The Mistaken (6 page)

Then I saw nothing at all.

Chapter Five

Tyler

I winced as the young intern stitched up the deep
laceration on my head. “Ugh! Bloody hell!”

He cringed but remained focused on his work. “Sorry
about that, Mr. Karras. Almost finished. Just let me tie this
one…last…knot,” he said then chewed on his bottom lip. “Okay…good.
There you go.” He removed the sterile drape and sat back, smiling
at his handiwork.

I raised my hand and fingered gingerly around the
wound. Jillian swatted my hand away.

“Leave that alone,” she scolded then carefully
smoothed my hair back over the cut.

The attending physician walked into the room. He was
an anxious chap with keen eyes that darted back and forth behind
his frameless spectacles. He held my films in one hand, pushing
them up to the wall-mounted light-box. With the other, he swirled a
pen around the colorful images.

“We’ve taken a look at your images, Mr. Karras, and
frankly, there’s not much to see,” he said, smiling at his own stab
at humor. “No concussion. No swelling. Nothing at all to worry
about. You’re very fortunate to have such a hard head.” He tossed
the films onto the exam table next to me and winked at my fiancée.
Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, he turned his attention back to
me and examined my wound. “Looks like Dr. Matson’s done a bang-up
job sewing you back together. Hmm, yes, very good,” he said and
stepped back. “Okay then, once you’re done with your paperwork, you
can leave, but if you experience any nausea or an increase in pain
or disorientation, I want you to come right back in. All righty?”
He held two thumbs up and flashed a smile. “Awesome. Dr. Matson
will help you finish up.”

He peeled off his gloves, threw them away, and left
just as quickly as he came in, before I even had the chance to
thank him. Jill and I were left sitting there with our mouths open
at his brusque manner, but grateful that I was all right. We turned
our quizzical stares back to the young intern.

“Yeah, he’s always like that,” Matson said with a
shrug. “Now, if you’ll follow me, there are some gentlemen here to
see you. When you’re done, we’ll just need a few more signatures.”
He pulled the door open and motioned for us to precede him.

The gentlemen he referred to were cops, two
uniformed officers waiting as I left the suture room. They asked a
lot of questions, most of which—pleading ignorance—I chose not to
answer truthfully, something that went completely against my
nature, but I couldn’t risk involving Nick. He already had a
criminal record, and I didn’t want to get him into any more
trouble, especially since I would likely end up having to bail him
out.

“I really think this was just a random mugging,” I
explained.

“You’ve been attacked by strangers twice in the last
two weeks, Mr. Karras. Why do you think that is?” the older of the
two officers asked.

I waved my hand, like it was an everyday occurrence.
“Yeah, well, the whole neighborhood’s gone to hell. You guys should
really do something about that.”

He drew his lips into a smirk and threw me a look,
like he didn’t believe a word I said. His hand dipped into his
pocket and pulled out a card. He reached forward and handed it to
me.

“Just come down to the precinct and swear out
another statement, will you? We expect to see you soon.”

I accepted his card and agreed with a nod and a
handshake. “Right. Sure thing. Thanks for coming, Officers. I’ll be
sure to make it in later this week.”

“Please see that you do,” he said then tipped his
head at Jill. “Miss Demetrio.”

An hour later, when all the necessary forms were
filled out and signed, I was released. With her hand at my elbow,
Jillian walked me back to her car, belted me in, and drove me home.
She cringed when she stepped out of the car, spooked by the black
pool of blood spilled across the driveway, and my assailant’s
broken teeth lying in its midst, like stars in a constellation.
Jillian sprayed water from the hose and washed it down the gutter
before the neighbors could ask questions. Afterwards, she helped me
into the house and demanded I share the story I had refused to
divulge earlier.

I told her everything, about Nick and his new
friends, and my confrontation with Alexi and his goon. Jillian
didn’t take it very well.

“Oh my God, Ty! Are you crazy? You could have been
killed! What the hell were you thinking?” she howled.

I bowed my head and looked up at her sheepishly. “I
was thinking I needed to keep them away from my brother. I don’t
think he can survive them, Jill.”

“Oh Tyler, I understand you want to protect him.
It’s a natural reaction. I would do the same for my sister. But you
can’t live his life for him. And I don’t think you’re doing him any
favors. If Nick’s ever going to grow up, he needs to learn there
are consequences to his poor decisions.”

“And if the consequence is death, Jillian? What
lesson is there to learn then?” I asked, knowing full well there
was no good answer.

She looked at me with a sorrowful smile and cupped
her hand to my cheek. “I’m afraid you can’t fix it for him this
time. You’re only putting yourself in serious jeopardy. Trust me,
Ty. I know a little bit about these kinds of people. They mean
business, and they don’t care who gets in their way.” She nudged
closer and sat down on my knee, her arm resting along my shoulders.
“What am I supposed to do if something happens to you? Our life
together is only just beginning. Please don’t risk it on something
you can’t possibly win.”

It was uncomfortable having Jill be the one to talk
straight, to calm me down, and spell out the repercussions of
ill-made decisions. I was usually the one to do that while she
bristled under my logic. And it was hard to admit there was nothing
I could do. Being attacked drove home the seriousness of my
situation and the consequences of getting involved on Nick’s
behalf. I didn’t want any more of his indiscretions to affect Jill,
so I caved in to her request. We had so much to look forward to
that it would be foolish to pursue the matter any further.

Two days after my second attack, I wheeled my
brother out of the hospital. Alexi and his ever-present army of
thugs were there to greet us outside the front entrance. Nick stood
from his wheelchair, looked me in the eye, and shook my hand.

“Thanks for everything, brother,” he said with his
lopsided grin and a gentle fist-bump to my shoulder. “You don’t
need to worry about me. Really. It’ll all work out. You’ll
see.”

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and patted
me roughly on the back. Then he turned away without a second look
and jumped into Alexi’s Mercedes. I took a step toward the car. I
wanted to reach in and pull Nick out by his collar, slap him upside
the head or shake some sense into him, anything to get him away
from these monsters, but Alexi slid in behind him and rolled the
tinted window up halfway. With his typical wry smile, he turned and
offered me another two-fingered salute, his eyes twinkling in
victory. As I narrowed my eyes and pressed my lips together, he
leaned back, and the car drove away.

I rarely saw Nick after that, though we spoke
occasionally over the phone. He said he would try his best to
attend the wedding, but he was noncommittal about being my best
man, explaining he was busy with new responsibilities. I guess I
knew now what “few things” he’d been referring to back in the
hospital when I first asked him to stand up for me, though there
was nothing I could do about it at this point. Nick had made his
choice. And it obviously wasn’t me.

The wedding plans took shape quickly over the next
few months. I gave my opinion only when it was requested, which
thankfully wasn’t often since there were moments when Jill
exhibited signs of a frenzied bridezilla. In between our jobs and
working our way through the list of last minute things to do, we
were still looking for a home to buy. It proved more difficult than
I had imagined. We looked at everything in the Sunset District
within our price range, but had yet to find the perfect home. So we
put our search on hold until after the wedding.

Guests began arriving a week before the big day.
Jill, her sister, Megan, and the rest of her bridesmaids drove up
north to the wine country in Napa for a bachelorette party weekend
at a fancy spa and golf resort. Jillian called twice a day with a
detailed report of their adventures. They enjoyed lounging by the
pool, tasting wine, and getting facials and massages. Jill
returned, relaxed and glowing. While she was gone, I spent a bit of
time getting drunk with all my old mates, something I was not
altogether accustomed to. Nick showed up on the last night and
joined the festivities. He pulled me aside and promised to stand up
for me.

From there, everything fell into place, though there
was a tense moment at the rehearsal dinner between Nick and
Jillian’s Uncle Joey, who knew precisely where Nick’s ambitions and
loyalties now lay. The wedding itself was picture perfect. Jillian
was stunning in her dress, of course, but it was her face, glowing
with pure joy, that made everyone stare, especially me. I couldn’t
take my eyes off her, from her first step down the aisle to the
moment we finally fell asleep in our suite at the Four Seasons,
exhausted and still a little drunk.

For our honeymoon, I took Jill to Florence, Italy
then to Bologna, Venice, and Rome. Our trip ended on the Amalfi
Coast and Naples, where her father’s family emigrated from over one
hundred years ago. We spent two glorious weeks together and had the
time of our lives, but it was time to get back to our jobs and
settle into reality. When we arrived back home, hundreds of
gift-wrapped boxes filled the living room, and we spent several
evenings opening them together. As I waded around on the floor
unwrapping all the gifts, Jillian sat at the dining table writing
down the names so thank you cards could be mailed out. It was a
painstakingly long process, and I wondered aloud what we were to do
with all the items we had received. Jill was unconcerned as she
sorted through the parcels.

“Well, some of these are things we already have,”
she said, glancing around the room. “We can return those and
exchange them for something else we might need.”

“What else could we possibly need, Jillian? I mean,
come on. Look at all this stuff.”

“Well, we could use a few things like...um...a crib,
for one, and a changing table, a rocking chair, some baby clothes,
and maybe a stroller, you know, like the jogging kind...and a car
seat and maybe one of those diaper thingies and—”

“Whoa, wait a minute! What are you talking about? We
don’t need that stuff yet. You’re jumping the gun a bit, aren’t
you?”

“Actually, no. I’m not,” she said, staring boldly. I
must have been staring back with a stupid look on my face because
Jill shook her head and arched her eyebrows upward as if to say,
“Duh!”

“What?” I asked. Besides Jill, a family was the only
other thing I ever wanted for myself. There was no greater gift she
could ever give me. “You’re pregnant?” I asked again, and she
nodded once. “Are you sure? How long have you known? How far along
are you? Does anyone else know? When were you going to tell me? Are
you sure...I mean…really, really sure?” I stopped, my mouth
suddenly dry.

She laughed. “Okay, well...um...yes, I
am
pregnant. Yes, I
am
sure…really, really sure. I think I’m
about seven weeks along. No one else knows except for you, and my
doctor, of course. And lastly, I’ve wanted to tell you since Rome,
but I wasn’t sure, so I thought I should wait until I could see my
doctor. And now that I have, I’m telling you.” She beamed a radiant
smile. “I’m pregnant, Ty.”

I stopped breathing for a long moment and grew
light-headed. My arms and legs started to shake, and my belly
tingled. The walls seemed to spin then expand outward. With a shake
of my head, I crawled over to Jillian. I knelt at her feet and
grabbed her wrists, pulling her down onto the floor and into my
arms. My tears left dark stains along the fabric over her shoulder.
Jillian tried to pull back, but I refused to let her go.

She sighed. “Are you happy, Tyler, or do you think
it’s too soon?”

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice tight.

She laughed again. “Yes? Yes what?”

“Yes, Jillian, I’m very happy!”

Chapter Six

Jillian

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and bacon wafted
down the hall and into our bedroom, pulling me inch by inch toward
consciousness. Before I even gave it much thought, I breathed in
deep and filled my nose with the delicious scents. My eyes
fluttered open, worry overwhelming me as the strong odors permeated
my brain. I peered over at the saltine crackers I always kept on my
nightstand, ready to cram them in my mouth as soon as the nausea
hit. But for once, it did not. Relieved, I smiled and allowed
myself the simple pleasure of enjoying the decadent fragrance.

I’d always loved Sunday mornings. They were lazy and
relaxed, and, after making love, Tyler would pamper me with a big
plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, with toast and jam and a
steaming mug of coffee on the side. But the last few weeks had
conspired against me as morning sickness flooded through me the
moment I woke up each day. I was worried when the malady struck
more than halfway into my first trimester, concerned that the
change might signal some problem, but my doctor assured me that I
was fine, that the baby was doing well—right on target, she said. I
ran both palms over my gently rounded belly and sighed in
relief.

I rose slowly and padded into the warm kitchen, my
eyes settling on Ty as he threw a dishtowel over his shoulder. He
whistled tunelessly and pushed a mound of scrambled eggs around a
well-greased cast-iron pan. I approached him from behind and
wrapped my arms around his waist. He stiffened in surprise then
raised his arm, twisting around to greet me.