Chapter 12
She could not believe that after saying yes, everything was so easy.
It all settled into place as if she had been engaged for a long time.
The ring shone on her finger, and she could not stop staring at it.
She had removed the ones she used to wear on her left fingers, leaving only the one he had given her.
The call to his family had ended up with his mother and sister in tears and his father expressing his profound joy.
She could not help but feel a pang of sadness that the only family she had, her mother, would rain on her parade. She could not let it ruin her joy, she decided.
And they had decided to go to the hospital together.
"We both need closure," Oscar told Margo quietly. "And there's no way in hell am I going to let her face that monster alone."
"He's slowly fading away. The operation stopped the bleeding, but the infection had set in too deep. He's dying. He has also confessed to killing his mother."
"Christ!" Oscar exclaimed, shaking his head.
"I'm not one to feel sorry for the perpetrator, but the woman did a number on him. He wrote it all down in his diaries."
"He had diaries. Go figure."
"Sometimes it helps to document your feelings."
"It certainly did not do him any good."
"Ready?" They were out in the parking lot of the hospital. It was two in the afternoon, because he had insisted on them sleeping in and having a full meal prepared by a very happy Irene who had been told the news as soon as they woke up.
"As ready as I can be." She took a deep breath, which had him searching her face.
"You don't have to do it. We can just turn around and go back home." Taking her hand, he linked their fingers. "It's up to you."
She nodded, fingers gripping his. "I know. I want to do it. I want to see him."
"All right."
Her smile was a little wistful. "You don't know what it's like to come from an unhappy home."
"Kiara--"
"No." She shook her head. "I'm not going to rehash anything or feel sorry for him.
Well, I do feel sorry for him a little. My point is, I have you.
I cannot say I was going to go mental and start stalking people or murdering my own mother.
No matter how nasty she was to me, that never entered my mind.
I just wanted to get away from her. And I was all right. I had my career and a few friends."
She lifted their joined hands and pressed it against her cheek. "And then I found my passion in writing. What I'm trying to say is that I was all right before you came into my life, but now, I'm happy. I'm contented and fulfilled. That's a lot better than being all right. Do you understand?"
Her words sent the emotions tumbling through his body and all he could was nod.
"Yes." He finally found his voice. "Thanks for telling me that. Now I can face the bastard without wanting to choke the life from him." He eyed her quizzically. "Was that your intention?"
"No." She laughed softly. "But that's an added bonus." Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his. When she would have eased back, he held on and deepened the kiss.
Releasing her lips, he rolled his forehead on hers and breathed her in to steady himself. "All right, let's do this."
With their hands still entwined, they walked side by side toward the hospital entrance, the weight of anticipation pressing down on them.
The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss, ushering them into the sterile, brightly lit corridor.
Each step echoed with purpose, their resolve fortified by the trust and comfort found in each other.
They exchanged a silent glance, a mutual understanding passing between them. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.
Margo was waiting for them at the door where a police officer was on duty.
"He's in bad shape," she said in an undertone. "His fever has returned and he's hallucinating. I don't know if you'll get anything much out of him."
"I just want to look at him."
"He's not a pretty sight," Margo warned her.
"I'm prepared." Using her free hand to press on the bulge of her belly, she nodded to Margo, indicating that she was ready.
Sweeping the door open, Margo stepped back to allow them to precede her.
Even though she had been warned, Kiara was unprepared for the sight that greeted her.
She had been shown pictures of a man who would not have merited a second glance, but now, he was grotesque.
The fever and infection had leached all the color from his already sallow complexion, leaving it pasty and sweaty.
His eyes were a pale gray, almost translucent.
His lips were dry and his face twitching.
And he looked like death warmed over.
Despite what she had told Oscar in the car, she felt the sadness claiming her.
"Is he lucid?"
Before Margo could respond, his gaze shifted to focus on Kiara, sending a jolt through her body.
"You came." His voice was raspy. "I never thought you would.
" He shifted his gaze to Oscar and looked away immediately.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry." He swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down.
"I would never hurt you. I loved you--" His gaze flew to Oscar again, flinching at the icy look on the man's face. He looked back at Kiara quickly.
"I wasn't a bad person, you know. I prayed and read my Bible every day." His hands fisted on the sheets restlessly. "I tried to be good. But I became bad." His tongue slid out to wet his cracked lip. "I deserve to be punished. God is punishing me."
"You killed your mother and tried to kill me."
"No. No." He shook his head and winced as the pain speared through his temple.
"I would never hurt you. I love you." He glanced at Oscar again and away.
"I wanted you to love me back. I saw you on the dust cover and fell in love with you.
I wanted you to love me back." He repeated, his voice pitiful. "But you didn't."
"I couldn't. I didn't even knew you existed."
"I'm dying." His attempt at smiling failed as the pain ripped through his body, sending him into a spasm. Suddenly everything started happening at once. Medical personnel rushed in.
"You have to leave," the doctor told them.
They left the room and lingered in the corridor for a minute.
Kiara steadied herself against the wall, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. The echo of his words clung to her, unsettling and raw.
She could still see the anguish in his eyes, that desperate grasp for forgiveness mingled with resignation.
For a long moment, no one spoke; the corridor felt suspended, holding its breath just as she was.
"Let's go home," Oscar suggested gently.
With a nod, she allowed herself to be led from the corridor and down the length of the hallways with people milling around, waiting for answers of their loved ones' fate.
The sounds of muted conversations and distant footsteps echoed around them, underscoring the heaviness of the moment.
Kiara glanced back once, her thoughts tangled in grief and uncertainty, before turning her gaze forward.
The world outside the hospital felt impossibly far away, yet its pull was gentle, a promise of comfort and normalcy she wasn't sure she deserved.
"I often wondered why hospitals always smell like disinfectant and hopelessness." She murmured as they stepped outside in the balmy air.
"I had no idea that hopelessness had a scent." He knew what she was doing and was determined to humor her. Opening her door, he ensured she was buckled in before rounding the hood.
He wasn't in the car a minute when the phone rang.
"Margo?"
He listened for a second and then hung up.
"He's dead."
Kiara nodded in quiet acceptance.
He glanced over at her before backing out, thankful they did not have to deal with any pesky reporters.
Margo told him she had managed to keep things under wraps for now.
He knew it wasn't going to be long before it was blown wide open.
And then they were in for the publicity, the harassment by the press again.
He did not want her caught in the backlash and was going to do everything in his power to keep it from raining all over her.
Her quiet weeping reached his ears as soon as they hit the first light and had his stomach muscles clenching.
"I'm fine." She sniffed when he took her hand in his. "Really, I'm fine. It's just that it's so damn sad." She clutched his hand.
He held her hand until it was time to make the turn towards their home.
He was about to insist she go straight to bed, when she suggested they take a walk.
"I want to get the hospital scent out of my nostrils."
Willing to agree to anything, he came around and opened the door.
The air was a little bracing, the scent of the peonies by the base of the sculpture rising to meet them.
Taking her hand, he turned in the direction of the dense wooded area shrouded by trees with their leaves fluttering in the breeze.
"It's almost fall." She commented. "We could get married right here, in a few weeks."
He glanced at her, relieved to see that she was looking steadier.
"I could get mom and my sister on the phone to start making arrangements."
She smiled at that. Lifting her head, she inhaled deeply and felt a sort of cleansing taking place inside her. The sadness of a waste of life was still buried deep, but she was alive and taking a walk with the man she loved. "I have to tell my mother."
His hand tightened on hers. "We have to tell her. Whenever you're ready."
"I'll never be." She tugged at his hand when they reached the gazebo. "Here is perfect. A few dozen flowers strewn around to make it even more so. Chairs on the grass and a live band set up near the pool. Nothing formal, something casual or close to it." She placed a hand over her belly.
"Not a white dress, but floral with eye popping flowers over the material. Dreamy, floaty, and tasteful." She turned into him. "Lots of pictures to show our babies when they're old enough."