No Fault of Mine

Chapter Fifteen

I had a gerbil-wheel brain that night. I certainly wasn't getting the rest suggested by the hospital doctor. I got up, dressed, and went to the playground. I sat on the bench, but the gerbil-wheel continued to spin. I walked to the swings, and I was about to try one out, but I just couldn't. I have a head injury to consider, but frankly, the adult in me just couldn't let go. Sadness swept over me; I was usually the first to jump into the middle of fun and just go with it. It has gotten me in trouble in the past; that's where my sister's comment about cat's lives comes into play.

Exhaustion and agitation, my occasional night demons, have been my nemesis since college. You'd think I'd have better strategies by this time. So, instead of using the swing, I tried slow, deep breathing, but I only got lightheaded.

I lay down on the bench and looked up at the stars. It was an exceptionally clear night, and the stars stood out like scattered white pixels on a black background. I thought of generations of my ancestors lying under the stars, looking up at the same constellations and using them for navigation as they explored their world.

Mesmerized by the glorious light show, I thought of my progeny in the future who'd see the stars differently. For them, the constellations and the stars would be their tools of navigation between worlds. Distraction wrapped her arms around me, and I let go, visualizing myself warping through the universe, and in the quietness of space, the goddess of sleep touched me with the gift of drowsiness.

I woke at dawn. My face and clothes were wet with dew, the chill of early morning had seeped through my clothes to my skin, and the stars that had navigated me to the goddess of sleep had been replaced with the glorious hues of dawn.

By the time my sister got up, I was on my second mug of coffee, sitting on the deck, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin.

"You were up early," she said as she sat down next to me with a mug.

"That doesn't smell like coffee," I said.

"It's Saturday, my morning for hot chocolate." She took a noisy sip. "I made a mug for Brant. He's on the computer fighting awful creatures. I thought he might need some sugar to keep up the wild adventure he was playing."

Luke came through the slider and sat in the chair next to Pia.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked.

"It's nice not to have a headache," I said. "You realize that at noon, it'll be forty-eight hours since my injury, and I feel fine. I think I can resume normal life."

"Not on your life, Sister," Pia said. "Time started at discharge; you have at least thirty hours to go."

I looked at Luke for support. He shrugged. "Ask any question about Internet security, and I'll have an answer, but I know nothing about concussions. You're on your own, Mia."

"And in this case," Pia said in her bossy voice. "I have two votes, and one is always cast against you."

"Okay," I said with a smile. "If this is what it's like to be taken of, I'm all in."

"I think we need to talk about the mess you're in," Luke said

"That's the way to ruin a perfectly good Saturday morning," I said.

"Luke's right," Pia said. "Someone tried to run you off the road, and yesterday, someone tried to shoot you."

"Didn't the doc say not to engage my brain?" I gave Pia the sister-look she uses so often on me."

"Funny," Pia said. "You broke that rule yesterday with phone calls and talking to Melania."

"Well, if we're going to talk about my 'mess'—thank you very much, Luke—let's start with our brother. He said Betty places our losses at 300k due to embezzlement. Did I tell you that the payments were made from bogus statements that had been authorized with Martin's and my signatures? It's hard for me to accept that Martin would do such a thing, and I know I didn't. I check any accounts payable against the work done and items purchased against delivery documentation before I authorize payment."

"I don't understand how Martin would have received those payments," Luke said. "Wouldn't Betty have sent the payments to the vendor's correct address?"

"Yeah, you're right. How would Marin get the money if the payment had been made out to a business? Banks look out for that kind of fraud."

"Unless Martin had an accomplice in the business," Luke said.

"Seems unlikely," I said. "It would take additional people, and for each additional person, the risk of discovery increases."

"The police might think that keeping the theft in the family would lower discovery," Luke said.

"That's comforting, but I do hope the police will look into that," I said. "But if Martin had accomplished that, why would he take our savings? That seems too cruel to me. Our marriage may have looked like a business arrangement, but we still liked and maybe even loved each other."

"And Melania believed that there was bad blood between Martin and Thad," Pia said. "I don't get that. It doesn't seem to jive with what I know about Thad."

"I would agree, but yesterday on the phone, he seemed unempathetic and spiteful," I said.

"Maybe he was reacting to you," Pia said, leaning forward. "You've been a bit short lately."

I had to agree, but not to make excuses, I have been under a lot of stress.

Later, I was sitting at the breakfast bar while Pia and Luke whipped up a breakfast.

"I don't get Stan's role in all of this," Pia said.

"Oh, that's easy," Luke said, "Cupid's Arrow is buried in his chest."

"Come on," Pia said with disdain, "our culture just doesn't buy into that kind of love anymore."

Luke placed his hand on her shoulder, turned her in his direction, pulled her to himself, and looked deep into her eyes. He slowly moved his face toward hers until their lips touched, giving her one of those honest, luscious, I'm-in-no-hurry kisses, causing Pia to melt.

"Hah, maybe there are exceptions," Pia said. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Remember, he drove me back to Mia's car," Luke said. "He confessed several things. Among them, he enjoyed talking with her and considers her a remarkable woman."

"That doesn't mean anything," Pia said.

"And he said he hopes to have more experiences with her," Luke said.

"Well, then," Pia said, turning toward me, "how do you feel about him, Mia?"

I wasn't shocked by Pia's question; I was shocked by how the question made me feel. I hadn't told anyone about my feelings for or against Stan, except that I questioned his motives. I'm still not sure about his motives, but I do know how I felt when walking with him in the gardens.

Multiple times throughout the morning, I thought of calling him, but each time, I had to talk myself out of it. I was determined to make rational decisions, and calling him definitely wasn't rational. About noon, forty-eight hours after the attack, I had reached the end of rationality and pulled my phone from my hip pocket. I had just thumbed the call icon when the phone chirped. Startled, I nearly dropped the phone.

"I was just going to call you," I said, breathless. "I thought we might celebrate the shooting together."

"That's a great idea," he said with a smile in his voice. "What about lunch?"