Demanding Ransom (30 page)

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Authors: Megan Squires

BOOK: Demanding Ransom
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I hear
Ran tread lightly across the room toward the door and when the hinges squeal
quietly as he opens it, he whispers over his shoulder. “I really do love you,
Maggie. Don’t ever forget that.”

“You
too, Ran. And there’s absolutely no way I ever will.” I roll over onto my side,
drawing the cotton sheets up under my chin. “That list is awesome,” I speak
into the dark of the room, knowing he’s standing silently by the doorframe
because even though I can’t make him out, I can sense his presence still here with
me. “I can’t wait to experience everything on it with you.”

“Me
too,” he says sweetly, softly. “It’s not like we need a list of activities to
fill our time, but it’s fun to plan out my future with you. I love knowing that
you’ll be a part of all of my adventures from now on.” The door creaks open and
he steps through it. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The door
slips shut and I slink into the welcoming depths of sleep.

 

The
sickening sound of retching on the other side of the thin wall jolts me out of
my hard earned slumber. Mikey had texted earlier saying they’d admitted him to
the hospital for more tests and will keep him through the weekend. They wanted
to rule out any possible tumor growth, any unforeseen changes in his progress.
No doubt it’s been an exhausting day for him playing the dreaded waiting game.

I blink
the sleep from my eyes but it takes longer to leave my brain and when
everything finally comes into focus visually and mentally, I remember I’m at my
mom’s cabin, and that’s not Mikey on the opposite wall. The retching happens
again, this time accompanied by a distinct cry at the end—a whimper
following the sickening gagging. A child’s cry. It’s not Mikey this time. It’s
one of the twins.

I skulk
out of bed and glide my feet into my slippers, tug a sweatshirt over my head,
and emerge into the hallway to see who is up sick. A strip of light stretches
the length of the bathroom door and I can hear voices on the inside, Brittany
and Valerie, though I don’t know which belongs to which girl. I don’t even know
how to tell them apart when I’m staring them straight in the face.
Distinguishing their voices behind a block of wood is like playing “Guess
what’s behind door number two.” I definitely won’t win at that game.

That’s
when I hear a third voice, and there’s no question at all as to whom it
belongs.

“It’s
okay,” I hear him whisper, followed by a soothing, shushing sound that causes a
calm to wash over me. “You’re going to be fine.”

I tiptoe
toward the bathroom and rap lightly on the molding encasing the door with my
knuckle.

“Hey,” I
whisper, my hand on the brushed silver handle. “Is everything okay?” I slowly
press the door open and glimpse Ran, Valerie, and Brittany huddled on the tile
floor, Brittany hugging the toilet, sitting in Ran’s lap, and Valerie slunk
down on the floor next to them, her sleepy head resting on his broad shoulder.

“Yeah,”
Ran says quietly, his eyes flickering over to the twin wrapped around the
toilet bowl. “Brittany just has a little tummy ache.” He runs his palm over her
tumbling golden curls. Her bloodshot eyes glance up at me.

“Mommy
always says not to wake her up,” Valerie informs as I crouch down to their
level. “Brittany gets upset tummies a lot, so I help her instead.”

Ran
gives me a troubled look over the top of Valerie’s head and I exchange the same
heartbroken expression. “I heard them in here about a half hour ago,” he
explains.

As if on
cue, poor Brittany lurches forward again, her tiny arms trembling as she dry
heaves into the bowl. Tears stream down her chubby cheeks and Ran reacts
instantly, wrapping his hands around the collection of hair at the nape of her
neck, securing them in his strong hand as a ponytail. Her small frame and his
formidable one are the exact opposite of one another, and the tenderness he
shows as he sweeps her face with the soft back of his hand does something to me
that I didn’t expect. The blur collecting at the edges of my eyes makes it feel
as though the entire bathroom is submerged in water and I’m sinking into it. I
gasp for air because he keeps stealing it from me.

“Shhh,”
he soothes, running a wet washcloth across her forehead. “It’s okay.”

I slide
my back down the wall and seat myself right next to Valerie. She angles her
face toward mine, and for the first time I notice that she has a smattering of
tiny freckles peppering her upturned nose. I don’t think Brittany has those.
I’ll have to remember that.

“Mommy
says her juice makes her sleepy.” Valerie shimmies her weight toward me and
presses her face to my shoulder. I panic, not having any clue as to how I am
supposed to respond. Nurturing is not something in my nature. “She says never
to wake her.”

I’m sure
she does. I’m sure Mommy’s “juice” makes waking her an impossible task.

“You done
for now?” Ran asks as Brittany swivels around to him, planting her cheek
against his chest, her eyes barely open. She gives him a heavy-eyed, lethargic
nod. “Here. Just rest, okay? I’ll be right here if you get sick again.”
Brittany curls further into Ran, tucking her legs up under her to fit in the
hollow of his cross-legged lap, and she brings her hands up to her face between
her cheek and his chest like she’s praying. “You’re going to be fine,” he
murmurs against the crown of her blonde hair.

I gaze
down at Valerie and she’s completely out, drool pooling at the corner of her
mouth, catching on the fabric of my sweatshirt. She’s not at all a peaceful
looking sleeper, and I realize that might be a trait we have in common as I
remember my drool-filled nap session in the truck on the way up to the cabin.

“Sorry
we woke you,” Ran whispers, his hand still sliding through Brittany’s hair. I’d
always wondered what that would feel like, to have someone run their fingers
across your scalp when you were sick. My dad took care of me when I’d been ill
in the past, but he’s not much of a physically affectionate man. He’s an
incredibly compassionate person for sure, but his kindness and care don’t take
the form of physical touch, but words and acts of service instead. So Dad never
ran his fingers through my hair. In fact, the only person to ever do that was
Brian, and the memory of it spikes something in my gut.

The
first time I thought I was actually in love with Brian was when I was sprawled
across the tile floor, vomiting up a night’s worth of mistakes in the form of
regurgitated alcohol. I thought I loved him because of the way he took care of
me, the way he held my hair and rubbed my back. But he had been there all
night, encouraging me to take another drink, to have just one more shot. In the
back of his mind, I’m sure he hoped to get something out of it—out of me
being dead to the world in my drunken stupor. But all he got was a
vomit-covered sweatshirt and a girlfriend with an angry hangover the next day.

I open
my eyes to stop the memory from replaying and look across the bathroom toward
Ran and the two near-strangers cuddled up against us. He has absolutely nothing
to gain, other than possibly getting infected with whatever Brittany has. While
I always thought Brian was being selfless that night, staying up with me while
I teetered on the brink of needing medical attention and the edge of
unconsciousness, there was absolutely nothing selfless in his act at all. He
was obligated to take care of me, to make sure I didn’t end up with alcohol
poisoning or worse. He was my boyfriend. I’m sure that duty is written in some
relationship handbook somewhere.

“I
thought I’d fallen in love in a bathroom before,” I speak after several minutes
of calm silence.

Ran’s
tired eyes flick open. “What?”

“Back
when I was in high school,” I begin, “Brian and I went to some frat party and I
got totally wasted. I was up all night, curled around the toilet, and Brian was
there. I thought what he showed me was compassion, because it was more than
anyone else had ever given me before.”

Hurt
pulls at Ran’s eyes and his muddled expression lessens. “Maggie…”

“I
thought I loved him because of what he did for me. But he was obligated to. I
was his girlfriend and he was pretty much the reason for the condition I was
in.” I shake my head at the recollection. “That wasn’t love. With Brian. That
was never love.”

Brittany
shifts in Ran’s lap and mumbles something inaudible. Ran shushes her softly and
she settles back in, her head pressed at the crook of his neck.

“I love
you, Ran,” I whisper. I can feel the warmth of Valerie’s drool seeping through
my sleeve, and instead of being disgusted, I find it unnaturally endearing.

“I love
you too, Maggie.”

“And
thank you,” I say, rolling my head to the side against the wall to look right
at him. When our eyes meet, my chest tightens.

“For
what?” He cocks his head slightly, unsure.

I slink
an arm around Valerie and hug her close. “For replacing the memory of that
night with this one.” I close my eyes and pull in a long breath through my
nostrils, feeling like it’s the first time in the past ten years that I’ve
truly been able to gather air. I swallow quietly and continue, “And for
replacing my idea of what love really is.”

 

At some
point we all fall asleep, but it’s that hesitant slumber your body won’t fully
succumb to. Like when you nod off in the car and your head rolls against the
headrest, and every time your neck catches it, you wake up. I’ve been doing
that for the past half hour and Ran wakes with my last jolt. I must have
startled loudly that time.

“Let’s
get them in bed,” Ran whispers, gradually pushing off of the floor. He wraps a
hand around Brittany’s waist and she slings her arms around his neck. I pull
Valerie off of the ground, but she readily stands and walks with me groggily
toward their shared room.

There’s
a bed on either side and I’m grateful that Valerie seems to be an alert sleep
walker, because I’d never know whose was whose. She drops onto the covers and
starts snoring instantly. I pull up a handmade quilt tucked at the base of the
bed and drape it across her. “Night,” I whisper and she just gives me a faint,
sleepy smile in return.

Ran’s
lowering Brittany onto her bed when her eyes open slightly, squinting in the
dark. I hear them exchange a few words, and then Ran kneels on the floor
against the bedframe and his low voice echoes softly. I can’t hear what they’re
saying, but catch Brittany’s sweet “thank you” at the end of their dialogue.

“Of
course,” Ran smiles and brushes a kiss across Brittany’s forehead. Everything
in me melts.

After
tucking her into her bed, he guides me gently by my elbow out into the hall
toward my room. I don’t think he’s slept all night, and the stagger in his walk
gives that away.

“What
were you two saying in there?” I ask, my curiosity showing through.

“She
asked if I would pray with her. So we were praying.” Ran slumps his shoulder
into the wall next to the opening to my room.

“Praying?”
I spin on my heel. “You mean, like, to God?”

Ran
grins widely. “Yeah,
like,
to God.”

I shake
my head and it’s dizzy with sleep. “I don’t believe in God,” I openly admit.

“That
surprises me, Maggie.” Ran leans further into the wall, resting his head
against the flat surface. His arms are folded across his chest and his ankles
cross over one another as well.

“It
shouldn’t,” I assert. “My mom deserted us when I was ten. Mikey is possibly
dying of cancer. And up until a few days ago, we thought Sadie might have been
pregnant.”

“And
that’s God’s fault?”

“Uh,” I
start, “yeah.”

Ran
nods. “So then he’s to blame for your car accident and your leg, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah, I
guess.” I don’t know where he’s going with this.

“Then it
would also be his doing that you were rescued by a handsome knight in shining
armor riding in on his white ambulance.”

That one
gets a slight smirk from me. “No. That was fate.”

Ran
shakes his head with laughter. “Well.” He shrugs his shoulders up to his ears.
“Call him what you want. God’s had worse nicknames than that.” He shoves off
the wall with his shoulder. “Goodnight, love. I’ll see you in just a few
hours.” With one last kiss placed on the tip of my nose, Ran shuffles around me
and disappears into his room.

 

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

 

“We have
to get some fluids in her.” Ran balances at the edge of my bed. The hint of
dawn is just breaking through the clouds and filters through the paned windows
next to the dresser, washing the room in morning light. “She can’t keep
anything down and she’ll dehydrate soon, she’s so little.”

“Can’t
my mom take her?” I groan and drag my arms around his neck to pull him down to
me. The bed is so warm and Ran is even warmer. I want to take advantage of it
all while I can. I want to take advantage of him. I boldly press my lips to
his.

“Your
mom still has a blood alcohol level well above the limit and it’s starting to
storm,” he says, pulling away.

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