“Well, in their defense, she certainly has reasons to have a psychosomatic reaction,” Jeanne said. “How is she doing now?”
“Camila just told me she’s still sleeping soundly. I’m actually not home yet. I’m stuck in traffic, but I’ll be home shortly, and I’ll let you know what I think if you’d like.”
“Please do,” Jeanne said. “On another note, I’ve had a chance to look at the list that your friend Grady supplied. Although we suspected as much, I’m shocked at the number of Inwood residents MMH has sued. It’s unconscionable. It’s like they want to suck every last penny out of this neighborhood. I’m looking forward to hearing some of the actual stories and putting together a real exposé. This can’t go on.”
“I agree,” Brian said, but he wasn’t interested in getting into a protracted discussion about MMH at the moment, as caught up as he was with Juliette’s ongoing problems. And then as traffic began to speed up and require more of his attention, he told Jeanne he’d call her back after he’d had an opportunity to check on her.
Unfortunately, after loosening up, the traffic again quickly bogged back down, with some of the worst congestion in Marble Hill, just across the Harlem River from Inwood. By the time he pulled up in front of the Tijuana Restaurant, the trip from Rodman’s Neck had taken over an hour rather than the twenty minutes he’d expected. Less than ten minutes later, with their takeout dinner in hand, he pulled into his driveway.
“Is Juliette still sleeping?” Brian asked as he entered the kitchen and put the sizable bag on the table. Camila had come into the kitchen when she heard his car arrive and was getting out the dishes and flatware.
“To be truthful, I haven’t checked since you and I talked on the phone,” Camila said. “I’ve been in the office again looking at our books.” She grimaced. “I do hope one of these inquiries materializes into a gig. It’s not a pretty picture if they don’t.”
“Tell me about it,” Brian said sardonically. “And the books are going to look even worse when I catch up with the house mortgage, which I should have done today. The longer I wait, the more chance the house will be at risk with the MMH Inwood lawsuit.”
“Both callback numbers are on your desk.”
“Duly noted,” Brian said without a lot of enthusiasm. After his conversation with Jeanne, he wasn’t optimistic that either wedding would take place. Although he was beginning to feel guilty he’d not mentioned to Camila the possibility of his rejoining the NYPD, he was loath to bring up the issue before he was more certain of what he thought was best for him to do.
With Camila busy unpacking the food, he climbed the stairs to look in on Juliette. Soundlessly he pushed open the door. With the blackout curtains closed, the room was filled with a dim half-light, just adequate enough to see the outline of her sleeping form but no details. Moving closer, he silently bent over for a better view. Now he could make out that she was on her back with her slender arms out of the covers and her right hand clutching Jeannot Lapin to her chest. As his eyes adjusted to the near darkness, he could appreciate the cherubic features of her face. To Brian she looked like the most beautiful child in the world, suddenly reminding him of Emma’s verbatim adoration of her that fateful afternoon in Wellfleet, Massachusetts.
The sudden remembrance of his wife’s words caused him to catch his breath. It had been just over two weeks since their fateful barbecue, but it seemed like a lifetime with all that had happened. Pulling himself together with some difficulty, Brian went back to observing Juliette, noticing with relief that her breathing was gentle and rhythmic.
Just to be sure and being careful not to disturb her, he gently placed the palm of his hand against her forehead to feel if it was overly warm or moist with perspiration. To his relief, neither was the case. Removing his hand yet still bending over her, he felt almost intoxicated by parental love and so very thankful that he and Emma had had a child so soon in their relationship. Although Juliette was without a doubt her own person, Brian felt she embodied an essence of Emma that would live on.
Straightening up, Brian tiptoed out of the room, carefully closing the door behind him. Confident her temperature was normal and that she was sleeping soundly, he felt a definite sense of relief. As the foundation on which he intended to rebuild his life, her well-being was by far his primary concern. As long as she was okay, he felt empowered to face the current challenges of dealing with the impending MMH lawsuit, deciding between continuing with Personal Protection or rejoining the NYPD, and otherwise surviving the ongoing coronavirus pandemic. On top of all that, he even felt that by combining efforts with Jeanne, the two of them could possibly do something about the toxic healthcare system that was responsible for her woes, his and Juliette’s suffering, and probably Emma’s death.
Chapter 34
September 3
Brian awakened from a vivid dream he was having about effortlessly running through a landscape sprinkled with abandoned vehicles that was visually reminiscent of Rodman’s Neck shooting range. As he opened his eyes, he noticed the streetlight sifting through the white gauzy curtains. As he held his breath to figure out what might have roused him from his deep slumber, he heard a car’s tires complain against the striated pavement. Glancing around the darkened room, he also noticed the curtains were rustling from a soft breeze, but he couldn’t imagine that could have disturbed his sleep.
Turning over, he glanced at the bedside clock, noting that it was 3:25 a.m. Rolling back, he stared up at the ceiling and again listened as the sound of the car out in the street faded, wondering if another mosquito could have gotten inside. He strained his ears for the characteristic whine, but heard nothing. But then he became aware of a rhythmic, distant thumping that he seemed to feel rather than hear. For several minutes his mind tried to place the disturbance, wondering if something could be amiss with the refrigerator or the washing machine way down in the basement, thinking perhaps Camila couldn’t sleep and decided to do a load of laundry.
Unable to come up with an explanation, Brian turned over onto his stomach, putting the pillow over his head in an attempt to go back to sleep before his mind latched on to one of the many problems that had been making sleep impossible lately. Yet despite the pillow, he could still feel the thumping even though it was nearly subliminal. Angrily throwing off the pillow, he sat up and as he became progressively more and more awake, the thumping sound suddenly sounded all too familiar.
“No!” Brian gasped as he leaped to his feet. Clad only in his Calvin Klein pajama bottoms, he rushed from the bedroom, and dashed down the hallway into Juliette’s room. Snapping on the light, he was confronted by his worst nightmare. Juliette was in the throes of a seizure, her back arching and her head rhythmically banging against the headboard. The image was all too familiar.
Screaming Camila’s name, he rushed to the bedside and pulled Juliette’s convulsing body away from the head of the bed. Her face was scrunched into a grimace, but most worrisome of all, her lips were startlingly blue. Quickly he rolled her onto her side, and saliva spilled out onto the sheets from between her clenched teeth.
Camila appeared in the doorway in her pajamas. As she caught sight of Juliette, her face metamorphosed into an expression of horror. “Should I call 911?” she shouted through the hand covering her mouth.