I heard footsteps, slow, pauses in between, as if the person coming from the stairwell was stopping at each cubicle opening.
Oh, God, what do I do?
I held my breath and then clamored for my phone, which had started vibrating on the metal desk. Leon. I immediately shut it off, but I knew that action would do no good. It had been too loud, the vibrations on the metal.
The footsteps picked up pace, sounded like a run toward me. A new pain rippled through my midsection, but I forced myself up to take cover next to a tall file cabinet.
The footsteps were closer now. I hobbled over to the file cabinet, shut my eyes, and readied myself to scream.
And I did.
Large hands reached for me, grabbed me as I doubled over, unable to stop or shield whatever was happening both inside and out of me.
“Sienna!”
“Leon?” I opened my eyes. The hands holding me were those of my husband. The footsteps I'd heard had been his.
“What are you doing down here?”
I heard the horror in his voice.
“I, uh . . .” I tried to answer, but all I could get out was a low moan. I felt myself falling into his arms.
“Gotta get you back upstairs.” He helped me up, half carried, half pulled me to the main hallway. Within seconds, we were in an elevator.
“The fire alarm,” was all I could get out as another contraction tore through me.
“There was a small incident, electrical or something, in one of the stairwells, but it's already been addressed.” He panted, leaned against the elevator wall, still holding me up. “Roman and I got locked in another stairwell after all the doors automatically shut. Not sure what kind of fire safety plan that is for a hospital, especially since I could not get a clear signal on my phone. I've been trying to call you. Both Roman and I, and even the cab driver, have been looking for you.
“You still think he's security?” I managed to puff out.
Leon looked at me like I was crazy, parted his lips to say something else, but the elevator doors opened to the L&D unit. The only word that could come out of his mouth was, “Help!”
I felt hands on me, bed under me, Leon's whisper that all would be okay.
IV restarted, medicine pumped in my veins, hydration.
The pain began to subside. Slightly.
“Mrs. Sanderson, we're going to have to keep you under observation and actually keep you in your bed.” Dr. Flanigan stood by my bedside. “Despite the pretty strong contractions you were having, fortunately, there are no cervical changes and the medicine and hydration appears to be working. We're going to hold on to you for a little while longer, though, to make sure nothing else starts back up, including you. Stay in that bed, and if you need something or think there is an emergency, next time, just use the nurses' call button.”
“The call button doesn't work,” I tried to get out, but I was too worn to argue. I nodded, mumbled something I didn't understand myself, mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted.
And wondering how all of this would end.
Chapter 35
“The doctor thinks she'll be okay. In fact, now they are talking about discharging her soon.”
I could hear Leon talking to someone in the hallway. Had I dozed off? My eyes fluttered open. I tried to focus, tried to make sense of the beeps and swishing noises that filled my ears. Monitors. IV.
That's right, I'm in the hospital.
The last few hours felt like a dream as I recalled the taxi ride that brought us here, the contractions that kept us here, the Web search for answers that led me to more questions.
I looked over at the machine that spit out the paper strip that measured contractions. The line that previously looked like mountains and valleys was now nearly straight with a couple of small bumps indicating minor contractions here and there. Whatever episode I'd had was now over. I exhaled, relieved that my stomach was no longer bunching up into a knot. The baby was still kicking, heartbeat strong, as one of the monitoring noises indicated.
I sat up. 5:37, a wall clock read. The day was almost over. We were still in Baltimore. But were we still in danger?
Leon was talking to more than one person in the hallway, I realized, recognizing my sister's voice and my mother's sighs.
“I'll work on trying to figure out your options now,” I heard Mike Grant say. “Her complications make things difficult, but not impossible.”
A set of eyes peered into the room. “She's up!” Shavona Grant squealed. “Hey, girlfriend. Why you in here giving us all kinds of heart attacks?” She bounced into the room, followed by the others: Leon, Yvette, my parents, and Mike.
I tried to turn my lips up into a smile.
“She's tired.” Leon patted my hand. “We need to let her rest. It's going to be a full night.”
“What's going on?” I whispered.
“We still need to get out of here.” Leon spoke softly, but I didn't miss the questions on my sister's, my parents' faces.
“Are we still going to the Bâ”
Both Leon and Mike silenced me. Yvette rolled her eyes. “Okay, y'all need to give us more information. I know you ain't talking about traveling somewhere with Sienna on the verge of having this baby.” She glared at Leon. “This is ridiculous. I don't like any of it one bit. I wish I could talk to the police, the authorities, somebody who can give us information.”
Leon cut me a look, letting me know that most of the people in the room knew little details of what was going on, or even Leon's role in it all.
“Where's Roman?”
“We were at the max level of visitors for you, so he's in the waiting room.”
“Leon.” I chose my words carefully, sensing the need for continued secrecy, but feeling the need to reveal my concerns. “When you have a chance, I need to talk to you about a phone conversation I had with Sister Agnes at the shelter and some new information I uncovered.”
“What?” Leon's face wrinkled. “Sienna, please, leave it alone. With all that is going on with you and the baby, you need to let it go.”
“What's going on, Sienna?” Yvette seemed interested in whatever I had to say. “I know my sister,” she directed at Leon. “If something is bothering her, it's best to let her talk it out. We don't need her holding on to any kind of stress, especially in her current condition, so we're just going to have to hear her out. What's going on, sis?” she cooed.
“Wait.” Mike held up a hand. “Maybe she just needs to share whatever it is with Leon. Perhaps you and everyone else in here should leave so he can address a situation that really doesn't involve all of us.” He looked serious, but I didn't miss the quick wink he directed my way.
“I'm sorry, but who are you again?” Yvette's head tilted to one side and both hands went up on her hips. “I know my husband had a chance to talk with you for a while yesterday, but I was never given the pleasure of a full introduction.”
My mother moved closer toward us; my father moved closer to the door.
This was Yvette post-Jesus. Had it been pre-Jesus, we all would have been ducking by now. Leon and I knew that. My parents understood.
But Shavona did not. Her head tilted the other way.
“Oh, I thought we'd already been introduced, especially seeing that we were at your lovely house yesterday evening for your Bible Study. I guess you forgot who we are. I'm sorry. My husband is Mike Ulysses Grant II and I am Shavona Wilnetta Grant. He and I are the godparents of Sienna's baby. Again, I apologize that wasn't made clearer to you as we are all just looking out for your sister's wellbeing.”
Yvette looked over at me, as did Leon. My father had a sudden interest in the floor tile. Everyone else had their eyes on my sister.
“Godparents.” Yvette's eyelids fluttered. “I see.” She smiled, but her teeth were clenched. Several strained seconds passed as I watched her take two really deep breaths before continuing. “Sienna, I think I'm just going to go so you can get your rest.”
She turned to leave and I sat up. “Wait, Yvette.” She was the one person I did not want to leave. My sister was the one person who recognized that I had concerns that were eating away at me. She understood that I needed someone to help me digest it all before I went crazy. With this baby half ready to pop out of my belly, crazy was not a good state for me to be in. She got that. “Don't leave.”
“It might be best, Sienna,” Leon chimed in, ignoring the smoldering fire in Yvette's eyes. “I hear what your sister is saying, but I just don't think this is the time to get worked up again over matters that are not important to focus on.” He stared at me directly, as if to remind me of the sensitive nature of our situation.
“You know what?” I sighed. “I'm tired of the secrets. I'm tired of tiptoeing around subjects that make you uncomfortable, and, most of all, I'm tired of being told what I can and can't think about, what I can and can't talk about, especially as I'm starting to believe that you don't have all the details and knowledge about the situation you say you're handling.”
“Sienna, I am handling things. I just need you toâ”
“No, I need you to listen.” Maybe because Yvette was standing next to me with her arms crossed and her head nodding, I felt a little more emboldened than usual to have such a conversation with my husband in front of an audience. “Since we've been in this place, I've come across some more information about that woman, Sweet Violet.”
My mother's forehead wrinkled as she looked over at my father. He shrugged. I didn't care who did or didn't understand or know what I was talking about.
“I can no longer go with any plan, any escape route, anything, until I know for sure that Sweet Violet has nothing to do with the murders I witnessed, the shooting at your bakery yesterday, the attack on my son.”
“Sienna.” Leon shook his head. “Let's talk alone. I don't . . . We don't need to get anyone else involved more than necessary. You've seen for yourself how bad things can get when you start stirring up people, places, and things that aren't relevant to our situation.”
“You keep talking about âour situation,' but what really is it, Leon? What other secrets are you hiding from me? What other surprises are you trying to keep me from discovering? You say you are trying to preserve my stress level by keeping me in ignorance, but don't you see that your dismissal of my concerns is having the opposite effect? When my gut tells me something is awry, I can't ignore it, no matter how much you don't take me or my observations seriously.”
“Sienna,” Mike spoke up and all eyeballs rolled over to him. “As an officer who is standing on the
sidelines
of what you and Leon have endured over the past twenty-four hours, in my professional opinion, I think it's best you let Leon, with his
former
police knowledge and as the man who is most concerned about your stress and wellbeing, be the one digging up information and making safety decisions.” I took his emphasis on the words “sidelines” and “former” as his attempt to keep me from blowing any covers more than they already had been blown.
“Mike, I appreciate your concern, and please know that I trust my husband. I just want to make sure that as he is making decisions that affect all of us he has all the information he needs, including info that he hasn't been looking into but which my gut feelings tell me is important.
“Humph,” Shavona spoke from the corner, her eyes still on Yvette, but her words directed to me. “I think at this point if I were you, I'd be trusting my former cop husband and not my hormone-fed instincts.”
Maybe it was my hormones. Maybe it was my fatigue. Maybe it was my strong will wanting to break through any self-imposed filter. Maybe it was all of these things combined, but I could not keep a lid on what flew out of my mouth next.
“And I think I'd be reevaluating my trust in my husband if I knew he was winking at other women every time I looked away.”
“Excuse me?” Shavona's mouth dropped open as all the eyeballs in the room turned back toward me. “Are you trying to say something about my husband?”
Couldn't take it back and I couldn't clean it up, so the only thing left to do was put the dirty spoon out on the table for everyone to be fed.
“Yes, your husband,” I said to her, “and your friend,” I said to Leon, “has been winking his eyes at me every other moment, with both of you right here in the room.”
How had my little hospital room become so hostile?
Once again, the aftereffects of anything Sweet Violet.
“My name is Sweet Violet and I suggest you go on about your way before I put the ân' in Violet and acquaint you with my bitter side.”
Her words and stank breath pricked my memory at the most inopportune times.
“Wait,” Shavona spoke slowly, “you think that my husband has been winking at your eight-month pregnant self?”
“It's not a thought. See, he's winking at me right now.”
And he was. Both eyes in rapid succession.
“Sienna,” Leon spoke slowly, as if I needed special help in understanding what he was about to say next. “Nobody ever talks about it, but Mike has a tic disorder. It looks like he winks at everybody, especially when he's overly stressed. The disorder almost kept him off the force.”
Mike's eyes were winking and blinking so much at this point, I thought he would have a seizure.
“Well,” my mother spoke up, “I can't blame you, Sienna, for misunderstanding his eye movements. I thought he was winking at me when we came in here.”
“He sure enough winked at me a few times,” Yvette piped up. “I guess that's why I've been a little salty toward you, Mike. I'm sorry. I didn't know.”
“And I was about to set you straight, son,” my father spoke for the first time since coming into the room, “because after the third wink you sent my way, I was ready toâ”
“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, whatever boldness I'd had moments earlier deflated like a latex balloon with a hole pricked in its side. “I'm sorry. I didn't know and I didn't mean to embarrass you or upset your wife.”
“No harm done.” Mike gave me a half smile, the winks and blinks slowing down. “I'm just trying to help my brother here out. Things have gotten complicated and more dangerous than any of us expected.”
“Don't worry. My lesson is learned. I will stay in my lane and leave the investigation to the experts. I usually can trust my gut, but, I guess my hormones have me off. I'm sorry, Shavona, for . . . everything. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Oh, girlfriend, if we can't get past a simple misunderstanding, then how could we ever come together to raise our child?” Shavona chuckled. “I'm just playing. I'm not going to go too crazy over this baby. I'm just happy for you, and I'm honored to be the godmother. We are all family in here now, and I'm thankful. I ain't mad at you.”
Hugs. Back slaps. Smiles and chuckles. Even Yvette's shoulders relaxed, though I didn't miss her blank stare at me at the mention of the word “godmother.”
And then Roman came to the doorway, looking alarmed. “Turn on the news.”