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A sad story of what could have happened --- but didn't.
The doctor kept talking to the parents while Rosalind stepped away. That's how it happened. Valerie was cutting up some other kids meat, or wiping some gritty little face, and our sick little girl there was negotiating a food swap. I've got to get back to the house. Marcus doesn't know. Damn! She realized she didn't have her cell phone. Shit! Marcus never answered that stuff anyway. She yawned. She was so damned tired. She'd have to find a pay phone. But it could keep a couple hours. She looked at her watch. Hell it was nearly 4:00 in the morning! She had to get a little sleep, maybe forty winks. Rosalind walked over to a nearby emergency room sofa. It was big and soft. I'll just sit back a while, maybe an hour. Get myself together. Call in an hour. She was out like a light.
Back at the house, in a lonely dark foyer a sad and tearful young woman was trying to sort things out. Between the tears and the confusion she was trying to get things right in her head. I should have kept a closer watch. I could have gotten someone else to cut the meat, butter the biscuit. I should have been there. I should have anticipated something.
From an objective point of view maybe she should have. Maybe she could have, but no one knows for sure what can happen, only what did happen. Was she to blame? Kids do funny things. Recrimination can be an ugly word.
Marcus drove back to the house in a daze. He almost drove off the road. He'd loved her. He'd trusted her. He'd believed in her. But he'd been through this before. They were all the same. When push came to shove, when the bullet met the bone, they always came up short. Valerie was no different. He should have known better. This was it! This was the last time he'd ever put his trust, his faith, his love, or his heart in another woman's hands. The only woman who'd ever stood the test had been his sister. Rosalind was the only one. He'd never make this mistake again.
But what was he going to do with Valerie. Yes he loved her. He couldn't imagine going on without her, but she had to go. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He was a man, but not man enough for that. He couldn't, wouldn't try to face her. He'd be too weak. He knew that if he looked at her he'd forgive her. How many times had his first wife made a fool of him? More than he cared to remember. He wouldn't be somebody's fool again. She'd make the choice, not him. It wouldn't be on his head. She'd have to leave on her own. If she loved him, really loved him, she wouldn't, and if it was all a scam? Then he'd find out the truth.
Marcus pulled into the driveway and went inside. The way he walked one would have thought he'd been smacked with a bat, more like a limp than a walk. He felt old, tired. He walked straight into the house, looking neither to the right nor to the left. Had he looked to the left he'd have seen the stricken, ashen white face of the woman he loved. He was just too damn exhausted.
Hilda came out of the shadows to greet him. "How is the little girl?"
"She's going to be all right. Where's Valerie?"
Hilda wanted to say something about not rushing to judgment, but that wasn't her call. And she was afraid to tell him where she was. He might do something drastic. "She's about somewhere."
He had thought of something. It wasn't nice. "Put her back in the room upstairs. The one she used her first night. Clean the maid uniform she wore that second night, the black one with the starched collar and cuffs. Starch the whole damn uniform." He wasn't thinking coherently. "Put it on a hanger in the room. Tell her if she wants to stay, she stays as a servant, a domestic. If she doesn't like it?" He hesitated. "She can leave."
Hilda put her hand on his sleeve.
He looked down in surprise.
"Marcus. I mean Mr. Burke. Don't do it."
"I'm done. I'm wiped. I don't want to think. I don't want to think about anything."
Hilda wouldn't' let go She was crying.