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“Show me your hand,” Carly exclaims. “You could’ve told me.”
I hold up my bandaged thumb. “It’s not so bad.”
“Lunch is in the oven,” Quincy says. “We had to improvise, but it’s edible.” He turns to me, looking guilty. “I shouldn’t have left, yesterday. I should’ve stayed and helped.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Come on, Dad,” Carly hooks her arm around Gabriel’s. “I’m starving.”
He hesitates for a second before he follows her to the dining room, his eyes finding mine over his shoulder.
To be honest, I’m happy for the time alone. I haven’t dealt with the shock, yet, and I want solitude to process what happened. Oscar greets me by the entrance to the kitchen, rubbing his soft body against my legs.
“Hey, baby.” I take a moment to pet him and check that he has food.
There’s no place to put the enormous bouquet of flowers in my room, so I borrow a vase from the crystal cupboard and leave them on the counter in the kitchen. Thankfully, Quincy left the kitchen tidy. I’m prohibited from using my hand or working for a week, but I won’t allow that to give Magda a reason to kill me. Or Charlie. She’s only biding her time, waiting for the right excuse. Packing the dishwasher and doing a few minor chores, I find that I cope well enough with one hand, but Magda grudgingly tells me to take the rest of the day off. I use that time to rest, catching up on sleep.
Much later, Gabriel comes to my room. He covers every inch of my skin in kisses and makes love to me gently. When he holds me afterward, I allow the warmth of his arms to soothe me. Uninvited tears flow over my cheeks. The grief of giving up my studies and the shock of the accident come tumbling down on me, pushing me under a wave of sorrow that makes it hard to breathe. Sobs wrack my shoulders as I cling to him, holding onto the man who took my freedom. In what feels like my darkest hour, he’s all I have. It’s so damn screwed up. How much more can I handle before Gabriel completely destroys me?
He pulls me into his lap and kisses the top of my head. “Hush, beautiful.”
“Gabriel.” I bury my face in his neck, inhaling the spicy fragrance of his skin. “Set me free, I beg you.”
He rests his chin on my head and inhales slowly. “You may as well ask me to cut off my arm.”
When I fall asleep a long time later, I dream that I’m standing on one end of a hospital corridor and Gabriel on the other. Between us, there are rows of people with horrendous injuries, the number of patients too big to count. I’m pushing my way through the bodies, trying to reach him, but when I get to the other side, he’s gone. I wake up in a fit of pain, sweating, and alone in my bed. I take a painkiller and count a hundred sheep ten times before I drift off again.
* * *
Gabriel
The first thing I do the following morning, is have the meat saw driven to the dump. The second is to take out medical insurance for Valentina. As long as I’m alive, I’ll cover her bills, but I may not live as long as I’d like, especially not with my kind of business. I almost fired Rhett for his stupidity of taking her to the goddamn Joburg Gen. The only thing that saved his skin is that I couldn’t punish him for my negligence. I should’ve thought about Valentina’s health the minute she crossed my doorstep. I should’ve informed my staff in the case of an emergency, she’s to be treated like any member of the family. All sorts of bad things could’ve happened. She could’ve bled to death. She could’ve caught an infection. With all the filth and blood around the Joburg Gen, she could’ve contracted AIDS. To think she considered sewing back her own thumb. That she didn’t panic gives me a new level of respect for her. It’s one thing to stitch me back together, but quite another to pick your thumb off the floor and not raise the roof in hysterics.
She’s managing with one hand, like she always does, but this isn’t what I want for her. She’s been in my house for less than a quarter of a year, and my perfect doll is already broken. I threatened her with the whip if she doesn’t rest. Magda isn’t happy with the turn of events, but she only raises the issue when we’re alone in the car on our way to one of the loan offices.
“Why did you do it?”
I glance at her from over the rim of my sunglasses. “Do what?”
“Pay Valentina’s hospital bill.”
