His Perfect Wife Strikes Back

196 Vickie is Dead

In the room, Vickie is lying on her bed, a private nurse holding a clear plastic tube attached to a ventilator up her nose. Since a trip to Italy, Vickie has grown weaker. Mark told me that she was taken home in an ambulance from a private hospital after she landed.

"Why don't you take her to the hospital?" I asked in a low voice.

"She's determined to go home," Mark said. "No one can change her mind, and you know it."

"The patient needs to rest. Please leave the room," the middle-aged brown-haired nurse said politely.

Mark and I left the room just as Frade and Vickie's doctor came out of the other room. That was the room where they had been discussing Vickie's condition, and Frade's sullen face didn't look good.

It's terrible.

"Mark, please help me get Dr. Hans out of here." Frade's voice was hoarse and tired, and the stubble on his face seemed to have grown overnight, making him look even gloomier.

"Are you all right, darling?" I stroked his cheek and looked at the man in front of me with pained eyes.

"How's Vickie?"

"The nurse is in her room, she was asleep when I left," I said. "You need to rest, too."

"How's the baby?" He asked.

"Emma's fine. Liv and the babysitter are with her."

"Emma, did you give her that name?"

I paused, and I explained, "Yes. I saw a fairy in my dream last night. She told me her name was Emma. So I decided to name the baby Emma. Please forgive me. Maybe I should have discussed it with you first."

"It's okay. Emma's fine." Frade gave me a gentle hug. "I'm tired. I want to take a shower first."

"It's time for Emma to breastfeed. I need to see her."

She was used to being held in my arms while she drank milk, and every time I looked down at her lovely pink face, I felt happy.

By the time I got back to my room, Frade was sitting on the couch, smoking and drinking. There was less than a third of the whiskey in the bottle.

"It's still morning," I reminded him softly.

"I know." Frade put out the cigarette in his hand, then reached out and pulled me into his arms. "There are so many things weighing on me that I can't breathe."

"You should get some sleep." I kissed him on the forehead.

"I can't sleep," Frade said dejectedly, "The representative of the family I have been in contact with in Italy has had an accident and the new leader is not willing to offend the government. Even if Vickie went to them in person, it wouldn't help. They didn't want to shelter us anymore. Cowardly bastards!"

"We'll figure it out," I said, afraid to tell him about Daley's reluctance to hand over the tape.

"Mickle won't do anything to us for a while."

"But I want to leave this place with you and the baby and live a peaceful life." Frade stares. "I would give anything for that."

"I know." I put my head on his forehead and smelled a strong breath of alcohol from his mouth and nose. I'd like to get drunk right now, but I have to stay sober. Emma wouldn't like her mother drinking.

Frade lay drowsy in my arms. He was so tired that he fell asleep on the sofa. I put a blanket over him and left the room quietly so as not to disturb his sleep.

As I passed Vickie's room, I could see that the door was ajar, and there was a slight noise of discord coming from inside. I pushed the door open and went inside.

The nurse was standing over Vickie's bed, trying to explain something to her. She lay on the bed, holding out a hand between her and the nurse. She muttered impatiently.

"What happened?" I asked.

"She refused to take the medicine." The nurse's round face was full of helplessness.

"Tell her to go," Vickie said in a low voice. "I hate those white pills. They don't make my pain go away. They make my stomach hurt."

"But you must take your medicine on time," the nurse explained patiently.

"Screw the pills. Why don't you get me a bottle of whiskey," Vickie said, pushing her hand against the nurse, but her hand only brushed weakly across her dress.

"Leave it to me." I took the pill from the nurse. "You can take a half-hour break."

"I'll be right outside the door if you need anything," the nurse said, happy to hand over the task of feeding Vickie. "My name is Lena."

The nurse left, and I put pills on the nightstand. Vickie glanced at the white pills and looked at me with her pale eyes. "Oh, Eva."

"Are you okay?" I said, holding her hand.

"I'm dying," Vickie said, trying to see me. "I can barely see your face right now."

"Don't be upset," I said. "As long as you take your medicine."

"I'm telling the truth," she said weakly. "I know."

"You're stronger than anyone I've ever met," I said. "You'll be fine."

"When I returned to my hometown that night, I dreamed of my mother. In the dream, I became that 16-year-old girl again." Vickie's sunken face suddenly brimmed with a gauzy sense of happiness, "My mother told me she wanted me to stay in my hometown and never leave her. But I refused. I told her I had to leave. I had unfinished business. But I promised her I would come back to her soon."

I quietly listened to her words, her eyes looking up as if the white ceiling in her eyes was the vast blue sky. She paused for a moment, "My friends who have been helped by me have betrayed their vows in order not to offend the government. They rejected me. But if I die, I believe that no Sicilian would refuse to let me return to my homeland."

"You will not die." Silent tears have been flowing from the corner of my eyes.

"I'm dying." Vickie let go of my hand. "Tell my grandson to bury me under the Lemon Tree in my hometown. I love the smell of lemon blossoms."

"I will."

"I met my love when I was 16. My life began to tangle with him. I followed him out of my hometown, I fed our children, I helped him run his business until he was a billionaire." Vickie sighed, "But that's not what I want."

"What do you want, Vickie?"

The corners of Vickie's mouth twitched slightly, and a trace of sadness appeared in her pale eyes. "I want to, I want to be," she said, "The 16-year-old girl singing under the Lemon Tree."

"Go to sleep, Vickie," I whispered. "In your dream, you're still the same 16-year-old girl."

She smiled and then slowly closed her eyes. After a long time, the instrument connected to her body turned red, and then the instrument issued a sharp alarm sound.

The female nurse rushed in, frantically checking Vickie's vitals. I stepped aside as Frade ran through the door.

"What happened?" Frade's hair was unkempt, and his eyes were fixed uneasily on Vickie, who was lying on the bed.

"She's dead," the nurse said, frowning.

I sighed and emptied the pills on the nightstand into the trash can.