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Date Posted: 15:39:44 04/28/03 Mon
Author: dqfan
Subject: Re: Ghosts - ch.44
In reply to: dqfan 's message, "Ghosts - ch.43" on 15:56:32 04/27/03 Sun

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR Thursday about 10pm

It was evening at the Sahara Sands. The lobby was a cacophony of clinking glasses, clanging slot machines, and croupiers shouting for everyone to place their final bets. From new millions to new loves, the opportunities seemed endless and the atmosphere reeked of frenetic excitement.

In the midst of it all, Reggie had steadfastly become command central, authorizing a new Belgian chocolate for all the pillows at turn-down; haggling with Gus' wine importer from Tuscany; and, approving a third Strippercise class for Janet, due to massive over-enrollment.

A constant stream of people surrounded his lobby desk: employees, guests, even, construction workers. They all had questions which Reggie struggled to answer, under his ever-expanding job description. Undoubtedly, Gus could have fielded them all easily, off the top of his head. But, as Reggie improvised his heart out, one disturbing question kept repeating over and over in his head…

"WHERE THE HECK WAS EVERYONE?"

Reggie hadn't seen Peter since this morning. Let alone Sophie, or Charity. And there'd been no sign of Gus since early this afternoon.

Worried, Reggie placed Bruno on permanent, high alert. Any sign of Ivy, or Leroy, or anyone who looked in any way suspicious, and Reggie was to be informed at once.

In a casino the size of The Sands that pretty much ensured Bruno would be checking in about every fifteen minutes…

Thankfully, the crowd in front of Reggie's desk had thinned to almost manageable.

"Which color for the new towels in the men's locker rooms?"
"What time does the cafeteria close?
"Are tours of the Hoover Dam available?

Reggie whipped off his answers one by one. "Navy blue. It never closes. Certainly, Ma'am, here's a brochure…"

Finding himself on a roll, only the construction crew was left. Reggie's phone rang just as the foreman began speaking.

"We're ready to plug the River," the foreman announced succinctly, removing his hardhat to wipe the dirt and sweat from his brow.

"Hmm? Huh? What?" Distracted, Reggie could hear Bruno jabbering in his ear. He was definitely upset about something.

"Reggie," Bruno whispered forcefully into the phone. "Leroy Carter, at Blackjack Table Four!"

"What? Huh? Wait a minute, Bruno…" With both Bruno and the foreman talking at once, Reggie couldn't concentrate on anything either of them was saying.

"The River of Dreams." Gruffly, the foreman read from his work order. "Says here, t'tell Mr. Leighton we'll be doin' it tonight, just like he asked."

"Reggie!" Bruno barked, annoyed. "Did you hear me? Carter's here in the casino!"

"Leroy's here?" Reggie's attention turned fully to Bruno. "Uh…Ohmigosh…okay…um…tell the dealer to…uh…keep him winning."

Impatient, the foreman didn't appreciate being ignored. "So, you'll tell him?" he glared at Reggie. For crying out loud, didn't this kid understand? Time was money and his crew was waiting - on the clock.

His men weren't real happy about having to finish this job after hours as it was, even if Gus had promised there'd be overtime. They'd better get to work if Gus expected it to be finished by morning. With any luck, the late-night clamor of the casino would mask the sudden noise as the attraction below was finally completed.

"Hold on a sec, Bruno…" Reggie begged him, turning to the foreman.

"Yeah, sure, fine, plug it," he waved them off in exasperation. "Whatever it says there Gus wanted - you do."

"'Bout time!" Furious at Reggie's cold disinterest, the foreman grumbled as he left, "Talk about a power trip…"

Frantic, Reggie returned to his more pressing conversation, without giving the foreman or his comments a second thought. "Bruno, I mean it! Whatever happens, don't let Leroy Carter out of your sight!"

His hands shaking, Reggie disconnected Bruno's call and desperately placed another.

"St. Elizabeth's Hospital," Reggie demanded of the information operator. "And hurry!"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Sully frowned as Sophie kept right on sleeping. Pacing, he grappled to keep the nightmarish memories of his days as a miner from interfering with his task at hand.

But, with every hour that passed, Sully found it harder to ignore his fears. The emergency tracking lights seemed to be flickering - or was it just his imagination? If the generator failed, he and Sophie would be plunged into total darkness. The temperature in the tunnel was falling, at least ten degrees an hour. It would be below freezing by morning - if Sophie lasted that long. And, the wound to her forehead continued to ooze blood.

From both his own experience and Michaela's teachings, Sully knew an untreated head injury could easily become more severe. Sophie needed medical attention and she needed it soon.

For the time being, though, Sully noted with a smile, she seemed peaceful. Sophie's memories of her first night with Peter were keeping her safe and warm - at least, for now.

But, how long could she survive on memories?

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Shafts of morning sunlight beamed through the bay windows, warming Sophie's bedroom, as she laced her fingers pensively in Peter's.

She was lying there, on the right side of the bed, with him sleeping soundly, spooned against her back. Outside, the birds were chirping and she could hear the sound of waves lapping against the shore…

For just that moment, Sophie marveled, everything was perfect.

Never had she acted on her feelings so recklessly. And never had she been more pleased by the outcome. Maybe too pleased, Sophie thought nervously. Waking up like this, next to Peter, could very quickly become a habit.

He was easily the kindest, gentlest, most amazing lover she had ever had. Her life felt a thousand times richer, just knowing he was now a part of it. But, as much as she cared for Peter, one night wasn't enough to banish her fears of commitment; and, it certainly wasn't enough to give him the new lease on life he so desperately needed. Peter would have to find that strength all on his own.

Sometimes, Sophie realized with a deep, melancholy sigh, perfect moments had to remain just that.

"A perfect moment…" she whispered, wistfully.

"That it is," Peter stirred with a smile, surprising her. Lazily, he placed a string of warm, soft kisses along her shoulder, relishing what he hoped would be the first of many mornings together.

Hesitantly, Sophie turned to face him. Life had a way of becoming so complicated - especially in broad daylight.

"It can't last, you know," she said sadly.

"And I will miss that bright, optimistic outlook," Peter teased her mercilessly.

Sophie tried to smile, but even Peter's light-hearted intimacy was scaring her half to death. "I'm serious, Peter…" she chastised him, though a large part of her heart wished that she wasn't.

"So am I…" Peter reassured her calmly. "It'll last just as long as you want."

"I want us to always be friends…forever…" Solemnly, Sophie placed her hand over Peter's heart. "No matter what."

Peter gulped, swallowing his feelings. He felt so much more than friendship for Sophie already. But, for her sake, he put those feelings aside.

"Friends…sure. 'Course, we will," he soothed, brushing her hair gently off her face.

"So, you don't mind that we sort of…" Stopping, Sophie fumbled.

Gallantly, Peter tried not to smirk. "Went from zero to sixty with no on-ramp?" he suggested helpfully.

Finally, Sophie's smile was genuine. "Yeah…that…" she grinned.

"Sophie," Peter said her name softly and gazed deeply into her eyes.

"Do you want to slow down?" he asked quietly.

When Peter looked at her like that, Sophie could barely breathe, let alone think. His eyes were the clearest blue she had ever seen; and, his heart, beating so close to hers, held such incredible tenderness, Sophie ached to cradle him in her arms. They had both been hurt too much.

Sophie met his gaze and spoke her mind, as always.

"No," she shook her head, certain. "I want us to spend the time we have together - together. That is, if that's okay with you?"

Lovingly, Peter traced her cheekbone with his fingertips. When this was all over, when she was gone, he wanted to be able to remember every inch of Sophie's face, her eyes, her lips…her smile.

"I can't think of anything I'd like better," he sighed, his breath so very warm upon her skin.

"Then, c'mhere…" Relaxing, Sophie crooked her finger and beckoned Peter closer. She wasn't ready to leave just yet. Happily, he obliged her, tasting of her lips once again.

Sophie moaned in welcome and Peter slowed his pace. There was absolutely no rush now. Smiling, he lowered the comforter. The sun felt warm on his back. His eyes sparkled. Sophie's body was even more beautiful in daylight.

Sophie's view was equally spectacular, the silk sheet having fallen far below Peter's waist. The chill she felt disappeared quickly as his hands began to leisurely caress her. If a part of Sophie had wanted to convince herself that the magic of last night couldn't be duplicated, she was hopelessly wrong. With a gasp, she closed her eyes, her breaths rapid, her hands covering his. Delighted, Peter savored her every reaction, holding back until he felt her arch beneath him with pleasure. Passionately, he completed their dance, falling into her loving embrace.

Contentedly, he stroked her, wondering, a bit absent-mindedly, whether Gianni might not notice if the other half of the lawn didn't get mowed today.

Relishing Peter's touch, Sophie began to wonder, too…

Maybe her perfect moment could stay perfect just a little while longer?

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"How long you think it'll take?" Gus wondered, stretching his legs out full. He was never very good at waiting.

"For Charity to say what's in her heart?" Peter thought about the cosmic unnaturalness of such an event and winced. "We could be here a while."

Interrupted from their depressing conversation, Peter and Gus looked up to see the surly head nurse standing beside Peter. "Telephone for you at the desk," she grumbled. "We don't usually allow personal calls but the detective said…"

"Thank you," Peter replied in all sincerity. "Really…" he added, his mesmerizing blue eyes holding hers for just a second.

The nurse said nothing, but, for a woman who hadn't blushed in over thirty years, she affected a surprisingly good imitation.

Scrambling for the phone, with Gus hot on his heels, Peter took the call, as even Lieutenant O'Neill stood by, curious.

"Peter Scarbrow…" Peter spoke into the receiver, his hand shaking.

"Peter! It's about time! I've talked to everyone from hospital administration to maintenance trying to find you…" Reggie said without exaggeration.

Peter's heart sank. What he wouldn't have given to hear Sophie's voice on the other end of that line. "Reggie…" he sighed. "What is it?"

"Peter, he's here!" Reggie reported, excitedly.

"Who's there?" Peter hoped this wasn't going to be one of Reggie's longer stories.

"Leroy Carter! He's in the casino. Bruno's got his eye on him now…" Reggie explained as briefly as possible.

"Carter? Carter's there?" Peter's hopes grew.

"Peter, what should I do?" Reggie asked in a panic.

"He's got Carter?" Detective O'Neill was on his walkie-talkie in an instant. "Tell him we'll be there in five," he instructed Peter.

"Reggie, the police are on their way. Don't do anything until they arrive, okay?" Peter begged. "Just keep Bruno on him - and be careful."

"Sure, Peter. Don't worry. We've got it covered," Reggie proclaimed with total confidence.

"Can I talk to him?" Gus gestured to Peter for the phone.

"Reggie," Peter finished, his voice filled with gratitude, "You did good."

Reggie looked at the phone, stunned. "Gee, thanks, Pete…" he mumbled, his face breaking into a slow, proud smile.

Lost in thought Peter handed the phone to Gus.

"Hotel still standing?" Gus asked Reggie bluntly.

"Yes, Sir!" Reggie snapped to attention, though no one in the lobby much seemed to care.

"The house winning?" he continued, skeptical.

"Up fifty thousand a half hour ago," Reggie relayed the latest casino figures.

"Guests happy?" Gus wondered finally.

"As clams in the ocean," Reggie beamed.

"Well, okay, then…" Gus blustered, straightening his jacket. "Make sure you keep it that way."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Reggie confirmed, remembering one last thing. "Oh, and the construction crew wanted you to know they're plugging the River tonight, right on schedule."

Incredibly, everything at the Sands seemed to be running like clockwork. Gus didn't know whether to be amazed or jealous. Maybe when this was all over, he should think about taking a vacation…

"Not bad, Kid," Gus muttered under his breath.

All these unexpected compliments were rushing to Reggie's head. If he'd been a peacock, he would have spouted plumage right about now.

Too cocky for his own good, Reggie couldn't resist asking Gus to repeat that last comment. "I'm sorry, did you say something…"

That good, he wasn't! Angrily, Gus scowled at the phone. "I said, keep me posted!" he barked, slamming the receiver down in a huff.

Unperturbed, Reggie hung up the phone with a smile.

"They love me…"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The moonlit sky blanketed the world outside of Ivy's hospital room in total darkness. It stood in stark contrast to the harsh fluorescent lights glaring within. Charity's eyes ached from their brightness. Wearily, she rubbed them between her thumb and forefingers, as she pondered this latest chapter in her life.

Peter had asked her to get in touch with her feelings. Well, at the present, all Charity felt was old and worn. She hadn't felt this way since Rachel's death. Rachel…Sam…the two people she had loved most in her life. And neither of them shared even a single chromosome with her. Family was so much more than that, Charity acknowledged with a heavy sigh.

This girl lying in the bed in front of her wasn't family. Peter was family. Rachel's son…her godson. And, he was relying on her to save his wife. What daughter could ever be any dearer to her than Sophie had become?

If she were to die because of all this…

Quickly, Charity rid her mind of such thoughts, concentrating again on the task at hand. "Say what's in my heart…" Her fingers tapped on the bed railing. Only Peter could believe such nonsense.

In Charity's opinion, the chances of her waking Ivy were slightly less than the prince had when he kissed Sleeping Beauty!

Charity stared at Ivy and shook her head. Like it or not, this girl was their only link to finding Sophie. She might have a speck of Charity's DNA but she certainly wasn't family.

"If he expects me to fawn all over you and tell you how much I love you," Charity blurted to Ivy in a huff, "he's out of his mind."

A bit taken aback by her own outburst, yet curious to see if it had had any effect, Charity checked on Ivy once again. She lay there pale, motionless.

"Sorry," Charity snapped tartly. "But, I'm just being honest."

Her frustration building, Charity sputtered on. "Oh, what do you want from me, Ivy?" she asked plainly, the only way she knew how.

"You want to know what's in my heart? Well, it's anger, mostly. Anger…and hurt," she detailed concisely.

"That you could conspire with such vengeance against me. Harm so many innocent people…." Charity continued sadly.

"You never even bothered to get to know me." Charity's remorse was palpable. "I would have welcomed the chance to know you."

"To welcome you into my family…" Recalling how dearly she had hoped to find another Lawson descendant, Charity loathed her own foolishness, most of all.

Suddenly, Ivy joined in on Charity's one-sided conversation, her faint, but biting reply, leaving Charity quite speechless.

"Your family?" Ivy croaked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You think you're so special, don't you?" Slowly, Ivy gathered renewed strength from her wrath. "Hank Lawson's legitimate heir…"

"Legitimate?" Astounded by both Ivy's return to consciousness as well as her visible, profound hatred, Charity found Ivy's characterization of her enormously infuriating. Obviously, the girl hadn't done much research on the life and loves of Hank Lawson.

Legitimate… Charity found the word so ridiculous she almost laughed. "How could you possibly think I'm any more legitimate than you are?" Furious, she pressed Ivy for answers that would make some sense.

"Zack and Chava were both illegitimate," Charity reminded Ivy sharply. "Hank never married Clarice. Hank never married anyone!"

Ivy's back stiffened and her eyes gleamed dark as coal. She'd make this old woman see her point if it took the last breath she had!

"Zack and Chava were NOT the same!" Ivy shrieked, as she fought the restraints the doctor had ordered for everyone's safety. "Hank gave Zack everything. His name…his time…his love! He gave him EVERYTHING!"

"A dim-witted stutterer who liked to play with crayons…" Viciously, Ivy condemned Zack with venom.

"Stop it!" Charity yelled, livid at Ivy's attack on her beloved grandfather.

But Ivy didn't stop. "Lila was a nurse, from a good family…" she reminisced bitterly.

"And Chava was smart and pretty. They only turned to prostitution because Hank abandoned them. Not because they enjoyed it, like that slut, Clarice!"

In over seventy years, Charity couldn't honestly recall ever slapping anyone as they lay seriously ill in a hospital bed, but now seemed as good a time as any…

Ivy took the blow willingly…almost relishing it as a small smile crossed her lips. "YOU carry his name," she emphasized again, chilling Charity with the madness in her voice. "He left YOU everything. Lila was left with nothing. You'll ALL be left with nothing!"

Ivy's monitors were beeping loudly. Her tirade was obviously not beneficial to her health.

Their argument drifting loudly into the hall, Peter raced inside the room. "Aunt C., what's going on in…"

"Ivy." Stunned, Peter came face to face with the woman he'd laid in bed with just last night.

"Why, hello, Peter…" Ivy cooed, sweetly. "How nice of you to visit."

"Visit?" Peter glanced at Charity, and saw nothing but wariness in her eyes. It was clear that Ivy's grasp of reality was tenuous at best.

Peter felt sheer panic welling within him. How could he ever hope to find Sophie if Ivy lost her mind?

"And how is your lovely wife this evening?" Ivy chattered on, as if she were hosting a dinner party.

"My wife?" Peter struggled to absorb all that was happening.

Ivy indulged him with charm. "Your wife? Your beloved? Your consort? Oh, I do hope she's well…"

It was all Peter could do not to strangle Ivy with his bare hands. Mad, or devilishly clever, Peter wasn't about to let Ivy Wilcox take the secret of Sophie's whereabouts to her grave.

Charity saw no point in putting Peter through further agony. Comfortingly, she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Peter, maybe we should go? I've tried. She doesn't want to hear anything I have to say…"

Peter's resolve grew steely. He wasn't about to give up without a fight. Even if Charity "had" always been the gambler in the family, and he really "did" need Gracie's help to win at poker, this was one game Peter had no choice but to win. He'd play his trump card and he'd play it now…

"She'll hear what I have to say," he insisted, pushing his way closer to Ivy's bedside.

Undaunted by her amiable bravado, Peter watched, satisfied, as Ivy's upper hand dissolved in a flash. With just four simple words, he managed to transform her insidious grin into an envious and very dangerous scowl.

"I have Lila's locket."

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