Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father (58 page)

“I’m not sleepy. I was talking about a
different
type of bed rest.” His nodded slowly and caressed his chin. “There’s something sexy about the way your stomach is poking out a bit…”

“Now you’re just being silly!” She turned
to him, a big smile on her face.

Lawrence took her by the hand
and led her to the stairs.

“You’ll get rest soon enough, but tonight, you’ll be a bit
, shall we say, preoccupied…”

~***~

Trepidation took over Saint’s mind and body as the smells of ointments, bleach and wet gauze filled his nostrils. He’d gained his sanity back on the car-ride over and the warning he’d received, physically manifested, of his wife’s condition made him understand—as if he hadn’t before—just how bonded they were. Pam, Porsche and Stacey crowded the small room, their eyes filled with tears, while George waited in the guest lounge. The oxygen mask over Xenia’s face did little to hide the slits and scratches in her flesh from glass fragments and abrasions. So many bloody cuts… Her upper lip was swollen, her eyes dark with purple and deep blues, and her head was covered with wraps to stop the swelling of her brain. She hadn’t said a word, was completely unresponsive, though her heartbeat was still strong. Saint wiped tears from his face and cracked the sheets back to study her form covered in a thin pink-checkered hospital robe. He traced her lower legs with trembling fingers; most of the exposed flesh looked bruised and battered. One of her arms was in a sling, and her left leg had a deep gash in it that required stitching. Nevertheless, the doctors said she was lucky. She’d rolled off an embankment, landing roof down in the middle of rubble and by all accounts, the woman should’ve been dead.

Everyone’s
pain in that little room flung him over some dark abyss. He needed a moment with her, undisturbed. No staff, no family. No one but him and Xenia. Instead, he abruptly excused himself, walked just outside the door and patted his pocket, realizing he must have left his cell phone at the office after he’d spoken with his sister-in-law.

“Shit!”
He pulled at his hair. Pam had explained that the children were with their babysitter, Chantel, and that Henry called Porsche, saying he was on his way over after receiving her frantic voicemail. Saint made his way through the halls until he found George slumped down in a human puddle, half asleep. He lightly patted the man’s shoulder.

“Uh, yes? Yes? How is she, Saint?”
The old man rubbed his tired eyes, looking a bit disoriented. “I’m so sorry. I started dozing off.”

“
Don’t worry about that, George. Can I use your phone please? I forgot mine at the office.”

“Of course!” George handed his cell
phone to Saint, who nodded in appreciation and walked away to a quieter wing of the hospital.

The phone rang and rang.
“Come on! Pick up, Lawrence!” It continued to go unanswered until at last, it went to voicemail. He called back. The same thing occurred, causing him to curse out and stomp his foot as he paced the deserted hallway. He needed answers, so he called the next person he believed could help him—Osaze.

“Hello?”
his father said in a semi-sluggish tone.

“Pop, it’s Saint!”

“Oh, I didn’t know who this was because—”

“Xenia has been in a car accident,
Dad!” Saint’s voice cracked. A part of him didn’t want to believe what was happening and another part of him was trying his damnedest to keep it all together, but that became more and more challenging as time wore on. When he walked into that hospital room, he wanted to pull her out of that damn bed and take her home, but he knew that could lead to more trouble. He’d have to do the best he could with how things were.

“Oh God, no! Saint, is she okay?”

“No, Dad.” It was happening again; he couldn’t control the quaking of his voice. He ran his fingers across his forehead, continuing to pace. The tears kept coming, drenching his face and neck. “I’m at the hospital. I need some advice. It’s bad, Pop, real bad!” He gripped the phone and looked around, searching for something…of what, he wasn’t sure.

“Son, I’ll catch a flight, I’ll be on my way.”

“No! Stay put.” Saint put his hand up, as if his father were actually there. “I can’t get a hold of Lawrence and…” He wiped another tear away that blurred his vision. “…I pray to God that you can answer this.”

“I’ll try
, Son. What is it?”

“When
Mama was in the hospital, if you had had the gift of healing, could you have saved her?”

“No
, Saint. She died almost instantly and by the time the police called me, it had been at least thirty minutes, and I’m not a healer, as you know. There is a small gap of time after the heart stops when a healer Angel Child can bring that spirit back. I don’t know that exact time frame, but it is quite short.”

“So, if the person is still alive, but wounded
…” Saint sniffed and pulled out a soiled napkin from his pocket to catch a thin trail of snot as it ran over his lips—“…we can still save them, even if they are our soulmate, right? Can I help her?!” His knees buckled and he quickly jammed his shoulder into the wall to keep his balance as the devastating emotions consumed him. “Please tell me I can help her!” He started to go into mild convulsions as he cried his eyes out, muffling a groan of misery with a heavy palm over his mouth. He felt the burn now. He shielded his face from any passersby, certain his eyeballs were some color that would cause the hospital staff to cart him away in a straitjacket.

“…
Son, take a deep breath…” his father muttered.

H
e knew the man felt so helpless and was trying to hug him from afar, but Saint had started hyperventilating and he needed to calm down. He made an effort to quell the emotions.

“
That’s good. Keep breathing real deep and slow. Okay, now, Saint, I’m not certain of the karmic laws regarding that. What I can say is that it may be worth the risk, all the same.”

“I’m not concerned about karmic risks! I just need to know that it will work, and I won’t make matters worse for her
or our children. If the penalty lies with me and me alone, I couldn’t care less. I’ll pay it; I just need to make sure my family is okay if I do this!”

“
I understand. Look, I am going to call your great aunt in Egypt. She is an Angel Child as well and she would know the answer to this. I will find out for you, okay? Is this the number I should call back on, the one I see here on the caller I.D.?”

“Yes…yes, and please hurry!” Saint hung up and felt a hand on his back. He didn’t dare turn around to see who it was.
He was frozen in his state of mind and couldn’t move, even if he wanted to.

After a
few seconds, he smelled perfume—an all too familiar perfume, like the kind his mother used to wear. He checked around him, but no one was there. He was certain someone had rubbed his back, comforting him.

Mama…

“Mama!” he cried out as he made his way back to Xenia’s hospital room. Inside, he found Pam slumped in a chair and Porsche holding her sister’s hand, silent tears coming down her face, and a nurse taking her temperature. He assumed Stacey had left and would return later.

Saint sniffed
, his face a watery mess. Pam rose and handed him a tissue. Her eyes were bloodshot and tired and Porsche didn’t look much better.

“
Look…” Saint wiped his nose. “I need a moment alone with my wife, please…
please!
” he begged. His emotions had broken out of his heart and ran amock, tormenting him and leading him down a path of despair like he’d never imagined.

Pam looked at Porsche, but remained silent.

The nurse glanced at Saint sympathetically. “I will be out of here in just a second.”

After a short while, the nurse headed out, followed by Pam and Porsche. Saint pressed into the door until he heard it click. He locked it, and sat by Xenia’s side. Placing her hand to his
trembling lips, he kissed it, his heart heavy.

“Xenia, baby…
” He rocked back and forth in his seat, falling further apart. He could hardly see her through his tears. “If you can hear me, you gotta listen right now. I’m going to help you, okay, but you have to
want
me to. You have to do your part, meet me half way. I won’t make it if you die baby, you’ll take me with you ’cause I can’t live without you, baby!” He gripped her hand tighter. A deep pain in his chest made him tumble forward, his head on her chest. He wailed, sighed, moaned, unable to catch his breath. He’d never cried so hard in all of his life. It sounded so foreign, so strange, made him feel like this shit was happening to someone else, that it couldn’t be he and Xenia. But he was lost, and he couldn’t stop or find himself.Hearing his own sobs terrified him and he thought the emotional pain alone may kill him, all by its lonesome. He heard Pam outside the door; everything was suddenly in stereo.

“Do you hear him
in there? Give him all the time he needs, Porsche. I hate to hear a grown man cry! Do you hear that man?! Oh Lord Jesus, help my baby!” she wailed.

George’s phone rang
, bringing him out of his trance. He saw his father’s number and quickly answered it.

“Yes.” He tried to sound as compo
sed as possible, but he recognized he sounded exactly how he felt—enraged, out of control and eaten alive by sorrow.

“Saint, I’ll
get right to the point. You can heal her but depending on the severity of her injuries, it will take a lot out of you. So just like with any major healing process that goes beyond a cut or less severe injury, you could possibly die. There are no karmic repercussions for healing a spouse that could possibly pass away. It is expected, I suppose.” His father cleared his throat. “I know you are going to do it anyway. We both know that nothing I shared right now would have changed anything so I’m not even sure why we are having this conversation. You love her so much, you’d die for her. I’m in shock right now, trying to keep it together…and I’ve been praying for my daughter-in-law that she pulls through.”

“Pop
.” Saint sat up, grabbed another Kleenex and blew his nose. “You’re right. What you said wouldn’t have mattered unless you told me my children could die. I know she wouldn’t want that. That’s all I really wanted to know, to make sure Hassani, Dakarai and Isis would be okay if I do this. I know we have to sacrifice something when we do this. As long as it’s just me, I’m okay with that.”

“Well, I understand now. Son?”

“Yes?”

“I can feel you…you’re in shock, like me. You’re angry and confused. Your energy is very scattered, I barely recognize you
, and I’m fearful that when you come back to your senses, you will tear the world apart if she... never mind. Just be careful, please.”

Saint looked at Xenia closely as he drew quiet on the phone with his father. He pulled the sheet back once more and lifted her hospital gown
high this time, to examine her nude body. The flesh he’d kissed, massaged and cradled close for so many years had been tossed around like some old rag doll, leaving his dark cinnamon sweetheart a tangled, bloodied mess. He hated the damn car. He hated the expressway. He hated anything and everything that played a role in the entire ordeal. He didn’t give himself time to totally absorb the psychic hunch, but in the back of his mind, he didn’t believe it was an accident at all. He wasn’t certain where he’d gotten the notion, and it didn’t matter. It was planted in his mind now and he would get to the bottom of it at a later date. In the meantime, he made mental notes of what his bride needed, keeping a tally in his mind of all the places that needed healing. Visiting hours were winding down, but he knew he’d be allowed to stay. This would take all night. He couldn’t risk someone coming in and busting him in the act, but he couldn’t take her home—it had to be done right then and there.

“
She’s got a concussion, her brain is swelling. She’s doped up right now. They said she can’t breathe on her own, but her heart is working extra hard. One bone in her arm is broken, another fractured, and she has cuts and bruises almost everywhere. Her upper thigh got sliced pretty bad, but they already stitched that up.”

“Okay,
Son, that’s a lot, but there’s some hope there. Xenia is a fighter. She loves you and those children. That will help you. We both know you can’t heal anyone that doesn’t want to be healed, but I think you know deep down that she does. She’d never willingly leave you and those children. I can’t bear the thought of losing my son—but I know what this is like, so I won’t bother you with my own needs and I never want you to hurt the way I have all of these miserable years…I love you.” His father choked up and abruptly disconnected the call.

Saint ran his hand gently along her breast, feeling her heartbeat, getting her vitals. He was confident he could bide his time until the late hours, when the skeleton shift worked and Pam, Porsche and Stacey would be long gone.
He surmised the night crew would check on her every two to three hours. He’d set his watch nearby, ensuring he was off of her until they left them alone again so he could finish his work. Right now, Henry was on his way, and he wanted the coast completely clear before he began the process. After finishing his analysis, he pushed the hospital gown back down and placed her arms gently at the sides of her body. He delicately leaned down and kissed her forehead then stood straight, head lowered, crossed his left palm over the top of his right hand and said a silent prayer.