A Secret in Salem (12 page)

“O
M
…O
M
…O
M
…”

Since leaving Salem, Marlena had returned to practicing meditation. Used for centuries to ease tension and open the mind, she had come to crave the stillness and peace it offered her at a time when her life was so confusing.

She had used different meditation techniques in her practice for years and now could truly appreciate how they opened her mind.

If they saw me in Salem, they’d think I’d lost my mind,
she thought, and a smile crossed her face.
They might be right.

“Om…Om…Om…” she repeated. Sitting on the floor of their gym, she had perfect posture, the soles of her feet touching and her hands resting gently on her knees. New age music wafted through the speakers, and her breathing slowed. The tension left her face. Until suddenly she felt as if she’d been hit by a cattle prod.

“Oh!” She gasped. Looking at herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, she studied her face as if looking for answers.

“One of the girls,” she said softly.

Over the years, when she’d had a feeling like this, it nearly
always had to do with one of her daughters. That connection was so strong that she knew someone was in trouble.

There was a message on her voice mail from Blake Masters who wanted to see her tomorrow. So far, she hadn’t answered.

“Docteur Evans,” she heard coming from the doorway.

It was Desiree back from the trip to see her father.

Momentarily distracted from her worries, Marlena rose from her position.

“Your tone isn’t good, Desiree.”

“I’m not,” the normally poised nurse rambled. “Did you hear about the Gaines Financial Group, or whatever they’re called?”

Marlena had not only heard about them, but her family was tangled in the midst of the drama.

“Of course, it’s international news,” Marlena said.

“My father—he was a major investor with that charlatan,” Desiree said, near tears. “He got me and my best friends involved, and now we’ve lost everything.”

“I’m so sorry.” Marlena could feel Desiree’s anguish.

“Bernie Madoff?” Desiree scoffed. “At least he targeted people with tons of money, who can make it back somehow. Gaines?” she spit. “He stole our future.”

“If you need a loan…” Marlena offered sincerely.

“I don’t know
what
I need, Docteur Evans,” Desiree answered. “But thank you for the offer.”

“Your job is safe. I hope you know that.”

“Thank you,” Desiree said. She liked Marlena and felt guilty for keeping John’s secret. “It’s time for Mr. Black’s evening medication.”

“You pull yourself together. I can bring his meds,” Marlena said.

Normally, Desiree wouldn’t have let her, but Marlena was right. Desiree could see herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and she was a wreck.

Marlena knocked softly, and John answered, “Come on in.”

He was once again watching CNN and surprised to see Marlena with his meds.

“I thought I saw Desiree was back,” John said.

“She is, but she needs some time. She’s one of Gaines’s victims,” Marlena said sadly. “Your meds?”

John slowly lifted a glass of water from the tray Marlena carried, and swallowed a handful of pills.

She loved even just watching the cut of his arms as he placed the glass back on the tray. Although his movements were unsteady, his hands were still strong, with long, masculine fingers.

“Can we talk?” she asked hesitantly.

“Sure, Doc.”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be this close to her for this long.

She turned off the TV and set the tray next to his bed, and as she did, he could see the soft curve of her back beneath the formfitting leotard she was wearing. If she had seen the desire in his eyes, she would have kissed him gently and mounted him. Satisfied both of them in ways they haven’t felt in so long.

But she didn’t see his desire, and he didn’t feel her longing.

“Have you heard anything from Sami?” she asked.

“No, why?” Then he saw her expression. “One of those premonitions of yours?”

“Carrie seemed fine when I spoke to her yesterday, and if it’s trouble, it usually involves Sami,” she said, tilting her head.

He loved when she did that. He also loved what he called her “smiling eyes.” Every emotion was in those hazel beauties.

“Could be the Belle thing,” John reminded her.

“It doesn’t feel like it is, but I’ve been wrong before,” she said.

“When?” he said, and it was as if he was teasing.

“When I thought I was wrong, and I wasn’t.”

They shared a smile.

“Let me see,” John said, taking her hand.

Marlena’s fists were clenched, as they always were when she felt tense, and boy, was she feeling tense now.

He massaged them gently for a moment. His hands weren’t as agile as they once had been, but she welcomed his touch. Like old times. Good times.

Are we connecting, John? Actually connecting?
she thought.

The moment was broken by John’s cell phone ringing. It was Belle.

“Belle,” he said as he answered by speakerphone.

“Dad, I’m trying to reach Mom, but she’s not answering her phone. Do you know where she is?” Belle asked.

“I’m right here,” Marlena said, adding, “Belle, are you sure you’re all right?”

“Another of your premonitions, Mom?” Belle said gently.

“Yeah, yeah,” Marlena answered, realizing they all knew her too well.

“I’m fine,” Belle said, Marlena not believing her for a minute.

Marlena nodded to John.

“But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Talk to me,” Marlena said.

“It’s a favor for Shawn, really,” Belle said, glancing to Shawn, who was sitting in the
Fancy Face IV
galley. “He’s right here.”

“Marlena,” Shawn said.

“You know you’ve made us very proud, Shawn. And don’t say we shouldn’t be,” Marlena scolded lightly.

“Thanks, but this isn’t about me; it’s about Charley Gaines.”

“Oh?”

“I know it’s weird, but I have this need to help her somehow,” Shawn said.

“It’s actually a typical reaction for someone to connect to a person they’ve literally saved,” Marlena said, putting on her psychiatric hat without even realizing it.

“But I need to be spending time with my own wife and daughter,” Shawn said, warmly stroking Belle’s arm. “Charley’s a total wreck right now, and I thought if anyone can help her through this, it’s you.”

“Oh.”

“I know it’s asking a lot, but could you leave John for a few days and come down here to see her?”

Marlena was torn. She didn’t want to leave John, but if she did, she could see Belle and Claire. She would also have an excuse to avoid Blake Masters.

“If it’s all right with your father-in-law,” she said, looking to John. “A few days in Monaco to help a friend of theirs?”

John nodded. In fact, he was happy to see her go.

“I’ll be there tomorrow?” Marlena offered.

“Thanks. We’ll pick you up at the Nice airport. There’s an Air France flight that comes just before noon.”

“I’ll be the one with the pink rose in my hair,” she said lightly.

“Belle says good-bye too,” Shawn said as he disconnected the call.

“Bye,” Marlena said, but he was gone. “You sure?” she said to John.

“I’ll be fine, Doc,” he said firmly.

“Guess I’d better let the nurses know,” Marlena said.

John nodded again in that silent, sure way that always made her feel safe.

Once Marlena was gone, John snapped on the TV again. When he was sure she was long out of earshot, he dialed a number on his cell phone.

“Donovan, it’s John,” he said. On the other end was Shane Donovan, one of John’s closest friends and a bigwig in the ISA.

“Is it time?” Shane answered.

“Doc’s going to be gone for a few days,” John said, swinging his muscular legs over the side of the bed. “I’ve got to prove to myself I’m ready.”

Several hours later, Marlena was in her bedroom, packing.

She’d only be gone for a few days, so she didn’t need to bring much in the way of clothing. A few crisp white cotton blouses, lightweight tailored slacks, and a beige linen jacket. The monochromatic tones complemented her blonde hair perfectly.

It was August and beautiful in Monte Carlo this time of year, but there could be a few scattered thundershowers, so she threw a small umbrella and a cashmere sweater into her carry-on. She zipped her cream-colored Tumi and set it by the door.

Her cell phone was on the desk by the window, and she stood gazing out while she texted Blake Masters.

“Out of town a few days. Sorry.”

Simple. Direct. Send.

Sorry?
she thought.
Should I have said sorry? Am I?

Before she could put the phone down, it dinged! It was a text from Blake: “Should hav bio report on ur return. C U then.”

Marlena stared at it a long moment. His response was simple and direct too.

Good
, she thought.

Right now she just didn’t want to see him.

She slipped out of her clothes and into a lounging robe, then sat at her desk to read. She’d spent hours reading since she and John moved to Lausanne, but this time she couldn’t concentrate.

The late-summer sun was setting, and the view from Marlena’s bedroom was beautiful.

The Swiss Alps were on one side of Maison du Noir, and while known for their snowcapped glory in winter, they were equally stunning all year long, on account of their craggy, jutting peaks. Lake Geneva was in the distance, seen over the fields of grapes that were just about ready for harvest.

She put her elbows on the desk and leaned on her clasped hands. Rubbing her palms together slowly, she felt the spot John had massaged so tenderly. It was as if he were touching her again, and she gasped.

Had she known John was standing at the matching window in his room, just across the hall, staring out at the same magnificent landscape and rubbing his palms in the exact same way, she would have flown to his side.

But she didn’t. So she didn’t. Instead, she was leaving town in the morning.

“O
w
,” C
HARLEY YELPED AS AN
I
TALIAN MALE NURSE FIRMLY
pumped up the collar on her arm to take her blood pressure. “Too tight,” she scolded in perfect Italian.

Esther scurried in and shooed the scowling thirty-year-old out of the room.

“
Ptiu
,” he spit silently through pursed lips. This guy had a problem.

“I am so sorry, Miss Gaines,” Esther apologized. “Let’s try this again, and I’ll surely report him.”

“Thank you,” Charley said, confused. “If he’s having a bad day, he doesn’t know what a bad day is,” she added.

“Beautiful robe.” Esther smiled, trying to change the subject.

“From my brother,” Charley answered. “He’s always had the best taste in the family.

Esther completed the blood pressure test and found that Charley was 140/70. It was an excellent reading for someone who’d been through such physical and emotional trauma.

“I guess we won’t need any more blood donations from your friend,” Esther offered.

“My friend?” Charley questioned.

“Mr. Brady,” Esther answered. “The young man who donated blood. So lucky you share B negative. Very rare.”

“Lucky,” Charley said.

“Especially since neither your father or mother, God rest her soul, were a match,” Esther said gently.

“Lucky,” Charley replied.

Wait, what?

“Your brother called, and they’re on their way up with your father,” Esther said.

Charley was so deep in thought that she didn’t answer.

“Miss Gaines?”

“Yes?”

“Your brothers and father. You are up to visitors, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Of course, why?” Charley asked.

“I can tell Mario upset you,” Esther answered warmly.

Little did she realize it was her comment about the blood match that had Charley’s head spinning.

“And there they are,” Esther said, noticing Richie, Jackson, and Chance coming down the hall from the elevators.

Charley was in a state, and her heart monitor showed it. The
beep, beep, beep
of the machine was getting faster.

“Let me give you something to relax,” Esther said.

“No, I’m fine,” Charley lied. Right now she didn’t want to be sedated; she wanted answers.

Esther gently touched her hand, then headed out to the nurses’ station, scowling at Mario, who was glaring at Richie.

Richie walked straight past him and into his daughter’s room. Jackson and Chance were behind him.

“Sugar,” Richie said, taking her hand and giving her a kiss. “Sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.”

“I understand,” she answered, studying his face.

“I’m pleased to see you’re doing so well,” Richie said with true fatherly concern.

“Dad wanted to stop and see Mum, but we don’t think that’s a good idea,” Chance said to her pointedly.

“Too soon,” Jackson added, looking to his sister for support. The last thing they wanted was for Richie to hear about the autopsy.

They could hear a loud disagreement from the nurses’ station and saw Mario slam down a file and storm off in a huff.

Jackson closed the drapes to give them privacy. They were unaware that Mario was one of the thousands of healthcare professionals who’d just lost their savings due to the Financial Gaines Group’s collapse. The Hippocratic oath or Nightingale pledge notwithstanding, no one named Gaines was a popular patient with him.

“There’s something you need to know, sugar, and I wanted you to hear it from me,” Richie said, taking her hand. For some reason, his touch felt different to her.

Charley steeled herself. She had seen enough medical shows in her life that she knew a child would have at least one parent as a compatible blood type

“Yes?” she said with no emotion.

“You may wonder why you’ve not had access to any media,” Richie said. “No television, radio, computer.”

“I’m in ICU—” She faltered. She couldn’t call him Dad.

“It’s why you were kept here instead of recovery,” he explained.

Charley was more puzzled by the second.

“I’m not the man you’ve thought I was all these years,” he said.

I know!
Charley thought.

“My financial empire has been a sham since before you were all born,” he stated.

“What?” she said, glancing to Jackson.

“Your brothers weren’t involved, just me. I’ve ruined a lot of people’s lives, sugar, and I’ll be going to prison. I am so, so sorry.”

Charley was stunned.

Richie continued on with details of his house arrest, the restrictions, and what this disaster would mean to them financially.

Charley didn’t hear a word. Her shock wasn’t about their whole lives being a charade.

You’re not my real father?
she thought.
Isn’t that something you’d like to tell me?

The heart monitor began to beep faster, faster.

“Nurse!” she called. “I need that sedative!”