| Subject: WTTS2 - 79b |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 21:55:39 01/11/02 Fri
In reply to:
KT
's message, "Window to the Soul 2 - More (splitting the thread *as requested by Sanlin*)" on 21:52:29 01/11/02 Fri
Window to the Soul 2 - Part 79b
By KT
Copyright October 16, 2000
The first thing Nikita did when they got back from church was check the answering machine.
Nothing.
Her heart sank. Michael should have gotten her message by now. She swallowed her disappointment. Though she had felt at peace during the service, Nikita was a little off balance as she pondered people's mixed reactions to her arrival at the church. Their discomfort levels ranged from avoiding eye contact, to being overly sympathetic, to ignoring the wheelchair altogether, talking to her as if nothing was different. Now she knew how it felt to be the unwitting victim of good intentions.
She made her way to the piano to practice. As she wheeled into the living room, footsteps sounded and a familiar voice called from the front entry.
"Anybody home?"
"Jamie!" Nikita turned around, helpless as his presence put a smile on her face. She felt her doldrums slipping away in the face of his natural exuberance.
Jamie's voice was gentle. "Hello, Nikita."
He was setting down a metal box and strapping on a tool belt. He caught her eye and gave her a wink as he stretched up to his full height. She watched as he turned back to retrieve something from his car. To her delight, he returned with several sheets of heavy plywood. Another trip produced some two-by-fours. Sabine called out from the kitchen.
"Hello Jamie. Let me know if you need any help."
"A cup of tea would do for starters," he called back.
Sabine peered across the dining room and gave Nikita a reassuring glance, a tiny smile playing about her lips. Nikita smiled back. She nodded her thanks to Sabine, then moved back to the piano and chose some music.
As the forceful notes of Brahms' Rhapsody No. 1 crashed out, Jamie stopped what he was doing and sat on the porch steps. There was plenty of time to complete his project. Right now, the music seemed just what he needed - a little mental relaxation. He leaned back against the railing, letting the sun blanket him with its warmth.
The rhapsody melted into the flowing slower second section, luring Sabine to emerge from the kitchen and sit at the dining room table. She closed her eyes and an aspect of repose overtook her. As Nikita articulated the delicate scale passages, their beauty soothed her, and she marveled once again at Nikita's gift.
Roberta settled in her rocking chair. She would never get tired of hearing her daughter play. She lay her afghan over her lap and closed her eyes. She had felt a presence in church that morning, stronger than she had ever felt it. She had dreaded death when she first learned of her illness, but that dread was slowly being replaced with an inner calm of acceptance. With friends such as these, even if Michael didn't keep his promise, which she did not believe for a minute, Nikita could not help but be all right. It was a turning point that made her journey toward the passage a little easier.
The piece ended and the spell was broken. Nikita sat motionless at the last of the notes died away. The music filled her with thoughts of Michael. She cast an unguarded look at Jamie, her heart in her eyes. Jamie could see her sadness and his tender instincts were roused. He recalled Michael's abrupt exit of the other night, and knew that whatever it was they had fought about was as yet unresolved.
"Thank you, Nikita. That was lovely."
Her voice was quietly emotional. "You're welcome, Jamie. It seems like the least I could do, considering what you're doing for me. Thank you." She moved to retreat to her room.
"Please, don't stop. It'll make the work so much more pleasant."
She reconsidered, then nodded in compliance. "All right. What would you like to hear?"
"As if I should be able to choose!" he returned with a slight grin. "Anything you care to share will be just fine."
"Okay," she returned as she shuffled through a stack of music books. She purposely avoided his intent gaze, knowing that if she allowed herself to reveal any more of her true disposition, she would lose control altogether. And the last thing she wanted to do at the moment was confess to Jamie. She trusted him, but she didn't trust herself.
Jamie went outside and began his task, and the ramp over the stairs for her access to the house began to take shape. He longed to talk to Nikita, to comfort her about whatever it was that was causing this melancholy. But he had to accept that she was being inaccessible at the moment. He had no choice but to respect her privacy. Sabine returned to the kitchen to prepare lunch, and Roberta drifted off into a nap.
Nikita pulled out the Preludes of Claude Debussy. If she couldn't have Michael near her, she could at least play his favorite music. Her fingers poured devotion into every note.
* * * * * * * *
Michael stopped at Walter's apartment after his workout, seeking refuge and a bit of advice. He was surprised to find Birkoff there. Michael was glad to see their friendship developing. He gathered that Birkoff didn't have any family nearby, and that Walter filled that space for him. After all, Walter had done the same for him when he had no one. Michael paused as he remembered Walter's numerous kindnesses. Then, after a moment, he remembered why he came, and his thoughts turned to Nikita and their unfinished business.
Walter observed Michael's blank stare drop firmly into place. He had been nothing but worried since yesterday's encounter at the Café. Their eyes met in silent confirmation.
"Michael, good to see you. I was afraid you'd abandoned me in favor of a gorgeous leggy blonde." Walter grinned, needing to vent some of his apprehension, and his remark produced a smirk from Birkoff.
"You wouldn't be referring to our gorgeous leggy blonde, would you?" Birkoff quipped, trying to draw Michael out. As Nikita's long-time friend, he knew her all too well. She could certainly bring out the best or the worst in a person.
Michael was quiet, unwilling to discuss the current status of his and Nikita's relationship. His mask remained unruffled as Birkoff's remark sent a little twist of pain through his gut. Was she still his? Had Fate conspired against him yet again? To be alive and not with Nikita was...
Walter interrupted. "Yes, well... How about some wine to take the edge off, hmmm? We were just about to crack open a bottle of a good French Côte du Rhone. Michael?"
Michael nodded absently and the three of them sat around Walter's small round dining table. He remained withdrawn, preferring to listen to Walter and Birkoff. As they chatted, Michael came to learn that Birkoff's parents had separated amicably when he was a young child, and that each parent had been awarded custody of a child, with provisions for exchange time and time together, a most ususual arrangement, but one that the parents agreed upon.
"A twin! Birkoff, what happened?" Walter was astonished to hear of the fate of Birkoff's brother.
"They gave me to my mother, and Jason to my father. Then suddenly Dad moved away and took Jason with him. He never wrote, never got in touch with us." Birkoff pursed his lips as he recalled the pain his mother had endured, not knowing where her other son was.
"Didn't your mother try to find them?" Michael asked quietly.
"Yes, she spent a small fortune on private investigators. But they were never located. She never gave up hope, though. I think about renewing the search every now and then."
"What happened to your mother?"
"Well, she sort of withdrew from the world, little by little. I took care of her more than she took care of me. Eventually, she went to live with her sister. Neither of us could bear the thought of putting her in a home, or a hospital or sanitarium."
Walter's sympathies were aroused. "What about you? You must have missed them badly."
Birkoff paused. After a moment he looked up at Walter and spoke haltingly. "Have you ever watched someone die of a broken heart? My own feelings... I... had to put them aside. My mother missed them enough for the both of us." Birkoff breathed a sigh, then a lopsided smile overtook his face. "Nikita is the only one I've ever told about my family history."
Michael was silent. It was Walter who spoke.
"We'll keep your secrets, don't worry." He raised his glass. "To love."
They clinked their glasses, echoing the toast, and proceeded to empty the wine bottle. Another appeared to take its place, and it followed in the wake of the first. As the conversation wound down, Birkoff excused himself.
"Gotta go, gents. Walter, thanks for the hospitality. It appears I needed some serious down time. Now there's work to be done. Adios, amigos."
Walter was concerned. "Any time. But... You're not gonna drive, are you?"
Birkoff frowned in mock disbelief. "Me? Of course I'm going to drive." Seeing Walter shake his head, he emitted a short laugh. "Don't worry, Walter. I have plenty of experience. College is great for that, if nothing else."
"I'd be happier if you took the bus."
"No way. See ya." Birkoff grabbed his coat and was out the door before Walter could prevail upon him again.
Walter turned to Michael. "All right, Michael. Let's have it."
The blank stare crumbled. Truth emerged painstakingly. The wine had done its work, and Walter heard all of it, from the bathtub episode to the argument, the meeting with Paul and Madeleine, the plan with Wellman, and especially Nikita's disheartened state of mind. He could see that Michael was deeply concerned. And something else. Michael was deeply wounded. And even more deeply in love than before.
"Don't worry, Michael. She'll come around. You two are meant to be. Anyone with eyes in their head can see that."
"I hope so, Walter. I hope so..." Michael remained pensive. "Thankfully, her nightmares have subsided somewhat but... she's been so... discouraged. In spite of the doctors' hopeful prognosis. And in spite of the therapy and the music." And in spite of my love... of our love. "If this doesn't work, then I don't know what more I can do."
Walter spoke wisely. "Maybe it's not up to you."
A glimmer of wisdom flashed through Michael. "Maybe not." His eyes warned Walter. "Please. Just... keep this between us."
"Of course. I always do. So... Anything I can do to further the cause of true love?" Walter couldn't help himself as he grinned at Michael, feeling the atmosphere clearing.
Michael's expression eased. "You're hopeless, Walter."
"Sure I am. Now, how about we eat? I don't think I want you loose on the streets on that bike of yours with this much wine in you."
Michael muttered to himself. "In France, this would not be considered too much wine." He gave Walter a sideways glance. "What have you got for dinner?"
* * * * * * * *
"Nikita." Roberta's insistent tone penetrated her daughter's distracted stare. "Are you going to eat?"
Jamie had consented to stay for dinner, and Sabine had prepared a lovely meal. Fresh salmon, green salad, steamed vegetables, an onion tart. Nikita had hardly touched her plate. She looked up as her Mom's voice jarred her out of her reverie. She picked up her fork.
"Oh, sure." She slowly tasted the food, and smiled at Sabine. "Delicious. Thank you." Nikita finished her dinner, knowing it was better than arguing with her mother. She remained preoccupied, listening to the three of them tell stories, ignoring Roberta's pointed stares and attempts to draw her into the conversation.
The phone rang. Sabine answered. She looked at Nikita.
"It's for you."
Nikita stared for a minute, then took the phone in hand. "Excuse me please." She wheeled to her room for some privacy.
"Hello?"
"Hello Nikita."
Michael's voice seemed a bit thicker than usual.
"Michael. Are you all right?"
He smiled at the irony of her asking him that question. "I'm fine. Sorry I haven't been able to help you with the de Falla. Things sort of..." He wasn't sure just what to say. He decided that truth was best, and told her about working for Walter, and about Chernov and his ending up at the precinct filing charges.
"Thanks for returning my call." Relief flooded through her at the sound of his explanation. "I wondered what happened. I'm so glad to know that you're all right." She stopped, waiting for his reply.
"What was it you needed?" Michael tried to remain detached, giving her as much space as he could without being over-protective, but his question came out sounding rather pragmatic.
"I..." Nikita hesitated. Needed? He sounded more like her mentor than her lover. She took a deep breath. It was now or never. "I needed to see you. I had thought you might join us for dinner, um, yesterday. I hoped we could... talk."
"I phoned this morning, but there was no answer." He told her about his visits to the dojo and his afternoon with Walter and Birkoff.
"Oh." Here she was pining away, and the three of them had been keeping company.
"So, we're talking."
Nikita stuck with her plan. "Yes, but what I have to say I would rather say in person."
Michael ruminated. The day was pretty much gone. "It's a bit late for visiting now, don't you think?"
"I suppose so." Roberta had retired, Sabine sat up reading, as usual, and Jamie was cleaning up after his carpentering.
Michael heard the disappointment in her voice. He tried to offer amends. "What about tomorrow?"
"I have to go to the hospital in the morning. The doctors want to see me before they give me permission to return to work."
"Good. Then I presume I'll see you shortly after that. Come directly to my office. We can talk then."
Nikita gave up. "All right, Michael. Whatever you want."
She was about to say goodbye when his whisper caressed her ear. "I missed you."
He hung up without giving her time to reply. Nikita clicked off and took the phone back into the dining room. Her heartbeat sped as Michael's parting words resounded in her head. As she headed once more for bed, Jamie came in to take his leave.
"Need any help?" he inquired of her. Her color was noticeably high.
"No thanks. I've gotten quite proficient at getting myself in and out of bed." She turned toward her room.
Sabine looked up. "Is it that late? I'd better get to sleep. We have to be at the hospital by 8:00 in the morning. Jamie, I want to thank you for helping us today."
"My pleasure, Madame de Lac." He kissed her hand gallantly. She closed her book and gave Jamie a hug before retiring to the bath.
Jamie moved down the hallway and knocked softly on Nikita's half-open door. At her invitation, he entered and sat down on the edge of the bed. Nikita met his eyes head-on as he studied her intently. It was as if he could read her mind. Tears welled in her eyes as the tension in her ebbed. Jamie gathered her in his arms and lay her head against his shoulder. His hand warmed the nape of her neck. Her frustration over the events of the weekend flowed out in racked sobs, and he held her closer.
"There. Just let it all out." His solid presence comforted her.
"Did you talk with Michael, then?" He felt her nod against him. He gave her another minute, then pulled back to look in her face. "He loves you very much, Nikita." Jamie placed a kiss on her forehead and lowered her back onto her pillow. "There's nothing that love can't handle, if one is willing. Take it from me. Believe it."
Jamie took Nikita's hands in his and clasped them tightly. Then he rose and disappeared with a last glance. She lay thinking of Michael's unconditional declaration of love, and how she had returned it with hurt. The pain in his eyes was the last thing she saw as she sank into sleep. She would make it right. Tomorrow...
* * * * * * * *
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