Highness (The Lonely Heart Series) Page 4

  “Do you really believe that?” Michael asked defeated.

  Richard walked over to the window and pulled the curtain away to look out at the grounds. “No.” He smacked his lips together. “I thought she loved you too, brother. At least, that is what she confessed to the world.”

  “Maybe I am incapable of being loved. You said it yourself; there are too many cosmetic barriers.”

  Watching the gardener tend to the flowers, Richard had a thought. “Do you plan to completely call this off, even if she’s willing to prove herself to you?” He knew his brother well and he also knew that the young man was driven by pure emotion, despite their best efforts to discourage such a thing.

  “Thalia would be happy with Uncle Graham if she thought he’d be the next king,” Michael said, burying his head in his hands. “I won’t go back to her. I don’t care what you say about me.”

  “Then maybe getting out of the public eye would do you some good. I know that it would do this family some good. Like I said, millions have already been spent.” Richard closed the drapes and turned to him. “I can appreciate your situation, but can you understand ours?”

  “Yes, I can. But the last time you all thought I needed some time to myself, I ended up in Afghanistan.” Michael rested his head back on the chair and looked up at the painted ceiling.

  “Actually, I was thinking of something a little more livable.”

  Michael raised a brow. “I’m listening.”

  “But you’d be used as an experiment…” Richard winced.

  Michael sat up. “Again with your experiments. You know my life is not one big petri dish.”

  “If you could go somewhere and live as a commoner, on a commoner’s salary and without being recognized as an heir to the crown for 6 months, then I think that you’d be more respected in the public eye. Everyone thinks that you’re spoiled rotten…”

  Michael threw up a hand. “I already know what everyone thinks.”

  “Well, the point is, since we are waging a serious PR war against the public consensus, if you were to go off the grid for a while and do something noble, then when you returned it might be shocking enough for people to forget your breakup, and if not forget it, then forgive it.” Richard crossed his arms across his chest. “It would give us the opportunity to fight fire with fire. And it would prove that you truly are trying to find yourself.”

  “Didn’t Eddie Murphy do this already in Coming to America?” Michael asked playfully.

  “I’m sorry, going where?” Richard was not familiar with the American movie classic.

  “Never mind. Continue.” Michael’s interest peaked. “Where would I carry out this experiment?”

  Richard twisted his lip up and thought hard. “You did mention America. The US would be perfect. We could still monitor you from a distance with our men and keep you safe.”

  “Goodness, man. They are royalty crazy there.” He said nearly dismissing the entire notion now.

  Richard could see that he was losing him. He pitched harder. “In the mainstream, metro areas, yes, they are royalty crazy. However, I was thinking small town, sort of roll up your sleeves, working class people,” Richard added. “The kind who would be less likely to be interested in the crown.” He walked over to Michael and sat down. “Somewhere Southern.”

  “Why Southern? Don’t they even hate the Yanks down there?” Michael was not about to go to another country and be lynched.

  “You’re an educated man. Can you please act like it? Yes, they have a problem historically with the Northerners there, but they are also less likely to know who you are. Remember when we were boys. You used to be able to pull off an impeccable American accent. Can you still?”

  “I’ve actually gotten better at it,” Michael said with a grin.

  “We could pick out one of those small southern towns for you to go and work. Somewhere where all they have is an Internet café, not even a Starbucks.”

  “Work how?” Michael asked, confused. “What would I do?”

  Richard shook his head. “I don’t know. You’ll have to figure that out. You’re good at collecting rare books…fine art…maybe something in western literature.”

  “Do they read in the south?”

  Richard chuckled. “You won’t last long cracking jokes like that. They are very proud people. They’re still waving a flag from a war that they clearly lost over 200 years ago. It’s all quite depressing, but so is your situation.”

  Suddenly, thinking of having to face more media about Thalia made Michael reconsider the challenge. “Well, since we’re going completely rebel, we might as well go to Mississippi Rebel.”

  Richard shuddered at the thought. “Alright.” He threw up a hand. “I did read an article about them in the New York Times. They’re becoming more progressive. I think that they finally abolished slavery.”

  Michael snickered. “This sounds like something I’ll actually enjoy. Living among the people. Helping. Teaching even.” He rolled his shoulders and clasped his hands together. “I’ll have Geoff do some recon work, and we can get to it. Marvelous idea, Richard.”

  “Yes, well, I do what I can,” Richard said, proud of himself. He had finally found something that he and his brother could agree on. Plus, he had possibly found a way to save face for his family while giving his brother an opportunity to see the world for what it really was. When this was all done, he was certain that Michael would come back to London and beg Thalia to take him back.

  Problem solved.

  Chapter 4

  St. Benedict Hospital

  Acute In-Patient Rehabilitation Center

  Guided by her best friend, Bree, who had come back home from Dallas to help her get on her feet for a few days, Hope was carefully escorted from her private restroom back to her hospital bed. She made her journey in complete silence, but with a lot less distress than the many times before, where she had fallen, banged her legs and feet or simply sat on the floor and cried.

  Despite the feeling of defeat eking at her very core, she kept her head up and eyes dry, ignoring the dull nagging pain that still reminded her that she was only six weeks out of a horrific car accident.

  Noting her progress, Dr. Netters observed her from the corner and wrote on his clipboard before clearing his throat, making his presence known.

  “How are you today, Hope?” the impeccably groomed doctor asked, stepping closer to her.

  Hope’s head moved toward his voice. “Better,” she lied.

  “Much better from what the nurses tell me,” Dr. Netters added with a sympathetic smile.

  “I’m glad to know that I meet their approval. Does this mean what I think it means?” Hope asked, pushing back on the bed and letting her feet swing off the edge.

  “I’m keeping my side of the bargain. You can go home today with the assistance of your best friend, but you have to do all of those things we discussed, including finding a nurse or someone who can assist you in the home until your situation changes. I’ll be sending a case worker by to check on you soon.”

  Hope’s eye twitched. “You mean until I gain my sight back,” she quipped woefully.

  “I want you to stay positive,” the doctor urged. “We don’t know when your sight will come back, but we’ve seen significant improvements. When you first came to us you couldn’t see colors, light or shadows.” He reminded her with a careful tone. “It’s my belief that within months, you could be back to the full eye sight that you lost.”

  Hope nodded. “I’m praying for the same.”

  “I’m praying for a miracle,” Bree added, sitting beside her on the bed. She rubbed her back. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  Bree’s voice was calming to Hope. She clung to it in the darkness.

  “Well, let me get your discharge papers ready. Do you have any questions for me that we haven’t covered over the last six weeks?” the doctor asked.

  Hope nodded no. “Thank you for helping me.”

  Dr. Netters was a pro
fessional man, but he couldn’t help extending a hand and placing it over Hope’s. She reminded him so much of his girls when they were younger. “Stay positive, my dear. You’re stronger than you think,” he said, winking at Bree.

  “Thanks, doctor,” Bree said, as she watched him walk out of the hospital room and close the door behind him. Bree shook her head. “I wish he wasn’t married,” she said under her breath. “He’d be a great catch for Momma.”

  Hope snickered. “Are you still trying to get your momma married?”

  Bree laughed. “Girl, the Lord said that he who finds a wife finds a good thing. He did not say that the man couldn’t get any help in finding her.”

  Hope laughed. “Yeah, you right.” Without meaning to, she instantly thought of Sean. She hoped God found him a psychopath. That was all that he deserved.

  “I’ve packed all of your things. As soon as we get your walking papers, we are out of here,” Bree said, standing up. “I just don’t know what to do with all these flowers. There are so many of them.” She cut her eyes at Hope.

  “I told you what to do with them,” Hope sneered. “Get rid of any of them that came from Sean.”

  “That would be…almost all of them,” Bree corrected. She put her hand on her hip. “Seems like an awful waste.”

  Hope didn’t care.

  Bree begged. “At least let me give them to the other patients in here who don’t have someone groveling after them.” She looked around the room at the many vases of roses and daffodils, Hope’s favorite flowers, and the many balloons and cards and almost felt a smidgeon bad for the man.

  “I don’t care who you give them to,” Hope said, staring blankly into the glib, twilight coming through her pupils.

  Bree saw that even the mention of the man was bringing her friend down and chose to change the subject. “While you were napping, I went to the house and started dinner.” She knew that would cheer her up. “And because I know that you didn’t inherit any cooking skills from your grandmother, I took the liberty of preparing fried chicken, greens, candied yams, okra, fresh cornbread and pineapple cake.”

  Hope ducked her head and smiled again. “Damn, girl. Why you aren’t married yet yourself is beyond me.”

  “The Lord is going to have to find someone extra special for me, darling. I don’t take hand-me-downs. Now, come and let me get you ready so we can get you home.”

  ***

  Even though Hope couldn’t see a thing, she still looked out of the window while Bree drove her home from the hospital. With her eyes picking up the light of the cloudless day, she could imagine all of the cypress and oak trees as they made the short drive from the neighboring town of Southaven to Hernando. Supplementing her sight, she focused on her other senses, specifically the smell of fresh air tumbling through her cracked window. She hadn’t smelled clean, fresh air in six weeks. Just to have the wind blow through her hair and the sun shine directly on her face felt like a blessing.

  Within minutes, Bree pulled up in the long drive of Hope’s home and headed up the gravel road to the house on the hill. Hope tilted her head up and smiled.

  “Mr. Jernigan cut the yard for me, didn’t he?” Hope asked, smelling freshly cut grass in the breeze. It instantly brought back memories of her childhood.

  “Yep. I told him that you were coming home today, so he did it this morning. He’s been keeping it up weekly since you’ve been gone,” Bree answered, putting the car into park. “Oh shit,” she said under her breath.

  “What?” Hope’s ear perked up.

  Bree looked over at her friend and shook her head. “Sean is here.”

  “What!” Hope growled. “What does he want?” she asked as she held on to the handle of the door.

  “Well, I don’t know yet,” Bree said, opening the door.

  “Tell him to go away,” Hope said after her as Bree closed the door.

  Sean was patiently waiting on his trunk, sitting in his three-piece suit, looking at his iPad. As soon as he saw Hope, he stood up, threw down his pad and walked toward the car.

  “Sean,” Bree said with a warning voice. She put up her hand to stop him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see her,” Sean said, looking over Bree to the window of the car.

  “She’s not in the best of moods. Can’t your groveling wait?”

  Sean sucked in a frustrated breath. He was about to say something rude but saw the distinct glare of a woman ready to kick his ass and calmed down. “No, it can’t.” He side-stepped her. “I’m going to help her out of the car.”

  Bree turned and followed him, refusing to say anymore. Maybe he just needed to hear it for himself, and he was sure that Hope would tell him. Their relationship was not only over, their friendship was too.

  Sean opened Hope’s door carefully and looked down at her.

  “Is he gone?” Hope asked.

  “No,” Sean answered, moving in closer.

  As soon as the wind blew again, she smelled his cologne. Ralph Lauren Black. Ironic really. The smell used to make her bow down and beg more buttermilk, but now it only made her stomach turn.

  He reached gently for her arm to help her, but she pulled away. “What do you want?”

  Sean cocked a brow. “First, I want to help you get out of this car and into the house. Secondly, I’d like just five minutes of your time. I need to say some things directly to you without your bodyguard over there giving me the evil eye.” He rested his large arm on the roof of the car.

  Hope had to repress her smile. She could always count on Bree.

  “Well, I don’t want your help,” Hope said, trying to help herself out of the car.

  As soon as her foot hit the gravel, Sean wrapped his arms around her and picked her up off the ground. “You can hate me later,” he said, ignoring her struggles. “Bree, can you please get the front door.”

  Already ahead of them, she had made her way to the porch and was inserting the key when he called out to her.

  With her wrapped in his embrace like a mother coddles a newborn, he held her close to his chest and carried her up to the front door. He wished at that moment that there was not so much tension in her body, that she could find in her heart to forgive him and at least lay her head on his chest the way that she used to, but Hope stayed rigid.

  Hiking up the stairs that led up to the porch and then over the threshold of her home, he headed for the stairwell to take her to her bedroom.

  “She can’t stay up there,” Bree said, stopping him. “I’ve arranged all of her things downstairs in the guest bedroom until her….” She lowered her voice a little, “until her sight comes back.”

  “I’m not deaf,” Hope quipped.

  “No, but you are stubborn,” Sean said, following Bree to the bedroom.

  “Who says that I want to sit in the bedroom? I’ve been locked up in one room for six weeks. I want to move around my own house,” Hope complained.

  “Well, you can move around after we talk,” Sean said, setting her down on the bed. He looked at Bree with a plea in his eyes. “Can you give us just a few minutes? I know how you feel about me, how you both do, but I need a minute alone with her anyways.” He looked back at Hope and hung his head in guilt.

  Bree rolled her eyes, but quickly turned and left the room, closing the door behind them. “Five minutes,” she called out.

  Taking off his suit jacket, he threw it over the foot rail of the gold iron bed and pulled at his red tie.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you for six weeks,” Sean said flatly. “So, you’ll excuse the imposition, but when I called again for the 45th day and they told me that you had gone from the hospital, I knew that I’d have one opportunity to see you before there was someone else blocking me.”

  “Haven’t we said all that needs to be said here?” Hope asked.

  Sean ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so damned sorry,” he blurted out. “I never meant for this to happen. I never meant…” He wiped his face. “I
didn’t come over here to play with your sympathies. If anyone should be seeking it, it’s you.”

  Her voice was much calmer than his, almost still. “I don’t need your sympathy. I don’t need anything from you, Sean Pritchard.”

  “Can you just stop saying my name like that?” he huffed. He looked up at the ceiling. “Geez, you say it like it’s a damned curse word.”

  Hope was silent. It was a curse word to her.

  “I accept your apology,” Hope said with finality. “Now, go.”

  “That’s not what I came here for?”

  “Then why are you here?” she snapped.

  “Bree doesn’t live here. You don’t have any family. Your artsy friends are in New York, Miami and LA, but none of them are here. Your agent is in New York. All you have is Mr. Jernigan, an 85-year old, half-deaf senior citizen who can’t run up here every single time that you fall or you get scared or…” he couldn’t bear to finish the sentence.

  Hope shifted in her seat, feeling helpless at the moment, but refusing to show it.

  “I called a lady I know, a real nurse. Her name is LouAnn Hartfield. She helped my grandmother when she was on her way out. She’s professional. She’s hard working and trustworthy. I’ve already contacted her and she’s got plenty of time on her hands.”

  Hope stiffened.

  “This will all be on my dime, considering it’s my fault. And I want to do this for you. Just let her come here and stay with you. I mean, this is a big ass plantation house for God’s sake. When you get your sight back, then she can leave.”

  “I don’t need your handouts,” Hope answered politely.

  “This isn’t a hand out. Let’s face it. The only reason that you’re fucking blind right now is because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants or look you in the eye and tell you the truth about what I could and could not handle in my life.” Strangely, it felt good to finally say it. He bit his lip in desperation, but lowered his voice as he heard Bree’s footsteps making their way back toward the bedroom. “Take this from me, Hope. You need it. Now, you are not poor. No. But you and I both know that not even Obamacare is going to cover all the bills associated with this accident.”