Part 8 (1/2)
His jaw tightened. ”What do you mean you know?”
”I heard it in your voice when you were calling me.”
”But you were unconscious.” He shook his head and closed his eyes. ”G.o.d, I'm such an a.s.s.”
”What are you talking about?”
He slipped out of her, then reached down and grabbed his boxers and sweats. ”What kind of man makes love to his wife after...never mind.” He picked up the discarded towel and handed it to her. ”I still think we should go to the ER. Does your head hurt? Maybe you slipped and fell. That could explain the seizure.”
”I wanted to make love. So please don't beat yourself up over it.” She stood and wrapped the damp towel around her. ”I didn't hit my head and I didn't have a seizure.”
”And you didn't see what I did.” He pulled on his s.h.i.+rt, then held her by the shoulders. ”Head injuries aren't something to mess with,” he said, shaking his head again and looking away. ”d.a.m.n it. We should've never had s.e.x.”
”Then why did you?” she asked, growing irritated. He was taking a beautiful moment and tras.h.i.+ng it with unnecessary guilt. If he'd give her a second, she could explain everything.
”Because I'm selfish and I was worried. Making love rea.s.sured me you were fine and, for a little while, it knocked the image of you convulsing in the bathtub from my head.”
”Again, I did not convulse and I don't need a doctor. I know exactly what happened.”
He stared at her. ”Was it the wine? Did you drink too much?”
As she walked toward him, her stomach filled with nervous energy. ”I had a couple of sips, nothing more.”
”Well, there has to be a logical explanation for what happened to you. A doctor could-”
”There is no logical explanation. Open your mind, John. I can spell it out for you, but I think you know exactly what happened to me.”
His eyes narrowed. ”Son of a b.i.t.c.h.” He took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. ”Son of a b.i.t.c.h,” he repeated, only harsher. When he faced her, the anger and accusation in his eyes cut her to the core. ”A trance?”
”Kinda, sorta.”
”Kinda...you were f.u.c.king drowning in the bathtub. That's fan-frickin-tastic. So you're back to the psychic stuff? When were you planning on telling me? Were you going to tell me?”
Knowing she'd been wrong, that she should have been honest from the start, she looked away searching for the right words.
”No answer? Nice. We have ourselves one h.e.l.l of a marriage.” He started for the bedroom door. ”I love you, but I won't live like this. And I won't allow Olivia's life to be put at risk.”
”What are you saying?”
”Make it go away, or Olivia and I will.”
Furious, especially because he was being a jerk after they'd just made love, Celeste rushed to him and grabbed his arm before he could leave the room. ”How dare you threaten me? You want to leave? Don't let the door hit you in the a.s.s. But if you think you're taking my daughter with you, be prepared to fight.”
”Who? Ian?” He shook his head. ”I don't care how much money your father has, this is a battle you'd both lose. I won't allow Olivia's life to be in jeopardy.”
”A little dramatic, don't you think?”
”Not at all. What if Olivia had been in the tub instead? You don't remember your trances and could have unknowingly hurt her while you were living out some dead person's last moments. So, no. I don't think I'm being dramatic. I'm being realistic.”
”Since Olivia wasn't in the bathtub, there's no point in coming up with such a horrible worst-case scenario. And it turns out I've learned how to ground myself enough to remember my visions.”
He gripped her shoulders and stared at her with anger and resentment. ”You've learned? How long has this been going on? Weeks? Months?”
”Days,” she admitted. ”The first vision happened Wednesday evening.” She wanted to be honest, but chose to leave out the details of how Olivia had been strapped in her highchair, with the stove on and the water running. With the way John was reacting, telling him the whole truth could have him making good on his threats.
”You said the first. How many have there been?”
”Tonight was the fourth. The other two were under the supervision of a woman Ian knows.”
The fury crossing his face had her trying to pull free. ”You told your father before you told me,” he said, his tone unforgiving and accusing. ”Oh, yeah. We definitely have a great marriage.”
”Yes, I told him. It scared me and you were out of town. I needed help and he recommended that I meet with Maxine.”
”Who's she? Your psychic teacher?” he asked with heavy sarcasm.
”If that's what you want to call her,” she said, growing angrier by the second. ”She's been extremely helpful, and taught me how to ground myself so I can control and remember my visions.”
He chuckled without humor. ”Are you telling me you meant to attempt to drown yourself in the bathtub?”
d.a.m.n it. He had a valid point. ”Of course not.”
”Then either you need to go back to psychic school or find a new teacher. Because what I saw was anything but controlled.” He released her. ”I'm done with this conversation,” he said, moving across the room to the nightstand where she kept the baby monitor.
”What are you doing?”
”Taking this.” He held up the monitor. ”So I can hear Olivia while I'm sleeping on the couch.”
Hurt and angered, she blocked the doorway. ”I would never do anything to Olivia.”
”Not intentionally.”
”Not ever. For the record, when I was in the trance, I heard you calling for me.”
”Then why didn't you snap out of it?”
”Because I wasn't ready,” she answered honestly, and knowing John deserved the whole truth, she added, ”I helped a woman who'd died pa.s.s over into the light.” G.o.d, did she really just say that out loud? To her own ears the statement sounded ridiculous.
He drew in a breath. ”Well, that's not something you hear everyday. Did you help her pack her bags, too?”
She let go of the towel and shoved him. ”You're such a d.i.c.k.” She walked to her dresser and opened the top drawer. ”You knew what I was when you married me.” She put on underwear, then a bra. ”What's disappointing is that I thought you believed in what I could do.”
”If I didn't believe, then I wouldn't be so p.i.s.sed off right now,” he shouted.
She stepped into a pair of yoga pants, then grabbed a t-s.h.i.+rt from the drawer. ”Keep your voice down before you wake up the baby,” she said, pulling the garment over her head as she pushed past him. She stopped in the laundry room for a plastic grocery bag and a roll of paper towels, then walked back into the bedroom. John remained near the door, jaw clenched and brows drawn together in anger.
Whatever. Let him be p.i.s.sed off. The feeling was mutual.
With care, she plucked the bigger pieces of the broken wine gla.s.s from the tile, then used several paper towels to clean up the liquid and smaller shards of gla.s.s. Yes, she should have told John about the first vision, but his threats and cynicism were unnecessary. Instead of acting like an almighty jerk, he could have at least allowed her to explain what she'd been seeing in her visions. h.e.l.l, her friend's mom and secret half-sister had been murdered. How could she shut down her clairvoyance and let a killer go free?
After she finished cleaning up the mess, she tied the plastic bag, then tossed it in the bathroom trashcan. Although furious with John, she did understand his fears and frustrations. In Wisconsin, when they'd been searching for a serial killer, she'd heard one of her trances. Just listening to it had been unsettling. Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She stood, then washed her hands.