Embrace You: Book (Loneliness) (11 page)

I get up to go to the bathroom and slip into my nightgown. Once I'm back in bed, I cuddle against my husband's warm, trim body and start dozing off.

I dream that I'm in the magistrate's court room and I'm waiting to learn the jury's verdict.

"Because of the continued harassment from the tabloids, once the jury gives their sentences for both young women, I will pronounce sentence, if they are found guilty. Before I ask for the verdicts, I just have got to reprimand the tabloids, for their continued behaviors in following the Hadley family. I read the 'news' account covering Mrs. Hadley's supposed crying and depression, and I must say, this is a new low. While the tabloids' reporters have respected the letter of my orders, they have continued to make light of the experiences of the Hadleys in an attempt to gain more sales.

I will be continuing to read these rags and, if I see anything that mentions Mr. Hadley, Mrs. Hadley or their child, and if that mention is patently untrue, I will level a heavy fine against the tabloids and every. Single. Reporter. Who. Participates. In. Those. Lies. Representatives are here, I know that - each and every one of you should be ashamed of yourselves and you should act accordingly.

"With that said, what is the verdict for Miss Wells?"

"Guilty, sir. We find Miss Wells guilty of the charges against her."

"Thank you for your service. Miss Wells, please stand. You have been found guilty of all the charges against you. Notwithstanding your mental health diagnoses, I am sentencing you to life behind bars, with no opportunity for parole."

"No! I intended no harm to Marcus Hadley! I only wanted..."

"SILENCE! Take her back to her cell. She will be sent to prison in north England, where she will serve her sentence for the rest of her life."

Once Cara and her attorney leave, guards bring Melanie Stabb in. The jury in her case files in and takes their seats.

I look at her. She's still emaciated, but dark roots are growing out of her brightly colored hair. She's visibly nervous and twitches as she sits at the defense table.

"What is your verdict for Miss Stabb, please?"

"Sir, we find Miss Stabb guilty of every charge against her."

"Thank you for your service.Miss Stabb, please stand. I sentence you to serve a life sentence with no poss..."

"NO! Not for helping my friend!" Melanie stands and begins screaming as she tries to stride out from behind the defense table.

Guards jump and race to restrain Melanie, pulling her back to the defense table so she can hear the rest of that the magistrate has to say.

"As I was saying, you will serve a life sentence behind bars, with no possibility of parole. You attempted to capitalize on your childhood and diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, and that is shameful. You attempted to rip a baby from her parents' arms. I don't buy that you were trying to help your friend. You simply wanted to be involved in causing pain to others, for whatever reason. Society must be protected from you - for the rest of your life. Take her back to jail. She will be transported to a prison in Scotland. She will have no opportunity for contact or communication with Miss Wells."

My eyes open suddenly. Our tour is still more than one month away, just after Christmas. I think about the juries and the magistrate, pondering their decisions. I hope it won't take that long for the jury and magistrate to give verdicts and sentences! They have got to be found guilty!

"Can't sleep, luv?" Marcus voice drifts from the other side of our bed.

"No. Just had a freaky dream about the trials."

"You, too? What was yours about?"

"The jury's verdicts and the magistrate's sentences. Both Cara and Melanie were found guilty in my dream. Both lost it when they learnt what their sentences would be. Life for both, no parole. Did you dream the same thing?"

"Hah! I wish! Your dream is the one I wanted to have. No, in mine, they both got off scot-free, then came after us."

"Oh, Lord, Marcus, no! I'm telling you, if they get off, I want to leave England. Go live somewhere else in Europe or in America somewhere."

"I'm thinking the same, actually...but, you know, with technology and that damned 24-hour news cycle, it would make not one jot of a difference. All they would have to do is plug into the Internet and they could find us..." Marcus snaps his fingers. "Just like that."

Oh, Marcus, that is so depressing!" I turn and wedge into his side, seeking comfort and warmth. All of a sudden, I am freezing cold inside. The fear overwhelms me and I begin to cry.

Marcus wraps his arms around me and rocks me like a small child.

"There, there, luv, we'll figure something out. Let's just pray they're both found guilty. It's clear they both have mental issues. At the least, they'll be remanded to some kind of mental institution."

"Yeah! Mental issues out the wazoo! I wonder...does England have any legal provisions for life-long commitments to mental hospitals?"

"Don't know, but I'm sure we can find out. I'll Google that before practice tomorrow. If I can't find anything, I'll ask the prosecuting barrister. Come on. Tomorrow's a busy day for both of us and we need our sleep," Marcus says.

I roll over and we sleep spoon-style. Feeling Marcus' warmth surrounding me, I feel much safer, and a random thought flits through my sleepy brain. Maybe things will turn out as they should. It's clear they're nuttier than a field of pecan trees.

We wake the next morning and, when we get Lizzie up, it's immediately clear we aren't leaving the house. She's flushed, coughing, feverish and cranky.

"Oy, Marcus! Call the doctor, please. I think Lizzie is ill!"

"D'you want an appointment for this morning? How about practice?"

"Soonest appointment you can secure and call Tim. Please let him know Lizzie's sick and, save for the doctor, she shouldn't be out and about."

At the doctor's office, we are seen after close to an hour's wait. We're fortunate - others come in later and will end up waiting far longer. Still, the wait proves too long for Lizzie. She vomits, getting the sick all over herself and us. We sigh, pulling her clothing off and wrapping a blanket around her. We have no changes of clothing for us. Right after this happens, the nurse calls us back to an examination room, where she takes Lizzie's vital signs.

"Oh, you poor little luv! Not feeling well are you? Mum, dad, take these cloths and wipe the worst of the sick off you. Doctor will be in presently."

We wait another twenty minutes and Lizzie spews again. This time we're prepared and we move out of the way as I keep my hands on her feverish body and head. Shortly after, doctor comes in and examines our little girl.

"Fever, cough, congestion and vomiting. Has Lizzie had a flu shot this year?"

"Yes, we all had them," I say.

"Well, she managed to get sick, regardless. I'm prescribing an antiviral that's safe for small children. Start giving this to her immediately and she should turn the corner within forty-eight hours or thereabouts. Johanna, you need to protect yourself the most, as a singer. You should both start taking a prophylactic dosage of this medication as well. It'll prevent your voice from being too badly impacted if you get sick. Marcus, take your girls home and go pick up three prescriptions. Mum, get your little girl into bed and start giving her clear fluids. Acetaminophen only for her fever and aches, every four hours. No solids as yet. Once she hasn't vomited for at least twenty-four hours, start her on non-dairy foods, such as chicken broths with soft vegetables. Crackers. Flat soda. Weak tea. Nothing heavy, greasy or spicy. And watch out for your own health, will you?"

"Thank you, doctor. We'll do all this."

"How will you practice?"

"At home. Vocal exercises, lots of water and I'll sing my songs in a different room when the baby's resting."

"Good job."

At home, I clean Lizzie up and give her a few sips of cool water, all she could tolerate, apparently. After changing to clean clothing, Marcus leaves for the apothecary and I toss our dirty clothing into the washer and start checking our stock of invalid foods. Lizzie will need sustenance so she can fight this virus. After Marcus returns, we take our doses of medication and, gently waking our daughter, give her first dose as well.

"I hate waking her, but she has to start taking this medication," I tell Marcus after she takes the liquid. Looking back at my baby in her crib, I watch her for a few seconds before closing her door.

"Just think - the combination of sleep and that antiviral will have her set to rights in no time. She'll be running around and creating her own special brand of havoc. In the meantime, we need to start increasing our own liquid and veggie intake. How about my special chicken soup for dinner?" Marcus suggests.

My stomach growls at the thought. "Ooooh, yes, please! Let me check the veggies and see what we have. I would really like some with vitamin C in our soup. Also, we need to separate out a small portion for Lizzie and spice it lightly so she can eat some tonight."

We hurry to the large kitchen and I go through the pantry and fridge, identifying the veggies for our dinner. Marcus pulls out several chicken breasts.

"With skin, I think. I'll peel it off, but I think the fat from the skin will do us all good."

I look into the distance, considering. "I think you're right. We can skim the fat off for Lizzie, but she'll get the benefits." Looking outside, I see snow beginning to fall from the gray clouds. "Marcus, look. Snow."

"Picked a good time to start falling. We aren't going anywhere. We have the medication, we have food, Lizzie has nappies, so we're all set."

While the chicken boils on the stove, I practice in a room as far from Lizzie's room as I can get. After checking on her and going to the kitchen to make a quick lunch, Tim calls me.

"Hey, how's Lizzie?"

"Knocked out. She has flu and she's started antiviral medication. The doctor gave Marcus and me the same prescription and we're taking it as a precautionary. What's up?"

"The rest of us are sick, probably also the flu. Laslow's coughing up a damn lung and Linny has a high temp. I just feel like shit. You two stay healthy. Did you just say something about antiviral medication? Don't you have to start taking that right away?" Tim asks me.

"Yeah, oh no! We're going to miss at least a week of practice! Yes, you have to start taking the medication within something like 48 hours of the first symptoms to get any real benefit from it. Call your doc and have him call the apothecary for a prescription," I suggest. "Marcus is making homemade chicken soup right now. Lizzie will drink some broth tonight, and I think it'll help all of us."

"Chicken soup. The thought of water puts me off. Okay, thanks. I'll call for the medication and get started on it. Would you do my a huge favor? Call Laslow and Linny and tell them to start taking it as well? I think I'm gonna be..." Clunk. The phone rattles to the table.

Marcus sees the look on my face.

"What? What is it?"

"The boys are all sick, probably flu. Tim just asked me to call Laslow and Linny and tell them to start the antiviral stuff, then he dropped the phone so he could go be sick. Yech!"

"I'll call Laslow. He's a right bear when he's sick. You don't want his growling in your ear."

"I'll call Linny. Sandwiches for lunch?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

After we make our calls, we make sandwiches and drink lots of hot tea. My thinking is that, the more fluids, the better.

Marcus and I continue our work after lunch. Lizzie wakes shortly after we wash our dishes and I give her some warm tea. She holds this down, so I give her more, but her appetite is way off. After changing her nappy, I put her back into her crib and she quickly nods off. The house begins smelling fragrant with chicken soup, making me hungrier and hungrier the closer dinner comes.

Marcus brings Lizzie to the dining room and he gives her small sips of chicken broth. Before he spiced it, he finished cooking the chicken, rice and veggies, then ladled out some of the broth into a small, plastic container for Lizzie.

Lizzie is still clearly under the weather, but she accepts the tasty broth - as much as she has an appetite for. She sips cool water from her sippy cup and begins dozing off in Marcus' arms.

I take her, change her nappy and put her back in her crib, so she can sleep comfortably. After cleaning up from dinner, I look outside at the snow, now accumulated to about five inches. We spend a quiet evening with each other, then my mum calls us.

"How are you? What's wrong with the baby?"

"We're fine, mum. Lizzie has the flu, and we're all on antiviral medication. Marcus made his chicken soup so we're battling this on all fronts. How about you?"

"Your dad is sick. This is a bad grippe, Jo. Don't mess around with it. Take the antivirals exactly as you're supposed to, and hopefully, it'll be lighter if you get it. How many doses has Lizzie had?"

"One, and she's supposed to get another in about an hour. I'll wake her, give her the medication and let her go back to sleep. How sick is dad?"

"He's bedridden, coughing, feverish and achy. He was vomiting, but that seems to have stopped. I'm giving him light foods. That chicken soup sounds excellent. What did you put in it?"

"Tomatoes, celery, potatoes, onion and baby spinach leaves. Fished the spinach out before serving. It was so good, mum!"

"Think I'll make that for us for tomorrow. I just wanted to check on you lot. Stay healthy and bring my grandbaby back to health!"

"We will. You stay healthy, mum!"

"Love you, darling. Bye!"