Read Obsession (Southern Comfort) Online
Authors: Lisa Clark O'Neill
Obsession (Southern Comfort) (46 page)
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
JUSTIN
took Natasha’s hand in his and held it gently, heartened by the strength he felt there, as well as by her smile.
“You’re looking a lot better today,” he told her.
“I feel better,” she said, though her voice was still scratchy from the tracheostomy. “One less tube. Go, me.”
Justin smiled. He searched her eyes, wondering exactly how to broach the subject. Or even if he should. Perhaps this was the sort of thing best reserved for the professionals.
But she seemed to sense the unspoken question, and gave his hand a little squeeze. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tiptoe around it. My sister tried to kill me.”
“I know I’m supposed to ask
and how does that make you feel, Natasha,
but I didn’t go into psychiatry for a reason. I mean, what kind of question is that?”
Her smiled broadened a little, but then faded. “A difficult one to answer. How do you pinpoint one emotion among so many? Hurt? Angry? Betrayed? Vindicated? More like all of the above, and then some.”
Justin nodded. He could imagine. But it
was the vindicated part that he needed to ask her about. For his own sake. Though if he never got the answer, he’d live with that. Right now, it was Natasha’s well-being that was important.
She let go of his hand, and fingered the edge of the bed sheet. Then her fingers stilled, and she lifted her gaze, resolution in her eyes.
“You know how… that evening, when I came to see you, we talked about the other doctor? From when I was young?”
“Of course.”
“Well, you know I was sick a lot, after the car accident. Weird stuff. But the thing is, I don’t know why, but I started to feel like, maybe… I wasn’t really sick. Not that I didn’t have physical symptoms, but I mean, it seemed like the sickness wasn’t
in
me, if you know what I mean?”
“I think so.”
“One time, I stayed with a friend of mine for a week, because Anne had the flu and couldn’t take care of me. Plus, me being in such delicate health all the time, it wasn’t good for me to be around her. In fact, that was the first time, after the accident, that I’d been able to really spend any time with a friend. Anne liked me to stay home. To protect me.” Her mouth twisted.
“But the thing is, I felt
great
that whole week. We played outside and climbed trees and I remembered. What it felt like to be a kid, I mean. Carefree. Happy.”
Justin recalled the day he’d bumped into Anne, when she’d dropped the bottle of kava, and things began to make sense. “So you began to suspect that your sister was making you sick.”
“I don’t know if I had put it together, exactly, but… Doctor Fletcher – that was his name. Paul Fletcher. Well, he talked to me alone on one of my visits. Asked Anne to wait outside. I don’t know if he’d begun to suspect something already, but, after talking to me, I’m pr
etty sure he knew. Or at least suspected pretty strongly.”
“So what happened?”
Natasha sighed. “His wife had died a few months before that. Someone ran her off the road.”
Justin’s stomach twisted, thinking of Kathleen
, but he reminded himself that she was fine. Alive. Healthy, whole. Beautiful.
“Anyway, he committed suicide. A cocktail of drugs and alcohol.”
This time he thought of Mandy, who though she may have been problematic, hadn’t deserved to die. His mouth tightened.
“I’m sorry,” Natasha said. “I should have put it together sooner
, and warned you. After I was shot – the first time – I didn’t seem to get better. And the overdose, I really thought it was the gang, trying to get rid of me. Maybe I knew, subconsciously, and just didn’t want to admit that it was happening again. That my sister was, was… deliberately hurting me, because she wanted your attention. Like she wanted Doctor Fletcher’s attention.”
Justin recalled Kathl
een asking about Munchausen by proxy. She’d been on the right track, it seemed, but with the wrong person.
“Hey,” he said, taking
Natasha’s hand again when a tear slipped down her cheek. “It’s okay. You did warn me. You don’t have to say any more.” He glanced at her heart monitor, saw that the rate was elevated slightly. “Just rest.”
“No,” she said, her voice breaking as she gripped his hand. “I need to finish.”
“Okay. But have a drink of water first.” He took the cup by her bed, helped her take a sip. “Better?”
She nodded. “The night I spent with Anne – after Shelley and I fought? I found some things. Some old newspaper clippings – Doctor Fletcher’s wife’s accident, his suicide. His funeral. And a hat. He had this crazy fishing hat that he’d wear sometimes, said he was fishing for germs and diseases and he was going to catch them all and fry them up so they wouldn’t bother kids anymore. Just a silly way to make his patients laugh a little. But Anne… Anne had that hat.
”
Justin could see what a blow that had been. “I’m sorry,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t enough.
Natasha brushed away another tear. “She had some other stuff. Newer stuff, about you. Articles about the shooting at Jugs. Pictures. A wine cork. And a man’s coat and shoes. I guess she stole them from you?”
Justin nodded. Despite her protestations, he could see that the conversation was wearing on Natasha. He reached out, stroked her hair back from her pallid face. “That’s enough for today,” he told her. “You need to rest. Doctor’s orders.”
That earned him a little smile. “You’ll come see me again?”
“You bet.”
“I hope you don’t think… I mean I’m not like my sister. I just… hope that we can be friends.”
“We are friends,” he assured her. Then he patted her arm and stood up. “Rest now.”
She closed her eyes, and he let himself out of her room.
Kathleen was leaning against the wall at the other end of the hallway. She looked up, and the smile that lit her face was the one she reserved just for him.
He figured his own face wore a similar expression.
“Hey,” she said, pulling away from the wall when he reached her. “Everything okay?”
He took her hand. “It will be.”
They walked through the hospital, hand in hand, content simply to be together. When they passed the cafeteria Kathleen stopped suddenly, peering through the window.
“Is that your brother with Shelley?”
Justin nodded. “They seem to have a thing.”
“A thing?” Kathleen’s voice was amused.
Justin lifted his shoulder. “No other way to describe it. I can’t figure out whether they’re friends, lovers or have some strange sort of symbiotic relationship based on annoying each other as much as possible while suffering an inability to spend more than several hours apart. It’s… a thing.”
Kathleen laughed. “Huh. Interesting.”
Justin lifted a brow. “And how do you feel about the fact that my brother is going to be working with your ex-boyfriend?”
“Well, I’m mostly wondering how long it will take before h
e turns Anthony’s hair white.”
“Not long,” Justin assured her.
“I still can’t believe he and his…
thing
in there had everything wrapped up before Mac and I even got there.”
“
Hey, at least you didn’t sleep through the whole thing.” Justin considered, and then patted his pocket, figuring what the hell. He drew his surprise out, passed it to Kathleen.
“What’s this?” She stared at the envelope.
“You’ll have to open it to find out.”
She arched a brow, but then slid her fingernail beneath the edge of the paper. Justin waited patiently for her to draw out the contents.
“Ireland?”
He nodded, then gestured to the tickets. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I know it’s short notice, but I figured it’ll be fairly cold this time of year. Not sure about the snow, but we can still enjoy cuddling by the fire. The cottage has one in the bedroom; I made sure.”
Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Cuddling, huh?”
“You always mock my euphemisms.”
She kissed him then, her mouth hot and sweet on his. “Just as long as you don’t sleep through it.”
“Believe me.” He kissed her back. “I won’t.”
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If you’re looking for other books in the Southern Comfort series, they can be found here:
Serendipity:
http://www.amazon.com/Serendipity-Southern-Comfort-Clark-ONeill-ebook/dp/B008YMC8HY/ref=pd_sim_kstore_5
Nemesis:
http://www.amazon.com/Nemesis-Southern-Comfort-Clark-ONeill-ebook/dp/B00FJ5JK6Q/ref=pd_sim_kstore_3