Chapter Fourteen
"There is nothing much we can do, Marla." Dr. Jane looked at Marla sympathetically. "Your father's kidneys are shot. All his major systems are shutting down. He doesn't have much longer."
Marla nodded. This news was not shocking or unexpected. Her father had been unresponsive for weeks now. Even though she had moved him into private care, it had not really made a difference.
"So how are you keeping?" the elderly doctor looked at her with sympathy in her eyes. "You are how far along now?"
"Six months, one week." Marla rubbed her belly. "I think I should look bigger but my doctor says I am quite fine."
Dr. Jane smiled. "When I was pregnant with my three I looked like a house by six months but you are far smaller than I ever was. Is it a girl or a boy?"
Marla smiled. "Boy. "
"Ah." Doctor Jane stood up. "Congratulations, my dear. I hope this stressful situation is not getting you down. If you want someone to talk to I have a psychotherapist friend..."
"No thanks. " Marla stood up too, though she did it a bit inelegantly. "I am fine."
"You sure?" Dr. Jane looked at her skeptically.
"Very sure," Marla said briskly. But when she was sitting outside in her car she wasn't feeling so confident. Her new security guy looked at her respectfully. "Ready, Mrs. Mills?"
"Yes... er... yes." Marla nodded. This was the third guy since Jason. She had not even bothered to find out this one’s name, and Ricky had them cycling in and out of her life on a whim.
He had asked for a replacement for Jason just one week after she had told him her secret, and as if Ricky recognized that something was off, he just fired him. His reason for firing Jason was unclear and he had refused to explain except to say that since her interest in him was so marked, he was happy that he had done it.
The one after Jason was Manley. He too was let go on a whim. Apparently he had looked at her too lustfully.
Ricky was making progress with his therapy, to the point where he wasn't even using his wheelchair much, and he was getting more and more paranoid about her running away because of her father's condition.
She could see that he was. He had her on a short leash and she was feeling the chafings of it. It was enough to make her dread waking up in the mornings.
Was this the kind of life she wanted her son to grow up in, a controlled environment with a volatile stepfather?
She considered calling Yuri for the umpteenth time and laying her situation on the line. The thought of Ricky hurting the Scarletts always stopped her, but was it worth it? Being imprisoned like this? When was she going to put herself and her baby first?
She considered her options. There weren't many. She had to leave Treasure Beach. And she would have gone a long time ago if her father's situation was not so precarious. He was dying. She had to stay put.
And when he exited this world she would exit Treasure Beach. It was a scary thought. She would have to leave everything that was familiar, and she couldn't let anyone know where she was going.
Especially Yuri.
She didn't want him to get blamed for her running away. Surely Ricky wouldn't punish the Scarletts if they had nothing to do with her leaving.
Where could she go? She looked out the window as she saw storm clouds gather over toward the sea. It was going to rain.
"Would you like the windows down, Mrs. Mills?" the security guy asked her politely.
"Yes, thanks." Marla continued looking through the window as the wind ruffled her hair and swept across her face like a rough caress.
Poor security guy would soon be out of a job, because he would have nobody to guard when she was gone.
Marla wondered what was happening with Jason. She wondered if he had told anybody her story. Maybe he was in the break room now of his Mandeville-based company telling the story of the trapped rich lady whose husband was paralyzed and yet had her imprisoned in their luxurious mansion.
"And the lady is pregnant for another man and get this, the husband is not allowing her to leave; instead he is doing the opposite, tightening the noose”.
She could imagine him shaking his head in disbelief. "It’s true what they say, you can’t judge a family from the outside. You really can’t."
And don't envy anyone, Marla added silently. You don't know what their journey is about.
She highly doubted that anybody would envy her right now. Her back was aching and she felt like she had heartburn.
She wished she had somebody to talk to about pregnancy and other girly stuff. She was pretty isolated these days. He had even forbidden her to talk to Heather, the helper who came to clean. Not that she would talk to Heather anyway; she faithfully reported everything to Ricky.
How on earth did her life come to this? The first splatter of rain hit the windshield, followed by another and then another. Much like her life. It started with one innocuous drop and then another and then next thing she knew it became a deluge.
Marla sighed.
She needed to make plans to escape.
The rain started in earnest and the security guy wound up the windows. This time he didn't ask. The rain was blowing into the car.
"Would you like me to play the radio?"
Marla didn't care one way or the other.
"Sure," she murmured. "No talk shows though; can't manage to hear other people's problems right now."
"Got you." He nodded and turned the radio to a station that played only music.
She half listened to the music, her mind was racing though. First she had to bury her father.
They had a chapel at the hospice; they could do it there. It was morbid planning her father's funeral and he hadn't even died yet, but it would be key to her escape. She was almost sure that Ricky wouldn't come with her to the funeral. Ricky didn't do funerals. He thought them too depressing.
She would need a car. She had been using a joint account with her father to save some money through the years. She was going to check how much was in it and make her plans around that.
She needed his bankcard though. Surely Ricky wouldn't be suspicious if she stopped at her old home.
Then she would move to Kingston or maybe Montego Bay. Somewhere far enough away from Treasure Beach, with lots of people around.
Hopefully she would have enough money to survive on until the baby was born; after that she would find work.
Do something...She had to survive somehow.
She had extra products that she had done at the spa but she couldn't take them with her. If she went to the funeral with more luggage than she should Ricky would be suspicious.
The weather hadn't eased up by the time she arrived at Ricky's house. It was raining so hard that Marla didn't want to get out of the car. Even the security guy was reluctant to leave. He parked as close to the house as he could and helped her out.
Ricky was in the living room tottering about on his walker.
"Hey." He looked at her and gave her a rare smile. "How is the old man?"
"Dying," Marla said simply. "Tomorrow I need to go to the house for some things."
"What kind of things?" Ricky asked.
"Some documents…his health cards."
"Okay." Ricky eyed her. "Would you like to join me for dinner?"
"No thanks," Marla said, turning toward the stairs, "I don't have an appetite."
"Wait, don't leave," Ricky said, his voice almost gentle. "I want to talk."
"About?" Marla stopped, barely glancing at him. Why was he looking so happy? When Ricky looked happy it usually didn't bode well for her.
"We haven't really talked, Marla," Ricky said slowly. "We just talk at each other. You know. I was thinking that this is not a good environment to bring up a child with the two of us as gladiators constantly at each other's throats."
Marla felt the baby kick and she sunk down into the nearest chair and rubbed the area where she felt the fluttery movement.
Ricky hobbled over to where she was. "Marla."
Marla inhaled raggedly. She wanted to snap at him, she wanted to growl, she wanted to shout but she couldn't tick him off, not now.
Freedom was close. But how dare he talk about bringing up her child? It was never going to happen, not if she could help it.
"I...okay..." her voice was thready when she finally spoke. She cleared her throat. "Yes, let’s talk."
"I am sorry," Ricky said. He sank into a chair across from her.
"Sorry for threatening me, taking my virginity, marrying me under duress, threatening to send me to jail, ruining the Scarletts, imprisoning me in the house, forbidding me to have friends like some dictator, forbidding me to talk to people." Marla's voice was rising and she couldn't control it. "Why exactly are you sorry, Ricardo?"
"Whoa." Ricky looked at her, "Why are you so worked up?"
"You ruined my life." Marla growled, tears in her eyes. "You..."
"Take it easy." Ricky looked uncomfortable, "I didn't do anything, Marla. You always had a choice; you chose me. Am I not better than prison?"
"Shut up!" Marla struggled to get up from her seat. "One day you are going to push me too far!"
"And I don't want that," Ricky murmured softly, like he was quieting a wild animal. "Just calm down. Really, I come in peace. You know that the annual end of year party is coming up, don't you?"
"Yes," Marla gritted through her teeth.
"My mother is coming this year," Ricky said. "She just called. She is coming with her new husband and I have invited Yuri. Sent him an email. I told him to RSVP but really I just care if he comes. I think it's time this silence between us was broken, don't you think?"
Marla didn't move. She couldn't. No wonder Ricky was looking happy. He had found a spectacular way to show off in front of Yuri, to taunt him. She wasn't going to be a part of it. The annual party was Dec. 13, two weeks away. She hoped to be long gone before then.
"I expect you to look fabulous as usual," Ricky said smugly, "and to act happy."
Marla started toward the stairs, refusing to answer.
"I don't have to threaten you, do I, Marla?
She didn't even react. She couldn't. Tears were gathering at the sides of her eyes and she felt like melting into a helpless puddle at the bottom of the stairs.
She pulled herself up and then sank into her bed, crying uncontrollably. Once she started she couldn't stop.
*****
Yuri realized that being an employee and being a boss were very different things when it came down to the end of the year. He was ambushed with invitations for all sorts of events.
He had a bundle of them on his laptop beside him on the passenger seat of his car. His secretary had handed them to him and told him that they were arranged according to importance. He had spent most of his day in the IT lab. He had skipped several meetings to brainstorm with the guys about their software and they had solved most of the issues associated with it. He felt a sense of accomplishment so strong he turned up the Adele song, Rolling In the Deep, that was playing on his car radio and sang along to it, bobbing his head with vigorous energy.
When he reached home he was going to pour himself a glass of cold apple juice and read through his email. He had not been keeping up for days.
When he turned into his driveway he saw that Amoy's car was there already. She was leaning beside it, talking on her phone. She was dressed casually in jeans shorts showcasing her legs and a slinky silver blouse.
He hadn't seen her for a few days. And they had only spoken briefly since he told her about Marla being pregnant.
He felt ridiculously happy to see her now. He hadn't realized how much he had become used to having her in his life.
He grabbed his laptop and his invitations and waved to her after arming the car.
She smiled at him and ended the phone call.
"Hey, you."
Yuri opened the door and she followed him inside. "I have gotten over my sulk."
"Good," Yuri said, heading for the living room. He put down his laptop beside him and watched while Amoy adjusted the temperature on the AC.
"So," she sat beside him, her feet curled up under her, "how are things?"
"Busy," Yuri said, indicating his laptop and the pile of invites. "See? I brought home work."
"Ha. I know, parties can be totally work. A curse of the corporate world, I am afraid." Amoy picked up the top invitation. "You should go to this one. The Minister of Technology and Commerce will be there."
"My secretary did say she arranged them by order of importance." Yuri shook his head. "I think the other partners and I will have to come up with some sort of arrangement as to who will go where and when."
"Because parties are not your thing." Amoy smiled. "You hate to schmooze."
"Yes." Yuri opened his laptop. "All of that small talk and laughing at bad jokes—I would much prefer staying home and watching Fast and Furious reruns or ESPN."
Amoy made a face. "Bleh. I much prefer Lifetime TV."
Yuri laughed. "It's amazing how much I have been schmoozing these days. I feel so fake."
"Well, it comes with the territory," Amoy said, rifling through the invites. "Hey, this one is our office party. Your secretary has it at number ten. We made the top ten, woo-hoo."
"When?" Yuri asked absently.
"December 15. Every year. It's a tradition. Make sure that you are there," Amoy said, pouting. "I need a date. You look drop-dead gorg in a tux. My law clerks are going to be envious."
"Well, put it at the top of the pile. My secretary will put it on the calendar."
He clicked on his personal mail before his business one. He had nearly a hundred unread messages. He hastily scanned through them. There was one from Terri. He clicked on it.
Hey big bro. Heard you were in trouble. Obviously Mom and Dad are not taking it well because I got an earful about living well and uprightly and staying away from one-night stands and keeping my virtue till marriage. Why is it that I am the one getting that lecture when you are the one in trouble...hmmm? Anyway, will call you this weekend when I get the chance to hear what you've been up to. Love you.
Yuri smiled at the trail of emoticons that followed.
"Somebody made you smile," Amoy said, feigning indifference, but he could tell she was curious.
"My sister," Yuri said, "Terri."
"The one who looks like a model." Amoy grinned. "My brother noticed."
"Yes," Yuri grinned, "she noticed him too."
"Would be interesting," Amoy said softly, "if we both hooked up with Scarletts."
Yuri glanced at her contemplatively. "It would be, wouldn't it?"
He looked back at his computer missing the look of fear that crossed Amoy's face at his lackluster response.
He saw a message from his brother and he clicked that too. His parents were really upset. They were doing the rounds. He couldn't recall the last time both his siblings emailed him on the same day.
Good morning Yuri, I thought I was the current black sheep with a marriage on the brink of ruin, a wife who will not take my calls and social services hounding me long distance to do that DNA test. But you have gone and taken the heat off of me. Thank you. I am grateful. On a serious note, can I offer some advice? Don't let Ricardo Mills have anything to do with your child. I mean it, don't do it.
Anyway, talk to you soon. When I say Canada is cold, I mean it. Cold. But as cold as it is, I am sure my house in Pedro is colder. Chelsea is making plans to spend Christmas elsewhere just in case I come home. So I am staying put for the season. I miss you all, though, and Dahlia most of all. Don't let Chelsea withhold her for the Christmas. You must make sure that you see her for the holiday. I already told Mom and Dad.
Talk to you soon.
"Long note?" Amoy was lounging at the end of the settee, her feet thrown over the back.
"Yes. My brother." Yuri sighed. "He is not coming out for the holidays. So he wants me to go and see my niece, Dahlia."
"You guys are big on family, huh?" Amoy said lazily, "I like that."
"Yes, we are. Pops started it. He had this thing about us sticking together through thick and thin...It got worse over the years the less contact he had with his son, Peter..."
"Peter Scarlett." Amoy shook her head. "He's skillful at disappearing. Our office cannot find him."
Yuri nodded in response to her and then highlighted a whole bunch of junk mails and deleted them. "Want to go get something to eat?"
He didn't hear Amoy's reply. The next mail was from Ricky. He clicked it with trepidation, his fingers trembling slightly on the touch pad. It seemed as if it took an eternity to open.
And when it did he saw that it was an invitation to Villa Ingles for their annual end of year party.
What was Ricky playing at? As if he would go. He had never gone through the years. He had been skillful at giving Ricky one excuse after the after.
The first year it had been work and Ricky had offered to change the date just for him. He had gone through some gymnastics to avoid that one. Then one year he had told Ricky the truth: he didn’t want to see Marla.
Ricky had been silent for a while and then he had said quite pleasantly that he understood.
He still sent the invitations though.
Terri was right. Ricky liked to torture him. He reckoned that this particular invitation was to torture him even more.
To see Marla pregnant with his child and hanging onto Ricky's hands would be the very height of torture.
"Hey Yuri." Amoy snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Chinese or pizza?"
Yuri focused on her face. "What are you doing December 13th?"
Amoy smiled. "Day or night?"
"All day," Yuri said. "I think I am going to need a date to a particular party."
"Well, well, well." Amoy looked at him solemnly. "Should I dress to kill or dress to wow?"
"Both," Yuri murmured. "I think I just got a plan."