As Sinclair stirred from her deep sleep, the first waking thought to invade
her mind was that her pillow was unpleasantly firm. Still lingering in the
world of sleep, Sinclair slowly became aware that the pillow's firmness was
only worsened by an intense throbbing within the confines of her skull.
Her eyes remaining closed against the outside world, Sinclair involuntarily drifted closer to reality and further from the comforting illusions of unconsciousness. Unable to fight against the logical thoughts that began to assault her, Sinclair finally questioned just why her pillow was so abnormally unyielding and her head ached so relentlessly. Nestling deeper under the warm blankets, Sinclair unsuccessfully tried to push away such bothersome thoughts.
Even as she struggled to fall back into her deep sleep, Sinclair realized that there was surely a reason she desperately wanted to hide from conscious thought. She fought to ignore logic and reasoning. She ached to return to the dreamland that had protected her from whatever it was she did not want to recollect.
The grip of sleep releasing her, Sinclair's mind was abruptly flooded with muddled memories from the previous day. She recalled her brother's hospital room, her flight from ICU and her eventual return to Craig's house. She wearily remembered returning to her latest home only to be overwhelmed by Zach's presence in the house.
Opening her eyes to the harshness of both reality and the morning light, Sinclair attempted to make sense of her surroundings and remember just who had brought her to this place. She was hardly in the mood to play the bedroom version of Guess Who.
After a moment of hesitation, Sinclair took a guarded look under the covers. To her relief, she was still fully clothed in her outfit from Saturday. That gave her one less thing to worry about.
However, she still needed to ascertain her location. Ignoring the pounding in her temples, Sinclair pushed herself up to a sitting position on the bed. The area appeared to be small but cozy. With an overwhelming amount of neutral colors and a distinct lack of frill, the room clearly belonged to a man. The assumption hardly came as a surprise to Sinclair.
Partially recalling her drinking binge at the Cheatin' Heart, Sinclair mentally chided herself. With Zach in the hospital and Craig under so much stress, it was certainly not the time to be taking such reckless actions.
Ignoring her headache and wavering stomach, Sinclair pushed aside the blankets and quietly got out of bed. Her bare feet softly padded on the floor as she stepped out of the bedroom area and into the living room.
A smile, albeit a weak one, slipped onto Sinclair's face as she noticed the young man awkwardly sleeping on the sofa. His attractive face was one that Sinclair happily recognized. She suddenly felt far less worried about the previous night's events once she realized he had been the one to put her to bed.
For the second time that morning, Sinclair silently chided herself. She had never been the type of person who put so much faith in someone who was practically a stranger. Sinclair had learned at a young age that few people can be trusted and even fewer will truly be there when you need them.
Kneeling before the sofa, Sinclair casually wondered how her companion had found her and why he had bothered to rescue her from what was surely a despicable drunken state.
The moment Sinclair touched his face, Philip's eyes fluttered open. Grinning unabashedly he greeted, "Good morning."
Her mood soured by her familial problems and physical discomforts, Sinclair retorted, "I suppose."
His smile fading Philip seriously asked, "How are you?"
"I've been better," truthfully replied Sinclair. Though she had suffered from an immediate fondness of Philip, she hardly felt the need to share all her worries and woes.
"You need some aspirin?"
"That would be good."
Philip nodded and began to push aside his blanket. Like Sinclair, Philip had slept in his clothing. As a result, he looked to be a wrinkled mess. Undaunted by his untidy appearance, Philip moved off the couch and headed toward the bathroom.
He was immensely thankful that Lucas had given him the spare key to his apartment. Philip was even more thankful that Lucas was out-of-town on business. It had been far less complicated to bring Sinclair to an empty apartment than to the Kiriakis mansion. Philip had a suspicion that his father would not approve of him bringing home drunken females that he picked up in bars.
Returning with the desired aspirin and a glass of water, Philip asked, "If you want, you can use the phone to call your family. I'm sure they're worried about you."
While Philip retrieved the cordless telephone, Sinclair bitterly reminded herself that the only person in all the world who might be worrying about her was Craig. Zach was in no condition to worry about anyone, and it had been quite some time since their parents had shown any interest in Sinclair's activities. That was it. She had no group of friends that would miss her if she disappeared for days or weeks. All she had was a brother she had spent much of her life avoiding.
Sinclair pushed aside her gloomy feelings as Philip handed her the telephone. Now seated on the sofa, Sinclair dialed Craig's home telephone number. He answered on the second ring.
As Philip pretended to busy himself in the kitchen area, Sinclair began, "Hey, it's me." There was a lengthy pause before Sinclair continued, "I'm sorry I worried you . . . no, I'm fine . . . really, don't worry about me."
Sinclair playfully rolled her eyes as Craig recounted the many horrible scenarios he had imagined when Sinclair never returned home. Abruptly ending his rant, Craig unexpectedly asked, "Where are you?"
Guessing her big brother would not approve of the answer 'I don't know,' Sinclair carefully responded, "I'm safe."
"That's not a location."
"I know." Wanting to bring the conversation to an end before Craig continued his line of questioning, Sinclair stated, "I'll be home later today. See you then." She did not wait for a response before disconnecting the call.
Catching the phone as Sinclair tossed it at him, Philip asked, "Everything okay at home?"
Sinclair was not sure if she found Philip's repeated personal questions to be endearing or infuriating. After a lifetime of guarding herself from the outside world, it seemed to be somewhat of an imposition to have a near stranger asking her about her family life. "I'll survive."
Philip nodded in response. Whatever Sinclair's situation at home, she clearly did not wish to discuss it. He decided to wait for her to introduce the next topic of conversation. It proved to be a very short wait.
"Do I even want to know how I ended up here?"
"Probably not," responded Philip with a cautious smile.
Cracking a grin of her own, Sinclair replied, "Tell me anyway."
"Late last night I got a call from the bartender at the Cheatin' Heart. Apparently he had found my cell phone after you . . ." Philip awkwardly paused as he searched for the nicest way to phrase his sentence. ". . . after you were no longer awake. My home phone number is stored in my cell phone, so he gave me a call thinking that he was calling your home."
"And, you drove over there and scraped me off the floor, huh?" wryly assumed Sinclair.
"Well, to be more exact, I scraped you out of a booth. Anyway, I got your keys from the bartender and drove you back here in your car."
"Thank you," Sinclair faintly said in response. Her mind was still trying to grasp that she had needed Philip last night and he had been there for her. He had not let her down or made her feel unworthy. He merely took care of her when she could not take care of herself. It was an unsettling feeling for Sinclair. "If you'll just give me my keys and shoes, I'll get out of your way."
Though Philip hardly felt as if Sinclair was in his way, he understood that she probably had a lot of things to think about and deal with at home. "Your keys are on the table by the door and your shoes . . ." Realizing his blunder, Philip slowly admitted, "Your shoes are still at the Cheatin' Heart. I put them down to try waking you up and forgot them."
"Oh," remarked Sinclair.
Flashing Sinclair his charming dimples, Philip commanded, "Stay here. I've got an idea." Without another word he turned and darted out the front door.
He dashed across the hall in his sock covered feet. He delivered two or three quick raps on his neighbor's door and impatiently waited for an answer. When Sami Brady opened her door with a disgruntled sigh, he returned with a sheepish grin.
"Philip," Sami said with uncertainty. "What are you doing here?"
His grin only growing, Philip answered, "I was wondering if you might have a pair of shoes I could borrow?"
"Shoes?" Sami questioned with growing hesitation. "You mean like men's shoes?"
"No, women's." As Sami's eyes widened with disbelief, Philip struggled to not laugh. "If you have something that would go with a pair of brown suede pants and a creamy colored top, that would be great."
If possible, Sami's eyes widened even more. "Um, yeah, I'll see what I've got."
As Sami swiftly walked toward her bedroom, Philip unleashed a low chuckle. It seemed as if far too long had passed since he had allowed the silliness of life to amuse him.
There was an aberration that kept the quiet of the Masters home from merely being quiet. An edge seemed to be in the air that turned the stillness into dreaded silence.
Alone in the cheerfully colored kitchen, Catherine slowly sipped her steaming coffee. Not since Jason had wandered away at the state fair when he was four years old had Catherine felt like such an incapable parent. Now, like then, she had allowed her only son to drift away from her while she thought she was paying attention.
It was only earlier in the morning that Catherine had fully recognized her shortcomings. It had taken an unexpected call from Dr. Craig Wesley to jar her from her misconceptions. She had believed that she was sincerely taking care of Jason. Dr. Wesley quickly changed that view.
He had told Catherine that he was originally not going to bother making the call. Yet, his conscience had plagued him all night. As soon as it had been a reasonable hour that morning, he had made the phone call.
The weary doctor told Catherine of his own worries about Jason. Though Catherine had been vaguely aware that a couple of Jason's friend had been in a car accident, she did not realize the severity of the situation until Craig gave her a brief summary of what had happened in the past day or two.
Craig had concluded his synopsis with a description of Jason's behavior in the conference room. He had never told Catherine what she should do. Instead, he told her what a good friend Jason had been to his brother and how much he appreciated Jason's concern – however misguided it might be at times.
Determined to right her wrongs, Catherine patiently waited for Jason to emerge for his first meal of the day. And, just after eleven o'clock, her son made his highly anticipated appearance.
As he silently took a bowl from the cabinet, Jason cast several suspicious glances at his mother. It was quite out of character for Catherine Masters to simply be "hanging out" around the house in her pajamas – especially when the hour was nearing noon.
"Good morning," softly greeted Catherine when Jason finally prepared his bowl of Cheerios and sat down across the table. "I'm glad you're having a light breakfast."
"Why's that?" asked Jason. "Is today the day you want to ship me out of town to some military school?"
"No," Catherine patiently responded. "Jack Deveraux is actually coming over for lunch around 12:30, and I don't want you to pick at your food because you're not hungry. After all, you should present yourself as best you can when discussing job possibilities."
After all the disappointments he had endured in the past few weeks, Jason was hesitant to accept the good news toward which his mother made her elusion. "Job possibilities? Do you mean you're actually going to let me work for Jack?"
"Well, that's what we'll be discussing at lunch." Her faint smile becoming even fainter, Catherine pushed toward a more sensitive subject. "I'm worried about you, Jason. In fact, I think there are a lot of people who are."
"Let's not do this," grumbled Jason. "Not today."
"Yes, today. Jason, you are so loved. Do you know that?"
His mind flashing back to Mimi fleeing the storage room after his own declaration of love, Jason shook his head in disagreement. Sardonically he answered, "Oh, yeah. Everyone just adores me."
Catherine's first instinct was to reprimand Jason for his bitter sarcasm. However, she realized that this was not the most ordinary of circumstances. Remaining incredibly calm and supportive, Catherine responded, "I love you. Erin loves you. Whether you or I like it, your dad loves you. Even our neighbor cares about you and your future." Hitting perhaps the most sensitive subject of all, Catherine sadly added, "Your friend Zach cares about you. I doubt he would want you hating the world and yourself because of events that were entirely out of your control."
Jason slammed his bowl onto the table, showering the surface with milk and a few Cheerios. His cheeks were flushed with a rage he had neither expected nor invited. "You don't even know Zach. You've never made an attempt to know any of my friends. Oh, sure, you'll show up for a few little social things and put on a nice front, but nobody really buys it. You don't know a damn thing about me or my friends."
Catherine felt the urge to cry but was unsure if the unshed tears were for her own humiliation or Jason's anguish. She had seen Jason angry. She had seen him unhappy. But, Catherine had never seen her son in such an embittered emotional state. "I'm sorry for anything I've done in the past that hurt you. I'm even sorrier for the things I've allowed others to do that caused you pain. But, this is not about me not showing up at PTA meetings or baking cookies for class parties. This is about you hating the world because it hurt you."
Jason refused to allow himself the comfort of crying. He convinced himself that it would achieve little more than proving him a child. His eyes brimming with guarded tears, Jason searched for a response. He wanted to deny his mother's emotional accusations. Everything would be much simpler if one word she had spoken was untruthful. Finally, he said, "If I agree to not blame you for everything that goes wrong, will you let me take this job with Jack?"
Realizing that her son was missing the entire purpose of the conversation, Catherine answered, "I'm not trying to blackmail you into being nice to me, Jason. If you want to work for Jack and it doesn't interfere with school, then the job is yours. I just wish that you would see that the world isn't as bad as you try to make it. Life is so wonderful."
Rising to his feet, Jason carried his bowl to the sink. Turning away from the counter, he quickly crossed the room. Along the way, he muttered, "Tell that to Zach."
More than an hour later, Catherine was setting the table just as the doorbell chimed. With Erin at a friend's house and Jason in such a mood, she assumed responsibility for greeting their guest. With quick strides she walked down the hallway and across the living room. Swinging the door open, she was surprised to see not Jack Deveraux but Mimi Lockhart.
"Mimi," addressed Catherine with surprise.
"Hi, Mrs. Masters," shyly responded Mimi. "Is Jason home?"
"He is. Please, come in. We're just about to have lunch."
Not wanting to intrude on what she presumed to be a family gathering, Mimi replied, "Oh, that's okay. I can just come back at a better time. I really don't want to interrupt"
"Nonsense," boomed a voice from behind Mimi. Stepping up to the doorway, Jack continued, "I'm certain Mrs. Masters would not have invited you inside if she didn't genuinely want you to join us for lunch." Refusing to take no for an answer, Jack gave Mimi a gentle push through the open door. "See? Was that so difficult?"
Just as the trio was crossing the living room, Jason stormed down the stairs. He had only two steps to go when he noticed Mimi and his movements came to a complete halt.
Sensing Jason's apprehension, Catherine explained, "Mimi dropped by to see you. I invited her to stay for lunch."
Jason nodded but gave no response as he took the remained steps and began walking in the direction of the kitchen. As he exited the living room, he indifferently asked, "Are you coming?"
"We're right behind you," Jack answered on behalf of the group.
With immeasurable reluctance Mimi followed Jack and Catherine into the kitchen. Jason had already seated himself at the small table. Mimi stood motionless as Catherine worked to set another place at the table and Jack took the seat across from Jason.
Her work complete, Catherine motioned toward the seat to Jason's left. "Mimi, go ahead and sit down. Everything is all ready to be served."
Mimi opened her mouth to respond but found herself without a logical response. Snapping her jaw shut, she merely gave an appreciative nod and took the indicated seat.
As Catherine sat down and the group began preparing their plates, Mimi announced, "Belle got to go home from the hospital today." Responses varied all around the table. Jack appeared genuinely happy about the news. Catherine was politely unaffected, and Jason did not bother with pretending to be anything more than disgruntled. And, that was the way the entire meal progressed. Mimi made awkward comments, Jack portrayed a subdued jovialness, Catherine was simply polite, and Jason offered nothing more enthusiastic than basic indifference.
As lunch concluded, Jack stated, "I'm glad to have you working for me. I think it will be good for both of us. However, I want to make sure you understand this will not be the most glamorous job. Personal assistant is little more than glorified terminology for errand boy."
"I understand," Jason responded, appreciative of Jack's honesty.
Before the discussion could continue, the doorbell once more chimed. Looking at her son, Catherine asked, "Are you expecting anyone?"
When Jason gave a negative shake of his head, Catherine curiously left the kitchen and quickly answered the door. As she opened the door to reveal Jeremy Horton, the others strolled into the living room.
"Hello," began Catherine, her eyes requesting an explanation for his presence.
"Hi," uncomfortably responded Jeremy. "I'm sorry. I should have called before coming over."
Approaching his ex-wife's nephew, Jack asked, "Were you looking for me?"
"Actually, no. But, I'm glad you're here. Aunt Jennifer will be driving me to the airport soon, so I'm glad I get a chance to say goodbye."
"Goodbye," interrupted Mimi. "You're leaving Salem?"
Jason rolled his eyes with annoyance. With his world crumbling, the very last thing he wanted to see in his own living room was a loving farewell between Mimi and Jeremy.
"Only for a little while. Since my Dad and Carrie are flying to the States for Christmas, I thought I would go be with them and my mom for Thanksgiving."
"Oh," chirped Mimi uneasily.
Offering a much needed interruption, Jack curiously asked, "Well, if you didn't come over to see me, why are you here?"
Jeremy nervously cleared his throat before answering, "I'm actually here to see Jason."
Catherine did not fully understand the dynamics of the situation, but she had the distinct feeling that the young man on her doorstep was not someone who would generally seek the company of her son.
In a moment of rare consideration, Jack remarked, "Well, Mrs. Masters, I thank you for a delicious lunch. Mimi, it's awfully cool outside. Why don't I give you a ride home?"
Casting a concerned glance in Jeremy's direction then one toward Jason, Mimi reluctantly answered, "Sure. That's really nice of you Mr. Deveraux."
Taking her cue, Catherine lightly remarked, "I think I'm going to grab my coat and drive over to the Severs' house. I'm sure Erin's ready to be picked up."
In mere minutes Jason and Jeremy were left alone in the house. Breaking the uncomfortable silence, Jeremy ordered, "Don't screw things up, Jason."
"Excuse me?"
"Mimi's a great girl. Don't hurt her."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Realizing that Jason was unaware of a few recent events, Jeremy supplied, "Mimi and I broke up yesterday morning." Noting that Jason was clearly now interested in the conversation topic, Jeremy continued, "I really care about her, but that doesn't make me blind. There's obviously something between you and Mimi."
Jason tried to interject, but Jeremy continued speaking. "Don't deny it. And, don't be a complete fool, either. I'm giving you and Mimi a chance. Take it."
Not waiting for the younger man to give him a response, Jeremy turned and quickly walked out the front door. Entirely alone with his thoughts, Jason stood dumbfounded.
It was mid-afternoon when Brady Black returned to his home. He wearily tossed his keys on an end table and dropped his body into a nearby chair. His morning had been emotionally draining. As a result he felt as if the smallest antagonism could prompt him to have a total collapse.
Earlier in the day, Brady had dropped Chloe off at the hospital and helped take Belle home. His heart broke as his baby sister begged John and Marlena to tell her about Zach or to at least let her see him. From what Craig had said, Brady doubted if Zach's condition was something Belle could truly handle seeing with her own eyes.
John and Marlena had attempted to be honest with Belle while sparing her the harsh details. Belle knew that Zach was badly injured in the accident. She was also told that her friend underwent several surgeries and had not yet awoken. Her family had purposely avoided telling her Zach's actual prognosis. After all Belle had gone through, it seemed cruel to place unnecessary sorrow on her tired shoulders.
As Brady sat immersed in silent contemplations, Chloe tiredly entered through the front door. Like Brady, she had endured an emotional morning and truly desired a few hours of relaxation and peace.
Sitting down on the sofa, Chloe wearily asked, "We're not going to fight, are we?"
Plagued by his guilt, Brady responded, "No. Chloe, I'm really sorry about the way I acted yesterday at the hospital. I was being a jerk."
Chloe nodded her head and agreed, "Yeah, you were."
"And," continued Brady with his apology. "I wasn't just a jerk. I was a jerk at the worst possible time. I know that you're worried about Belle and Zach. I should have been more considerate instead of trying to start a fight with Shawn."
"You're right. Belle isn't just my friend, she's also my sister-in-law. And, Zach has become like family to me. He may annoy me, but I love him like a brother."
His shame feeling almost unbearable, Brady apologized once more, "I'm honestly sorry. In fact, you have no idea how sorry I really am."
"Why did you do it, Brady? Why did you purposely try to provoke Shawn?"
"Chloe, we've already agreed that you have a lot going on right now. So, let's not have this conversation."
Chloe was baffled by Brady's comment. "What is going on? Why wouldn't I want to discuss this now? It can only do us good to get everything out in the open."
Brady rolled his eyes just slightly. "I doubt you want to get everything out in the open."
"What is that suppose to mean?"
Finally tiring of hiding the truth, Brady answered, "I know about Shawn."
Shaking her head with frustration and confusion, Chloe asked, "What about Shawn?"
"I know that there's something going on between the two of you." As Chloe's mouth fell agape in shock, Brady continued, "Not that I care. I just don't want people figuring out this marriage is a sham."
"There is nothing going on between me and Shawn. He's my friend. That's all."
"Well, that's not what it looked like when the two of you were all over each other in the kitchen the night of the rain storm."
"Brady," slowly began Chloe. "You are such a jerk."
"Better than being an adulterer," retorted Brady with a smirk.
Ignoring the openly snide comment, Chloe added, "You're also an idiot. Yes, I kissed Shawn that night. But, only because I thought he was . . . you."
"What?"
"The lights went out and when I went in the kitchen I saw a masculine figure. How was I supposed to know that Shawn was just randomly hanging out in there?"
Brady rolled his head back and released a fatigued laugh. "Chloe, why didn't you just tell me?"
"Why didn't you just ask?"
Having no response for Chloe's question, Brady commented with a grin, "So, you wanted to kiss me that night, huh?"
It was Chloe's turn to roll her eyes. Refusing to address Brady's remark, Chloe said, "I'm going to go upstairs and read for a little while. Maybe when I come back down, your ego will have deflated enough to actually allow me in the same room."
The comment provided the humorous relief that both needed. With a faint smile on his face, Brady watched Chloe leave the room. Trapped with his thoughts, he could only wonder what the future would bring.
Her eyes remaining closed against the outside world, Sinclair involuntarily drifted closer to reality and further from the comforting illusions of unconsciousness. Unable to fight against the logical thoughts that began to assault her, Sinclair finally questioned just why her pillow was so abnormally unyielding and her head ached so relentlessly. Nestling deeper under the warm blankets, Sinclair unsuccessfully tried to push away such bothersome thoughts.
Even as she struggled to fall back into her deep sleep, Sinclair realized that there was surely a reason she desperately wanted to hide from conscious thought. She fought to ignore logic and reasoning. She ached to return to the dreamland that had protected her from whatever it was she did not want to recollect.
The grip of sleep releasing her, Sinclair's mind was abruptly flooded with muddled memories from the previous day. She recalled her brother's hospital room, her flight from ICU and her eventual return to Craig's house. She wearily remembered returning to her latest home only to be overwhelmed by Zach's presence in the house.
Opening her eyes to the harshness of both reality and the morning light, Sinclair attempted to make sense of her surroundings and remember just who had brought her to this place. She was hardly in the mood to play the bedroom version of Guess Who.
After a moment of hesitation, Sinclair took a guarded look under the covers. To her relief, she was still fully clothed in her outfit from Saturday. That gave her one less thing to worry about.
However, she still needed to ascertain her location. Ignoring the pounding in her temples, Sinclair pushed herself up to a sitting position on the bed. The area appeared to be small but cozy. With an overwhelming amount of neutral colors and a distinct lack of frill, the room clearly belonged to a man. The assumption hardly came as a surprise to Sinclair.
Partially recalling her drinking binge at the Cheatin' Heart, Sinclair mentally chided herself. With Zach in the hospital and Craig under so much stress, it was certainly not the time to be taking such reckless actions.
Ignoring her headache and wavering stomach, Sinclair pushed aside the blankets and quietly got out of bed. Her bare feet softly padded on the floor as she stepped out of the bedroom area and into the living room.
A smile, albeit a weak one, slipped onto Sinclair's face as she noticed the young man awkwardly sleeping on the sofa. His attractive face was one that Sinclair happily recognized. She suddenly felt far less worried about the previous night's events once she realized he had been the one to put her to bed.
For the second time that morning, Sinclair silently chided herself. She had never been the type of person who put so much faith in someone who was practically a stranger. Sinclair had learned at a young age that few people can be trusted and even fewer will truly be there when you need them.
Kneeling before the sofa, Sinclair casually wondered how her companion had found her and why he had bothered to rescue her from what was surely a despicable drunken state.
The moment Sinclair touched his face, Philip's eyes fluttered open. Grinning unabashedly he greeted, "Good morning."
Her mood soured by her familial problems and physical discomforts, Sinclair retorted, "I suppose."
His smile fading Philip seriously asked, "How are you?"
"I've been better," truthfully replied Sinclair. Though she had suffered from an immediate fondness of Philip, she hardly felt the need to share all her worries and woes.
"You need some aspirin?"
"That would be good."
Philip nodded and began to push aside his blanket. Like Sinclair, Philip had slept in his clothing. As a result, he looked to be a wrinkled mess. Undaunted by his untidy appearance, Philip moved off the couch and headed toward the bathroom.
He was immensely thankful that Lucas had given him the spare key to his apartment. Philip was even more thankful that Lucas was out-of-town on business. It had been far less complicated to bring Sinclair to an empty apartment than to the Kiriakis mansion. Philip had a suspicion that his father would not approve of him bringing home drunken females that he picked up in bars.
Returning with the desired aspirin and a glass of water, Philip asked, "If you want, you can use the phone to call your family. I'm sure they're worried about you."
While Philip retrieved the cordless telephone, Sinclair bitterly reminded herself that the only person in all the world who might be worrying about her was Craig. Zach was in no condition to worry about anyone, and it had been quite some time since their parents had shown any interest in Sinclair's activities. That was it. She had no group of friends that would miss her if she disappeared for days or weeks. All she had was a brother she had spent much of her life avoiding.
Sinclair pushed aside her gloomy feelings as Philip handed her the telephone. Now seated on the sofa, Sinclair dialed Craig's home telephone number. He answered on the second ring.
As Philip pretended to busy himself in the kitchen area, Sinclair began, "Hey, it's me." There was a lengthy pause before Sinclair continued, "I'm sorry I worried you . . . no, I'm fine . . . really, don't worry about me."
Sinclair playfully rolled her eyes as Craig recounted the many horrible scenarios he had imagined when Sinclair never returned home. Abruptly ending his rant, Craig unexpectedly asked, "Where are you?"
Guessing her big brother would not approve of the answer 'I don't know,' Sinclair carefully responded, "I'm safe."
"That's not a location."
"I know." Wanting to bring the conversation to an end before Craig continued his line of questioning, Sinclair stated, "I'll be home later today. See you then." She did not wait for a response before disconnecting the call.
Catching the phone as Sinclair tossed it at him, Philip asked, "Everything okay at home?"
Sinclair was not sure if she found Philip's repeated personal questions to be endearing or infuriating. After a lifetime of guarding herself from the outside world, it seemed to be somewhat of an imposition to have a near stranger asking her about her family life. "I'll survive."
Philip nodded in response. Whatever Sinclair's situation at home, she clearly did not wish to discuss it. He decided to wait for her to introduce the next topic of conversation. It proved to be a very short wait.
"Do I even want to know how I ended up here?"
"Probably not," responded Philip with a cautious smile.
Cracking a grin of her own, Sinclair replied, "Tell me anyway."
"Late last night I got a call from the bartender at the Cheatin' Heart. Apparently he had found my cell phone after you . . ." Philip awkwardly paused as he searched for the nicest way to phrase his sentence. ". . . after you were no longer awake. My home phone number is stored in my cell phone, so he gave me a call thinking that he was calling your home."
"And, you drove over there and scraped me off the floor, huh?" wryly assumed Sinclair.
"Well, to be more exact, I scraped you out of a booth. Anyway, I got your keys from the bartender and drove you back here in your car."
"Thank you," Sinclair faintly said in response. Her mind was still trying to grasp that she had needed Philip last night and he had been there for her. He had not let her down or made her feel unworthy. He merely took care of her when she could not take care of herself. It was an unsettling feeling for Sinclair. "If you'll just give me my keys and shoes, I'll get out of your way."
Though Philip hardly felt as if Sinclair was in his way, he understood that she probably had a lot of things to think about and deal with at home. "Your keys are on the table by the door and your shoes . . ." Realizing his blunder, Philip slowly admitted, "Your shoes are still at the Cheatin' Heart. I put them down to try waking you up and forgot them."
"Oh," remarked Sinclair.
Flashing Sinclair his charming dimples, Philip commanded, "Stay here. I've got an idea." Without another word he turned and darted out the front door.
He dashed across the hall in his sock covered feet. He delivered two or three quick raps on his neighbor's door and impatiently waited for an answer. When Sami Brady opened her door with a disgruntled sigh, he returned with a sheepish grin.
"Philip," Sami said with uncertainty. "What are you doing here?"
His grin only growing, Philip answered, "I was wondering if you might have a pair of shoes I could borrow?"
"Shoes?" Sami questioned with growing hesitation. "You mean like men's shoes?"
"No, women's." As Sami's eyes widened with disbelief, Philip struggled to not laugh. "If you have something that would go with a pair of brown suede pants and a creamy colored top, that would be great."
If possible, Sami's eyes widened even more. "Um, yeah, I'll see what I've got."
As Sami swiftly walked toward her bedroom, Philip unleashed a low chuckle. It seemed as if far too long had passed since he had allowed the silliness of life to amuse him.
There was an aberration that kept the quiet of the Masters home from merely being quiet. An edge seemed to be in the air that turned the stillness into dreaded silence.
Alone in the cheerfully colored kitchen, Catherine slowly sipped her steaming coffee. Not since Jason had wandered away at the state fair when he was four years old had Catherine felt like such an incapable parent. Now, like then, she had allowed her only son to drift away from her while she thought she was paying attention.
It was only earlier in the morning that Catherine had fully recognized her shortcomings. It had taken an unexpected call from Dr. Craig Wesley to jar her from her misconceptions. She had believed that she was sincerely taking care of Jason. Dr. Wesley quickly changed that view.
He had told Catherine that he was originally not going to bother making the call. Yet, his conscience had plagued him all night. As soon as it had been a reasonable hour that morning, he had made the phone call.
The weary doctor told Catherine of his own worries about Jason. Though Catherine had been vaguely aware that a couple of Jason's friend had been in a car accident, she did not realize the severity of the situation until Craig gave her a brief summary of what had happened in the past day or two.
Craig had concluded his synopsis with a description of Jason's behavior in the conference room. He had never told Catherine what she should do. Instead, he told her what a good friend Jason had been to his brother and how much he appreciated Jason's concern – however misguided it might be at times.
Determined to right her wrongs, Catherine patiently waited for Jason to emerge for his first meal of the day. And, just after eleven o'clock, her son made his highly anticipated appearance.
As he silently took a bowl from the cabinet, Jason cast several suspicious glances at his mother. It was quite out of character for Catherine Masters to simply be "hanging out" around the house in her pajamas – especially when the hour was nearing noon.
"Good morning," softly greeted Catherine when Jason finally prepared his bowl of Cheerios and sat down across the table. "I'm glad you're having a light breakfast."
"Why's that?" asked Jason. "Is today the day you want to ship me out of town to some military school?"
"No," Catherine patiently responded. "Jack Deveraux is actually coming over for lunch around 12:30, and I don't want you to pick at your food because you're not hungry. After all, you should present yourself as best you can when discussing job possibilities."
After all the disappointments he had endured in the past few weeks, Jason was hesitant to accept the good news toward which his mother made her elusion. "Job possibilities? Do you mean you're actually going to let me work for Jack?"
"Well, that's what we'll be discussing at lunch." Her faint smile becoming even fainter, Catherine pushed toward a more sensitive subject. "I'm worried about you, Jason. In fact, I think there are a lot of people who are."
"Let's not do this," grumbled Jason. "Not today."
"Yes, today. Jason, you are so loved. Do you know that?"
His mind flashing back to Mimi fleeing the storage room after his own declaration of love, Jason shook his head in disagreement. Sardonically he answered, "Oh, yeah. Everyone just adores me."
Catherine's first instinct was to reprimand Jason for his bitter sarcasm. However, she realized that this was not the most ordinary of circumstances. Remaining incredibly calm and supportive, Catherine responded, "I love you. Erin loves you. Whether you or I like it, your dad loves you. Even our neighbor cares about you and your future." Hitting perhaps the most sensitive subject of all, Catherine sadly added, "Your friend Zach cares about you. I doubt he would want you hating the world and yourself because of events that were entirely out of your control."
Jason slammed his bowl onto the table, showering the surface with milk and a few Cheerios. His cheeks were flushed with a rage he had neither expected nor invited. "You don't even know Zach. You've never made an attempt to know any of my friends. Oh, sure, you'll show up for a few little social things and put on a nice front, but nobody really buys it. You don't know a damn thing about me or my friends."
Catherine felt the urge to cry but was unsure if the unshed tears were for her own humiliation or Jason's anguish. She had seen Jason angry. She had seen him unhappy. But, Catherine had never seen her son in such an embittered emotional state. "I'm sorry for anything I've done in the past that hurt you. I'm even sorrier for the things I've allowed others to do that caused you pain. But, this is not about me not showing up at PTA meetings or baking cookies for class parties. This is about you hating the world because it hurt you."
Jason refused to allow himself the comfort of crying. He convinced himself that it would achieve little more than proving him a child. His eyes brimming with guarded tears, Jason searched for a response. He wanted to deny his mother's emotional accusations. Everything would be much simpler if one word she had spoken was untruthful. Finally, he said, "If I agree to not blame you for everything that goes wrong, will you let me take this job with Jack?"
Realizing that her son was missing the entire purpose of the conversation, Catherine answered, "I'm not trying to blackmail you into being nice to me, Jason. If you want to work for Jack and it doesn't interfere with school, then the job is yours. I just wish that you would see that the world isn't as bad as you try to make it. Life is so wonderful."
Rising to his feet, Jason carried his bowl to the sink. Turning away from the counter, he quickly crossed the room. Along the way, he muttered, "Tell that to Zach."
More than an hour later, Catherine was setting the table just as the doorbell chimed. With Erin at a friend's house and Jason in such a mood, she assumed responsibility for greeting their guest. With quick strides she walked down the hallway and across the living room. Swinging the door open, she was surprised to see not Jack Deveraux but Mimi Lockhart.
"Mimi," addressed Catherine with surprise.
"Hi, Mrs. Masters," shyly responded Mimi. "Is Jason home?"
"He is. Please, come in. We're just about to have lunch."
Not wanting to intrude on what she presumed to be a family gathering, Mimi replied, "Oh, that's okay. I can just come back at a better time. I really don't want to interrupt"
"Nonsense," boomed a voice from behind Mimi. Stepping up to the doorway, Jack continued, "I'm certain Mrs. Masters would not have invited you inside if she didn't genuinely want you to join us for lunch." Refusing to take no for an answer, Jack gave Mimi a gentle push through the open door. "See? Was that so difficult?"
Just as the trio was crossing the living room, Jason stormed down the stairs. He had only two steps to go when he noticed Mimi and his movements came to a complete halt.
Sensing Jason's apprehension, Catherine explained, "Mimi dropped by to see you. I invited her to stay for lunch."
Jason nodded but gave no response as he took the remained steps and began walking in the direction of the kitchen. As he exited the living room, he indifferently asked, "Are you coming?"
"We're right behind you," Jack answered on behalf of the group.
With immeasurable reluctance Mimi followed Jack and Catherine into the kitchen. Jason had already seated himself at the small table. Mimi stood motionless as Catherine worked to set another place at the table and Jack took the seat across from Jason.
Her work complete, Catherine motioned toward the seat to Jason's left. "Mimi, go ahead and sit down. Everything is all ready to be served."
Mimi opened her mouth to respond but found herself without a logical response. Snapping her jaw shut, she merely gave an appreciative nod and took the indicated seat.
As Catherine sat down and the group began preparing their plates, Mimi announced, "Belle got to go home from the hospital today." Responses varied all around the table. Jack appeared genuinely happy about the news. Catherine was politely unaffected, and Jason did not bother with pretending to be anything more than disgruntled. And, that was the way the entire meal progressed. Mimi made awkward comments, Jack portrayed a subdued jovialness, Catherine was simply polite, and Jason offered nothing more enthusiastic than basic indifference.
As lunch concluded, Jack stated, "I'm glad to have you working for me. I think it will be good for both of us. However, I want to make sure you understand this will not be the most glamorous job. Personal assistant is little more than glorified terminology for errand boy."
"I understand," Jason responded, appreciative of Jack's honesty.
Before the discussion could continue, the doorbell once more chimed. Looking at her son, Catherine asked, "Are you expecting anyone?"
When Jason gave a negative shake of his head, Catherine curiously left the kitchen and quickly answered the door. As she opened the door to reveal Jeremy Horton, the others strolled into the living room.
"Hello," began Catherine, her eyes requesting an explanation for his presence.
"Hi," uncomfortably responded Jeremy. "I'm sorry. I should have called before coming over."
Approaching his ex-wife's nephew, Jack asked, "Were you looking for me?"
"Actually, no. But, I'm glad you're here. Aunt Jennifer will be driving me to the airport soon, so I'm glad I get a chance to say goodbye."
"Goodbye," interrupted Mimi. "You're leaving Salem?"
Jason rolled his eyes with annoyance. With his world crumbling, the very last thing he wanted to see in his own living room was a loving farewell between Mimi and Jeremy.
"Only for a little while. Since my Dad and Carrie are flying to the States for Christmas, I thought I would go be with them and my mom for Thanksgiving."
"Oh," chirped Mimi uneasily.
Offering a much needed interruption, Jack curiously asked, "Well, if you didn't come over to see me, why are you here?"
Jeremy nervously cleared his throat before answering, "I'm actually here to see Jason."
Catherine did not fully understand the dynamics of the situation, but she had the distinct feeling that the young man on her doorstep was not someone who would generally seek the company of her son.
In a moment of rare consideration, Jack remarked, "Well, Mrs. Masters, I thank you for a delicious lunch. Mimi, it's awfully cool outside. Why don't I give you a ride home?"
Casting a concerned glance in Jeremy's direction then one toward Jason, Mimi reluctantly answered, "Sure. That's really nice of you Mr. Deveraux."
Taking her cue, Catherine lightly remarked, "I think I'm going to grab my coat and drive over to the Severs' house. I'm sure Erin's ready to be picked up."
In mere minutes Jason and Jeremy were left alone in the house. Breaking the uncomfortable silence, Jeremy ordered, "Don't screw things up, Jason."
"Excuse me?"
"Mimi's a great girl. Don't hurt her."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Realizing that Jason was unaware of a few recent events, Jeremy supplied, "Mimi and I broke up yesterday morning." Noting that Jason was clearly now interested in the conversation topic, Jeremy continued, "I really care about her, but that doesn't make me blind. There's obviously something between you and Mimi."
Jason tried to interject, but Jeremy continued speaking. "Don't deny it. And, don't be a complete fool, either. I'm giving you and Mimi a chance. Take it."
Not waiting for the younger man to give him a response, Jeremy turned and quickly walked out the front door. Entirely alone with his thoughts, Jason stood dumbfounded.
It was mid-afternoon when Brady Black returned to his home. He wearily tossed his keys on an end table and dropped his body into a nearby chair. His morning had been emotionally draining. As a result he felt as if the smallest antagonism could prompt him to have a total collapse.
Earlier in the day, Brady had dropped Chloe off at the hospital and helped take Belle home. His heart broke as his baby sister begged John and Marlena to tell her about Zach or to at least let her see him. From what Craig had said, Brady doubted if Zach's condition was something Belle could truly handle seeing with her own eyes.
John and Marlena had attempted to be honest with Belle while sparing her the harsh details. Belle knew that Zach was badly injured in the accident. She was also told that her friend underwent several surgeries and had not yet awoken. Her family had purposely avoided telling her Zach's actual prognosis. After all Belle had gone through, it seemed cruel to place unnecessary sorrow on her tired shoulders.
As Brady sat immersed in silent contemplations, Chloe tiredly entered through the front door. Like Brady, she had endured an emotional morning and truly desired a few hours of relaxation and peace.
Sitting down on the sofa, Chloe wearily asked, "We're not going to fight, are we?"
Plagued by his guilt, Brady responded, "No. Chloe, I'm really sorry about the way I acted yesterday at the hospital. I was being a jerk."
Chloe nodded her head and agreed, "Yeah, you were."
"And," continued Brady with his apology. "I wasn't just a jerk. I was a jerk at the worst possible time. I know that you're worried about Belle and Zach. I should have been more considerate instead of trying to start a fight with Shawn."
"You're right. Belle isn't just my friend, she's also my sister-in-law. And, Zach has become like family to me. He may annoy me, but I love him like a brother."
His shame feeling almost unbearable, Brady apologized once more, "I'm honestly sorry. In fact, you have no idea how sorry I really am."
"Why did you do it, Brady? Why did you purposely try to provoke Shawn?"
"Chloe, we've already agreed that you have a lot going on right now. So, let's not have this conversation."
Chloe was baffled by Brady's comment. "What is going on? Why wouldn't I want to discuss this now? It can only do us good to get everything out in the open."
Brady rolled his eyes just slightly. "I doubt you want to get everything out in the open."
"What is that suppose to mean?"
Finally tiring of hiding the truth, Brady answered, "I know about Shawn."
Shaking her head with frustration and confusion, Chloe asked, "What about Shawn?"
"I know that there's something going on between the two of you." As Chloe's mouth fell agape in shock, Brady continued, "Not that I care. I just don't want people figuring out this marriage is a sham."
"There is nothing going on between me and Shawn. He's my friend. That's all."
"Well, that's not what it looked like when the two of you were all over each other in the kitchen the night of the rain storm."
"Brady," slowly began Chloe. "You are such a jerk."
"Better than being an adulterer," retorted Brady with a smirk.
Ignoring the openly snide comment, Chloe added, "You're also an idiot. Yes, I kissed Shawn that night. But, only because I thought he was . . . you."
"What?"
"The lights went out and when I went in the kitchen I saw a masculine figure. How was I supposed to know that Shawn was just randomly hanging out in there?"
Brady rolled his head back and released a fatigued laugh. "Chloe, why didn't you just tell me?"
"Why didn't you just ask?"
Having no response for Chloe's question, Brady commented with a grin, "So, you wanted to kiss me that night, huh?"
It was Chloe's turn to roll her eyes. Refusing to address Brady's remark, Chloe said, "I'm going to go upstairs and read for a little while. Maybe when I come back down, your ego will have deflated enough to actually allow me in the same room."
The comment provided the humorous relief that both needed. With a faint smile on his face, Brady watched Chloe leave the room. Trapped with his thoughts, he could only wonder what the future would bring.