THE GREAT BETRAYAL (3 page)

It was only eight forty-five.

They heard the front door close. “I need more aspirin,” he called out.

The three women looked at one another.
More aspirin
?

When they went out into the hall, Jeff was already in the kitchen, downing the pills.

“Jeff!” Leslie rushed over to him. “You’ve already taken two of those, just before you left. How come you’re back so soon? What happened?”

“Shit, I couldn’t focus on a thing for this blasted headache. I asked Brad to make a copy of his notes for me and drop them by later.”

His mother grabbed his hand. “That’s it. We’re going to a hospital. You have to get that thing looked at, Jeffrey. It could be serious.”

“No, Mother, really. The hospital wasn’t necessary yesterday, and it’s not necessary today.” He pulled away his hand. “The aspirin should do just fine. I just need to lie down…relax a bit.”

“No—you need to see a doctor,” Leslie insisted through clenched teeth. “I can’t take this, Jeff. You fainted, and I’m afraid something could be seriously wrong.” She grabbed him by the jaw. “Please, honey. I’m really scared about that swelling. Let’s just drive over to the hospital. Let a doctor tell you that you just need rest. Okay?
Please
.”

“Women,” said Jeff, dropping a kiss on her mouth. He walked to the entryway of the kitchen, shaking his head. “Okay. How’s this? I’ll make you guys a deal: If the headache’s not gone by tomorrow, we’ll go to the hospital. Just give it a few hours. I’ll lie down and give it some more time. How’s that?”

Though still apprehensive, they agreed. They watched him stroll off into the bedroom.

“I
so
don’t like this,” Leslie murmured.

“Me either,” said Beth as they headed back into the nursery.

For the remainder of the morning and into the early afternoon, they periodically looked in on him, making sure the swelling hadn’t worsened.

Around one o’clock, he suddenly emerged from the bedroom. “What time’s the flight tomorrow, Mom? When do you two leave for the airport?”

“Twelve forty,” Ingrid replied, eyeing him carefully. “We’re planning to leave the house around ten o’clock so we have plenty of time to check in once we drop off the rental. How’s the headache?”

“It’s actually not too bad now,” he said going over to rub his wife’s tummy. He nuzzled her neck. “How’s my little Grace?”

Beth and Ingrid balked immediately.

“Oh, I’m sorry—
Audrey
.” Jeff snorted. “How’s
Audrey
?”

“She’s great,” Leslie replied, laughing. “Just about ready to get out of there! This is way more uncomfortable than it looks! Oy.”

Jeff stared at her stomach. “You know what? I don’t give a damn what her birth certificate says—I’m calling her Grace.” He kissed his wife and straightened with a smirk. “Audrey sucks.”

They all threw sofa cushions at him in mock indignation.

“It does not!”

“Audrey’s a beautiful name!”

“Well, it sure beats
Elvissa
!”

Sprinting back to the bedroom, he called out, “Look, I don’t want to miss
60 Minutes
tonight, okay? Roger that? Wake me if I’m asleep!”

Around five p.m., the ladies sat in the kitchen chatting and giggling over a dish of leftover key lime pie.

Glancing up at the clock, Leslie rose from the table, saying, “I’m going to check on him again.” She shook her head in concern. “It’s just not normal for him to sleep this much, and he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

“You think he might have a concussion?” ventured Beth. “Because I don’t think this much sleeping would be good for a concussion.”

Nodding in agreement, Leslie left the kitchen, her worry returning. When she entered their bedroom, she heard peaceful snores. But as she approached the bed, her breath stopped.

Jeff was lying on his side in a pool of vomit.

“
Ingrid! Beth! Come quick; he’s vomited!” She rushed over, shaking him awake. “Bring towels!”

“
W-what?” Jeff mumbled, opening his eyes. “W-what’s wrong?” Suddenly his forehead crumpled with apparent pain.

Ingrid and Beth came rushing in.

“
Honey, you’ve puked all over the bed,” Leslie said, wiping his mouth with tissues. “We’re cleaning you up, and then we’re getting you to Windmoor. No more arguments.”

“
Come on, sweetheart, into the bathroom,” his mother said, reaching the bed. “Let’s clean you up first.”

“
W-wait,” he stammered, blinking rapidly. “Turn on a light. What time is it? H-how long have I been a-asleep?”

“
It’s after five now,” said Beth. “You slept for about—”

“
After five!” His eyes widened. He blinked. “Five a.m.?”

“
No, five in the afternoon,” said Ingrid.

“
Afternoon?” He turned about frantically. “Then why the hell is it so damned dark in here?” He brought his hand up and wiggled his fingers in front of his blinking eyes.

“
Holy shit!” Now in a full-blown panic, Jeffrey gripped his wife’s arm. “I can’t see, Leslie! I don’t see a goddamn thing!!”

Chapter 4

They raced to Windmoor Memorial Hospital.

Beth rode shotgun while Ingrid drove the rental car like lightning through the residential streets of Clearwater. Since the hospital was nearby, they’d decided against waiting around for an ambulance, but now they had to tackle the heart of rush-hour traffic.

Holding her husband in her arms, Leslie gave Ingrid frantic directions from the backseat to avoid the main roads. Jeff had lapsed into an eerie quiet, clutching his head at the temples as if to shield against every bump in the road.

“
Can you see anything now, honey?” asked Ingrid as she navigated traffic. “Anything at all?” She shot a quick glance at the rearview mirror. “Any bit of light?”

There was no response.

Leslie started crying. “Oh, my God!” She quickly kissed Jeff’s forehead. “Honey, can you hear us? Please say something, okay? Say anything.”

Slowly, his hand rose—but he did not speak.

“
Jeff?” She lifted his head, looking his face over. “Honey? Jesus—can you talk? Say something. Let us know you can speak.”

“
Head hurts…” he managed. Opening his eyes, he looked about blankly, without focus. “Still can’t see…just dark…”

Frightened and weeping, Leslie kept kissing Jeffrey’s forehead, clutching him very close until they finally pulled up to the entrance of the emergency room.

Once inside, the triage nurse immediately had Jeff carted off on a gurney. She asked the three frightened women to have a seat out front in the semicrowded waiting room.

Shortly thereafter, a security guard stepped through the sliding doors. “Excuse me, madam? You can’t leave your car out here in the entrance like this. You’ll have to park it.”

Ingrid rose, turning to Beth and Leslie. “If someone comes out, hold them here until I get back!” Then she rushed through the doors, the guard quick on her heels.

Leslie looked at Beth, their eyes locking in fear. They embraced each other.

This was
not
good.

They could feel it.

“
He needs a cerebral MRI—stat!”

He heard the flurry of activity around him, but by now Jeffrey Phillips had lost the ability to speak.

As they wheeled him down the hall, all he could think of was his wife.

Leslie. That luxuriant main of auburn hair that fell just below her breasts. Those beautiful green eyes. The soft features of her lovely oval face. Her distended tummy…heavy with the child they had conceived in their love. Heavy with Grace.

Would he be able to see his baby when she was born? Would this damned blindness be permanent?

Just then a sharp pain ricocheted through Jeffrey’s head—a pain stronger than any he had ever felt in his entire life.

He could no longer think about Grace.

He could no longer think about anything.

Out in the waiting room, where they sat filling out insurance forms, Leslie’s apprehension grew. Her prayers were fast and urgent as the tears flowed.

Dear God,
she thought, clutching her tummy,
it can’t be good that he lost his sight. Oh, God…It just can’t be good…

“There, there,” Beth soothed. “Let’s not jump to the worst conclusions.”

Leslie flinched. She was unaware she’d spoken aloud.

“
No…it doesn’t look good at all right now,” Beth continued, clinging to her mother’s hand. “But it has to be a temporary thing from the fall he took. He passed out, for Pete’s sake!”

Overwhelmed by fear, Ingrid began to weep. “I
knew
we should’ve brought him here yesterday—immediately after it happened and he passed out! He just didn’t look well. But Jeffrey’s so damned stubborn—he refused to listen!”

They lapsed into a sniffling, tear-filled silence, losing all sense of time.

They waited.

“
Ms. Phillips?”

All three heads snapped to attention, and they rose to their feet.

Just how long had they been sitting there?

It was a stout, balding man in a long white coat. “I’m Dr. Saul Benedict,” he said. He was not smiling.

“
I’m Mrs. Phillips,” said Leslie, shaking his hand. “I’m Jeffrey Phillips’s wife. This is his mom and sister. Is he going to be all right? Has his sight returned?”

The doctor’s gaze fell briefly, taking in her belly. He seemed to hesitate. “Would you ladies come with me, please?” He motioned toward a hallway. “Right this way.”

They were led into a small room behind the triage area. He closed the door behind them.

“
I’m so
very
sorry to tell you this…but I don’t have good news.” He paused, his eyes sad. “Unfortunately, Mr. Phillips has died. It appe—“

Ingrid screamed. “
No!”
And collapsed on the spot.

Beth grabbed her as her own knees buckled.

The blood drained from Leslie’s face.

“
D-died?” she managed. “
Died
?
What do you mean ‘Mr. Phillips has died
’
? H-how could he…
Dead
?” Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Her voice became hysterical. “No, no, no! You’re making a
terrible
mistake! He was just talking to me in the car! He can’t be—”

“
I’m so very sorry,” Dr. Benedict interjected, his voice full of compassion. Touching Leslie’s shoulder, he gently guided her toward a chair. “Perhaps you should have a seat, Mrs. Phillips.”

His voice droned on, explaining something about the occipital lobe and an acute subdural hematoma. He could scarcely be heard over the gut-wrenching wails of Beth and Ingrid, who had collapsed to the floor, bawling, clutching each other, devastated. They were inconsolable.

Shocked into silence, Leslie slumped into the chair, the girth of her belly preventing a fall to the floor. She stared up at the doctor, horrified.

Her brain turned to mush.

Chapter 5

Jeffrey Phillips was laid to rest at Serenity Gardens Cemetery, just west of the beautiful beaches of Pier 60. He had so loved Florida. Ingrid decided against taking him back to Memphis.

All of his college comrades attended the funeral. Family and friends had flown in from Memphis, every one of them unable to believe this had happened. His mother gave the eulogy with Beth by her side. Together they released half a dozen white doves in celebration and honor of his precious memory.

Leslie Phillips—prostrate with grief and in a palpable state of disbelief—merely sat staring at her young husband’s casket. She was lost. In a trance.

She hadn’t spoken since they’d all left the hospital—without Jeffrey—nearly a week before.

“
Doesn’t she have any family? Any at all?” asked Beth, joining her mother in the kitchen. “Is there no one we can call?”

It was the day after the funeral, and a few neighbors had come by, offering warm food and heartbreaking condolences.

Beth had just given Leslie a bath and propped her up in bed.

“You know, it’s just the darnedest thing, but I can’t recall her ever making mention of any family. And I don’t think Jeff ever said anything about them either.” Ingrid paused, drying a dinner plate. “I just assumed we’d meet them sooner or later. But now…”