He closed the door, tossing the keys to the candy dish. Cain's eyes went to the stairs. Sighing, he made the climb with his briefcase in his hand and Simone on his mind. Even now his thoughts were with her.

"Maryanne?" he said, before entering the bedroom. He went inside, dropped his briefcase and began to loosen his tie. "Maryanne, come out here. We need to talk, sweetheart. Now."

This was the part he hated. Pacifying her instead of dealing with the truth. She knew it. "Maryanne, We need to talk!"

He looked to the bathroom. The door was closed. The water was running. She was going to make it hard for him. "Maryanne?"

He walked over and pushed the bathroom door open. She stood in the shower, naked, holding her stomach. Her head lifted with tears. She showed him the blood on her hand. "Cain? Oh G.o.d, what have I done?"

Cain ran over and caught her as she slid down the shower. Maryanne screamed through her tears in fear.

"I got you. It's okay. It's going to be okay."

Chapter Twenty-Eight.

Rainy Days Kim It was raining. She used to like the rain, particularly the first few months of her pregnancy. Back then the rain meant something, especially to Dennis. She remembered how he'd rush from the station to beat her home. She'd drive up to find him on the front step, impatiently waiting for her. Umbrella in hand, he'd walk her gingerly over the wet gra.s.s and sidewalk. She'd call him paranoid. He'd call her worth it. Dennis would always say, "When it comes to you, babe, a man gets out of his head. "

Kim closed her eyes.

She drifted on the sound of large water pellets drumming across the windowpane. Lately all she had for comfort was her memories.

"Dennis! You're going to get sick," she laughed. He closed the door and let down the umbrella. "Seriously, I was talking to you on the phone and you didn't have to do this."

"Don't tell me what I have to do, sweet baby." He smacked her romp, and then helped her out of her rain slicker. "You know I worry about you with all those idiots on the road. Rain makes people stupid."

Kim rolled her eyes. Six more months of this and there'd be permanent damage to her sense of independence. A girl could only take so much pampering before she'd come to expect it. Kim hung her raincoat on the outside door hook to dry, grimacing at the small puddles he tracked over her hardwood floors. Dennis headed off to the kitchen. Suddenly, the crisp spicy aroma of his famous fried chicken hit her like a Mack-truck. Her mouth watered and her stomach cramped upon inhaling it. This was a treat. He wasn't only home, but he was cooking. She peeked around the open part.i.tion to the kitchen to watch as he rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands and then battered chicken legs to drop in the fryer.

Dennis Jensen was the most handsome fireman in his district, hands down. She even had a calendar picture to prove it. It was something he and all his boys grumbled over posing for. They only agreed because the proceeds went to the children's burn unit at Mercy. Kim crossed her arms and leaned against the inside wall, taking him in. He hadn't been home long. He wore his firehouse britches with the suspenders down and crossed over his hips. The station t-shirt he wore was navy blue and nicely fitted. The bulge of his biceps had the sleeves pulled tight. And his skin, that deep Hershey brown, was smooth all over.

"What are you staring at?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

"You. Just thinking of how much I love you," Kim said.

Dennis tossed her a look over his shoulder. "Yeah, love you too. Know why?"

"Cause I'm easy?" she smiled. She approached, rubbing her slightly rounded tummy.

"Well there's that." He wiped his hands. "And yes, baby, those scrubs just do something to a brother. I'm a lucky man."

Kim laughed. He was in one of those moods. Always came with the rain. The more it raged, with winds and flashes of lightening outside, the softer and sweeter he became. She wished for rain all night. Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him. "I'm the lucky one. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"That's just it, Kim." He held her, tasting her lips. "You're tough and always have been. That's what I love most about my girl. And our children will have the best mommy. Better than I ever had. You'll keep us all in line."

"Aww," she smiled. "Flattery might get you something extra tonight." She wiped at the spec of flour on his mustache.

"I'm serious. You will be the best mother. You're already the best d.a.m.n wife on the block."

"You don't know the other wives."

"A man knows. I got that feeling."

"Feeling, huh?"

"Yep, and since we're on the subject. Diane called."

"We weren't on that subject!" She pushed at his arms to get free. His hold tightened.

"Hey, I'm not done with you yet. Hear me out. I told her to come over tonight," Dennis said.

"Tonight! Why?"

"For dinner. She's lonely. I think she's been drinking." Dennis's voice had a note of concern.

"All the more reason why she shouldn't come over here. I don't need the stress, Dennis. You want to ruin a perfectly peaceful night by letting her stomp all over it. Forget this." She pushed hard and he released her.

"Look at me...Kim." He lifted her chin. "Family, babe. Nothing's more important than that. We're family always. The alcohol is the monster, not your mother. She's got a problem, Kim. It doesn't mean we don't love her, support her, and pull her up. That's what we do. You're going to have to stop riding her so hard. She sick. that's all."

"She's selfish," Kim shouted. He gave her a disappointed scowl. She'd had a lifetime of cleaning up Diane. This was her life. Her new start and she didn't have time to tarnish it with her drunken mother's pity party. "Simone has paid good money to get her help and she screws it up every time. Why help somebody when they won't help themselves? That's not called love. It's called enabling. Diane is playing you, Dennis. I know her." She crossed her arms in a huff.

Dennis grabbed the top of them and pulled her close. "n.o.body plays me, baby. You know better. And for the record, Kim, n.o.body's beyond my help or my love. She's your mother, mine too since I'm part of the family, right? I see it all the time, baby. So do you. Addiction is an illness. We're all she has."

"Yeah, but-"

"Slow down. Sometimes people f.u.c.k up. They do. None of us are perfect." He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight to him. "When you love someone, you love all of them, you hear me? Whether she can beat this thing with the drink or not, she's ours. We'll be here for her."

"You're too forgiving." Kim softened.

"Haven't you heard? The Wilson women can drive a man to believe in unicorns and pots of gold at the end of a rainbow!" He lifted her in his arms. Kim squealed as he bit into her neck. She laughed, hitting his shoulders. Dennis lowered her and kissed her again. "Mmm, baby," he breathed. "I do like it when it rains."

The tears slipped from her closed lids and out of the corners of her eyes. Not from sadness. Not really. Dennis and thoughts of him brought something else now that her mind was clear. That's what it was, clarity.

Thunder clapped.

Kim rolled away from the window, slipping deeper under the sheets.

Dennis believed in all of them, and she'd let him down. Let their babies down. Turned into the thing she never wanted to be: a liar, a junkie, and a bad mother. She had become her mother. And for it, she blamed Diane, Dennis, the pain and everything but herself.

"Morning, Mrs. Jensen. We will have our group session in thirty minutes," the housemother said without entering. Kim wiped the tears from the side of her face. It was eight in the morning. Another day pa.s.sed and she was sober. She took pride in that.

She peeled back the covers and sat up in bed. She was soon drawn to the window, a misty pane of gla.s.s streaked with what resembled tears. Her fingertips pressed imprints into the cool gla.s.s. sending a chilly current through her palm and arm. The storm clouds seemed to promise a day of rain. She was grateful because it felt right. Tears from heaven, and each one falling felt right when she woke with thoughts of him. Kim was beyond shedding them now. She was beyond mourning him. She was ready to say goodbye.

Group sessions were mandatory. Failure to report could result in swift disciplinary action, such as, confinement to your room, no activity privileges and no mail. It was akin to being imprisoned. Kim went through the motions, bathing, brushing her tangles and her teeth. She dressed in sweat pants and a loose fitted cotton shirt. She never left the room without her gum. It helped. The urge to use was always there, but when she chewed gum, it lessened.

Kim strolled through the empty hall, her nostrils burning from the strong aroma of pine and bleach. Doors were closed. The others were either with their respective groups, doctors, or feasting on cold runny eggs and charred bacon.

"Mrs. Jensen," Dr. Fisher said from an open door.

Kim doubled back and looked inside. The doctor approached fast, rounding his desk. "Were you headed to group?"

She nodded.

"You have a visitor. I was just informed. They will meet you in the recreational center."

"They?"

The doctor turned away with no further explanation. She'd been there for four weeks. It was far too soon for a visitor and not allowed.

"Don't be late, Mrs. Jensen," Dr. Fisher warned, and then sat and went back to whatever interested him on his desk. Her gaze returned to the hall in the opposite direction to which she was headed. Who were her visitors? Could it be Mathew? Stomach flutters. .h.i.t, and her palms felt damp. She chewed her gum, braving the long walk. Mathew visited her dreams too. But she tried hard not to dwell on him. The guilt and regret she carried was almost equal to her grief. He was the only man besides Dennis that she craved, and she ruined it, ruined him. Every night she wrote in her journal different ways to make it up to him. Every night she failed to find the answer.

Now he was here.

What would she say?

What would he say?

Why had he come?

Kim stopped before the pale green doors. The opaque cut of gla.s.s gave a distorted view of the two that waited in the recreational room, seated at a table. Two? Slowly she opened it. To her dismay it wasn't Mathew or Kitt. It wasn't Diane. It was Dr. Murphy and the HR administrator.

"Kim," Dr. Murphy said, rising when she saw her. "Please, come inside."

Why had they come?

Hunting season meant something to tourists, and new gamers. Not so much to the Donnelly boys. Owning over fifty acres of land gave them liberties most couldn't afford. They'd hunt, skin, and filet wild boar, turkey, and deer to pa.s.s the time any day of the year they chose. When Mathew returned, so did his familiar ways. Hunting season be d.a.m.ned. Here is where he felt sane.

He strolled through the woods, his shotgun barrel pointed south. The bitter wad of tobacco tucked tight to his gums shifted and he spat a dark brown stream of excess into the dried leaves. It was early. Gauging from the position of the sun, it was near ten. He'd been at it for four hours now. Snapping thin branches from his face, he went to the denser edge of the forest. The shade cooled him, which meant his prey would seek the same. A few minutes in, there was a noise to his left, a soft crunching of leaves and twigs. Mathew raised his gun. He tried to focus through the foliage. Another soft ruffle and then clear movement was further east. He steadied his aim and waited.

"Matt?"

He pulled the trigger. The shotgun blast went up instead of straight. Birds flew out of the trees, and his deer hopped out of the bush and raced away. "s.h.i.t!" He spat more tobacco. "I told you about walking up on me like that!"

His brother, Jefferson, gave a lopsided grin. He wasn't dressed in fatigue pants like Mathew. He looked like he'd just come home from some event that required a shirt and tie. "What you doing out here?"

"Marlene said you out here like some wilderness man. Spend more days in the bush shooting at nothing than up at the house," he chuckled. "d.a.m.n, man, even I could have made that shot."

Mathew glared.

Jefferson scratched his chin. "We ain't seen you up at Clayton's since you been back and that's been weeks now. Where's your face under all that hair. Looks like you need a shave."

"Let me guess. You need some money?" Mathew grumbled.

"Now why you go there? The bait and tackle shop is doing just fine," Jefferson laughed.

Mathew started walking, his little brother falling at his side. The only sound between them was the crunching of leaves and sticks in their path. Then finally, Jefferson looked over with a worried squint. "Folks talking you know."

"I don't give a s.h.i.t."

"They say you couldn't make it up there in New York City. That's why you came back. They say that you just ain't ever gone get right since it all began." Jefferson hesitated. Mathew cut his eyes over to his brother who gave a less than enthused smile in return. "Yeah, well who cares what they say, right?"

"Something you need, Jefferson?"

"This came in the mail for you. Marlene asked I bring it out. Looks important."

Mathew looked down at the envelope from the Medical Review Board. He looked away. "Don't need it." He grumbled and walked off, leaving Jefferson standing there watching. "Head on back. Tell Marlene I'll be bringing in dinner."

With that said, he was gone.

"Do you know why we're here?"

Kim pressed her lips together. She shook her head no. But she knew. Part of her did.

Dr. Murphy cast a look to her colleague, and something pa.s.sed between the ladies. Something like righteous indignation. A look that she would often give Diane after the booze had taken her under. Those parallels could no longer go ignored.

"You are nearing the end of the hospital sponsored care."

"I thought I had to stay two months?"

Murphy cleared her throat. "Five weeks is what the hospital sponsors. Your insurance plan will pay partial for the additional weeks, if needed. If not, next week is your release," Dr. Murphy started. She licked her thick lips as if the news tasted good to her. "Unfortunately, Mercy's board of directors has already convened on your case during your stay." She slid stapled doc.u.ments toward Kim. "You've been suspended indefinitely without pay. There will be the hearing, of course, before the State licensing board. Our recommendation is that your license be revoked. I am sorry, Kim. But there was no other recourse, considering the abuse of your position and the risk you put the hospital in."

Kim lifted the first sheet of the eighteen-page doc.u.ment. She read the words, or tried to. Her eyes, cloudy with tears made it hard to make out much. But she blinked them back, refusing to give them satisfaction. It was over. Her life as a nurse came to an end in the recreation room of a drug facility. She remembered the late nights of studying and praying over one test and then another. She remembered graduation, where Diane, drunk, yelled out of the audience, "That's my baby!" She remembered how Dennis teased her one Christmas with a very revealing nurse's uniform he wanted her to play doctor with.

"Do you understand this?" Director Randall asked, as Murphy stared.

"Mathew? Dr. Donnelly. What of him?" Kim sighed, letting the top sheet go.

Murphy frowned. The doctors exchanged another telling glance before she spoke. "Donnelly left on his own accord."

"But he's under review. You said so. What happens to him?"

"I suggest you worry about yourself," Randall answered coolly.

"I suggest you not tell me what to do." Kim cut her down with a glare. "I don't work for you anymore or Mercy, remember? It's a fair question. My actions brought about his dismissal. I want to know what will happen to him."

"Fine." Murphy dropped back in her chair. "I happen to agree with you. It was your actions that did him in. That and his obsession with women like you."

"Just answer the question!"

"He has his own review. He was on probation during his short time with Mercy. I've already written on the incident between you, Patel, and him. They can decide his fate. My guess is he needs a good lawyer if he ever wants to practice medicine again."