cloth bandaged, then he dipped lower; tempting his finger with the feel of her flesh.  Heavenly.  This was his thought.  He wanted to remain there–and he would have, but paradise deflated when a voice rose above his joy.

“Take your hand off my sister!”

Lucien unnaturally jerked, pulling his hand away until it angled at his side.  His attention was drawn to the doorway.  He fixed his eyes on a man, and behind him he could see one of the nurses.  Her expression held an apologetic sentiment.  But this man–his face was the definition of vexation.

Lucien took two steps, distancing himself from the bed.  He was prepared to comply, then his brain was overtaken by a protectiveness that he didn’t rightly understand.

Refrained, and respective in nature, he responded...

“I’m sorry...but who are you sir...”

Caleb stepped over the threshold, exerting his familial authority.  He’d come, because his parents and his brother couldn’t and for the first time since being adopted, he didn’t mind not being born into the Sect.

Caleb locked eyes with Lucien when he said...

“I’m her brother and my name is Caleb Zelle.  I understand that you’re responsible for my sister being in a Non-Samaritan Hospital.”

Lucien didn’t hear any gratitude in his voice, so he thought it best not to further irritate this man, because he didn’t seem to be looking for truth.  He wanted to apologize but first, he needed to orient himself.

Lucien angled his head when he said...

“I’m sorry...but you have me at a disadvantage...”

He held out his hand, as he closed the distance, while saying...

“I’m Lucien Delors...and you are....”  He left his sentence hanging, while his hand remained extended in greeting.  He could see by his clothes that this man belonged to the Samaritan Sect...but as far as he knew, they couldn’t enter a Non-Samaritan hospital; yet, here he was.

Caleb locked eyes with Lucien, while trying to recall Samaritan codes, and manners, when dealing with Non-Samaritan’s.  He bit his tongue–suppressing years of anger and animosity.  This man was to blame for the defilement of his sister.

On the inside, Caleb was a spitting boiling pot–but on the outside, he appeared as cool as a block of ice.  He would be polite but he would not bow down to this man.  Caleb did not accept Lucien’s handshake.

As calmly as he could, Caleb spoke using an even-tempered tone.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me when I entered.  You seemed to be preoccupied, touching my unconscious sister.”  he couldn’t let that pass, and he wanted him to know that he’d witnessed his offense.  His expression was flat when he said...

“My name is Caleb Zelle–”  His head rocked in the direction of the hospital bed.  “and that is my sister.  Ona Zelle.”

“Ona...”

Lucien said her name, and the sound was like molasses rolling off his tongue.  He wanted to say her name again, but Caleb hushed him with his disapproval.

“According to the nurses...you are responsible for my sister being here.”  Caleb’s chest expanded defensively when he added...

“Do you know what you’ve done by insisting that she be brought here?”

Lucien spoke up saying...

“She’d been badly injured so I did what had to be done.  She needed the best surgeons...so I told them to bring her here.”

“To a Non-Samaritan facility where her parents, her brother and none of the Samaritan’s from her Sect can come to visit her.”

Lucien stared at him when he said...

“But...you just said that you’re her brother...and you’re here.”

In the past, Caleb had always hated explaining his connection to the Samaritan’s...but in this instance, he didn’t feel his usual shame.  He gave this rich bastard a little education on the world as he knew it.

“That’s right–I am a Samaritan and I am her brother...her adopted brother.”  He paused for affect, giving Lucien time to digest what he’d just said.  Caleb continued.

“I am not a Samaritan by birth; and as such...I am free to ignore the Creed.  I’ve always respected my family and our beliefs–but because of you and your one sightedness, I was left with no other choice.  I’m here–even though my adopted parents begged me not to come.”  It pained him to say this, because the memory still stung.

“I ignored my parent’s pleas...because someone had to come to this Non-Samaritan hospital to check on my sister.”

Caleb stood still, diverting his eyes away from Lucien.  He looked at his sister and he could still hear his father’s voice, reciting the Samaritan Creed.  Samaritan’s live alongside others, but their worlds were separate.  For years, he’d adopted these beliefs, but deep down, he’d always doubted if he could live the rest of his life, secluded, yet not totally set apart from the rest of the world.  He didn’t know if he’d be strong enough to withstand this lifelong test.

Caleb stared at this man.  The nurses had told him that his sister was recovering in the Delors family wing.  He looked at his white on white clothes, and that was all he needed to see.  Caleb had not been away from this life long enough to forget about the New Year’s Day White Ball.  Anybody, who was anybody attended–and he was in the presence of one of the host.  Caleb glared at him when he said...

“My parents are talking to the doctors at the Samaritan Hospital as we speak...and before this day is over, we plan to have my sister transferred there–where she should have been taken in the first place.”

“But...you can’t.”   Lucien protested.  He didn’t take time to weigh the consequences when he continued...

“Your sister is fresh out of surgery and her condition is still in the fragile stages.  Look...”  his eyebrows rose, while he gestured at the nurse...

“If you don’t believe me...I’ll send the nurse to get the doctor.”

Lucien was prepared to say whatever needed to be said on Ona’s behalf.  His body hummed with the knowledge of her name.  He’d prepared himself to say more when they were joined by Dr. Stone and another doctor he’d not been introduced to yet.

“Mr. Zelle...my name is Dr. Stone, and this is my associate...Dr. Norma.  We took part in a series of surgeries that were performed to save your sisters life and currently, we’ve taken the lead and are managing her care.”

Dr. Norma frowned, and he spoke with a Dutch accent.

“Sir...we just concluded a detailed and frank telephone conference with the medical team at the Samaritan Hospital.  After our conversation, it was decided that Miss Zelle’s condition is to fragile to attempt a transfer...and at this time, considering her medical interest; it would be best if she remains here...until further notice.”

Caleb’s face was a wave of emotions.  He wanted to say something that would resolve this.  He wanted to lift his sister in his arms, taking her away from these snobbish people.

Dr. Norma was new to the country and he wasn’t familiar with this particular group of Christians.  He didn’t understand their religious stipulations.  His ignorance was amplified when he made a point that he thought would solve the problem.

“Sir...this is a private hospital...but your sister is here, as a guest of the Delors family.  Our doors are open to you and if your family would like to come and visit her...Lincoln Medical will do everything possible to make Ona Zelle’s stay with us a positive one.”

Caleb’s face expressed his disapproval.  He stared at the doctor, then at Lucien.  He’d been silent after he learned that all attempts to transfer Ona had failed.  But this bit of news didn’t gall him as much as this doctor’s ignorance.  But before he could respond, Lucien disarmed the ticking time-bomb.

“Dr. Norma...perhaps we can set up a camera with a satellite feed.  In this way, Ona’s Samaritan doctors can see her progress with their own eyes.”

Caleb wanted to protest because this would be an invasion of his sisters privacy, then he caught himself.  He understood that this gesture was an olive branch, intended to kill two birds with one stone.  The camera would be for the Samaritan doctors, and his parents.  In this way, even though they couldn’t visit their daughter, at least they’d be able to see her healing process.

Dr. Stone nodded, saying...

“I think we can do that.  We could turn it on, whenever we come in to do our rounds, then turn it off, giving Ona her privacy.”

When no one said a word, Dr. Stone said...

“I’ll see to it.”

They stood in the room, and an awkward silence buzzed over head.  Finally, the nurse broke the mood.

“Excuse me...but I need to prepare my patient for her massage therapy.”

Caleb looked at the woman, as if she’d sprouted horns.  She pursed her lips, when she said...

“It helps improve circulation.”

He still wasn’t getting it.  Ona had three cast on, and the only limb that didn’t have a cast, was tethered to an intravenous catheter administering a morphine drip.  What was there to massage?

Lucien said...

“We can continue this conversation in the waiting area.”

They filed out of the room, and the nurse closed the door once they were on the other side.

Lucien said...

“I’m sorry if this situation is an inconvenience–and believe me, I do understand.”

“I just want whatever is best for Ona.”

“As do I.”  Lucien replied.

When they were standing in the outer entrance to the waiting area, Dr. Stone spoke to Caleb...

“Before you leave...stop by the nurses station, and they’ll give you a direct number to the Delors Wing.  Tell your parents that their calls are welcomed.”

Caleb motioned with his head, then both doctors excused themselves.  Lucien held out his hand, gesturing for Caleb to enter the waiting room and immediately, the rooms amenities overtook his notice.  The placed looked like a luxury suite, and he tried to behave as if he wasn’t impressed by the rooms opulence.

Lucien said...

“May I offer you something to drink?”

Caleb’s eyes followed him, when he stopped in front of a counter.  Shooshing sounds were followed by a rise of pressurized steam.

Caleb said...

“No thank you.  I’m fine.”

He watched Lucien’s refined movements, and he spotted all the signs that would say this man lived a privileged life.    In spite of the way he walked...and the way he spoke, pronouncing every syllable, using perfect diction; it was the white that grated him.  Lucien’s tailored white on white tuxedo.  There was a word for this man, and Caleb knew it.            Blue-blood.  He’d been born into his way of life.  Caleb sat on the edge of one of the chairs, and he wanted to find something wrong with his seat.  He couldn’t find that place of comfort; not mentally, or physically.  His back stiffened, but he couldn’t blame this rigidity on the chair covered with lush Italian leather.

Lucien had crossed the room, taking a seat next to him, when he heard Caleb saying...

“You can leave you know.  You don’t need to remain here...given that someone from her family is here now.”

Lucien had been startled by his remark.  His hand shook, spilling a few drips of the foamed liquid.  His arm extended pass the range of his leg, and one drop narrowly missed the cuff of his pants.  The remark scrolled in his brain.  He was being asked to leave.  But...why?

Lucien said...

“If you don’t mind...I’d like to stay.  I feel as if I won’t rest well, until I know that she’ll fully recover.”

“Are you responsible for my sister’s condition?”

Lucien’s brow rose in confusion...

“No.  I...I was there...but I am not responsible for her condition.”

“Good.”  Caleb calmly stated, then he said...”Then there should be no need for concern.  You can rest easy...knowing that you didn’t cause my sister’s injuries...and you can sleep well, knowing that someone from her family is here, to be the first face that she sees as soon as she wakes from her sleep.”

Caleb’s face was a mask of impassivity.   His voice held little emotion and his sternness was as unyielding as his demand.

“You can go Mr. Delors.  Please leave.  You aren’t a doctor and frankly...if it weren’t for the doctor’s I would carry my sister out of here.”

***********

Chapter 8

Two weeks later

Revisiting the past–or mapping a promising future

There wasn’t a man or woman alive who didn’t have a regret.  Morpheus knew this firsthand, because Mikita was his regret.  She’d agreed to meet him at one of his favorite restaurants and the indoor garden view was spectacular, given that there was a virtual blizzard outside.  The Canadian winds and some other blasted jet stream had dipped lower than the meteorologist had forecasted.  For the past few days, a snowstorm roared across the eastern coastline, blanketing the Atlantic region with snow in Virginia and as far north as Maine.  The aroma of African violets filled the air, but his thoughts were on the beautiful brown woman seated across from him.  From the moment she’d arrived, the fragrant aroma of her perfume eclipsed every other floral scent.  He was a man in love and beyond hope.

Mikita stabbed her sea bass with a fork, then she nudged her plate towards the centerpiece.  The food wasn’t bad; for her, it was the company.  For the past seven years, she’d lived an extremely comfortable life in Colorado, away from Morpheus.  Now, here she was, seven years later, considering her ex’s suggestion to move back East, to Manhattan no less.  She still owned her condo here and over the years, the place had been used by friends or her family, whenever they visited the city.

“Mikita...”  Morpheus was charming her.  “When you moved away, taking my son with you...I didn’t get upset.”

“That’s gracious of you.  Given that I caught you in bed with my cousin.”

“Yes...that’s right.  But I never relinquished my parental rights.  He was my son, and my impetuous behavior didn’t change the fact that I was still his father.  I had legal rights.  I could have put my foot down, demanding that you bring my son back–but I didn’t.  I didn’t because–I deserved everything that came to me.”

“Morpheus...you are a man, haunted by your past.  So, let’s stop beating around the bush.  You wanted Bolden to accept a job offer, and if I move back here...my presence in the state would sweeten that deal.”

Morpheus smiled when he said...

“Yes...something like that.”

Nothing was that simple when it came to Morpheus.  Irritated by his conceitedness, she brandished her anger using her words...

“Something like that?  Not something like that....me moving back here is exactly what you want to happen.”

He put effort in his laugh, and Mikita felt her heart quicken.  Fuck–she still loved him, and she didn’t know what to do with those feelings.  She sighed heavily, when she said...

“I guess by now, you already know that Bolden accepted that job.”

“What makes you think that I already know this...?”

“Morpheus...please”  She stabbed his heart with her disgruntled impression of him.

“I’ve come to my senses Morpheus.  You mustn’t forget...once upon a time...I lived with you.  It was a long time ago...but, after attending your New Year’s Day party...I saw firsthand, that you haven’t changed.”

“Speaking of that party...”  the smile on his face loss some of its charm when he said...”You were with Cyrus.  Are you dating him?”

This was typical Morpheus and when she first received his call, she couldn’t believe how alluring his voice had sounded.  He’d told her that he had changed.  He had said that the time had come to put an end to old conflicts.  Fool that she’d been; Mikita had trusted him.

This time, when she looked at him, she was seeing him in the past; the way he’d appeared when she’d left with their son, taking only the clothes on their backs.

She said...

“You ever think about living a normal life?”

“Mikita...”  Morpheus pressed harder.  “Answer me...I need to know.  Are you dating Cyrus?”

“Did it ever occur to you that, I’m happy living my life away from you.”

“Mikita...”  His eyes held meaning, when he said... “Why won’t you answer me?  I don’t want to fight with you over this.  I just want to know.  I....Well, I’m sure you know how I feel when it comes to you.  Time may have passed–but my feelings remain the same”

Like a Jack-in-the-box, she surprised him when she said...

“So...you love me.  What about our son?  Do you love him?”

“Of course I do.  What would make you insinuate that I don’t love my own son.”

Her eyes narrowed, then she said...

“Eliza...that’s my reason.  Of all people....you stuck our son with Eliza Pendleton.  Really, Morpheus!”

Morpheus laughed.  Was Eliza to blame for the bug up her ass?  Sure she was; and more than likely Mikita had heard an earful concerning the rumors.  Whenever Morpheus took an interest in a woman, in one way or another, the rumor mills would say that the relationship had been a sexual one; and based on her reaction to Eliza, it would appear that Mikita believed the rumors.  He looked away to prevent her from seeing the humor in his eyes because Eliza wasn’t his type and he’d never made a move on her.  Morpheus defended himself when he said....

“Mikita...you’re overreacting.  I’ve talked to our son, and Bolden really likes Eliza.  Besides, until he learns the lay of the land...Eliza will see to it that he doesn’t cross the wrong people.”

“When you asked for my help, you never said anything about Eliza.  You told me that he’d be working for the governor.  Then you asked me to move back to New York; leading me to believe that Bolden would be working for the governor of New York.  Then I find out from Bolden that he wouldn’t be working in New York.  He enlightened me when he said that he’d be in Wyoming, working for Governor Wilcox.  But even that isn’t true...is it.”

Mikita was on a roll, and he’d noticed that her inflection had not been a question.  So he responded saying...

“Not a lie...just an omission.  In fact...i wouldn’t even call it that.  You know what Eliza does for a living.”

“Of course I do...and I’m sure that her last boyfriend knew what I know.”  she paused, then she said...

“I’m sure you heard the news reports detailing Tollin’s death.”

His eyes were dull, lacking any sign of a soul.  His choice of words wreaked of condescension.

“Mikita...I can understand your reason for concern...but, Eliza didn’t have any involvement in that.  Tollin was a loose cannon and I never got the impression that he was a stable man.  His desperation proves that point.  Tollin committed suicide; that’s what the city’s medical examiner said.”

Silence filled the room, and neither spoke to spoil the stillness.  Mikita sat straight and stiff, watching his hand reach across the table.  Her breath caught, when he enveloped her hand with his.  His warmth seared her, and she could still recall every emotion that had ever touched her heart while being in his presence.  It was all still there.  Every wonderful strike that had ever touched her heart.  It had always been Morpheus...and no one else.  Damn.  Why now, she thought, then her eyes filled with a vacant expression.  She didn’t know if this was a renewal of something fresh, or perhaps a warning, reminding her of the past.  She poured the notion into her guileless heart, reminding herself to be sensible.  If not for herself; then for Bolden’s sake.

Mikita pulled her hand away, loosening his hold.  She went through the motions, pretending that being with him had not affected her.  She recalled their conversation, then her thoughts latched hold to the idea that bothered Morpheus the most.

The pride in her voice, pricked at his manhood.

“Morpheus...I’m here because of our son.  You are responsible for him accepting that job...and it will be your responsibility to protect him.”

“He’s my son honey.  I love him–just as much as I love you.  As for me asking you to move back to New York–that was personal, and I made the request because I’d like to know what’s going on in your life.”

“I don’t feel that you have a right to know about my personal life...but, I also don’t have anything to hide.  Yes–I’ve been dating Cyrus for a few months.  It was his idea that I join him at your New Year’s Day party.  I guess he wanted you to see that I had moved on...but, since you’ve already impregnated another woman, perhaps he needn’t have bothered.”

Morpheus charged like a bull in a china-shop; defending his manhood, and his unwise blunder, not to cover his penis with a prophylactic.

“Cindy was a mistake Mikita.  It was never my intention to impregnate her.”

Mikita dismissed his excuse, when she said...

“I’ve heard this all before.  Don’t forget about Fawn’s mother.”

“No, you haven't heard everything.  Bolden was my last child...and Fawn’s mother...”

Mikita didn’t want to talk about Fawn’s mother, because the bitch had threatened to kill her, and she might have, if Morpheus hadn’t intervened.

Mikita said...

“Morpheus...I don’t care about any of that.  I have a life apart from you...and I’ve already explained to you that I am dating again.”

Morpheus frowned, but he was wise enough not to push this.  Instead, he took a calmer approach.

“Mikita...I am a changed man.  I just want you to know that.  And as far as Cindy is concerned...she left, shortly after the New Year.  In fact, she went back to Texas the day after the New Year’s party.”

Mikita stared at him, baffled, but Morpheus did not share the specifics.  He didn’t explain, that he’d given Cindy little choice in the matter.  From the second he’d set eye’s on Bolden’s mother at the New Year’s Day party; in those few moments, Morpheus had made up his mind.  And as for Cindy; there had been no other choice for her.  She could leave...or suffer the consequences.  So, Cindy had left...taking his unborn child in her belly with her.  He would see to their needs, in the same manner that he’d taken care of Fawn’s mother.

Mikita said...

“Morpheus...we don’t have to do this.  We don’t have to go down this road, digging up the past.”

“I’m not doing that hon.  I just want you to know that...  Well, I still feel the same about you sweetheart...that hasn’t changed.  And as for New York...  When I suggested that you move back to the city, my reason wasn’t wholly selfish.”

“Oh really.:  she said because the Morpheus that she knew only had selfish bones in his body.

Morpheus appeared serious when he said...

“Eliza owns an apartment in SoHo.  When she isn’t traveling, she returns here, to her home.  I own several buildings in that district, and Bo plans to move into one of the lofts.”

“Bo is moving to SoHo?”

“Yes...  He says that it makes good business sense because Eliza keeps crazy hours.  So you see...  I wasn’t just thinking about myself.  If you live here in New York, then you’ll see more of him.”

“I see.”  She couldn’t deny this logic.  Hearing this, Mikita’s heart rushed with excitement, and she couldn’t lie to herself.  Morpheus Gustapshon still loved her–and she harbored the same feelings for him.  She pulled away, and her eyes wildly took in the room.  The garden restaurant was a wildly popular establishment, and he’d bought out the entire place, to be alone with her.  Yes...he did love her but she couldn’t allow herself to be easily misdirected.

Mikita reached for her purse while saying....

“From hereon-out–whatever I do....I do for our son.”

He didn’t like the feel of this but he forced the words from his mouth.

“Agreed.  And from hereon out...whatever I do...i do for our son.”

Mikita averted her eyes.  She looked at her shoes, when she pushed away from the table.  All had been resolved, so the room should have glowed with resolution...but it didn’t.  She could feel an incompleteness that had to be resolved.

Mikita stood, then she walked to the outer doorway.  She noticed that Morpheus had not joined her, and she was glad for this.  She needed the leverage.  She stopped, then turned to face him.  She said...

“We shouldn’t talk further Morpheus.  I think we’ve resolved all of our differences.”

Morpheus stared at her, starting at her beautiful feet, then slowly gliding his eyes upward, until finally, he latched hold of her beautiful hazel eyes.  He replied saying...

“We shouldn’t talk...but I can assure you, that we will.”

She stood, stumbling backwards and she knew enough not to respond.  Mikita left, shielding all that remained of her resolve; and the portion was barely measurable.  She had numerous doubts and no part of her brain could refute his pronouncement.  They would talk again, and that’s what frightened her; more than any nightmare or night terror she’d ever had.  She stood on the street, and the smells and sounds overtook her.  But her head was still filled with images of Morpheus Gustafson, and she knew any idea beginning with him, wouldn’t be good.

**********

Chapter 9

Lincoln Medical Facility

February 18

“I’m fine Caleb...you don’t have to babysit me.”

It had been six weeks since Ona had awoke, learning that she’d been recovering in a Non-Samaritan Hospital.  After the initial shock, then coming to grips with her multiple injuries; each day had been an uphill climb.  In spite of her adopted brothers cross words, she didn’t feel like she’d fallen into the hands of evil or Baal, himself.

Caleb spoke using his concerned voice...

“I promised our parent’s that I would remain at your side...and at the very the least you could acknowledge my efforts.”

Ona did appreciate her brothers concern, but as a Samaritan he should have understood her opposition.

“Caleb....I am recovering just fine...but what about those orphaned children in the Congo?  They don’t have a tenth of what I've been provided.”

That much was true.  In fact, the orphaned children in the Congo didn’t have one percent of what his sister had been provided in the private hospital where she’d been since she’d awaken weeks ago; and she was still to unstable to transfer to the Samaritan hospital on their commune.