| Subject: Chapter 256 - Part 2 (end of chapter 256) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, October 16, 07:16:38am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark" on Monday, May 01, 06:55:47am
She paused for a moment, her pen lifted over the paper, wondering whether she should tell him the truth--or whatever of it she could hint at. In some ways, it would only make him crazy. Still, if he got hints of it and she hadn't already put his mind at rest . . .
She began to write, having made her decision, understanding her husband's character. He would go crazier not knowing, if he heard even part of it. She had to tell him whatever she could:
My beautiful Michael,
Your letter is so wonderful. It makes me feel loved and warm, like when you put your arms around me and hold me close. Thank you for your defense of me--even from myself. There are so many hundreds of reasons why I'll always be safe by your side.
Still, there is news to report, I'm afraid. I wasn't certain whether I should, but you deserve to know what's happening. I just don't want to worry you any more than usual.
It happened late this afternoon at the studio. We were just breaking from a shot, and I was heading to my chair, when a sandbag fell behind me, rather close. It was only an accident, but it caused me to trip and fall over some of the electrical cords on the floor. Andrew caught me and prevented any serious damage, but I'm afraid I've sprained my ankle rather badly.
The studio tried to get me to go see the doctor, but I refused. Maybe I just didn't realize how bad it was at the time. We went on filming, since I didn't wish to break to go to the infirmary, but it was difficult to concentrate. Finally, Susan found my grandmother (Did I ever mention that they scrapped Susan's next film, so she was chosen to play the duplicitous best friend in this one? A bit of a stretch for her, really), and she took me to her doctor. My ankle's now wrapped up tightly. It's a little swollen and ugly, but it will be okay soon. I've had both sprained and swollen ankles before. They may not be a girl's best feature, but I'll definitely survive.
The only really bad news out of this is that I need to go back in tomorrow, ankle pain and all. The studio's declared, in their usual way, that, if it's not serious enough to see the studio's doctor, then it's not serious. Madeline did offer me some pain medication, but I decided to forego it. Those sorts of pills don't always sit well with me.
I don't know that the news of this will ever get out to the wider world--or that, if it does, you'll ever hear of it. Still, I didn't want you to worry. I'm fine. It's just a little sore. I'm sure it's nothing that a day of concentrating on work can't cure.
I'm at my grandmother's house now. She says that she can look after me in ways that I can't look after myself with a sore ankle. I suppose she's probably right, given that she has constant help by her side. I did insist on checking my mail before I came here, though--and was rewarded by your sweet letter. I hope to be back at home in a few days, at most.
What else do I have to tell you from here? Oh, yes--our baby's fine, even if he still hasn't made himself very noticeable to those around us. If you were here, you would be able to see him now, but it's not obvious when I'm in public. I do wish you were here.
I'm a little worried by your letter, however. I know you say you're safe, and I'm certain there are no real problems, but I hate to think of you surrounded by jealous men. I think you mistake the reasons for their jealousy--it can't be me, unless it's just that they know my screen name--but I do hope you're able to make good friends with them soon. Give them my love, if you really think that will help.
I'm rather excited about the newsreel; I'm excited about anything which will let me see you again. I can't tell you how much I miss your face, how much I miss the sound of your voice in my ear. Now that I'm not at home for a day or so, I think I miss you even more. At least there I had constant reminders of you, could feel you everywhere around me. Now that I'm back here, I feel a little like I did before we were married--with one, awful exception. I won't be seeing you at the studio tomorrow.
I feel like some sort of fan, waiting for the newsreels so that I can gasp and exclaim over you. I undoubtedly will. As you yourself suggested, I'm still fairly young. I'll probably act like all your teenaged fans and cry at the sight of you.
I love you, Michael. Even more so away from our home, I feel disconnected from you. Please tell me that you're not all some fantasy I made up--my perfect, beautiful, loving husband. If it weren't for little Adrian, I think I'd be crying myself into hysterics believing it.
You said in your letter that you fear sometimes that I'll change my mind. I fear the same--about you. No matter how much you defend me, I feel I have so little to offer you. I'm young and naive, and I get into stupid accidents and get exiled from the one place I can feel you close. I love you so much. That might well be the only side of me which isn't the naif.
Please stay well for me, Michael. No matter what, I and your child will be here. I *will* be strong enough to always ensure that.
I love you,
Nikita
She looked over the letter again, the tears in her eyes, as her grandmother came into the room; her gaze was evaluating, her voice even, once Nikita felt her enter behind her. "Did you tell him?"
The younger woman nodded. "Almost all of it." The rest was simply too hard to put into words--especially the veiled ones she would need.
The truth didn't make the tears run any more slowly, Adrian sighing, as she looked her over--seeing the truth--even if the girl's back was turned to her. "And about the house?"
Christ. Nikita closed her eyes, not turning--not feeling up to any sort of contact. "No." How could she tell him about the noises outside her window last night? How could she say that she had woken up in a panic before fleeing to her grandmother's at roughly two in the morning? The whole situation with her ankle today--and the far worse plans Madeline clearly had because of it--were bad enough. To tell him that she was now afraid of staying in that one, sacred place alone . . .
"It could have been a stray branch," she claimed.
Her protector's head shook, wishing the child would give up such nonsense; they needed to plan. "With no trees within 10 feet of it?" She heard the girl's sigh and echoed it herself. "You have to hire some protection."
This idea, of course, had come up before. Given the fact that she and her husband had ended up on the wrong side of a revolver from their supposed guardian didn't make her particularly ready to give in. She was silent, instead.
Adrian's next sigh lingered--but she said nothing. This wasn't a battle to be won in a single night. First, they had to keep the girl safe--her ankle from receiving any worse damage, Madeline from taking advantage of the situation to drug her. After that, they would consider the future. That was all she could do for them, for now.
[End of Part 256]
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