Chapter 59
Sheila and Steve lay in the same hospital room. Their kids had been taken to a “safe house” where they could clean up even more and change into new clothes. Nobody was allowed in or out of their home until there was a complete inspection and cleaning of the substance.
“If you for some reason got the ricin on your clothes, you should be safe now,” the doctor explained. “But if you breathed the substance in, we won’t know for a few more hours. After having a good look at both of you, I’d say that didn’t happen. But we need to be certain, you understand.”
“What kind of symptoms?” Sheila asked.
“You’d be having a hard time breathing, maybe coughing or fever,” the doctor said nonchalantly.
“I feel fine,” Steve said. “I’d like to go home.”
“Me too,” Sheila said. “We’re expecting our daughter anytime to come home from school and we had planned to shop and—”
“I’m sorry, folks. I know it’s the Christmas season and all that, but we have to follow CDC guidelines. You could have ingested a lethal substance. I’ll be back in a little while,” he said before leaving the room.
Steve flicked on the TV. “Might as well relax,” he said, and flipped the channel.
“Nothing relaxing about that,” Sheila said, crossing her arms.
“What do you want to do?” he snipped at her.
“Let’s sit in silence. Or talk. How about that? Let’s talk.”
“About what?” Steve said, shutting off the TV with the remote and sitting up on the edge of the bed.
“I was offered a job,” she blurted out.
His head tilted in, as if he hadn’t heard right. “A job?”
Sheila gazed at the cheap prints on the wall. Flowers and puppies. As if that could make the fact that you might have been poisoned okay. As if that could make the fact that your husband wasn’t going to like your news—not one little bit—better.
“What kind of a job?” he asked.
“I’d be freelancing for a design company, designing scrapbooks,” she said. Her heart fluttered in her chest.
“Does that mean you’d be working from home?” he asked.
A nurse poked her head in the door. “Can I get you some water?” she asked.
Steve nodded.
“Yes, please,” said Sheila.
“For the most part,” she continued once the nurse had left. “I’d have to go in to the office once a month or so.”
“Where’s that?”
“New York City,” she replied quietly.
Several minutes passed. Time seemed to stretch and the room seemed to stand watch over them.
“Is that something you want to do?” Steve finally asked.
“I’m not thrilled about going to New York City, but other than that, yes. I’d love to do this. I loved the people and I’ve respected their work for a long time. It’s like a dream come true for me,” she said, tears welling for the first time since she started considering the offer. It was. It was a dream come true. And she wouldn’t be able to stand it if her husband did not support her one hundred percent. It would hurt too much.
He moved over to her bed, squeezed in next to her, and held her hands in his. He brought them to his lips and kissed them. “I love you, Sheila. We’ll make it work. I’m so proud of you.”
Her heart exploded; tears, sweat, and snot streamed down her face. He handed her a tissue.
“Lord, woman, clean yourself up,” he said.
“Here, here, no fraternizing.” A nurse walked into the room with a pitcher of water and some glasses. She laughed.
Sheila and her husband toasted her new job with their ice cold water, both in their hospital gowns, with the winter sunlight streaming through the windows.
“Mom? Dad?” A voice came from the hallway.
“In here, Donna.” Sheila sat up straighter.
Her daughter’s eyes lit with excitement and fear. “What’s going on, Mama? Daddy? They wouldn’t let me into the house.”
Sheila leaped up out of bed and hugged her daughter, as did Steve.
“Sit down, Donna; we’ll explain,” Steve said.
“Unbelievable,” Donna said after they got done talking.
“Indeed,” Sheila said, then surveyed her daughter. “You look tired, honey. How’s school?”
Donna looked away. “It’s intense, Mom.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Steve asked.
“I think so, but I really need this break. No art. No design. Just bad TV and junk food. That’s what the doctor ordered,” she said, and laughed it off. But Sheila knew there was more to the story. Donna would tell her in her own time.
Sheila sighed. Donna had always been a challenge. Their firstborn was also their most stubborn and complicated. But once she found art and had a goal of becoming an artist, all of Donna’s troubles seemed to fall away. The boys. The drugs. The bad grades. For some kids, that’s all they needed—a passion—to straighten them up. That was the case with Donna. None of their other kids had given them any problems—so far.
“Where is everybody?” Donna asked.
“In a safe house. They promised us they’re okay.”
“God, I hope you weren’t poisoned,” Donna said, looking at her parents.
“I think we’re lucky that your mom didn’t touch anything,” Steve said. “She didn’t get close to the body. Or trip over it or anything.” He grinned and Sheila playfully hit him on the shoulder.
Sheila sighed and a hint of a smile appeared on her face. “My new goal in life is to not find or trip over any more dead people.”