The Poison Morality (38 page)

He showered and went out for a haircut mindlessly nodding towards the barber as he talked about his grandchildren.  Tonight he would sleep for as long as his body wanted and as deeply as it wanted.  Tomorrow, he was off, he would resume refreshed and with new purpose.  Tomorrow, he would search for their home, search for a new job.  He had to be patient.  He went to the off license and got some wine, refilling his glass the whole time he was searching the internet for properties.   Near the canal was the area she liked best, she told him, and he saw the perfect house.  Relieved, that if his offer was accepted, he was already half way to reuniting with her.

But, his smile faded.  Would leaving the hospital now look suspicious?  His mopey behaviour, Jacki’s accusations and who knows what she’s saying about him.  Sitting back on the sofa, sipping his wine he realized the first visit probably needs to be to Jacki.

Damn it, he would go tomorrow, get it over with.  He sent the estate agent an email to set up a time to look at the house in Maida Vale.  It looked perfect for his Sophie and his child.

Jacki shuffled out to the visitors’ area.  She looked completely different without all the makeup she used to wear and the strut that she used to have and the glaring looks were all gone.  She was a defeated, helpless woman but when she looked up and saw Oliver, one corner of her mouth tilted up.

Sitting across the table from her, they just stared at each other, the guard getting a little antsy.   “Are you well Jacki?”  Oliver broke the silence.

“As well as expected.  I guess you’re happy to see me here.”

“No…I’m not.  I would have been content for you just to be out of my life or a nice person in my life.”  He needed to find out what she knew about him truly before going to Sophie.  He couldn’t be reunited and then ripped away from them.  “Why are you here?”

She sat back in the chair, sad suddenly, the shell broken, “I might ask you the same.”

“Asking you why you’re here,” he replied impassively.

“You know what.”

He shook his head, “No, I didn’t ask what,” he leaned forward, his arms resting on the table, hands clasped together, “I asked why.”

She guffawed and then turned serious, whispering, “You doctors are all the same.”

Oliver looked at her confused when she paused, “Meaning?”

“Meaning, you do whatever you want, help who you want, ignore who you want.  There’s no ethics, there’s no morals, there’s no getting the help that’s needed if you decide you don’t want to.  It’s all about the power.”

“Playing God, you mean?”  Her definition now revealed.

“Exactly,” she sat back and crossed her arms, chin in the air.

“I can tell you Jacki; doctors are no more ‘all the same’ than nurses.  If you’re jealous that a doctor has power that you don’t than you are the biggest eejit I’ve ever met.  And I don’t think you are so tell me who was it that you lost because of a doctor’s negligence.”

Jacki’s arms fell helpless to her lap, her eyes were wide, her mouth hung open in disbelief, and she was stifling tears.  Her chin quivered, “It…it was my son, Jameson,” she whimpered.

Oliver sat back in the chair, understanding, crossing one leg over the other, he asked, “What happened, Jacki?”  He didn’t really care but to be empathetic with her would reveal all she knew about him.

“He had leukaemia and,” she could hardly speak for keeping the tears at bay, not wanting to cry in front of other inmates, “the doctor that was treating him made a choice, a choice that ended my boy’s life.  A choice that was taken away from me, that took
him
away from me,” she pointed to her heart.  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, “Do you know what that doctor told me?”

“What?”  Oliver whispered, feeling sorry for her but knowing she had no right to judge him for what an idiot doctor did to her son.

“He told me, ‘Mrs Light, your son was already dead.’  I cursed him, I hit him, I beat on him until they took me out of that room and that was the last time I saw my son alive.”

“I understand your pain Jacki but what does that have to do with me?”

“You?  Ha,” she laughed, “Everyone thinks you’re some kind of angel but your soul is just as black as the others,” her voice raised and the officer stepped forward but Oliver nodded that he was ok.

“Jacki, I don’t understand you.  I do my best to help people as much as I can.  If your son was under my care, I would have done the best I could for him, I promise you that.”

“An empty promise when he’s already gone.  Like when you ‘helped’ that couple when you took that boy off life support?  That was a ghastly thing to do and yet you think it’s so noble.”

“It wasn’t noble,” his voice rose to match hers but he calmed again, she always managed to get him rattled.  “The machines were what was alive not him.  And I’m sorry if we differ in opinion on that subject but that is the truth without any sentiment or justification behind it, it was a fact.”

“I know you work with those dying people so that you can watch them teeter on the edge of life and death and you can swoop in and you get to make the decision to keep them going or not.”

“Are you accusing me of mistreating patients by withholding treatment?  Is that what you’re accusing me of?”  He waited, holding his breath; this was the moment when she would reveal ‘his dirty little secret’ as she called it.

“I know you can, if you want and that’s enough for me.”

“Enough for you to hate all doctors?  You
are
mad.” She glared angrily at him.  “Why did you inject Mariella?”

“Who?” 

Oliver was taken aback.  “Mrs Hannigan.”

“Oh, because she was your favourite.”

There was truth in that statement and he wouldn’t deny it, “But I never gave her more than any other patient.”

“But, she was your favourite and I was killing two birds with one stone,” she cackled.  He was starting to believe that was completely mad, her mind gone.

“She was dying, did you think killing her quicker would somehow,” he shrugged, finding words, “hurt
me
?”

“Because I beat her to it.”

“To what Jacki?”  Oliver held his breath.

“I killed her before you had a chance to prolong her life any longer.”

He slowly let the air out, breathing again, “There’s plenty of medicine to go around, to help her was not to cheat another.”

“I know that!  But
you
didn’t make the decision, I did.  And if that cow, Marcie hadn’t seen me, I wouldn’t be in jail.”

“What did you inject her with?”

“Morphine, tons of it.”

Oliver stood up and shook his head, a smirk on his face, “Turns out you are the biggest fool,” he leaned over, his palms on the table inches from her face.  He saw the guard out of the corner of his eyes step forward, ready to intervene, “They wouldn’t have questioned a morphine dose, she was already on it and you did her a favour and me because turns out,” he smiled broadly at her, “Mariella was an evil bitch that allowed her husband to abuse her daughter so if anyone deserved to live in pain, it was her.”  There was nothing more for either of them to say.  He pushed the chair away and walked out of the building breathing in the sweet air of spring. 

The loss of her son and a doctor’s negligence caused Jacki to breakdown completely but she was no threat to him.  The secret that she thought she knew wasn’t his at all but a pain she carried around with her.

He caught the train to Maida Vale and with a willing buyer and willing sellers; the transaction was smooth after Oliver determined it to be just as he thought.  Taking the keys to their new home, he stood alone in the garden, remembering the one Sydney had done at the house that was now inevitably scorched.

Tomorrow he would go see Sophie.  He didn’t know how but he knew that she would be there.  Moving into her second trimester, she should be feeling better.  Locking up, he waived to the older lady that lived next door and went into Chinatown. 

Looking for the shop with necklace, he saw it in the window and knew instantly it was the one.  The little old lady with her hunched shoulders and long white braid came out, smiling.  He tapped the glass, “I’ll take that one.”

Her smile dropped instantly, “Nooo,” she looked a little distraught, “Pretty girl comes, and looks at it all the time, I wait for her to get.”  She turned her back on him and crossed the threshold back inside, he followed. 

“Does she have long, dark hair, wavy,” he was motioning, speaking slowly, not sure how much English she was familiar with, “and very dark eyes, pale?”

“Yes, yes that the one,” she said and her eyes got wide, “oh you her boyfriend,” obviously looking at his hand and noticing no ring.

“Yes,” he nodded definitively.

She giggled and clapped her hands together in delight, shuffling towards the window, “Oh,” she said, “I put in special box for her.  She will be soooo happy.”  Her shaking, weathered hands held the necklace delicately, cleaning it and placing it in a box covered in silk with red and gold dragons.  She positioned it in the box just so and before she closed it he asked, “What does it say?”

The little lady picked it up again and tilted it towards the sunlight filtering in through the window, “It say….a woman’s heart, ocean’s bottom needle.  Ah…true but not very romantic.  Maybe not tell her what it say, make up something, she won’t know.”  Oliver tried not to laugh when she finally put it in the box.

“I’ll tell her exactly what it says; she’ll love it because it is the truth.”

“Good, good,” she nodded favourably.  When he tried to pay, she waved the money away, “She want that for long time.  I think, one day, she will think like me,” she said pointing her thumb back towards herself, “so pretty on her.  Pretty jade from my pretty country on pretty girl would be…happiness, joy, right.”  She smiled broadly exposing yellowed teeth, except where there were gaps and wrinkles lined her face and Oliver couldn’t help but feel elated that the little old lady understood that the necklace was more than stone.

He thanked her, putting the little box in his pocket and took the train to Regent’s Park, trying to keep his excitement suppressed, it may not be today but he hoped.

There she was he knew it was her even from the back of her head.  The waviness of her hair, like a finger print, it curved to the left, peaked and then the right and then to the left again.  It was longer and seemed lighter in the daylight but no doubt it was her. 

His heart raced with nervousness and relief.  Stepping back around on the other side of the high shrub, he listened to the water of the fountain, trying to stay calm and composed for he knew he couldn’t just go up to her and jerk her to her feet and hold her.  The situation was a delicate one.  He was so ecstatic but then he realized, despite Sydney’s proclamation that Sophie did indeed miss him and that the baby was his, there was still the possibility she could still deny him.  His heart leapt at the prospect and he felt that if she did deny him he would shrivel up and blow away.

Pacing back and forth, he tried to reason how to approach her.  She ran away into the night.  Leaving him at that house, the fire consumed it like she did his life.  After all they had been through together, she pulled him into her past, present, and now the future was shaky. 

Turned slightly towards the left, she was looking from her sketch pad to the fountain and he stood for a few seconds just taking in the sight of her.  This was a completely different person than the one that came to the flat.  This was the woman that carried his baby, the one that he showed how to live, the one he gave his heart to, the one that he carried the necklace in his pocket for that she wanted and never thought she was worthy enough to have.  He had to reconcile with her, it was the only way life could go on. 

Cautiously, he walked towards her, not wanting to startle her and not wanting to give her an opportunity to run away again, not that running was an option for her in her condition.  He was a little angry with her too though.  After what happened at the house, she ran and left him heart broken.  At the very least she owed him answers.

The air felt thin, it was hard for him to breathe and when he came around to the front of the bench, she noticed someone standing to her right out of the corner of her eye but nothing prepared her to see Oliver there.  Staring at her beauty, he was overcome with emotion but he pushed back the tightness in his throat to speak.  But she looked at him wide eyed and frightened, pulling the jacket around her to try to hide the baby, clutching the sketch book.

“Sophie,” he whispered so low, she only saw his mouth move, not hearing her name over the sound of the fountain.  He sat so close to her, she could feel his warmth.

She was so happy, she could hardly contain it but what was he there to say and if he knew about the baby, he would surely leave her there again sitting on the bench.  The only thing she knew was to let him confront her, she did him a misdeed and she knew it.  “How did you find me,” she asked, a solitary tear hovered on her lashes and she quickly went to wipe it away but he caught her hand as it dropped on her cheek and with his thumb he brushed it away but she still wouldn’t look at him.

“Your sketches.  I searched all over London for you and the answer was under my nose the whole time.  Why, Sophie,” she could hear the hurt in his voice, “why did you leave me there that day?”

She cried openly, which was common now with her condition, she turned away from him, ashamed, “I’m crazy, Oliver.  I have another person living in my head, making me do things; I’m nothing but a puppet on her strings.  How can you possibly love that?”  She turned more away from him, her elbow on the back of the bench. 

He stroked her hair, her heart leapt, he must not be as angry with her as she thought.  “Oh, Sophie.  My Sophie,” he said, resting his head on the back of hers, “worrying about things you don’t need to worry about and never worrying about what you should.”

“What should I be worried about, if not that?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he responded, putting his hand on her stomach indicating he knew.

She gasped surprised, “How do you know?”

“I was staying in your flat, waiting for you to come home and Sydney came to see me.”  Sophie cried harder, “She came because she said you miss me, is that true because my life has been torture without you.”

“Yes, me too but,” she nodded her head, “wait, she came to see you?  Oh Oliver, I can’t tolerate it, how can you love me, I’m crazy and the baby,” her hand rested on his, the warmth of it radiating through her whole body, “can’t be yours and I don’t know who’s it is and I’m terrified it’s Declan’s.”  She cried openly, no need to hide and there was no controlling it but it all spilled out.

“Sophie, look at me.”  Hesitantly, she turned to face him, the breath escaped her, he was so handsome and he looked at her with longing, but she could tell he had not been well and it was something else for her to feel guilty about.  He was wiping her tears off not with a handkerchief but his hands.  “It wouldn’t matter to me how you got this way, as long as you are the mother, I am the father but that’s also one of the things that Sydney told me about.”

“What do you mean,” she sniffled.

“That night, after we came back from dancing and you started to leave, do you remember?”

“I stayed,” it was almost in the form of a question.

“Do you remember what we did that night?”

She tried to recall, “I remember talking, laughing, kissing, and you asking me to stay.  I woke the next morning.”

“Yes well we did that but Sydney…and I,” Sophie’s eyes grew wide, “I didn’t know it was her.”

Her mouth hung open, her shoulders dropped the tension and she almost smiled with relief, “You had sex with her?”  It wasn’t an accusation, “Which means you’re the father?”

Oliver nodded and smiled, “Which means I’m the father,” he confirmed. 

Sophie felt so much relief, she stared at the dark clouds threatening rain, not caring if it rained on them or not.  The array of flowers that surrounded the little nook of the park was excessively bright all of a sudden and her face hurt from the smiling and then she remembered….her smile faded, “What about Sydney?  I don’t know what to do about her.”  Thunder rolled in the distance.

“You don’t have to do anything.  She’s a part of you and you’re a part of her.  She revealed a lot at the house that night.”

“I don’t remember much but when I… heard your voice, angry, yelling and I couldn’t stand that you were angry with me and it was me that got you in the middle of everything.  And then she was aiming a gun at you…”

“No Sophie, that was Sydney, it was Sydney I raised my voice to, not you my darling.  And she pointed the gun at me because she was frightened that what I was said was true.”

She moved her hand away, nervously shifting on the bench, “You’ve talked a lot with her.  Odd that you would have talked to her so much and yet I cannot.”

“She’s here,” he pressed a finger to the side of her head, “to protect you.  She hasn’t done a very good job of it and she knows that but it’s all over now and she knows that too.  She understands that she can’t make you happy however but I can, I want to, and I will if you let me.”  His nuzzled her face, his lips brushing her cheek.  The thunder cracked, startling her.  “When you love someone, you take the good and the bad.”

“But, what if she…”

“For God’s sake Sophie,” he interrupted her, irritated suddenly, “even after she introduced herself to me, I didn’t stop loving you, not for a second did I falter and I killed Declan for you.  That was for you.”  He cupped her face.

“I feel like there are whole chunks of my life I didn’t get to live because she was living it for me.”

“Starting here and now, we start over.  It doesn’t matter what happened in the past, the three of us,” he took her hand and placed it on her stomach, his on top again.  “There are things about that night you don’t remember and I was going to tell you but,” he kissed her lips, missing the feel of them, “there’s no need, the most important thing, I’ve told you.  Let me take you to your flat before it rains on us.”

She slid to the edge of the bench, struggling to stand but he was there to help her.  “Is that my shirt you’re wearing,” he asked amused, taking the sketch book and pencils for her.

“It’s one of the few things I have that fits.  I need to go shopping.”

On the way to her flat, they walked along the canal, the ducks quacking at them, the drops of rain rippled in the water.  They made it to her flat just before the rain came down harder and the thunder was closer.

The building was old but well kept, not like the flat across town.  Inside, he walked over to the window watching the rain fall across the city, the boats in the canal washed down from the spring rains.  Her easel stood to the side; she was working on a painting of what she saw from her window, the canal, the budding trees, the birds.

He turned, thinking she was busy in another room, she was so quiet but she stood watching him, breathing heavily, his shirt stretched across her body, she had on a skirt, black but he could still see the outline of her legs through it.

They took one step towards each other and in his excitement he closed the remaining of the space between them, his arm thrown around her waist, pulling her so close to him, she was on her tip toes, their kiss consumed.

Desperately she clutched him, already off balance by being front heavy, he had her almost off her feet but she could not get enough of him.  The whole of the front of her body pressed against him and it still wasn’t close enough.  His hand cupped her head, his mouth moved over her lips, his tongue sliding beyond them and met it all equally.  Without any hesitation, she now realized she had no excuse not to be happy.

Pulling away, he took the box out of his pocket, her heart stopped for a second, it was too big to be a ring and he opened it pulling the necklace out, holding it up for her, and unclasping it.  She lifted her hair for him to place it there. 

“How did you know?”

“Sydney told me and the lady at the shop was very happy it was going to you.” 

Sophie thanked him by throwing her arms around him and picking up the kissing where they left off.  Walking her backwards, he found his way to her bedroom, she rain pelting the window, the lace curtains allowed the light in, the bed coverings bright and new.  She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his tee shirt up to kiss his stomach and chest, leaving a trail of kisses across his ribs to the top of his trousers, undoing his belt, looking up at him, her mouth open. 

He bent over to kiss her lips again, laying her back on the bed pulling her fully on top of the duvet.  He unbuttoned his shirt that she wore exposing her fuller breasts, kissing gently, tickling, pulling the shirt off her arms and sliding it out from under her and unhooking the bra and throwing both on the floor.

He sat back on his heels, straddling her legs, his hands sliding down the sides of the bump, kissing her stomach to kiss his baby underneath.  Pulling the skirt and underwear off she was naked, staring at him, not apprehensive but her hands covered his, caressing his arms, not to stop him this time.

Standing he took off the rest of his clothes and she opened up for him and he slid easily into her.  Moving gently inside her, his hips moved more in circles and less in and out to keep from going to deep as not to cause any discomfort.  His tongue circled her nipples that protruded and hardened by his touch.

She was moving with him, they found a rhythm that worked for both of them but unable to put his weight on her he was dissatisfied by not being able to hold her.  He pulled out and she gave a small cry of disappointment but he moved up the bed beside her, his arm under turning her on her side so that he could enter her from behind and put one arm around her and the other around his child. 

He kissed the back of her neck, pinching her nipples lightly.  She reached a hand up and cupped his head pulling it closer to her when he deposited kisses along her shoulder.  The position pushed against the spot inside her, she was moaning tiny cries of bliss, her muscles clutching him and she openly cried out, her leg over his convulsed and he could feel her orgasm pushing him to his until he too trembled and released.

They lay there, his arms around her, she holding his arms and even though his erection was gone, he stayed inside her for a few minutes; his hand was massaging hers, moving up her arms to her back, and then back around to settle on a breast.

It was getting darker outside as the rain would cease for a minute and then begin again, “I love the rain,” she said, absently tickling his arm with her nails.

“Hmm,” he agreed.  “Sophie?”

“Yes Oliver.”

“Will you come home with me?”

“I am home,” she stiffened, “this is home now.”

He sighed, “I mean our home.  The home I bought for us.”

She shifted to look at him, “You bought a house?”

“Yes, actually just a few streets over.  I knew you loved this area.  It has a room for your art.  There’s a garden out back, a room for the nursery with plenty of light.  I’m selling my flat; everything I have is either in the house or your old flat anyway.  Keep this flat if it makes you happy, I just thought if we were going to be a family, a house would be nicer.”

She smiled, “A house, for us, okay,” she replied and rolled back over.

Oliver was stunned, no argument, no questioning, no resistance.  He wouldn’t press his luck so he didn’t say anything else.  They fell asleep to the sound of the rain.