Indulgence (150 page)

As I leave, I see him. He’s across the room with a redhead
and, just like that time before, he never acknowledges me as I walk through.
Even though I try to catch his eye, he’s resisting it, and there’s something
different about him, but I can’t figure out what it is. I just go home and cry
myself to sleep, the pain of my punishment faint compared to the misery in my
heart.

And that’s what I do every night. Days turn to weeks and
weeks to months and, as time goes by, I see him at the club less and less
frequently, then finally not at all. In the meantime, Mr. Augustino has a heart
attack and dies, and I hear that Candy’s been evicted from their home. His kids
claim she only married him to get his money. They’re all rich enough to pursue
a judgment against her and she doesn’t have the finances to defend herself, so
she’s homeless. I worry what will happen to her and her baby – a beautiful
little girl – and I make a mental note to ask Michael about her.

It’s been five months since I’ve seen Jaz, and the days are
getting short, the wind picking up off the lakes announcing winter’s approach.
I settle into the sofa after dinner with my tablet, and I’ve just gotten into
the story in the book I’m reading when my phone rings. “Hello, Michael. How are
you, sir?”

I don’t get my usual admonishment; instead, I hear him blurt
out, “Kimmer, you need to come.”

There’s an urgency in his voice that frightens me. “Come
where?”

“To the hospital. Please, Kimmer.”

“What’s wrong? Oh, god, Michael, is Robyn okay?”

“Robyn’s fine. It’s Jasper.”

The room starts to spin. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“He was picking up his car from long-term parking at the
airport about nine hours ago and a guy jumped him. Stole his wallet. Took them
all this time to find Melissa. She’s at the hospital with him now.”

“What? NO! God, Michael . . .”

“Knifed him in the back. He was bleeding out when an airport
employee found him. They’ve had to remove a kidney. Liver lacerations. He’s in
bad shape, Kimmer. I didn’t know if you’d want to . . .”

Struggling to keep from fainting, I choke out, “Where? Where
do I go? Oh, god, Michael, where do I need to be?”

I write down everything he tells me and run out the door,
even though I hear him yelling how he wants me to call a cab to keep from
having an accident. I’m in such a hurry that I forget my bag and have to go
back for it because I don’t have my keys. In the process of getting there, I
run three stoplights and two stop signs. True to Michael’s fears, it’s a
miracle I don’t get myself killed; at least once, a car slides sideways in the
intersection to avoid me, but I don’t care. I’ve got to get there. Seeing him
is all that matters. To my surprise, on my arrival they tell me at the front
desk that they’ve been told to bring me right up – Michael must’ve called
ahead. He’s been moved to the intensive care unit, and no one will tell me how
bad it is or how he is. I’m just escorted to the room. When we get close, the
nurse points and says, “Right there.”

Dread fills me when I see the door up ahead. If I do this,
go in there, there’s a really good chance that he’ll send me away if he sees
me, and if he does, I’ll die. Shaking from head to toe, I creep to the doorway
and I can hear voices. Melissa’s soft one says, “I know, but I don’t care.
College can wait. This is my dad. I can get another semester; I only have one
dad.” There’s another soft voice, one that seems familiar but I can’t make it
out, and then Melissa’s again when she says, “I know. He’s been so down. He
just won’t fight.”

Rounding the doorway silently, I’m stunned to find Melissa
sitting there next to Jaz’s bed and, of all people, Candy sitting on the other
side, holding his hand. I suddenly feel completely out of place, but when Candy
looks up and sees me, she whispers out, “Kimberly! Oh, thank god you’re here.
Come – sit down.”

Melissa stands and hugs me. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.
Thank you so much for coming.”

“I had to. I couldn’t stay away. Look, Melissa, about . . .”

She holds a hand up in front of my face. “Forget it. Forget
it all. It’s water under the bridge. The only thing that matters right now is
Dad. I don’t know if he’ll be able to hear you or not, but please, try to talk
to him.”

Stuttering, I blurt out and motion to Candy, “But if the two
of you are in a relationship, I should just . . .”

Candy’s blond hair whips as she shakes her head
energetically. “No, Kimberly, it’s not like that, not at all. Michael and Robyn
introduced us. Jaz gave Petunia and me a place to live. We’ve been there since
Mr. Augustino died. He’s been really, really good to me. Hasn’t asked me for a
thing, just wants me to have a safe place to raise my daughter. He’s such a
good man.” A lone tear trickles down her cheek as she turns to look back at the
still form in the bed, pats his hand, and repeats, “Such a good man.”

For the first time since I entered the room, I let myself
look down at Jaz. He looks twenty pounds lighter and so frail in that bed. His
skin is white and pasty, and his lips are barely parted. I can hear his tiny,
shallow breaths as they whistle in and out through those lips that kissed me
and delighted me. Try as I might, I can’t help it.

I start to cry. I look into his face and I see all the times
we laughed, all the kisses we shared, and all the times he whispered, “I love
you, Kimmie,” in the dark. Regret and remorse burn behind my breastbone with
nothing to soothe them. This is karma come to exact its vengeance, but why Jaz?
Why not me? Guilt overwhelms me, and I know it won’t go away anytime soon.

I’m sure my eyes are anxious when I turn them to Melissa.
“What do I do?”

“Just hold his hand and talk to him. He may or may not hear
you. But try.”

My fingers take his gently, and then I feel the warmth of
his palm against mine. I hope all the love and longing I feel for him is passed
along in that simple touch. I did a terrible thing. I thought horrible things
of him. Looking back, I’m not sure why I was so willing to do that. Sure, the
counseling is helping to bring that to the surface, but Jaz never deserved
that. Did I really believe I wasn’t entitled to the joy he brought to my life,
all the passion and happiness and security? And I know that was it. I felt he
was too good for me.

I felt he was too good to be true.

And now the man I love, will always love, lies here fighting
for his life and he’s spent all these months alone. But I realize he hasn’t
been alone, not really. He’s had Melissa and Candy and her baby, and Michael
and Robyn. It’s not the same, but he hasn’t been alone, and I’m grateful to
them for the love they gave him when I abandoned him. Still, some part of me
hopes that some feeling remains for me, even though knowing it does will haunt
me for the rest of my life. As I hold his hand, Melissa picks up a cloth, dips
it into some ice water in a bowl by the bed, and wipes it across his forehead
and all over his face. When she finishes, his eyes open and he smiles at her.
Through chalky lips, he whispers, “Thank you, baby.”

“I love you, Daddy. Look who’s here to see you.” With that,
she points at me and his eyes swivel in my direction.

I hold my breath. Even though I halfway believe he’ll summon
the strength to yell at me and order me out of his room, I pray that’s not what
happens. It’s as though it takes him a minute to figure out who I am.

But my heart breaks when he croaks out, “Kimmie? Is that
you, baby girl? Please, god, tell me it’s really you.”

On my feet in an instant and leaning over him, I whisper
against his forehead, “It’s me, Master. I’m right here. Oh, god, Jaz, please
tell me you love me.”

He squeezes my hand gently and whispers back, “I never
stopped, angel. I never stopped.”

They can hear me sobbing out in the hallway, and I don’t
care. I don’t care who hears me, sees me, even takes a picture of me doing my
ugly cry. My broken heart empties out onto his chest as I sob and clutch his
hand, and all I can think about is all the time I’ve wasted and all the years
we would’ve had if I hadn’t been so crazy and stubborn. One weak hand comes up
and strokes my hair. “I love you, Kimmie. It’ll all be okay. You’ll be fine.”

“No. Not without you. You can’t leave me, you hear me?”

“I’m really, really tired and it hurts a lot.”

“I don’t care. You listen to me and listen good. There
aren’t words to tell you how sorry I am.” He tries to shush me, but I grab his
hand. “No, I need to say this. When I think about how I treated you, I’m so
damned ashamed that I can’t look at myself in the mirror. I treated you like
you were some kind of criminal. Do you know what Meredith said when she called
me?” He gives his head a little shake. “She left a very nice message. She told
me that the two of you had no idea who the other was involved with, and that
she hoped we hadn’t had problems over it. I realized later that if the woman
who had hated you enough to, well, you know, would go to such lengths to clear
your name with me, she must be telling the truth. And then when I came home and
my stuff was there, and I went to your house and . . .”

“Kimmie.” There’s an authoritative quality to his voice even
though he’s weak, and it stops me in my tracks. It’s not the voice of Jaz
Givens. It’s the voice of my Master, and everything in me automatically throws
itself at his feet. “I love you. We’ll not speak of this again. I don’t know
what you did with it, but I’d like it if . . .”

The ring on my left hand sparkles as I hold it up so he can
see it, and I see a feeble smile stretch across his face. “I never took it off.
I couldn’t. Even when I scened at the club, I wore it. No matter what happened,
my heart’s belonged to you the whole time.”

“Good. Because mine belongs to you.” He gazes up at me with
such love and adoration that I tune up again, weeping right out loud. “Now
listen to me. I’ve got to rest. And if I don’t wake up, I love you, Kimmie. You
and Melissa were the brightest spots in my whole life. If I could go back and
do everything over, somehow erase all the things that tore us apart, I would.
Now sit down and get some rest. If I wake up, we’ll talk again, okay?”

“O-o-o-okay. Okay. I love you. I’ll be right here.” Before I
can get into the chair Candy’s pushed up to the bed for me, Jaz’s eyes close
and he’s out again.

I sit there all night. It gives me plenty of time to think,
and I decide right then that if he doesn’t make it, I’m done. He’ll be the last
Dominant I ever commit to. There’ll be no more. The thought of submitting to
another man makes my bones melt and turns my heart to mush. A couple of times I
get up and go to the bathroom, but I rush right back to his bedside, terrified
that something will happen to him and I won’t be there. Melissa tells me she’s
going out to the waiting room to lie down on the couch and to come and get her
if I need her. Candy takes her place. When I ask where the baby is, she tells
me that Michael and Robyn are keeping her while she sits with Melissa and me.

At around seven the next morning, as I’m alone sitting there
by his bed, an alarm goes off and nurses come running from every direction. A
doctor comes in, and there’s a lot of whispering between the doctor and the
nurses who’ve been tending to Jaz. He asks, “Where’s the daughter?” and I
sprint down the hallway to get her.

Her face falls when she walks in and sees the doctor. “What?
What’s wrong?”

“He’s not improving. We’re not sure what’s going on, but
he’s getting weaker instead of stronger, and his blood pressure’s dropping.
There’s got to be more internal bleeding. Another surgery could kill him, but I
really think he’ll die without it.”

The weight of the world falls on me when Melissa turns to
me. “Kimmie? Do you want them to do this?”

“What are his chances without it?”

The doctor looks up at the ceiling for a few seconds like
he’s calculating, then looks back to me and says, “About five percent. Truth be
known, probably a lot less.”

My stomach clenches with those words. “And with it?”

“No real way of knowing, but I’m pretty sure it’s better
than five percent.”

I fix him with a glare. “If this were your wife?”

“I’d do it.”

I nod, sure of my decision. “Then do it.” I see Melissa
nodding out of my peripheral vision, and I know it’s the right thing to do.
“When will we know?”

The doctor answers, “As soon as I do. You’ll be kept in the
loop.” Melissa and I both slam ourselves against the wall as they whisk his bed
out the door and down the hall.

We’re sitting there, waiting, for about six hours. Nurses
come in and out, telling us what’s going on. More bleeding found. More repairs
done. More time.

At four thirty, they tell us he’s in recovery. It’s seven
o’clock that evening before they bring him back to an ICU room. And we wait. We
wait for him to wake up, to seem to be coming around, to get some good news on
his vitals. I hold his hand and wipe his face with the cold cloth, and pray
over and over that his eyes will pop open and he’ll tell me that he loves me.
Nurses wander in and out but say nothing.

The next day is just as quiet, and we keep silent vigil. I
realize I haven’t had a shower or brushed my teeth in three days, and I really
don’t care. At four o’clock, the nurse comes in and does what nurses do, and
leaves just like always. But in fifteen minutes, the doctor’s there, and panic
blooms in my chest as I watch them conferring, looking at his chart, and
checking various machines and monitors at his bedside. With no hint of Jaz’s
status on his face, he motions for Melissa and me to come out into the hall.
Once we’ve leaned up against the wall and taken each other’s hands, the
physician pulls off his glasses, slips them into his pocket, and says with a
tiny smile, “His vitals are stable. If this trend continues, he’ll be out of
the woods in forty-eight hours.”