The Isle Of Sin And Shadows - Keri Lake Page 0,33

our occasional trysts than we agreed upon. Better to sever that now. Unrequited love tends to be a wound that festers into a raging sepsis, if not treated right away.

“I’ve been busy. As I told you, our arrangement serves one purpose. Nothing else.”

“I know. I just …. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” Exhaling a hushed moan, she runs her palm down the lapel of my suit and smiles. “I’m due for a break soon.” She pushes up onto her tiptoes, lips to my ear. “My thighs are trembling just thinking about you between them.”

And I would’ve undoubtedly obliged her, but I won’t chance it. Not now. Not with the attachment she seems to have developed.

“I’m afraid this is going to be a short visit this time. I’m here to visit my sister.”

As if slapped by an invisible hand, she flinches, eyes brimming with hurt and humiliation, and she backs herself away from me. “Oh. Um. Sure. Of course.” Rubbing the back of her neck, she clears her throat. “I should …. I have more patients.”

“Sure.”

She shuffles off, perhaps not wanting me to see the tears that were already gathered in her eyes, and I make my way back toward Frannie’s room.

Once there, I take a seat across from my sister, who doesn’t even acknowledge me. I’m not even sure she knows I’m here, which would make these visits essentially pointless, if not for the possibility that, one of these days, she’ll look up and recognize me.

“They did a nice job on your hair, Frannie. C’est jolie.” It’s pretty. I speak to her in both English and Valir, in case a word or phrase triggers something with her. “The nurse said you had a nightmare yesterday. Wanna tell me about it?” I know she won’t answer, though. She never has. Still, there might come a day when she will, and so, I’ll keep asking.

“You don’t have to talk.”

For the next half-hour, I sit beside her, staring out the window. In some ways, it reminds me of when she was little, no more than a toddler, and we’d sit on the dock together, watching the birds fly over the water. She loved butterflies the most, always chasing them in the yard. I don’t honestly believe she’ll ever return to that vibrant state again, where she giggles and points and remembers the names of every creature in French as well as she does in English.

I don’t think she’ll ever be the same again.

Still, I somewhat enjoy the visits with Frannie. The quiet. They give some balance to all the blood and lies that have become as much a part of my life as food and water.

It’s nearly two o’clock by the time I push up from the chair and I have to head back to the bar. Too much time away, and people start to get suspicious. Start asking questions I’m not willing to answer. A quick kiss to Frannie’s forehead, and I exit the room.

“Well, well. Look what the wind blew in!”

At the sound of the familiar voice, I turn to see the matriarchal donor of the hospital, Judith Bijou, standing at the nursing station.

When I first brought Frannie here, about five years ago, Judith and her husband had just dropped about a half-mil to renovate a few of the wings and surgical rooms, making it a premier mental health facility. When her husband kicked the bucket a couple years back, the oil tycoon left her with a nice little pot of cash that she’s been pumping into this place ever since. Perhaps as an ode to the days she worked as a nurse, before becoming one of the richest women in the state of Louisiana.

Though she likes to flaunt her riches in the form of jewelry and gaudy clothes, like the loud, flower printed, flowy top she’s wearing, as well as a chunky rose gold ring, about a dozen bracelets, and the ugliest fleur-de-lis brooch I’ve ever seen, she’s fairly down to earth. I suspect it’s loneliness that brings her to the hospital so often, seeing as she’d never need to work a job for the rest of her life.

Resting my elbow against the counter, I shake my head. “Mais, you’re here every time I visit. You ever take a day off?”

“Not hardly.”

“How’ve you been, Jude?”

“Pretty good, now that I’ve gotten my dose of handsome for the day.”

The woman’s a harmless flirt. Even a little over twenty years older than me, she’s a fairly attractive woman, with white

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024