44. Chapter 43
Chapter 43
Keaton
Layne was a warrior. Watching her suffer and struggle to get better pushed me to the brink, but she hadn’t complained once in the past four months since the massive crash. Instead, that sweet smile and savage sense of humor were ever present. Most of all, though, she still praised God through the pain. Her faith inspired me to seek the Lord more, to pray harder, to spend more time in the Word. My ties to my old self weren’t fully cut, but I saw a difference. Felt more calm and content without having to resort to old habits.
Even now, as we sat in the USCIS office for the green card interview, she was smiling through the pain. I knew she was in pain because I’d learned to read her like a book. The way her eyes scrunched almost imperceptibly when she moved, or the tight lines around her mouth.
Although I’d requested that the interview take place at our home because Layne struggled to leave the house and ended up having a crash afterward, they had insisted we come in. In return I had been adamant about Layne using a wheelchair and staying seated during the oath at the beginning of the interview. The way they disregarded her illness ticked me off.
“Are you planning on having any children?” the USCIS officer sitting behind the counter asked. A security glass separated us, his voice sounding tinny over the intercom system. The part of the office Layne and I were in offered just enough space for her wheelchair and the plastic chair I sat in. He’d already bombarded us with questions about how we’d met, our wedding, and our families.
“No,” I gritted out. “My wife can’t have any because of the illness she’s suffering from. Her body can hardly produce enough energy to get her through the day. Carrying a baby is impossible.”
Had he taken a look at the pile of documents we sent in and brought with us, he would’ve known that. Instead of being respectful, he had to rub it in her face.
The lanky man in his mid-forties gave Layne a bored look through his glasses, not even a trace of compassion in his expression. “Is this true, ma’am?”
I wanted to send my fist into the partition until it broke and I could lunge over the counter—
Something squeezed my knee, and I looked down to find Layne’s hand resting there. Her warm touch radiated through my slacks. Grounded me.
I reached down and interlocked our fingers. Tatum had told me in his lawyer voice to remain professional and not touch each other, but since Layne and I were sitting right up against the counter the officer couldn’t see it. If anyone did, it was the people in the waiting area beyond the glass wall behind us.
“It’s true, my body isn’t strong enough to carry children.” Layne smiled at me, her way of telling me to let it go.
I took a calming breath, her subtle coconut scent letting me relax.
“Did you and your spouse have dinner together last night?” the officer asked her, looking up from the notes he’d been taking. “If so, what did you eat?”
“Cooked carrots.” She glanced at me from her wheelchair, mischief glinting in her eyes. The red blouse she wore contrasted her skin turning paler with each day she was forced to spend in bed. “We love them, don’t we, hubby?”
Her sarcasm made me smirk. Cooked carrots was one of the few foods she’d been able to stomach over the past few months. She was sick of them—understandably so. I’d brought her carrot juice once, which she hadn’t gotten down.
“What kind of food does your wife like?” the officer addressed me.
“McFlurries.” I grinned at Layne. “And popcorn.”
“And what does your husband like?”
“Steak, medium rare, and fish tacos.”
Of course we had rehearsed this interview more than once, quizzing each other on our favorite things and other details. It had allowed me to get to know Layne even more intimately. She had some crazy stories up her sleeve.
“Do you have any pet names for each other?”
“I call her Bunny.” Another reference to the carrots.
“Hubby,” Layne said.
Thank God she’d dropped the bud .
“Does your wife have any hidden scars or tattoos?”
“She has a tattoo on her ribs, right side. A scar on her shin, one on her forearm, where a monkey bit her, and a thin but long one on her upper thigh.”
Layne’s eyes widened as she looked up at me. She was probably wondering how I’d noticed that one, because she hadn’t showed it to me.
Well, I was very observant.
“What about your husband?” the officer asked Layne after taking notes.
“He has one on the back of his head,” she said, her speech slow. This interview wasn’t long, but it clearly wore her out. “He also has several on his back, some pretty far down.”
I had told her the story of how a drunk guy had pushed me through a window, and Tatum had to pluck a dozen shards out of my back and rear. A trip to the ER hadn’t been an option, or our parents would’ve killed us for sneaking out of the house.
“Who sleeps on which side of the bed?”
“She sleeps in the bedroom, left side,” I answered because he’d addressed me. “I sleep on the couch. Having someone in the same room for too long is painful for her, so we sleep separately.”
The officer’s blond brows furrowed, clearly not the answer he’d expected. Didn’t matter. It was the truth. Layne still slept in my bed, and I spent every night on the couch so I could check in on her. Couldn’t sleep without the assurance that she was okay.
“Do you attend any religious services?”
“No,” I answered. “But we both read the Bible and pray.”
Every day. I had worked my way halfway through the Bible in the last four months. But it was Revelation 3:17-18 I always came back to. You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.
That’s what I kept seeing in Layne—gold refined by God’s fire. Faith refined by trials. For years, I had blindly chased money, women, and power. Now I saw that none of that had any worth. Layne’s faith was the real gold.
“What attracted you to your spouse?” the officer asked her.
I half-expected a joke from her, like, “his money,” but she managed to hold her tongue. “The first time we met, he protected me from a drunk guy. And the way he cares deeply about his loved ones. He would do anything for us.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Shot a glance at me. “And, I mean . . . his good looks are pretty obvious.”
I grinned. Hearing her say that never got old.
“What about you, Mr. Grady? What attracted you to your wife?”
Leaning back in the plastic chair, I took Layne in. “Her sense of humor. She’s a savage. And that glow she has about her. Not to mention her strength. She’s a fighter.”
Layne’s eyes turned into a pool of dark chocolate as she cracked a small smile.
An unexpected wave of emotions slammed into me. The fear of losing her, and with it the usual strong urge to protect her. I hadn’t received any threats in months, but that didn’t mean the Psycho wasn’t out there anymore. Sometimes I lay awake at night, mentally going through all the people I knew. It had to be one of them, but for the life of me, I had no idea who. The DRPD had never found any leads either.
“All right.” The officer shoved a letter through the slit at the bottom of the security glass. “Your case is held for review. You will hear from us.”
I rose and took it, then wheeled Layne out of the office and USCIS building into the cloudy afternoon. Though it was winter, the temperatures ranged in the high seventies.
“I hope I’ll get the green card,” Layne mumbled as I navigated our TRX through Glam City’s traffic.
I gritted my teeth. That stupid interview had cost her way too much energy. What if it wrecked the small progress she’d worked so hard for over the past months?
“I’m sure you will.” Even though I’d just checked all mirrors, I repeated the process, scanning the cluster of vehicles behind us. The green card didn’t worry me too much. What worried me a lot more was not hearing from the Psycho. It kept me on edge, which was probably what he wanted.
He would pounce again, I was sure of it. It was only a matter of time.