Chapter 5
Early the next morning, whilst Raine went through the motions of eating breakfast, she placed her scheduled morning call to the hospital. The green hair band that belonged to her sister sat on the kitchen counter and kept drawing her attention. She pulled her bowl of cereal closer as she waited for the call to go through.
“Good morning, you have reached the nurse’s station at Mercy Mercury Hospital.” The woman on the other end sounded way too perky for six am.
“Good morning. It’s Miss Viviers, I’d like to check in on a patient, please.”
“Yes, of course. How may I help you?”
“I’m enquiring about Miss Willow Viviers. Ward C. Room 212. How is she doing today, please?”
There was a second’s pause before the nurse said flatly, “One moment, please.”
Raine’s heart skipped as she was forced to listen to the tinny sounding hold- music. A knock came from the front door, and she stuffed the phone under her chin, picking up her cereal bowl as she moved across the kitchen and dumping it in the sink on her way to answer it. First, her eye caught the golf club then took in a tall, slim figure behind the stained-glass window moving this way and that as if trying to see inside the house.
Her one hand was reaching for the club, still shaken about last night, unsure what to make of the green hair band that smelt of her sister and hospital.
“Hello?”
She recognized the voice immediately. Heck, she could even smell the overly sweet scent before the door was even opened and left the club where resting against the wall.
“Mrs. Brandon,” she muttered with a groan under her breath.
The nurse’s voice came through from the other end of the line. “Excuse me, dear?”
“Oh, sorry, not you, just someone at my door.”
“Do you have any news about my sister please?” Raine asked the nurse.
“Are you the legal guardian of Miss Viviers?”
“Ja, that’s me,” she answered flatly, increasingly frustrated by the whole situation.
She threw open the door and motioned to Mrs. Brandon that she was on the phone. Mrs. Brandon nodded and shuffled her feet, clearing her throat impatiently in an effort to make it clear she considered herself far more important than Raine’s conversation.
“Doctor Vermaak asked for you to give him a call as soon as you can dear.” The nurse said to her.
Raine’s throat tightened. “Is everything okay?” A chill ran over her skin.
“Nothing too serious. Do you have his number?”
“Ja, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
When the nurse hung up, Raine’s gaze shifted toward Mrs. Brandon who was still waiting in the doorway. It wasn’t even six thirty on a Saturday morning and the woman already had her face pasted with makeup, her finger-curls all perfectly set like she was ready to take center stage on some glossy magazine cover.
“How can I help you Mrs. Brandon?” she said in her most polite tone.
Mrs. Brandon’s hand flew to her chest in a dramatic gesture. “Oh my grace, Miss Viviers, is this a bad time for you?” Her eyes shifted past Raine and into the house.
“Is everything alright?” Mrs. Brandon’s hand flicked her golden blond hair over her shoulder as she kept her eyes directed at the interior, searching for something.
“I was on the line with the hospital…” she stopped, already knowing she had said too much.
“Is it your sister?”
Raine pursed her lips. Mrs. Brandon was the president of Eastern Wood Falls Neighborhood-Watch, and this seemed to give her the belief that it was her duty to know everything about everyone who lived in the estate.
“What can I do for you?” Raine chose to ignore her question.
The neighbor half-smiled back at her. “I noticed the patrol car parked out here last night. Are you okay?”
“Ja, I am fine thank you. Nothing to concern yourself over, Mrs. Brandon. Your security detail was very efficient.”
Even though Mrs. Brandon was only about two to three years older than Raine, she insisted on being called Mrs. Brandon, and for someone as young as thirty-something, she dressed like she was in her late forties. Thick pearls hung low around her neck with matching dangling earrings that reflected the same shade of white court shoes. All this paired nicely with a light pink cardigan that cut perfectly into her tiny waist. And even though the woman was a stay-at-home mom, there wasn’t a day in the last month of Raine’s stay in Eastern Wood Falls Estate that she wasn’t dressed like she was going to church.
“Well, you know, Raine,” her accusing eyes raking over Raine who was dressed in nothing more than socks, long sleeve shirt and tiny sleep shorts. “Our guards are employed to guard, not …”
Raine’s mouth flew open in shock. “Whatever you are about to say right now, I suggest you stop it right there…” her fingers gripped the phone tightly.
She so wished she could just throw it at her, but feisty Mrs. Brandon got her kicks out of causing scenes, and Raine would not allow her the pleasure.
Interrupting Raine, Mrs. Brandon practically pushed her aside and walked into the house, uninvited. She clasped her hands before her as she took in the untidy kitchen.
“I don’t know what it’s like back home in South Africa, I’m sure it was a nightmare, and I’m sure all that criminality affected you…” she tilted her head to the side, studying Raine’s response, “but, I can assure you Miss Viviers, it’s very safe here in Easter Woods Falls Estate. We have the lowest crime statistics of all the Private Estates in, and around, our County, which is why your parents, may they rest in peace,” she took a breather, “invested in this fine community.”
She paused momentarily.
“Which is why there is no need for you to occupy our guards with… unnecessary distractions.” Mrs. Brandon cleared her throat.
Raine went to protest but she was still a little speechless from the audacity of the woman. Before she could reply, Mrs. Brandon continued, “After all, how many times in the last two weeks have you called them out on a false alarm?”
Raine narrowed her eyes at the woman.
Mrs. Brandon dropped her voice to almost a whisper. “If something happened to you back home, if it’s some form of paranoia you suffer, my husband can help, you know. He deals with PTSD all the time in his field.”
Tight lipped, Raine turned on her heel and stalked past the woman. “Feel free to let yourself out. I have an important call to make.”
From across the room, Raine could hear the door shut.
With Dr Vermaak on speed-dial, she placed the call as requested. It rang a few times, and just before she was ready to leave a voice mail, he answered.
“Good morning, Miss Viviers. I’m so glad you called.”
“Good morning.”
“When is the earliest you would be able to come and see me?”
Raine swallowed hard before answering. “I can be there within the next hour if the traffic is forgiving. Is everything okay?” she asked with a quiver in her voice.
It was bad news; she could feel it. There was always bad news when it involved Willow, and Raine hated the fact that even after the miracle of recent events, she still felt that way when it came to her sister.
The doctor cleared his throat before answering. “It’s nothing to be overly concerned with. A few things we need to go over where your sister’s home care is concerned.”
She sighed in relief. “Thank you.” Took a deep breath, her hand shaking as she reached for the kettle.
“Goodbye. I’ll see you later this morning,” he said before the line went dead.
With her hand still a little shaky, she reached for the switch and gave a silent prayer of thanks. For the past four years, all she had received was bad news where her sister’s health was concerned. She always felt they were teetering on the edge of something catastrophic. And anytime a doctor called, it was always bad news.
Out of habit, she reached for the sanitary hand gel on the counter. For a moment, she stared at her disheveled appearance in the mirrored refrigerator door and decided to take a quick shower before heading to the hospital, completely forgetting about the coffee as her mind scattered in several directions. She was still reeling from last nights’ events. She had been so sure her sister had been there—or worse, someone had invaded her home to send her a message?
On her way up to the bathroom, a line of family portraits gazed back at her. She tried not to stare too closely at the images of her parents, always feeling they were watching over her.
“I’m sorry Mamma that it had to be this way,” she mumbled back at her mom, who looked just like her little sister Willow with her dark blonde hair, tanned skin, green eyes and full lips.
“I did what I needed to do to keep her alive,” she said, perhaps more to settle her own guilt around decisions regarding the heart transplant - It had been the only option she had left in saving her sister’s life.