Guarding Miranda (36 page)

“Don’t worry,” said the Lieutenant. “They can’t see you.  Tell me if you recogni-”

“Number three.” Miranda replied, cutting him off.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. 

Even without benefit of a ski mask to jog her memory, she could tell that it was him. 

There was the tattoo on his right arm, of a snake coiled around an anchor, just as she had seen it the night Richard was murdered and she herself shot. 

The man’s cruel brown eyes were the same. 

There were the twisted yellow teeth in his mouth as he swore at the officer minding him in the other room. 

One of the front ones was capped with gold, just as she remembered.

His size and build were as she remembered, too.

She was not surprised to see that he had greasy brown hair...

“You’re sure?”

“Certain.” Her left shoulder began to ache, in the way it often did when she was recalling the night of the shooting. “That’s
him.
  That’s
Barry
.”

“Just to be certain,” began Lauderdale, “I’ll have each of the men in that room say something.  What was it Barry said to you that night? 
Goodnight, princess
?”

“He said
say goodnight, princess
.” Miranda corrected him. 

Her legs threatened to buckle under her as she looked again at her shooter.

He seemed to be staring right at her, through her even. 

Memories of that tragic night came rushing back to her...

Say goodnight, princess
...

Miranda shivered.

She longed for the warmth and protection of Brian’s arms.

She could sense him, waiting outside the room.

There was a small comfort in that.

“It’s him.”

“But just in case.” The heavyset lieutenant spoke into a microphone: “Officer Blake, could you get each of the suspects to say
say goodnight, princess
?”

The officer on the other side of the glass partition, monitoring the suspects, did as he was instructed. 

One by one, they said the phrase.

But then it was Barry’s turn.

He was not as cooperative as his companions.

Barry’s face turned redder and redder the longer he hesitated in saying the phrase.

He stared with hatred in Miranda’s direction, nothing but that potent hate in his eyes.

Finally, Barry spoke and the voice was as Miranda remembered, “I know you’re there, bitch.”

His gaze shifted, to Miranda’s left. 

Now he was glaring at the wall behind her, seeming to try to guess where she was standing.

“It ain’t over yet, bitch!” He swore at the wall. “It ain’t over yet.”

She could bear no more.

“I told you, it’s him,
” she told Lauderdale firmly. “Without a doubt in my mind.  Number three is Barry.  The man who shot me.”

“I’d figured as much, Miss Fowler.  You’ve just identified Barry
The Jester
Anderson.” Lauderdale seemed pleased. “Good job.” 

“Can I go?” She asked. 

She dared not look back at Barry.

“Certainly.”

She left the room in haste, looking for Brian as soon as she crossed the threshold.

He was there, waiting for her with open arms.

It seemed to surprise him to find angry tears in her eyes.

“Shh, love, it’s over now.”

“It was him.” Despite the shock of her uncle’s gasp, she rushed into Brian’s arms, buried her face in his chest and accepted the kisses he planted on her temple. 

She shuddered again, a dull ache forming where the bullet had torn through her flesh.

“It was Barry.”
She was crying freely now.

Tears of release.

Tears for her near-death experience.

Tears of relief…

“Shh, love, shh.” Brian rubbed her back as he held her close, wishing there was more he could do. “They’re going to put him away.  For a long, long time.”

“Brian?”

“Yes my love?”

“Can we just leave this place, like now?”

“But…” Russ was having difficulty processing what was happening between his niece and the protector that he himself had appointed to her. “But…”

“I’ll explain later Russ,” Brian told the awestruck man. “Let’s go flag us a taxi, love.”

*          *          *

Brian’s home was far smaller than that of the Gundys but far more cozy than Miranda was accustomed to, with all the modern conveniences a bachelor like him could want. 

A row house on Portola Drive, it consisted of two narrow stories and a basement.

Bedroom and bathroom upstairs.

Living room, tidy gourmet kitchen and dining room on the main floor.

A basement full of work out equipment and laundry appliances, with a punching bag in one corner.

Miranda ended up spending the night, crying into his shoulder, laughing at his jokes.  They made love on his waterbed long into the night and she fell asleep in his arms, content to be there and nowhere else.

She woke up with him at eight the next morning and she drove back to Micmac Crescent after sharing a breakfast hour with Brian at Denny’s. 

It being a Wednesday morning, her Uncle Russ wasn’t home but Lynn and her Aunt Nancee were.

“Where did you spend the night?” Nancee asked her over tea. “We were worried about you.”

“I was... at Brian’s,” she said, glancing at Lynn for her reaction.

The red head feigned indifference.

“Lucky you,” Lynn replied, only the slightest tell of jealousy in her voice.

After tea and fielding the Gundy women’s questions, Miranda went up to her room and unpacked the souvenirs from her overnight bag. 

She had left her large suitcase and its contents, in Waterhen. 

She had every intention of retrieving them at her leisure.

A leisure that might last well into September…

She brought the birch bark biting artwork downstairs and presented them to her aunt and cousin.

“Why, thank you, Miranda, how thoughtful.” Nancee reflected on the story that went with the piece of art. “To think, this beautiful art might be lost forever!”

“Real birch bark bitings!” Lynn was thrilled. “I’ve heard about them and I’ve always wanted to see one up close but never – thanks, cuz.” Lynn hugged her. “Thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t get anything for Uncle Russ,” Miranda confessed, bashful. “At least, not yet.  Do you know if he still likes soapstone carvings?  I saw a few nice ones that would suit either his study or the cabin itself.”

“You were rather cross with him, weren’t you?” Asked her petite blond Aunt.

“I still am.” Miranda gave her a wry grin. “With good reason.”

Nancee sighed. “What he did you have to understand he did out of love...”

“I know.” It was Miranda’s turn to sigh. “I guess it’s time I forgave and forgot, huh?”

Neither of the Gundy women answered the obvious.

Miranda called her doctor’s office at ten and spoke briefly with the friendly nurse who was handling her call. 

She confessed her concerns about her potential pregnancy as quietly as she could, for fear that she might be overheard by her aunt or cousin. 

She needn’t have worried.

“So when is the earliest I can come see Dr. Morgan?” She asked, hoping it would be soon. “Are there any openings today?”

“As a matter of fact, there’s one at three-fifteen.  We had a cancellation.”

“Perfect, I’ll take that one,” said Miranda, clutching the phone tightly. “I’ll see you at three fifteen.”

Miranda arrived at three, a bit before her appointment in case she could be called in early.  When at last her name was called, it was on trembling legs that she rose from her chair. 

She was guided by a nurse to an antiseptic white examination room and directed to have a seat.  Just as she took the initiative to browse through an elephant-eared copy of an old Reader’s Digest magazine, Dr. Morgan entered the room.

The grey hair doctor smiled at her patient, blue eyes twinkling.

“Miranda, it’s certainly been a while.  How have you been?”

“I’ve been on vacation.  It’s been… interesting.”

 “Are you here about your shoulder?”

“No, my shoulder is fine.” She paused and found the courage to voice her concerns. “I’m here to find out if I’m pregnant.”

The doctor consulted her clipboard. “Pregnant? When was the date of your last period?”

Miranda told her. “So you can see why I’m concerned.”

“Well, as it’s been quite a while, it may mean something significant.” She made a note on her clip board. “Would you prefer to take the urine test today or the blood test or both?”

“Both maybe, just to be sure.”

Screw my feeble fear of needles
, thought Miranda, scolding herself,
this is important
!

Blood and urine soon delivered to the capable hands of the nurses who worked at the clinic, Miranda had her results back far sooner than she had expected.

“Well, congratulations are in order, Miranda,” said Dr. Morgan as she re-entered the interview room. “You’re definitely pregnant.”

“Pregnant.”

Now that it was a reality, the word sounded so strange in her ears. 

Surrealistic, almost. 

Pregnant. 

Is this really happening to me
? she wondered, awestruck. 

She thought she had been prepared to hear the words hearing it aloud was still quite shocking.

“I might have spoken too soon by congratulating you.” Her doctor watched her intently. “I sense that you’re a bit upset. Is this a good time for us to discuss your...
options
?”

“
Options
?” Miranda understood clearly what was meant by the word. “Oh, I’m keeping the baby, Dr. Morgan.”

“Are you sure?”

“Another time in my life, I might have chosen differently. I’ve thought about it a few times before, what I would do if I became...”

Pregnant
. Why was the word so hard to say? Her hands went protectively to her belly.

“Pregnant.” Dr. Morgan offered.

“
Pregnant
. I’ve never pictured myself as a mother but every time I think about what it would mean to have this tiny little life inside of me grow into a person with hopes and dreams and a future of their own making, I…” Her throat tightened and the tears came suddenly. “In simplest terms, the joy outweighs the fears, Doctor.”

The doctor’s blue eyes darkened with concern. “Do you know who the father is?”

A tint of color blushed Miranda’s cheeks. “Yes, I do.”

“And when are you going to tell him the good news?”

Miranda didn’t quite know how to answer. 

News of this kind wouldn’t be convenient for a man like Brian.

Like he said, he didn’t have roots.

Didn’t particularly seem to want to have them, either.

She rose from her seat on weak knees.

She felt nauseous.

Whether it was nerves or the pregnancy, she couldn’t be certain.

It wasn’t like she had ever been pregnant before!