Kindergarten Baby: A Novel (19 page)

Shawna was determined to make Anthony love her. She needed him to want only her, and she’d do anything to keep him from thinking about or comparing her to Lindsey. It wasn’t only because she could never be like Lindsey, but also because she had no intention of ever leading such a boring, conservative life. So far, her extravagant getaway to Venice had accomplished everything she’d wanted. But Shawna always had multiple desires and motives. On this trip she wanted more than a good time. She wanted a commitment from Anthony in the form of a marriage proposal.

“I want us to be happy, too, Shawna, but you know we both have to make some changes for that to happen,” he said, taking her gloved hand in his.

She smiled sweetly, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear. “And I have far more to change than you do. I know that. And believe me, I am working on it. But let’s not talk about that now. We’re in Venice! It’s like an early honeymoon.”

Anthony glanced at her, frowning, but she thought it was probably best to ignore his expression, and she quickly changed the subject to dinner plans.

“The second we step onto land, we’ll head for Vino Vino or La Zucca. They were the only two restaurants I could find listed that I could actually hope to pronounce correctly,” she said, then chuckled before taking a stab at a few more Italian words. “I’m starving for some
risi e bisi
or some
taglietelle
with
gorgonzola
. Mmmm.”

“Just as long as it’s not
bisato
,” added Anthony, minus any attempted accent. They both laughed at their lame efforts to use Italian words. “Of course, we’ll have to have a bottle of
prosecco
with dinner, and a few
baicoli
for dessert.”

The evening’s dining experience was pleasant, with no arguing or negativity at all. Shawna enjoyed herself, but she focused inwardly on the fact that no words of love leading down the matrimonial path were being spoken, or even hinted at. And then…

“This week, this trip has been the most unforgettable vacation of my life, Shawna,” he said, smiling. She leaned forward, hoping to hear the words she’d dreamed of. “But I’ve got to get back to my patients before they find someone else to keep their spines adjusted. And you know, now that I’m thinking about home, it’s strange that I haven’t had any calls from my office. Not even one. Mrs. Madera usually calls me about patients or suppliers when I’m out of the office.”

Shawna hesitated before responding. “Well, when I said I took care of everything regarding this trip, I meant everything. So Mrs. Madera is also on vacation. She’s visiting her grandchildren in Denver. She was very happy to take the time off, and you don’t even have to pay her.”

Anthony’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, my God! What about my office, my patients? Many of them simply drop in every week for an adjustment, or to pay on their accounts, or both.”

Shawna shrugged a slender shoulder. “Not to worry, Doctor. Tara, a co-worker of mine, is answering the phones and scheduling appointments for your achy, breaky patients. It works out great, because she is only working weekend nights at The Office this month. She’ll handle it all. And she’ll refer any emergencies to your friend, Zach Warren. See, love? I’ve taken care of everything so you can just sit back and relax.”

A variety of emotions passed across Anthony’s face, though Shawna was pretty confident he was pleased with the news.

“Oh, and we have plenty of time to see everything Venice has to offer,” she said sweetly. “Our flight home won’t be leaving for another two weeks! Isn’t that great?”

“What? No! That’s not great at all! Look. This has been amazing, but I have to get back. I can’t jeopardize my business just so I can be with you in some exotic location. Find us another flight, Shawna. I mean it.”

She leaned even closer, letting her breasts press against him when she put her lips by his ear. “I’ll try, darling,” she whispered seductively, knowing full well that she wouldn’t. Instead, she’d switch to Plan B.

Back in their suite, Shawna could hear Anthony pacing, and the sound of Italian TV chattered through the door. She lit three candles in the bedroom and gazed critically at her own near-naked reflection in the beautiful girandole mirror. Someday she’d look perfect‌—‌she’d
be
perfect. If only Anthony would commit to her‌—‌and only her‌—‌her master plan and lifelong dream would come true.

She slipped into the slinky, slit to the hip, long black dress that she knew Anthony loved. The slick black material plunged to great depths in both the back and the front, revealing skin to her waist and emphasizing her best curvaceous attributes. Tonight she’d seduce him, but she would not undress Anthony or tie his hands, she wouldn’t bring out her collection of feathers, and she wouldn’t tie the blindfold over his eyes. Tonight, while Anthony was hot and hard, she would play hard-to-get and walk away, leave him begging for more.

***

Lindsey hurried home every day after school to be with Wendell. Tonight, carrying two heavy book bags that contained this evening’s school tasks, she made it home by five o’clock. Unfortunately, the colossal workload she’d self-assigned for the purpose of forgetting her troubles and the emotional rollercoaster she’d been riding this year had taken its toll. She could barely move out of sheer exhaustion. So, after tending to the slow-moving dog and the hyperactive bird, she collapsed on the sofa.

At last, a chance to rest‌—‌except her tired eyes would not close. The little scene reminded her of that first dreadful night when Anthony had cheated on her then left her in the living room, sick and alone.

She hadn’t heard from Anthony in a while, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to or not.
He might still come back,
she mused. There’d been no word from Emmett, and she had to keep hoping he was all right and not hurt. She’d received no more creepy calls from the mysterious Sean, and she was at least glad of that. She still had no idea who he was. Jake hadn’t been in contact since he’d left Wendell and Malcolm with her, and that made her sad. Actually, none of her friends had been in contact, and she knew that was entirely her own fault. That’s what she got for saying she needed space. She figured she was a perfect example of ‘be careful what you wish for.’

“I guess it’s just you, me, and Malcolm,” she told Wendell. “But at least you can sleep.”

She sat up, postponing any thoughts of drifting off, and picked up her mail. “Trash…‌trash…‌electric bill…‌mortgage statement…‌more junk mail.” She frowned at a second bill from the bank, then opened it. Her stomach dropped when she remembered the home equity loan she’d taken out for Emmett. Now she had a bill for $304, and it was due in three weeks.

Tears surged into her eyes.
There’s no way I can pay this, and next month won’t be any better.
“I wasn’t supposed to have to pay this!” she cried. “Just look what you’ve done to me, Emmett! I’m not only an emotional wreck, I’m facing financial ruin!”

She jumped to her feet and paced, desperate for ideas. What could she do? Sell her house? No, she’d just taken out the home equity loan on the house, so that wouldn’t work. Beg Anthony for help? Definitely not!
Well, maybe…
No!

The phone rang, but Lindsey was too upset to answer it. She glared at the phone, willing it to stop. On the fifth ring, the answering machine picked up.

“Hi, Lindsey!” Mrs. Wilson? That was strange. The principal almost never called her. “So sorry to call you at home, but I wanted to be the first to tell you that
you won the award!
Oh, you don’t even know what I’m talking about, but…‌remember that day we sent you and Laura away from the staff meeting about the 5-Step Writing Process? It was all a ploy so the staff and I could fill in the application.” She spoke at such a rapid pace; it was hard to comprehend the information. “Sorry. Too much info for a message machine. I won’t be around tonight, so I’ll leave the details with Laura. Give her a call ASAP, even if it’s late, cause there’s not much time. Ooh! This is so exciting!”

But sleep overcame her confusion, and she lay back down, too tired even to question the call or phone Laura. That would have to wait.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Anthony, darling, come to bed.” Shawna’s sultry voice floated through the closed bedroom door. “I need your help getting out of this dress.”

“I’m not in the mood,” he replied, keeping his voice sharp.

While she no doubt sulked in the bedroom, Anthony grabbed a “Facts About Venice” pamphlet from the table and sat back to read. He had hoped she’d just fall asleep, but he could practically hear her wide awake frustration.

He spoke first. “Shawna, come out here. I want to show you something.”

The bedroom door opened slowly, and she leaned against the door jam, as gorgeous and sexy as ever. “I want to show you something, too,” she purred. She dimmed the lights, straddled his lap, and whispered in his ear, “Now, what was it you wanted to show me?”

He faltered a moment, then regained his composure and began reading to her from the booklet. “Did you know that Venice was the setting for the James Bond movies,
From Russia with Love
and
Casino Royal
?” He glanced at her and was surprised that she seemed to be paying attention. “It was also the setting for Madonna’s music video,
Like a Virgin
.”

“You’re kidding; let me see that,” she said lightly, then reached for the pamphlet. “Look here. It also says that Thomas Mann’s 1912 novella,
Death in Venice
, was the basis for an opera and a film and—”

“You read
Death in Venice
?” Anthony blurted out.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, the whole class had to read it, but I don’t remember any of it. Maybe I just pretended to read it. Not sure.” Her eyes drifted over the page. “Oh look! There is a strawberry flavored vodka martini called ‘Death in Venice.’ Oh, Anthony. Let’s go. I’ve
got
to try one.”

He agreed but did not want to venture out very far, since it was so late. He didn’t entirely want to dismiss the opportunity, though, since it had dawned on him that this short conversation was probably the most normal, non-sexual conversation they’d ever had. She disappeared into their bedroom then came out a few moments later in a sleek, one-piece, black outfit that stretched from ankles to barely-there neckline, hugging every curve like a second skin. He watched her slip into her long, fur coat, thinking that tonight the coat made sense. The early March evening was both chilly and humid. What he didn’t understand was why, in spite of the darkness of the night, she still wore sunglasses, though this pair had a lighter tint than those she’d worn during the day.
She’s eccentric, that’s for sure,
he thought.

They strolled arm in arm down the narrow, stone footpaths inquiring in every bar about the desired drink, and while several bartenders said they’d heard of it, some claimed it was merely a myth. Others seemed willing to try and make it, though they hadn’t done it before. The happy couple sampled some counterfeit concoctions, but those drinks were disappointing. In the end, they decided to head back to their hotel empty-handed, so to speak. It really was late now, the walkways were almost empty, and the canals were still. Shawna’s four-inch spike heels clicked as she walked, sending an eerie, echoing noise into the night.

It was a relief when they finally stumbled into the hotel bar, which was still open. “One nightcap? What do you say, Shawna?”

“You read my mind, darling.”

Anthony leaned over the counter and got the bartender’s attention. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to make a “Death in Venice,” would you?”

The man behind the counter grinned. “How many would you like? Just happens to be my specialty.”

“Ha!” Anthony cheered, victorious at last. Shawna sidled up to the bar beside him, smiling in anticipation. “Let’s start with two.”

Two, then two more, on top of what they’d already consumed. They were soon both joyfully tipsy and incredibly horny. They signed the bar tab and tipped the bartender, then they made a dash for the elevator. Unfortunately, the courtyard’s uneven stone flooring was not designed to accommodate a tall, tipsy woman in ultra high heels. Shawna screamed when she fell, then rolled into a ball, clutching at her ankle and moaning. Anthony the chiropractor leaped into action, but soon determined she’d need more than an adjustment.

Half a dozen curious hotel employees huddled close, and Anthony called out to them. “I need ice and an ambulance!” he ordered to no one in particular.

The ice arrived within seconds, and soon afterward a couple of men appeared with a gurney. They carried her to a water ambulance that floated both Shawna and Anthony to the nearest medical facility. The ride took about fifteen minutes, and Anthony held her hand the whole time, trying to comfort her. He’d never seen her in physical pain before, and he noticed right off that she didn’t handle it well. She couldn’t hold back the moans and sobs. But he was surprisingly pleased to notice his own level of compassion for Shawna. Was that because he was in a healing profession? Or maybe because of the magnificent evening they’d just had?…‌Or could it be love?

Shawna was carried into the brightly lit emergency room, and two nurses prepared her to be seen by the attending physician. As soon as they touched her, Shawna’s groaning turned to hysterical shrieks, and she thrashed her arms about, shoving and punching at anyone trying to help her. Based on her behavior, Anthony and the staff concluded her injuries were far more serious than first anticipated‌—‌internal injuries might even be at play. They needed to examine her so they’d know how to treat her. After several unsuccessful attempts to calm her, they got the doctor’s permission to sedate her.

The initial injection, helped along by the night’s alcoholic contribution, quickly rendered her unconscious.

“Let’s get her into a hospital gown,” called the nurse. “What color do you think she might like?” she asked Anthony.

He stared at her. “You have different colors?”