Second Chances (20 page)

Arthur nodded fiercely. Tristan could console Maya while he’d rip the brute apart.

***

Maya used the short retreat of her future brother-in-law to compose herself. If those pills only cost her a few sloppy kisses and venturing hands, she would gladly pay the price to clear her father’s Foundation and deliver her sister from the rogue.

Cedric reappeared in front of her with a small envelope, and shirtless. Maya swallowed as he bent forward to put the envelope in her hands.

She couldn’t suppress the small gasp when tongue and teeth attacked her jugular. Her nails bit into his chest when his fingers slipped intimately over her knee to reach the hem of her skirt.

***

Arthur grabbed his doorknob, panicked.

“They’re not talking, this is not normal. We have to…”

But the two other men had already rushed out of the car.

She was walking swiftly toward them, her head down and her hair flowing around her like a black veil.

Arthur grabbed her shoulders, checking her from head to toe. He noticed at once the mark on her throat and the blood drained from his body.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Did he...?”

She was trembling so hard for an instant he thought she was going to collapse in his arms. But Maya just looked up to him, her eyes blazing. He could almost hear her heart pumping shame and anger in her veins.

“He said to come back with money, next time.”

Her voice broke, a pallid reflection of his heart splitting in two. She pushed a thick envelope in his hands and turned away to run into her cousin’s arms.

Chapter 31

From there, the day went into overdrive. The pills and the verbal recording of Cedric confirming he had imported illegal drugs with the intent to sell them convinced the judge to sign all the warrants.

Moira and Cedric were arrested later in the day and brought into custody. Both tried to blame it on the other, which resulted in a full testimony from the two accomplices.

Maya and Tristan gave their statements and managed to stay out of the media frenzy courtesy of Isobel’s skills in keeping the noisiest reporters at bay.

Arthur spent the day trying to unfreeze the Foundation accounts, and return their control into the rightful hands. Working was something he could do by heart. It wasn’t difficult. He simply had to fill in forms, throw a few lines on paper, and Colin did the rest, typing letters and adding addresses or names. He referred to the Foundation by a file number or a bank account and discarded names. He worked to avoid thinking, and to escape the black hole inside him which swallowed emotions he didn’t know how to deal with. He had not the energy to face it. He was sure if he did, he was going to break.

He was signing the last paperwork when the door of his office opened violently. Robert marched into the room, visibly furious.

“Arthur.”

The tone was more cutting than ever and the young man would have winced if he hadn’t been emotionally exhausted. He welcomed the intrusion without looking up from his notes.

“Good day, Father. Congratulations are in order, I think.”

“Congratulations!?!”

The spat exploded in the quiet room.

“You were supposed to retrieve the control of the Foundation for us! What…”

“No.”

The denial fired Robert’s furor for good and he opened his mouth to vociferate his displeasure but Arthur beat him, standing up.

“My job is to protect the interests of P&A clients, in regard of the law. That’s exactly what I did.”

“Nonsense. You’re not thinking with your head and you let whatever feelings you think you have for that little tramp get in the way...”

“I told you once, Father, not to insult Maya in front of me. Her only crime was to love and trust her family, which is more than I ever got from you.”

Being confronted was something Robert never took well. He moved forward, menacing, but Arthur stood his ground, impassive.

“You’ll watch your tongue, Arthur, sarcasm is just good enough for your usual court.”

“It’s not sarcasm, Father, it’s fact. We stopped being a family the day mom died.”

He was tired, too tired to pretend any longer.

“Don’t you dare speak of my wife to justify your lack of…”

“Your wife was my mother! I lost her and I lost you because you had to blame someone for her death!”

“Shut up.”

Arthur was far too gone to do so.

“You blame me because she’s gone; you tolerate me as long as I bend to your commands, but I stopped being your son long ago.”

“I told you to shut up!”

The two men were facing each other; Robert’s face was purple with rage while Arthur’s was as white as a sheet of paper. He went on nonetheless. He had nothing left to lose, anyway.

“Speaking of Mom, I took a look at her will today. Which…” the young man turned to grab a sheet behind him on his desk “was very instructive. I am her heir; you only had the temporary use of the money. If I’m not mistaken, that makes us equal partners, given you also use my money to buy Gerald’s shares from Moira and Maya. So I possess 50% of P&A and a right to veto. From now on, I do have to agree to any decision Pendleton & Associates makes. I’m taking back Mom’s property. And I’m taking a two-week vacation. These are effective immediately.”

He waited for a reply which never came. Robert stayed mute, visibly looking for a fault in Arthur’s plan and finding none.

The silence lengthened, hanging heavily above their heads. Arthur felt drained. Keeping exhaustion out of his face was more difficult by the minute. He held his stare up; yielding now would be giving away his soul, in addition to everything else.

“Have the Mercia contract amendments on my desk before you leave; please.”

Robert turned around and exited the room.

Arthur crashed on his chair, the papers escaping his hands and falling on his desk. Their landing set the firefighter truck in motion until it rolled off the surface. The young man caught it in midair, and stared at the toy for a second before he put it back on his desk.

His vision blurred and, pressing his fingers to his eyes to clear them, Arthur realized that for the first time in nearly twenty years, he was crying.

***

Maya tried to ignore the grey walls and how they contrasted with the aggressive color of her sister’s inmate clothes, which made her look even paler as she sat at the austere table in the visiting room.

Tristan had not been pleased she had decided to visit her sister so soon; they had not argued about it, they rarely did. He had simply pointed out bluntly that he considered Moira as guilty as Cedric, and that he needed time to forgive her. Maya had looked away during the discussion, and stayed mute.

She wished he’d come with her. Isobel was waiting for her, but it was not the same. Tristan was family, as close as a brother she had never had. Facing both Arthur’s desertion and Moira’s sedition on her own, without Tristan’s support, was hard.

He hadn’t wanted to talk about Arthur either, though he gave no particular reason for it. She guessed old discords had resurfaced again within the last 48 hours.

It was just as well. She didn’t want to talk about Arthur either. She didn’t want to even think about him. He had used her for his own means, from the beginning, and…

Maya shook her head to chase away the upcoming anger and sadness and concentrated on her sister.

Moira had grabbed her hands feverishly, her grip almost painful.

“I’m glad you’re here…”

Maya gently squeezed her hand back.

“How are you feeling?”

The question was purely rhetorical. The dark eyes were burning from an unnatural fire, the need for a fix all too visible. The fingers under hers trembled and Moira fisted her hand to stop it.

“I’m sorry, Maya. I didn’t know what I was doing…”

“I know.”

The raven-haired woman smiled gently and caressed the fisted hand.

Moira seemed to relax and her face held some resemblance to that of the flamboyant woman she used to be.

“I’ll be better as soon as you’ll take me out of here. Are we going?”

The old arrogance reverberated in her voice. Maya lowered her eyes and Moira understood. She grasped her sister’s wrist in a claw-like grasp, the proud tone changing into a plea.

“You’re taking me home, aren’t you?”

She felt cold to have to back away from her sister. A part of her had already forgiven her for what she had done. She was not herself then…Maya hesitated then shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry, Moira.”

The plea changed into a jeer.

“This is your fault. You tricked my Cedric and you put me here so your precious Pendletons can have what’s mine. You were always jealous of me. Thief, liar, bit…”

Maya freed her hand and stood, walking away from the table.

The fury swearing behind her was not her sister. Her sister was the overjoyed woman who applauded and whistled the day she received her diploma; the motherly girl who enfolded her in her arms the first time a boy stood her up; the playful friend who shared her wardrobe every time she had a date and laughed with her for hours about silly things. Her sister was buried somewhere underneath the cruel effects of the drugs. It would take time and patience to win her back.

Maya turned, swallowing her tears.

“I love you, Moira. I’ll come back soon.”

The door closed on the insults a hateful harpy was shouting at her. Maya ignored them and smiled bravely at Isobel. That witch was not her sister.

Chapter 32

The pounding in his head increased when he moved, the hard blows reverberating from his forehead to the back of his neck. Arthur swallowed, disturbed by the heaviness on his tongue. He remembered one hurtful glance, and the pouring of whisky to drown the ice in his veins.

The messy sheets around him seemed unfamiliar. The waitress had been friendly; maybe too friendly. He straightened up instantly, and the swift movement caused more hammer jabs into his skull. The bedroom was his, however, and he was still fully dressed. He had not even removed his tie or his jacket before passing out. Untying the worn cloth from around his neck to ease his breathing, Arthur wished he could tell it was a good thing.

The floor wobbled under his feet when he stood up. The clock on his bedside table read four AM. How much had he drunk? More than too much, that was for sure. His head revolted in the upright position.

He remembered more of the past day. The shouting contest with his father; the legal consequences of exposing Cedric, Moira and the drug trafficking. He felt like crap, and so miserable he was ready to cry again. She had looked so aloof…His blurry mind refused to even think of her name.

Arthur bent down to splash some fresh water on his face and vertigo banged through him so hard he had to grip the sink for balance. Draining as much alcohol as he could have seemed quite a brilliant idea the previous night. Drink to forget until you forget why you’re drinking. Hell of an idea if someone asked him now.

A shrill noise pierced his eardrums and he grunted in pain.

The phone was on the floor in the living room. Maybe it had fallen from his pocket. Maybe he had pitched it; he didn’t know; didn’t care to remember. Crouching to grab the damn thing sent more waves of dizziness through him.

“Arthur Pendleton…What!...Of course you have my permission!...You’d better have started already. If anything happens to this child because of your bureaucratic idiocy, I’ll make sure you’ll never work in a hospital again. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Arthur forgot about showering and the hangover; he forgot about his father and about his personal hell. He just grabbed his keys. He was not sober enough to drive. He forgot about that too.

***

He saw her as soon as he stepped inside the emergency room, Tristan and Isobel were by her side. Her face was hidden in her cousin’s neck, and he could tell by the tremors in her shoulders that she was crying or trying very hard not to. Isobel was caressing her back, her hand slowly brushing her hair to appease her. His heart squeezed so hard Arthur hesitated. She hated him; she would not accept him by her side. The need to comfort her, however, overcame his doubts and he stepped forward.

His stare came across Tristan’s and he saw the other man’s eyes narrowing on him; he murmured something and Maya jolted in her seat, her marvellous green gaze coming to rest on him.

For a second, his heart stopped beating as he watched the tears shining there…and then she was in his arms, seeking comfort in his embrace as if he was the only one who could give it. Arthur brought her closer. His breath stunk from all the alcohol he had drunk. His clothes were wrinkled from a black-out night. He didn’t care. He wanted to hold her, to be her champion, to keep deceptions and pain at bay for as long as she would let him.

“I’m sorry.”

The tears she was holding back threatened to flow once more when his arms closed around her. His coat was cold and wet from the falling snow, so Maya buried her nose in his shirt instead. He smelled of bars and smoke; the sour scent mixed with the acrid odor of dried sweat. She wanted to fight, to yell, to push him away, and to hit him for all the pain her heart could no longer contain. Maya realized she had started crying when his embrace tightened. She felt so powerless…She needed him desperately.

“I’m sorry, Edana. Please don’t cry…”

He trailed off when Maya didn’t acknowledge him and continued sobbing silently. She barely heard Tristan explaining the sudden urgency of operating, the tumour in the boy’s throat pressing against the trachea and blocking the way to his lungs. Arthur helped her back into her seat. Reasons could wait. All that mattered was the woman in his arms.

“He’ll be fine. I know he will.”

“You promise?”

The trembling words were so full of anguish, mixed with irrational hope…He wished she hadn’t asked that. He could not lie to her, not any more. Her gaze plunging into his was unbearably bright. It nearly broke his heart again to answer.

“I wish I could.”

Her eyes watered again. Maya moved away but Arthur pulled her back to him, one hand cupped around her face, his free arm firmly secured around her. He caressed her wet cheeks gently. Tears were still pearling along the soft lashes, and he dried them one by one until she closed her eyes under the light touch.