Chapter 8

Dare To Heir

"You're coming home with us and that's final!" Sarah's father, who was standing behind the chair in which Irene sat, nodded emphatically. Her father was usually Switzerland in all matters between Sarah and his wife, but not this time. He was in total agreement with her on this subject. His frown was stern, silently conveying to her that there was no escape. She was going to become their new roomie whether she liked it or not.

Irene patted Sarah's hand before saying, "Gideon has gone to fetch your things from the apartment. Speaking of which, why haven't you told us that he's been living with you?"

If it were possible for Sarah's complexion to become even paler than it already was, it would have. Gideon must have blabbed. Ever since the scene where he had cried on Irene's shoulder in this very hospital room, he'd been disgustingly and completely compliant to all of Irene's wishes. Every ounce of discord between the two seemed to have disappeared as if a whiff of smoke. It was really quite disconcerting.

Sarah had hoped that eventually the two would get over their mutual dislike of each other, but now, she wasn't so sure she was enjoying the outcome. Gideon was supposed to be her friend and ally, but his allegiance wasn't in her corner anymore. Sarah sighed deeply. Nope, Gideon was in Irene's corner now. Just what she needed, she thought glumly, two people bullying her into doing whatever her stepmother wanted her to do.

"Well," Sarah began, trying to sound nonchalant, "There really wasn't enough room for him and all of his clothes in that small space above the Day Care." Both Irene and her father chortled briefly at Sarah's small joke. Encouraged by their reaction, she continued, "He hasn't been living with me long, and it's been a great help only having to pay half the rent, so the messy bathroom is worth it." A horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. "Please, please," she begged, "Tell me that he isn't right now, at this moment, going through my underwear drawer."

"Certainly not!" Irene hurried to assure her sounding scandalized. It was nothing in comparison to the horror Sarah felt at the very idea of Gideon touching her unmentionables. "I'll be going back later after we've settled you in to get those sorts of items."

Sarah had to ask because she was curious as to what they would say. "Why aren't you surprised that I don't want Gideon touching my personals? I mean pretty much anyone else after discovering their daughter was living with a man would assume that he'd seen and touched them already, so why aren't you two?"

Sarah's father looked as if he'd swallowed an elephant whole. A tortured grimace settled on his face as he pulled at the collar of his shirt. This conversation was moving far too quickly into "don't ask, don't tell" territory as far as he was concerned. He started shuffling side-ways toward the door, hoping to escape before his delicate ears could be accosted further and he almost made it too. Almost.

Irene laughed. "Don't be ridiculous," she said sounding, as if, the whole idea was completely preposterous. At Sarah's confused expression, Irene leaned closer and whispered, "It's as plain as the nose on your face that there's absolutely nothing but friendship between the two of you."

"How can you know that?" Sarah just couldn't fathom why Irene sounded so confident, so set on the subject.

Patting her hand once more, Irene grinned before saying, "Chemistry or lack thereof in your case."

"You're kidding, right?" Sarah asked.

Now Irene was the one who looked confused. "Sarah, are you sleeping with Gideon?"

Sarah blushed and stuttered, "No, but chemistry has nothing to do with it. I… I just don't feel that way for Gideon; he is my best friend after all."

Irene sat back with an exasperated sigh. "That has nothing to do with it! Your father's my best friend; he always has been, and I have sex with him all the time and..."

Sarah, desperately trying to not form a visual, lifted her hands and fluttered them in front of her face while squealing, "Please, stop, stop! I get it! I get it!"

Irene, secretly amused by Sarah's embarrassment, had known from the beginning that nothing sexual would ever happen between the two young people. Dear Gideon was doomed to disappointment on that score. Irene felt badly for Gideon, honestly she did. His romantic feelings for Sarah were totally and utterly unrequited. Even when she hadn't liked him all that much and had blamed him for keeping Sarah stranded here, she'd still felt sorry for him. That boy was headed for heartbreak.

Robert cleared his throat, looking thoroughly mortified, and fervently hoped that the chemistry lesson was over for the day. Thankfully, rescue came in the form of Gideon who strode into the room. His face broke out into a gigantic grin when he saw Sarah sitting up with some color finally in those cheeks of hers. If, he'd had any notion of what had put the rosy hue there, he might not have been grinning.

"How's my girl," he asked while kissing her forehead, and producing from behind his back, a beautiful bouquet of spring flowers. Sarah buried her nose into their fragrant depths thinking how wonderfully sweet he was. "I brought you some clothes to change into," he said while seating himself on the bed.

He handed Sarah a small plastic bag. In it was a pair of drawstring sweatpants and the T-shirt that he had gotten for her last Christmas that had the slogan, I LIKE MY MEN HOW I LIKE MY COFFEE… HOT & SWEET splashed across the front. There was also a white cotton camisole to wear underneath which she figured was in lieu of one of her bras. She raised confused eyes, wondering what in the world she was supposed to wear on her feet. What she saw made her laugh out loud. Dangling from Gideons' fingers were her white crocs.

"You're lucky I love you," he teased. "I wouldn't handle these monstrosities for just anyone you know."

With a huff, she grabbed them, stating in an offended voice, "There's no need to be nasty about it they're very com…"

"Yeah, yeah," he cut in with a wave of his hand, "Comfortable. I've heard it all before. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I wish, just once, you'd put your feet in my hands."

Rolling her eyes, Sarah flung the covers back and swung her feet over the edge of the hospital bed nearly kicking Gideon in the process. He scrambled away and then offered to help her to the bathroom. "I'm not an invalid," she proclaimed shortly.

"I'll help you change," Irene interrupted, saving Gideon from the wrath of Sarah. She could be quite bad tempered when feeling miserable. Supporting her under one elbow, Irene took small steps; surmising that they'd be easier for Sarah to manage in her present state. It took a few minutes, but they did make it to the bathroom door without mishap.

Once inside, Irene had Sarah out of the hospital gown and into her own clothes in record time. It felt wonderful to feel the coolness of familiar cotton clothing against her skin. The clean breeze scent of the fabric softener they used also went a long way toward lifting her mood. Sarah pulled her dark hair into its' habitual pony-tale and then slipped on her crocs. Now she felt ready to face the world. Sarah didn't need as much help walking back into the room, and when they re-entered it, the doctor was there explaining a few things to her father. He turned to include her in the conversation.

"This is a prescription for Ativan. It helps relieve anxiety and will help Sarah sleep if she's having trouble with that but more importantly it will prevent further seizures. We'll start out with the dosage we've been giving Sarah, and we'll have her come back in three months for blood work and to check on her progress. If we have to, we'll and tweak the dosage then if necessary. We'll also be performing another EEG. It's a good sign that your previous EEG came back normal, but sometimes seizure activity doesn't show up immediately. Seizure disorders aren't something to be taken lightly, and I'd like to try to rule out epilepsy, so to be certain we'll have to do at least two more EEG's within the next six months, okay?"

"But I've never had anything like this before. I don't understand why all of a sudden it just happened."

"Mr. Pierce here," the doctor motioned to Gideon with his pen, "said that you were burning up when he found you. The paramedics' notes concur. They stated that you had a fever that was in average of 104 degrees, and while you were here with us it elevated to 105 degrees. That's more than high enough to induce a febrile seizure." Placing the cap back on his pen, he slid it into his lab coat pocket before adding, "It's more than probable that's what caused the seizure and that it isn't epilepsy or some other neurological disorder at all. As I said earlier, we need to be sure, okay?"

Sarah nodded her head. "All right," she said quietly. "Do I have paperwork to sign, fill out or whatever?"

"The nurse will be here in a few minutes with the wheelchair. She can take you to where you'll be discharged, and you can take care of everything there. Any more questions?"

"Fine," he said when no one offered up any more queries. "Take care and please remember to make an appointment for that follow-up."

Her father held her jacket up, and Sarah thrust her arms in the sleeves. Irene scrunched the plastic bag in her hand tossing it toward the small wastepaper can in the corner. It struck its target with an accuracy that would have done a pro basketball player proud. Gideon cupped his hands over his mouth imitating a roaring crowd, which encouraged Irene to throw her arms in the air and jump up and down. She blushed scarlet when the nurse rolled the wheelchair in while she was in the midst of her victory dance.

"Ready?" She didn't bat an eye at Irene's antics.

"You have no idea how ready," Sarah assured her.

The nurse smiled, and Sarah took a moment to look at her nametag: Ellen Walldeburgh R.N. She looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties. She was friendly but not overly so, a professional through-and-through.

Being discharged was not the long drawn out painful production that Sarah was expecting it to be. She was certain she had Ellen to thank for one less head-ache. After Ellen had rolled her to the discharge line – which had several annoyed looking people ahead of her – Sarah saw her tap a woman on the shoulder. When the woman turned, Sarah noted that she was tall with a thin, angular face, and astonishingly enough, square-framed glasses hung from firmly pursed lips.

After a brief whispered conversation with the tall woman, Ellen gave them a quick wave of her hand before turning left into the opposite corridor and disappeared from sight. Seconds later, the woman caught Sarah's eye and with a discreet tilt of her head motioned for Sarah move to the other side of the reception desk.

Sarah nudged her father in the hip with her elbow; he looked down at her with a frown. He didn't appear to be all that happy about having to wait either. She motioned him to her level and explained the situation. Her dad, in turn, sent Gideon and her stepmother to get the car telling them they'd be out momentarily. Bemused, but willing, they went. After all, was it really necessary for them all to stand around waiting while Sarah got discharged?

Irene watched Sarah as she inspected the room that had been hers in childhood. She'd been surprised when Sarah had come to her with the sudden urge to completely change her room. In a way, it had been a relief. At fifteen, Irene was of the opinion that Sarah was far too immersed in her imaginary world. Still, she had never dreamed that those changes would include getting rid of all Sarah's furniture, stuffed animals, toys, books and even her bedding; anything deemed childish by the teen-ager, were ditched. Unbeknownst to Sarah, Irene secretly rescued a few once cherished items from the garbage bin. Who knew, maybe someday Sarah would come to regret her rash decision and Irene would be able to present her with what she had salvaged.

The turnaround had confused her father as well, but Irene had told him that Sarah had finally reached the age where the whimsical fantasies of childhood were no longer exciting. Boys, clothes, and friends were now going to take center stage. The whole boys comment had made Robert frown, but he was quickly mollified when he witnessed how much the change had improved his wife and Sarah's relationship. They'd gone shopping for hours on end, returning exhausted but smiling. They had even helped Sarah paint the walls and ceilings. It had been a messy experience but also a bonding one. The redecorating of Sarah's room had in effect made them a family.

Sarah couldn't sleep. With her fist, she pounded her pillow into what she hoped would be a more comfortable spot. Turning on her side, she placed her head into the depression. She groaned. Nope, that wasn't going to do it. She was still uncomfortable. After a few more frustrating minutes of tossing and turning, she decided to get up. Anything was better than just lying there.

She had taken her evening meds so how come she couldn't sleep? Hadn't the doc said it would help her sleep? Yet here she was awake as could be. For a moment, she considered taking a second dose of Ativan, but dismissed that idea quickly as stupid and dangerous. Warm milk might be the ticket, but she decided against that too. She doubted her father had any brandy hanging around, and warm milk was totally gross without it.

She drifted across the room to where a bentwood rocker sat by itself in a corner. To Sarah, it looked lost and forlorn. She decided what it needed was to be used, to have someone sit in it once more. Just thinking about rocking back-and-forth in its' comforting hollow was making her sleepy. Sarah ran her hands up and down the smooth arms of the chair, loving the feel of the wood beneath her palms. Then, she began a slow steady rock.

Sarah was dreaming, and it was lovely. In her dream, the room became bathed in a soft silvery sheen of light. Its source was an unknown element, but it didn't matter from where it was originating. Nothing mattered, not a thing, except for this beautiful, otherworldly light. A moment later, a soft spring breeze stirred the delicate, sheer curtains causing shadows of all shapes and sizes to dance across the walls and ceiling. Sarah sat mesmerized. Almost immediately, those shadows began to take shape. Sarah's face screwed up into a mask of confusion. Although bewitching, something seemed not quite right. She tried moving her head in an attempt to loosen the cobwebs from her vision. She needed to see, to put all the pieces together. Yet, the harder she concentrated on it, the more difficult and confusing it all became.

"Relax," whispered a voice. "Relax and let it happen."

Sarah did as the voice requested, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Not long after, swirls of color began forming into various shapes and sizes. Then, those shapes of colors started an undulating dance; twirling, faster, and faster. Sarah's breathing became erratic, and she knew, just knew that something momentous was going to happen; a life-changing event she was helpless to avoid. The odd thing was she wasn't afraid; she welcomed it.

"Excellent, Sarah. Very good, indeed." Sarah smiled at the approval she heard coming from the voice. "He will bring you the book. When he does, take it willingly. You must be willing. You must want to come home."

"I am home," Sarah mumbled. Sarah could feel the angry disappointment in the air. Her outburst had seriously displeased her mystery visitor.

"It's a lie, Sarah," the voice hissed angrily. "All you know or have known in that world is a lie."

"No," Sarah demurred stubbornly. "This is my home."

"You silly, child," the voice rebuked her affectionately. "Home is where we are. Come back to us. Come back!"

"I can't," she whispered, agony clawing at her heart.

Ignoring her denial, the voice seductively promised, "He will give you everything, Sarah! Everything you have ever wanted! All of your dreams! Love him Sarah and he will be your slave."

"My slave," she questioned, awed by the thought of such a thing.

Sounding ecstatic at her reaction, the voice proclaimed, "Yes, little one; your slave and so much more! He offered it before, and he will willingly offer it again. Take the book Sarah, the book… the book… the book…"

Sarah woke with a start, gasping out the words that still echoed in her mind. "The book…"