20. Twenty

Twenty

Anna

The silence on the drive back to Knight Security is profound. Neither of us attempt to speak. I mean, what did I expect him to say? I close my eyes wearily.

As soon as Carson turns off the car, I open the passenger door and jump out. As I head to my car, Carson tries to stop me. "Anna! Listen." But I don't slow my steps, and I don't turn around. Once I'm in my car, I immediately start the engine, wanting to avoid a conversation, but Carson approaches my window. I take a deep breath, and then, with reluctance, I hit the button to roll it down. I refuse to make this easier for him.

I sit there staring straight ahead. When he doesn't say anything, I finally cut my eyes to his. "You're more than an acquaintance, and you know it. Words just failed me there for a minute."

I nod without responding. He finally spreads his hands and says, "I'm sorry. Okay?"

"Thank you for the apology, Carson." He winces at my icy tone.

As he goes to turn away, I state, "An acquaintance? Really?" I give him a tight smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes, "You could have just introduced me as your friend, Carson."

He freezes, then slowly leans down toward the window and reaches in to turn my chin toward him. In a deadly quiet voice, he states, "You and I have never been friends, Anna."

With those parting words, he stalks away. After he's gone, I blink back the tears that well in my eyes, hot and stinging. I put the car in drive and pull out into the Jacksonville city traffic. About a block down the road, the tears spill over and silently roll unchecked down my cheeks. I feel their dampness as they soak into my silk shirt, but I don't care. I let them fall.

By the time I enter the apartment, my tears have dried, leaving behind a numbness. I grimace, remembering one of Carson and Connor's favorite songs, Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb. That's exactly how I feel. Instead of going to the master bedroom, I'm drawn to the spare bedroom. A sense of foreboding snakes through my body.

I know I hurt Carson all those years ago, but he's the one who wouldn't listen. He never even gave me a chance to explain.

I sit down in the small armchair as I think back… to when I discovered I carried Carson's child. I felt numb then, too, but it didn't last long. When a doctor confirmed my pregnancy, the news came as a physical shock. Once the numbness finally left, it opened the door to a flurry of emotions – fear, excitement, and a gnawing worry about Carson. I knew I had to tell him, but a cold knot of dread coiled in my stomach.

Picking up my phone, I hit his number, my heart hammering against my ribs. Then, I realized Carson had blocked my calls when they went directly to his voicemail. I stammered out a message. Asking him to call me. I didn't hint at why, just that I needed to speak with him. He never returned any of my calls.

I went to Graham's bedside. It was one of his rare good days. He was sitting up in bed and gave me a gentle smile when I entered.

"Anna, are you alright? My dear child, you look like somebody who just lost their best friend," he said in a voice that held his concern.

I sat down on the side of the bed, reached over, and took his frail hand in mine. I looked down, seeing his parchment-like skin, showing his dark veins. The chemotherapy treatments had not been kind. He looked so white against the sterile sheets.

"Graham, I'm pregnant," I admitted in a low voice.

He nodded and squeezed my hand, "I take it the father, is the young hot head from the cruise?"

I gave a small laugh at his accurate depiction of Carson. "Yes," I admitted with a sigh.

"Anna, I'm so sorry that I put you in this situation," he said in a sorrowful voice.

"Graham, you did no such thing. You offered me financial freedom," I assured him in a fond voice.

"Only so you could care for me," he pointed out ruefully.

"I would have taken care of you no matter what. You're the only family I've got."

The unconditional love that shined out of his eyes had my eyes watering. "So, if you decide to marry this man, I could contact my lawyer. I'm sure we could get an annulment."

A flicker of hope flared in my chest, but it was quickly extinguished as I remembered Carson's final goodbye. "Thank you, Graham. But, I… I don't think he'd listen to me right now."

"Anna, from what you've told me of him, he may be a hot head, but there had to be something redeemable about him for you to fall in love with him," his gentle voice held a note of admonishment.

"There was," I admit to him. "I just don't know how to get through to him." I adjusted some of the tubes that went from his weakened body to the machine's beeping plaintively in the corner. "Besides, who would take care of you?"

"I have plenty of money; I could hire someone," he assured me stubbornly.

"But, I want to take care of you, Graham. Don't you know that?" I said, tears coming to my eyes.

He reached out and wiped the one lone tear that escaped. "Please, don't cry, Annie, or you'll have me blubbering like an old fool, as well."

I smiled at the childhood nickname. "Graham, I'm worried that even knowing I'm having his baby won't make a difference in how Carson feels." I finally hiccup through my sniffles. The baby hormones seemed to be already making me even more emotional.

"Poppycock," Graham muttered. "He can't be that unforgiving. If he is, he doesn't deserve you."

His words felt like a balm for my wounded heart. "Thank you, Graham. I can always count on you to be my champion."

"Of course you can. You know, I only insisted we marry to ensure you receive my inheritance. If it wasn't for Neal…"

"Graham, we've been over this. I won't leave you. Ever. Even if Carson did come around, he probably wouldn't understand that I want to care for you," I said in a firm voice.

"My Anna, I think my stubbornness is rubbing off on you." A sudden fit of coughing wracked Graham's already frail body. Panic surged through me as I scrambled to grab his medication.

When he finally stopped coughing and leaned back against his pillows, he patted the empty space beside him. I moved closer and gave him a hug, being careful of the medical tubing. His weak arms went around me, and he patted the back of my head, "In that case. I'll leave everything as is. But if the time should ever come." I tried to stop his flow of words, "No, Anna, I mean it. If you ever need to be released from our agreement. I will make sure it's done."

"I know, Graham. That means a lot," I said softly. He then patted my head to comfort me, like the time as a child I scraped my knee. "Annie, it's going to be alright. At least I'll die knowing you and your child are taken care of." I didn't protest because we both knew the cancer would eventually take him.

After Connor was born, I helped Graham hold him. He took such delight in watching Connor grow from an infant into a toddler. It was almost three years to the day before Graham passed away quietly in his sleep. I was inconsolable at first, feeling all alone.

When Connor crawled into my lap, his tiny hand instinctively reached for my tear-streaked cheek. I held him close, the warmth of his small body a welcomed comfort against the emptiness I felt. Connor was too young to understand the loss, but his presence offered a sweet hope for the future, a future I had to build for both of us.

Connor was too young and doesn't truly remember Graham, but I hope he can recall the love that he lavished on both of us.

My phone buzzes beside me, and I blink my eyes. It's the alarm I set up as a reminder so I wouldn't miss picking up Connor. I look down at my tear-stained silk shirt, knowing I have to change it before I leave.

I wearily pull myself out of the armchair. My heart is heavy with remembered grief. I miss Graham. I once teased him that only the good die young, and he gave me a weak smile and said, "That's why I've made it to seventy-two."

I shake my head at the fond memory and pick up my keys on the way out the door.

At the school, my gaze fixes on Connor as he shuffles towards the car. Instead of his energetic gait, he advances with sluggish steps. His face looks pale, lacking its usual healthy color.

"Hey, Baby. Is everything alright?"

He shrugs, "I dunno," he mumbles as he leans his head back against the seat. "I don't feel so good," he says in a voice barely above a whisper.

Worry knotting in my stomach, I immediately reach over to feel his forehead. "You're burning up. Did you tell your teacher or the school nurse?"

"No, I thought I'd get feeling better," he says, his lips turning down in a frown. "But I don't."

"Let's get you home," I say as he buckles his seat belt.

Once we enter the apartment, I suggest quietly, "Why don't you lay down for a little while?"

When Connor just nods his head and does as I suggest without protest, I know he's feeling bad.

He changes into his sleep clothes and then crawls between the cool sheets. I approach with a thermometer, and he dutifully opens his mouth.

"Doesn't anything hurt, Baby? Your tummy or your chest?"

"My chest hurts sometimes," he mumbles.

"When does it hurt?" I probe for details.

"When I take a deep breath," he gulps in some air and then starts coughing.

I frown as his cough sounds raspy. "Let me call the doctor."

I call my doctor in Ft. Lauderdale and speak with a nurse practitioner. After answering all their questions, she advises, "I would treat him for a cold or flu. However, If the rattle in his chest gets worse, you'll need to get him to a doctor. He may have walking pneumonia and need antibiotics."

I tell her thank you and disconnect the call.

I reach out and touch his forehead. It's still hot and dry. "Okay, Baby. You rest here. I'll be right back."

I search the apartment for any type of cold and cough medicine. Right as I'm about to give up, I find a container with liquid medicine that I can give him for now.

After Connor is sleeping peacefully, I text Carson, letting him know that Connor is sick. Then, I give him a list of things to pick up on his way home.

While I wait for Carson to respond to my text, I wearily sit down on the bed, a worried frown on my face as I lovingly watch my son as he sleeps.

When my phone finally buzzes, I glance down at the text and read, ‘I'll be home by five; let me know if you need anything else. Take care of our boy.'

I give a relieved smile. No matter how Carson feels about me, I know he loves Connor and will always be there for him.

I sigh as I reach out and gently brush Connor's hair back from his warm forehead. It's hard being a single parent, especially when things like this happen.

I carefully lay down on the bed beside Connor and watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest in a comforting rhythm. Despite the worry gnawing at me, a flicker of gratitude warms my heart.

I'm not alone in this.