You Must Love Me
Chapter Twenty-One
Nancy peeked her head into her daughter's bedroom one last time. Chloe was lying on her bed reading. Nancy sighed. "Chloe, sweetheart, won't you please come with us?" she asked for the hundredth time that day.
Chloe looked up, barely keeping her exasperation in check. "I don't want to go, Mom." Knowing what the next words out of Nancy's mouth would be, she quickly added, "And I don't want you to stay home either. It's New Year's Eve. You and Craig should go out and have a good time. I just don't really feel like being around a lot of people right now."
Nancy perused her face, trying to discern the emotions there. For the last week, Chloe had seemed fine. She was coping with this colossal change in her life with the utmost calm and dignity. She had filed for divorce only two days after Christmas without the slightest hesitation or second thoughts. She had even looked into signing up for some classes at Salem U this semester. And then, today, she had seemed as low as could be. She flat out refused to go to the New Year's party at University Hospital, and she pitched a fit at the mere mention of her parents staying home with her.
Nancy was genuinely worried about her. She couldn't be regretting her decision to leave Philip, could she? She entered the room and gingerly sat down on the bed next to her daughter. Sweetheart, I know how rough it must seem, going through your first holiday alone…without Philip, I mean. That's why I think it's doubly important for you to be with us tonight. So that you know you're not really alone."
Chloe rolled her eyes, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. This was how it had been in high school, Nancy trying to help but never truly understanding the problem. "I don't miss Philip, Mom," she responded, trying to be patient with her mother. "I don't think I could ever reach a point where I would miss him. I'm so glad to be free again. But I need some time alone to just let it all soak in, you know? I want to slow down the whirlwind in my head a little."
Nancy nodded, feeling a rush of relief. She should have given Chloe more credit. She wasn't the same foolish young woman she had been in high school. Nancy cradled her daughter's cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Chloe," she gushed, her eyes swimming with tears. "You've matured so much in such a short time. You've always been so intelligent, and now you're finally allowing yourself to listen to your better judgment."
Chloe ducked her head at her mother's praise. "Thanks, Mom…I think. But I'm sure we'd all be much better off if I had started using it a long time ago…." Her voice drifted off as Brady's face swam again before her mind's eye.
Nancy didn't need to hear the words to know Chloe's thoughts at the moment. She frowned. If Chloe missed Brady so much, why didn't she just go see him? And why hadn't Brady called or come around? For two people so completely in love, they were making things inordinately difficult. "I don't think Brady will be there tonight, if that's what you're worried about," Nancy blurted out with her usual lack of tact.
Chloe's face flamed bright red; and she moved swiftly from the bed to the window, keeping her face carefully averted. "It doesn't matter to me what Brady does," she lied coldly. "He can go where he pleases. It doesn't affect my life in the slightest."
Nancy's expression reflected the shock she was feeling. A little awkwardness between her daughter and Brady was understandable. But this was much more than that. Chloe's hostility was meant to conceal great hurt. But what would Brady have ever done to hurt her? He loved her. He'd gone out of his way to take care of her these past few months. Things just did not add up. "Chloe, sweetheart, what—"
"Nancy, come on! We're going to be late," Craig's impatient warning sounded up the stairs.
Chloe turned back to her mother, wearing a forced smile. "Go on, Mom. Have fun tonight. You look beautiful, by the way." Her smile became more genuine. "Happy New Year's."
"Happy New Year's, sweetheart," Nancy returned sadly. She didn't see what kind of good holiday Chloe could have, shut up in this house all by herself. She gave her daughter a bone-crushing hug. "I love you."
"I love you too, Mom." Chloe practically forced her mother out the door. She didn't need any more of Nancy's prying questions. She didn't think she could deal with them tonight. She couldn't even explain the mood that had come over her. She watched from her window as Craig and Nancy drove away. Tomorrow was the start of a new year. A year without Philip. A year without captivity and misery and depression. She should be jumping for joy. She was getting a chance to start her life again. So what the hell was the matter with her? Why was she so depressed? She pushed away the obvious answer. She didn't want to think about him right now.
Chloe went downstairs and flicked on the T.V. Dick Clark was on. She giggled suddenly. The guy must be at least a hundred years old by now. She made some microwave popcorn, grabbed some soda and sweets and prepared to veg out for the remainder of her New Years. It saved her from thinking too much. Her mind had started betraying her today, going relentlessly back to Brady at every opportunity. She didn't think she could deal with it much longer.
The phone rang about half an hour later. Chloe cursed herself for her automatic, fleeting hope that it was Brady. More likely her mother calling her checking in. Composing herself, she picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Hello, may I speak to Mrs. Chloe Kiriakis, please?" came a gruff, unfamiliar male voice on the other end of the line.
A tight knot seemed to form in the pit of Chloe's stomach. She had thought she was finally free of that name. "This is her speaking," she responded, despising the tremor in her voice. "Who is this, may I ask?"
"Mrs. Kiriakis, this is Officer Marshall of the Los Angeles Police Department. Is there someone there with you now?"
She knew. She knew without being told. She sank onto the couch, her hand to her suddenly cold forehead. "Oh God, what's Philip done?"
"I'd like to know if someone's there with you, ma'am," the officer said, his voice gentling.
"No, no one's here," Chloe choked out. "But you've got to tell me. What's he done? Is he okay? Did he hurt someone?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am. There's no easy way to tell you this. Your husband killed himself today," he informed her tonelessly. This truly was the worst part of his job, telling the loves ones.
Chloe inhaled sharply. God, no! This couldn't be happening. Her eyes suddenly widened with comprehension, or maybe just her last hope. "You're lying," she said coldly. "Philip put you up to this, didn't he? How much is he paying you? Or are you just some sick, bastard friend of his doing him a favor?"
Officer Marshall wasn't surprised at her denial. That was nothing new to him. But her anger was unexplainable. "I'm telling the truth, ma'am. I'm Officer Joseph Marshall of the Los Angeles Police Department. If you don't believe me, hang up now. Call information. And have them put you through to the 46th precinct of the L.A.P.D. Then, ask for me at the desk."
Chloe winced. She knew suddenly he wasn't lying, but she had to prove it to herself. She had to make sure this wasn't one more of Philip's elaborate schemes, because if it wasn't then….She couldn't bear to think about it. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind, and hung up the phone, following the officer's instructions to the letter. Within minutes, she was back on the phone to him. "How…how did he do it?" she stammered, finally accepting it was the truth. Philip was dead. He had killed himself.
"He jumped out his apartment window," Joseph said softly. This would be so much easier if she had someone there to lean on. "I'm sorry, ma'am. If it makes it any easier, his death was instantaneous."
"No, that doesn't make it better," Chloe snapped. A surge of unreasoning anger towards Philip came over her. He had done this on purpose. It had been his last revenge, one more way to make her suffer. "Did he leave behind a note or any reason as to why he did it?" She dreaded the answer she knew was to come.
Officer Marshall cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, we found divorce papers lying on the table. Apparently, he'd been served the day before. That doesn't make it your fault, ma'am," he added quickly. "He left no note, so we may never know why he actually did it."
"Right," Chloe returned icily. She could still feel her rage bubbling. Damn that selfish bastard! Well, he'd done it. He'd won. She had finally thought she was free, and now instead she'd be bound for life. Bound with the guilt that it was all her own fault. The fear that had held her captive for so long had been justified after all. She smiled bitterly. Her last hope for a real life was destroyed.
"Mrs. Kiriakis," the policeman began tentatively. "I know this is a horrible thing to hear right now, but you're going to need to make arrangements about your husband. Not now, of course. But let me give you the number you'll need to call." He carefully avoided using the words "body" and "morgue". Those words in themselves had a way of making the strongest people break down.
Chloe obediently jotted down the number. She felt cold all over, chilled to the heart. "Okay. I'll take care of…him," she said in a dead tone. "Is there anything else?"
Officer Marshall recognized the symptoms of someone in shock. It was only a matter of time before it all sank in, and she broke down. She would need someone there when she did. "I'd just like to ask you to call someone," he advised compassionately. "You shouldn't be alone tonight."
"All right, Officer. Thank you." She didn't know what exactly she was thanking him for, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. "Goodbye." She hung up the phone before he could respond. She couldn't think. She didn't want to. All she could do was stare blankly at the phone.
Almost of her own volition her hand reached for the phone again. He had said to call someone. But who? She could call Craig and Nancy, but she didn't think she could deal with them right now. There was Greta. But she was on her first date in months, and Chloe couldn't bear to ruin it. It was pure instinct that brought her fingers from one button to the next as she called the only person she needed right now.
~~*~~
Brady and Meghan were in the fifth round of their Uno championship when the phone rang. "Hello?" Brady asked as he got to the phone first, much to Meghan's dismay.
"Brady."
No one needed to tell him who the soft, pained voice on the other end of the line was. And no one needed to tell him that she was hurting badly. "Chloe, what's the matter?" He saw Meghan's warm brown eyes flash with concern.
"He's dead, Brady," she said in a hollow voice. "Philip killed himself."
Brady felt all the air pushed from his lungs. "I'm coming, Chloe. Where are you? Your parents' house?" He wasn't about to waste time asking for pointless explanations. It would only keep him from her longer. Besides, he had a pretty good idea what had happened.
"Yes, Brady. I'm here." The deadness in her tone frightened him. Even at her lowest point, he had never heard her voice sound so empty.
"I'll be right there. Bye, Chloe." He hung up the phone and noticed the scared look on Meghan's face. "Meghan, get your shoes and coat on. We're going to see Chloe." He was already grabbing his jacket.
Meghan immediately obeyed. "What's wrong?" she asked as she slipped on her shoes. "What's happened to Chloe?"
Brady frowned. How could he explain suicide to a child like Meghan? How could he burden her with this when she'd already been through so much? "Chloe's fine," he assured her. "She just had some bad news."
"About Philip?" Meghan prompted. All of the bad stuff in Chloe's life could be traced back to him.
"Yes, about Philip. Come on. I'll tell you on the way." He opened the door to let his daughter leave first. Her young face looked up at him with eyes far too old for her. And he was about to strip away one more layer of her innocence. Damn Philip.
~~*~~
Chloe opened the door to Brady and stood back in shock as Meghan entered in front of him. "Meghan, what are you doing here?" she stammered.
Meghan looked upset. "You didn't think he'd come without me, did you? I'm so sorry, Chloe. I really am." She threw her arms around Chloe and clung there. She still couldn't believe what Brady had explained to her on the way over here. She couldn't believe anyone would be so sad inside themselves or so mean to others that they would take their own lives.
Chloe patted her back soothingly, while looking to Brady for answers. "It's okay, Meghan. Thank you for coming. But I still don't understand why you're here with Brady. Brady?"
It was Brady's turn to look surprised. "You don't know? I thought for sure Dr. Wesley or Greta would have told you. I would have myself, but you were moving so it didn't seem quite fair, I guess. And then I hadn't seen you since you decided to stay."
"Tell me what?" Chloe asked in frustration. She didn't have the energy to play word games tonight. She just wanted everything cleared up. She just wanted to let her mind go for a while, free, with no worries at all.
"Brady adopted me," announced Meghan, stepping back to Brady's side and looking up at him adoringly. "At Christmas."
Chloe's jaw dropped. Brady, a father? Suddenly, the conversation she had overheard between Brady and John came rushing back to her. Could they have been talking about Meghan? It all fit. Maybe Brady didn't have a girlfriend after all. Maybe…She immediately stopped that line of thought. It didn't matter now. None of it mattered now. She was responsible for her husband's death. How could she even think about cursing Brady with her wretched self?
Brady could tell the minute Philip came back into Chloe's thoughts. It brought with it the old look of confusion, pain, and self-loathing. "Meghan, why don't you go watch the ball drop on T.V.?" he instructed, his eyes still only on Chloe.
Meghan opened her mouth to object but stopped suddenly when she saw the loving concern on Brady's face as he looked at Chloe. Brady would know how to take care of Chloe. He always knew what to do. "Okay, Brady," she agreed quietly and slipped into the living room, leaving them alone in the foyer.
Looking at Chloe's bereft expression, all Brady wanted to do was fold her in his arms; but she didn't look ready to accept his comfort. So why had she called him? "Come on, Chloe. Let's go to the kitchen. You can sit down, and I'll make you some tea." Chloe nodded soundlessly, and Brady took her hand, leading her into the kitchen like a docile child. He didn't press her for any information, just let her sit there, staring dumbly into space while he made her some tea. Finally, he set a cup before her, content to sit in silence until she was ready to talk.
Chloe stared into her teacup morosely, twisting and turning it, but never lifting it to her lips. "I hate him," she bit out after an interminable silence. "I hate him for doing this. He did it to make me feel guilty. He did it to make me miserable. And now, he's dead; and I'm not allowed to hate him. I'm not allowed to fight back anymore. This is it. Game over. He wins." She slumped back in her chair, utterly defeated.
Brady's fists unconsciously clenched. He understood the sentiment only too well. He wished he hadn't let Craig talk him into leaving the Kiriakis mansion that night. He wished he had killed Philip, if only to save Chloe from the guilt she was feeling now. "It's not your fault, Chloe," he said softly.
Chloe snorted derisively. "Not my fault. Right. My mentally unstable husband kills himself right after receiving divorce papers from me. But it's not my fault." She stared unseeingly in front of her, a thousand scenes of Philip dancing before her eyes. From the sweet and tender boy she had almost convinced herself she loved, to the psychotic, vengeful man he had turned out to be. And now, he was dead.
"Chloe, look at me," Brady ordered. When she didn't, he captured her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. God, he hated that haunted look in her eyes. "Listen to me. None of this was your fault. You said it yourself. Philip was unstable. He's been proving it for years. But that's not your fault either. You just had the misfortune of becoming his obsession."
Chloe saw the gentle protectiveness in his eyes and melted. After all this time, after all she'd done, he still loved her. How was it even possible? "This changes everything though, Brady. Don't you see that? My husband killed himself. Because of me. Even if, by some miracle, I someday manage to forgive myself, no one else ever will. It will be there in their eyes. 'She killed her husband.' I might as well have bushed him out that window, Brady."
Brady felt his heart breaking for her. Would there ever be an end to her misery? She had suffered enough for a lifetime, and still there was no end in sight. For possibly the first time in his life, Brady Black found himself at a loss for words. So he didn't use any. He just reached across the table and enfolded her soft, delicate hands in his. She looked grateful for the comfort, and then recounted her entire conversation with the police officer. She told it distantly, as if it had happened to someone else or in another lifetime.
"I'll go," Brady said as soon as she finished.
"What?" she asked, not following him.
"I'll go to L.A. and get everything settled. I'll take care of Philip's estate, funeral arrangements, all of it. I don't want you to have to deal with this on top of everything else." Philip had never protected her, even in death. Brady would be damned before he let Chloe get hurt anymore.
Chloe smiled weakly at his determined tone. She knew that this was how he must sound at Basic Black's board meetings. "No, Brady," she said softly, shaking her head. "It wouldn't look right. It wouldn't be right. No. I'll try and take care of it over the phone. And if I can't, I guess I'll go. Or maybe Austin and Lucas should."
Brady nodded his agreement reluctantly. He knew her point was valid. People would certainly have something to gossip about if the widow's ex-boyfriend arranged the funeral. Even if he and Phil were related, they weren't family. They hadn't been in a very long time. "All right, Chloe. You win."
Chloe's smile turned bitter. "No. He wins." She paused, studying every inch of Brady's beloved face. "Thanks for coming, Brady. I know I had no right to ask you." She still couldn't get over how he still remained unchanged towards her. Was there nothing in this world that could destroy his love for her?
"You had ever right in the world," Brady protested. "You should know by now that I want to be the first person you call when you need help, Chloe. I only wish I could actually do something to help you this time."
"Just knowing you cared enough to come, helps enough," Chloe said, fighting back tears for the first time all night. A sudden burst of noise swept the whole neighborhood, as horns were honked, party favors blown, and drunken choruses of "Auld Lang Syne" were raised.
"Happy New Year," Chloe bit out ironically. "For most of them anyway. Of course, some didn't even live to see it." All her anger towards Philip suddenly seemed to evaporate as a wave of pity overcame her. His life had been so unhappy; his mind so confused; and his talents so misapplied and wasted. But he had always loved her, in his own twisted way. And now he was dead because of it. Because of her. All her strength gave out; and she started to cry, deep, heaving sobs.
Brady was on his feet immediately. In another moment, he had pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair and letting her weep unrestrainedly. He didn't offer her words of comfort. He didn't have any. He just held his Diva and silently cried along with her for a man who had caused them so much misery but had in the end destroyed only himself.