Quiet Angel (40 page)

Poppy waved him off. “Don’t worry about it now.”

“Maybe you should call her?” Gage asked. “Maybe she’ll pick up for you?”

“I tried on the way over. No answer. Did you guys get in a fight?”

“No,” he said. “She was supposed to have surgery this morning.”

“What?”

“Endometriosis—maybe.”

“Jesus! I haven’t talked to her in a few days,” she said. “I had no idea.”

“She didn’t want anyone to know,” Gage said. “She didn’t want anyone to worry.”

Poppy rolled her eyes and dialed Layla again.

“What is endo. . . .?” Dash wondered but couldn’t remember the rest of the word.

“I’m thinking maybe she got scared,” Gage said. “Maybe she went back to Savannah.”

“No answer,” Poppy said. “I’ll try again.”

Dash patted Gage’s shoulder. “We’ll find her. You’re the boss man. Call Southern Wings and have them check if her name comes up on any flights. Or they can get in touch with the FAA.”

Gage dialed his company and demanded a quick check of passenger names. “Layla Montgomery. . . .Yes, my wife.” He lowered his head and waited a few moments, seeing Poppy hit redial over and over again. “Nobody by that name? Are you sure?”

“Try Tanner,” Poppy said.

Gage looked at her like she had three heads. “Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s still using her old license. Just check, dammit!”

Gage groaned, pissed Layla could’ve reverted to her maiden name. “Try Layla Tanner.”

“Layla!” Poppy cried, waving her hands in the air.

“Check the name and text me,” Gage ordered and hung up. “Poppy, put her on speaker!”

“Layla, where are you?” Poppy asked, holding up a finger to Gage, then hitting the speaker button.

“Just out doing some thinking,” Layla said, clutching her stomach.

“In the middle of the night? You don’t sound so good. Gage told me about the surgery. I wish you would’ve told me.”

“I’m glad Gage talks to you because he doesn’t tell me shit!”

Poppy shot Gage a death look. The man shrugged his shoulders. “Are you OK? What’s going on?”

Layla wiped her forehead. “I might have fever. I don’t know. My stomach really hurts.”

“You’re supposed to be in surgery.”

“I know.”

“Why aren’t you? You need to figure out what’s wrong”

“Gage is a liar! That’s what’s wrong.”

Poppy shot Gage another death look and mouthed, “What did you do?”

“Angel!” he cried. “Tell me where you are. I’m coming to get you.” There was silence, except for a faint background noise, an unmistakable hustle and bustle he knew all his life. “Angel?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“What airport are you in?”

“Don’t come after me.”

“Surgery isn’t a reason to disappear, to run away.”

Layla laughed. “How about you giving my mother money? Is
that
a good enough reason?”

Gage took the phone off speaker and put it to his ear. “How did you. . . .?”

“Does it matter? I know.”

“Layla, give me a chance to explain.”

“Your chance to explain is over.”

“For fuck’s sake, listen to me.”

“No, you listen to me! I can’t believe you’d betray me like this. Does this have something to do with you not running for office?”

“I’m not running because I want to focus on you and our family.”

“I can’t give you a family!” Layla barked then broke down.

“Jesus Christ! Where are you?” Gage heard a ding on his phone. “Let me come get you.”

“I’m going to find out the truth,” Layla said. “I’ve got to do it myself because I can’t trust my husband to tell me. Don’t come after me.”

“Layla? Layla?” There was only silence. She was gone. His phone dinged again, and he rushed to read the text.

Poppy stared daggers at her boss. “What the hell is going on? What the hell did you do?”

“I’ll tell you on the plane,” Gage said.

“Plane? Where?”

“Houston.”

Layla barely made
it to Houston in one piece. She felt like shit, and her stomach pulsed from the pain. She stumbled out of the elevator on the sixth floor of the hospital. She hadn’t gone for herself, though she was supposed to be in a different one 800 miles away. She was going to this hospital because her mother’s maid said that’s where her mother was. The maid wouldn’t say anything more.

Layla headed to the nurses’ station. “I’m looking for my mother, Mrs. Baxter?” A young nurse told her the room number, and Layla walked down the corridor, unsure what she was going to find. She’d been so focused on getting to Houston without passing out that she hadn’t developed a plan for what to do once she got here. And now she was in a strange hospital, going to see her mother.

Her mind began to race. Her mother probably had a hangnail and, so dramatic, was making a big deal out of it, looking for sympathy from health care professionals. She’d get none from Layla—even if it was something serious. She didn’t deserve it. She’d committed the worst sin a parent could ever commit—not protecting her own child, then selling out her child for money. She even managed to get a huge amount from Gage.

Layla reached the room and drew a deep breath. She pushed open the door, slowly. As the scene came into view, her body started to tremble, and she let out a little cry. Like so much of her life, it wasn’t anything she expected.

“Quiet.”

*

Thirty thousand feet
in the air, Gage paced the aisle of the corporate jet. Dash and Poppy were getting dizzy watching him go back and forth.

“What’s going on with Layla’s mother?” Poppy asked.

“It’s complicated,” Gage said.

“No, it’s not,” she said. “Layla’s mother is a raging bitch. You know that, right?”

Gage nodded. “Mrs. Baxter was selling stories about Layla to the press.”

“That bitch! Does Layla know this?”

“Yes. I told her when we got back from our honeymoon.”

“Why would her mother do that?” Dash asked.

“She needed the money,” Gage said. “She saw our engagement in the papers, on the news, and figured that was the answer.”

“I need money, too!” Poppy said. “But I don’t screw over my family to get it! What does this have to do with Layla going to Houston?”

“Her mother came to see me about a week ago. I never told Layla. I was going to, but she got sick. She must’ve found out somehow.”

“Why’d her mother come to you?”

“Because her son is dying.”

“Good. I hope that asshole is in terrible, blinding pain.”

“So you know what he did to Layla?”

“Of course,” Poppy said and flashed a look to Dash not to ask questions.

“Her son is broke. No health insurance. The money Mrs. Baxter got from the media outlets helped with some medical bills, but there’s tons more. She can’t afford to pay them.”

Poppy shrugged. “I hope the hospital stops treatment for non-payment or something. I hope he dies—the sooner, the better. I actually hope he’s already dead.” Then it clicked in her mind, what Layla had said about money, just before Gage took the phone off speaker. Poppy sprung out of her seat like a wild animal, her arms flailing. “Tell me you aren’t paying for his care!” Dash jumped up and held Poppy back. “Tell me you’re not doing that! Tell me you’re not doing that, Gage!”

Gage held her stare. “I am.”

Poppy wiggled an arm free and fired a right cross to Gage’s jaw. “That bastard raped her over and over again! And you’re fucking taking care of him!” She went for a left jab, but Dash pulled her back before she landed it.

“Layla’s brother did that to her?” Dash asked.

“Her half-brother,” Poppy corrected, pulling at the ends of her hair. “Gage, how could you do this? How could you take care of him?”

“You think I don’t want to kill him with my own two hands? You think I don’t want him to burn in hell? Of course I do!” Gage rubbed his jaw. “But I had to think about Layla, too.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Poppy asked. “You think Layla would want to pay his bills?”

“I don’t think she’d
want
to,” Gage said, “but I think she’d be real conflicted about it. She’s a good person. She puts others before herself. She’s all about forgiveness. I think it would be a painful decision for her. Can you imagine having to decide if the man who abused you—part of your own family—should live or die, suffer or not?”

“You should’ve let Layla make it!”

“I was going to, but then she got sick! I didn’t want her having to make that kind of decision when she can barely stand up! It would be hard enough if she was healthy!”

“It would be an easy decision for me,” Poppy said.

“But not for Layla. And her mother knew that,” he said. “That’s why Mrs. Baxter came to me. She wasn’t sure if Layla would give her the money, but she knew I would—that I’d want to protect Layla, to keep the woman away from her. Mrs. Baxter said if I didn’t pay, she’d go straight to Layla.”

“This is disgusting,” Poppy said. “You let her play you.”

“I don’t care. I couldn’t have her talking to Layla when she’s so sick and so upset about maybe not being a mother herself. She’s going through enough.” Gage lowered his head and pulled at his hair. “Things are so screwed up.”

“They sure are,” Poppy said. “So if Layla were well, you would’ve told her?”

“I think so. I think I would. This should’ve been her decision to make. I just wanted to keep her mother away from her.”

“And now Layla is going to see her?”

“Apparently so.”

“And maybe her half-brother, too! Layla will be totally blindsided. How long until we’re there?”

“About an hour.”

Poppy looked away and exhaled. “You own the damn plane, don’t you? Tell them to go faster!”

*

Out in the
hallway, Mrs. Baxter told Layla about her son’s illness, his coming death, why she sold the stories, how she blackmailed Gage into paying the bills. The woman was especially proud of the last part, how easy it was to get money from the head of Southern Wings, how happy she was when she received the wire. “Your husband had no business even thinking about running for office,” her mother said before going back in the room. “I wouldn’t trust him with the public’s money.”

Layla brushed off her mother’s bullshit and thought about her half-brother behind the wall, just a few feet away—dying. She’d prayed so hard for this moment as a young girl. But now she couldn’t bring herself to watch it. And she wasn’t giddy about it, either—which was strange because she used to wish him dead every day, especially on those haunting nights when she could hear him creeping to her room, his footsteps getting closer and closer, wishing he’d die before getting in her bed, before breathing on her, before touching her skin. And if he didn’t die on the way in, she’d take it if he died on the way out. At least it’d be the last time he touched her.

Years later, when she left the house and was out of reach, she sometimes still wished him dead, but not as often. She came to believe there was something unseemly about wishing a person dead—even a piece of shit. No good karma could come from that. There was no reason to dwell on the man anyway when she’d made such good progress recovering. She’d done her best to move on. She wasn’t going to let her half-brother have any more power over her life. She wanted nothing to do with him or her mother.

She figured that’s why Gage paid the money—to keep them out of her life, to keep her from a life and death decision.
Especially in my condition. He always wants to protect me
.

But the time for protection was over. Now she was here, in the thick of things in a Houston hospital. She hadn’t come all this way to be shoved in the hallway by her mother. She hadn’t come all this way to be “quiet,” as her half-brother always told her. The time for that was over, too. She wanted him to see her before he died. She wanted him to take her vision to the grave. No one could stop her from doing that—not even her husband. If her half-brother was going to die, she was going to be there when he fell quiet.

She gathered the last bit of energy she had and pushed open the door to the hospital room. She stared down at her half-brother, laying on his back in the bed, his body pale and skin and bones, his eyes yellow, tubes criss-crossing through his nose and arm, just a few strands of hair left on his head, an oxygen mask over his face. Her mother was holding vigil at his side, their hands intertwined. Layla held back a twinge of vomit. “Get out, Mother.”