I disclaim any implied ownership of any character and/or setting. This is just my frustrated way of trying to like my favorite soap opera better. Obviously this will be about Daniel and Chloe. I may throw in a little Brady and Nicole, but that remains to be seen.
Chapter 1
The soft breeze of early fall flitted with the gauzy curtains she had hung over the window in her kitchen. Stirring the Splenda into her coffee mug, she watched the flower pattern of the lace fabric dance with an invisible partner. It was this time of day that she liked best. It was still early before the rest of the house woke up. It was too early for the questions.
Slowly she raised the cup up to her lips and took a slow but lingering sip of the coffee that she hoped would rejuvenate her. She had been asleep for 11 hours, but somehow she felt as tired as though she had slept at all. It was a recurring theme lately. She barely had the energy to raise her arm, but still she faked the smiles and laughs of a loving wife. Fake was a good word for it.
"You always were a good liar," she told herself, staring down into the depths of the black liquid. "You've had enough practice."
She knew without looking at the clock on the microwave that her husband would soon descend the stairs to begin his morning routine. Without hesitation, he would kiss her neck and pour his own cup of java. He would then complain that she had made it too strong before asking in vain what her plans were for the day. That's when she would begin to lie.
"I'll probably visit with a few friends," she would say vaguely, never giving names or details. "Maybe do a little shopping."
Perhaps he wanted to be lied to when it came down to it. She told him the same hazy agenda each morning, but he never doubted it. He never asked just who it was that she went to see. Nor did he look about for these shopping bags that would have littered their new house had she been telling the truth.
No, his questions were more direct. "Do you love me?" he would ask each night. "You won't ever leave me – will you?"
He had no idea that she was fatigued to even think of an escape plan. The idea of packing her belongings was too daunting to consider, especially given that he would put up a fight. He would take it personally that she was unhappy. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe it was her fault. Who knew?
"Good morning sweetheart," he said, coming up behind her and kissing her neck just where the soft cotton tank met her shoulder. "Sleep well?"
She nodded, not bothering to answer. It would have been another lie. Was it a lie when you didn't speak any words? She hoped not, as she had started to keep count.
"Any plans for the day?"
"Just the usual," she said softly, hoping the volume somehow made the lie easier to roll of her tongue. "Friends, lunch, shopping."
Was that one lie or three?
He smiled, breaking from tradition and not bothering to reach for a mug of coffee. Instead, he grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the counter. With a sickening crunch, he bit through.
"For a woman who complained that she would be bored as a housewife, you certainly are fitting into the role well," he commented, sitting down across from her at the breakfast bar. "You're a regular woman of leisure now. I just dread the credit card bills."
It may have been a joke, but she couldn't help cringing at the insinuation. She had never been a woman of leisure. She'd been a brainiac in school – valedictorian and most likely to succeed. She'd been a touring opera star, recorded her own music, and traveled the world. It wasn't in her to be a trophy wife, hanging on her husband's arm and making him look better. She wasn't up for a fight though.
"You make the money, I'll spend it," she told him, using the last of her energy to slip off the stool. Without bothering to kiss him, she smiled one of the easier fake smiles she had in her repertoire. " I better take a shower."
The room was spinning and she wasn't sure that her footing would be secure enough to make it all the way to the bedroom. Willing herself, she gripped the banister with her hand as tightly as she could.
I just told three lies this morning, she reminded herself. That was barely any at all.
Running his fingers through his already messy hair, Dr. Daniel Jonas was ready to scream at the next nurse who offered him a cup of coffee. It had been flattering at first- the way the nurses and other female staff had flirted with him. They each tried to one up each other, dropping off homemade cookies and looking for any chance to talk to him. He had received anonymous notes, giggly voice messages, and even a few bouquets of flowers. He had appreciated it, even thrown a few smiles in their direction when they delivered his coffee or offered to run labs without him even asking. But this morning was different. He was different.
"Anything I can get you Dr. Jonas?" one of the nurses asked.
He shook his head, not bothering to look up. The sleep deprivation was bordering on his medical school days. He could remember 36-hour shifts that might include 15-minute naps every few hours. This was of his own making though. It was a self-inflicted hell that he had created through his own adulterous actions. Each and every time he closed his eyes it was torture.
Though he was unwilling to admit it, the torture was sweet. Her skin, her scent, the sound of her tiny moans that would escape her mouth. They all haunted him with increasing intensity.
"Dr. Jonas?" another voice queried softly.
He was about to shoot off a smart remark, but he didn't bother. Turning slowly, he saw not a female, but Brady Black standing there in front of him. The other man's features were pinched with uncertainty. He almost appeared ashamed to be standing there. "Brady? What are you doing here?"
Clearing his throat nervously, Brady pointed toward the lounge with a small shrug. He obviously didn't want to speak in front of the prying ears of the nursing staff. Without waiting for answer, he led the doctor toward the room and shut the door behind them.
"I know I shouldn't be here," Brady began, not yet sitting down as Daniel had suggested. "I'm worried. I'm more than worried. Hell, I don't know."
Daniel pointed to the chair across from him, but Brady ignored it.
"You're here for a reason," Daniel said. "I know that you're worried about someone. Is it Nicole?"
Brady shook his head and looked a bit sheepish that the doctor would assume that. "Chloe," Brady finally answered in a blurt. "Damn it, I told her to come here…to see you. She's sick, man. I'm talking really sick. That moron acts like there's nothing wrong with her, but she's not okay."
Trying to hide his own feelings, Daniel nodded. "Tell me what's going on."
"Nicole called Chloe the other day," Brady began explaining. "They have this manicure/pedicure day that they go to each week. Nicole was complaining that Chloe hadn't made the last few appointments. She said she was just tired, but Nicole didn't buy it. She confronted her and Chloe admitted that it was more than just being tired."
"So she's tired and…"
"According to Nicole, Chloe's bruising very easily, her nosebleeds are back, and she just doesn't feel right," Brady said softly. "It's like when she had…"
"Leukemia," Daniel finished. He pursed his lips together and ran a few fingers through his hair. "She won't come in will she?"
The television in the corner was still running, though someone had pressed the mute button. It provided some of the only light the room, flickering across both men's features. The bluish glow was offputting, as was the soft elevator music coming from the hall's speaker system. Sporadically it would be interrupted by an intercom call for someone to report somewhere STAT.
"She's afraid," Brady finally answered. "She won't even tell Lucas, and he's…well…She won't come here. I was hoping that maybe."
"Give me 15 minutes," Daniel said. "I'll grab a few things and meet you . Where is she?"
"Nicole went to pick her up," Brady explained. "She's going to take her over to the Dimera's, but we only have a little while."
To be continued....
