Page 45 of Phantom
“It’s okay. Dr. Portia works with my family. She’s here to check on you.”
Scarlett nods slowly and the bed rustles as she sits up to address the doctor. Her sweet voice floats to me and I cling to its softness while Ben wastes no time barraging me with his angry whispers.
“What the fuck are you doing, Sol?” Ben’s usual frustration has an edge of anger that I rarely ever hear. “First you drop the chandelier on Monty—”
“Oh, did he end up quitting?” I ask, making Ben’s brow furrow.
“Goddamnit, yes. But that’s beside the point. He thought the Phantom was out to kill him.”
I wave away his concern. “You know as well as I do that our great-grandfather rigged the chandelier’s pulley system to prevent it from crashing.”
“Yes,weknow that. But Monty didn’t. Now I have to find another director last minute and hope the last one doesn’t sue us for emotional distress.”
“We’ve got enough dirt on him to persuade him out of court.” I shrug. “And just promote your wife, obviously.”
“Maggie?” He pauses his tirade. “You don’t think the board would cry nepotism?”
“Not if they’ve seen her in action,” I scoff. “If they haven’t, they’re not paying enough attention to care one way or another. She’s more than qualified. Promote her.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Of course, she might say no herself because she never wants to feel like she’s being favored…” I can practically hear my brother’s gears turning inside his mind, right up until the moment he realizes that I’ve derailed the conversation. “Back to my other point. What about Scarlett? Tell me what’s going on here. Why do you have Rand Chatelain’s childhood sweetheart in yourbed?”
“They weren’t childhood sweethearts,” I insist, barely containing the growl threatening in my chest over the way Ben describesmymuse. “She needed my help. What was I supposed to do?”
“Oh… I don’t know, maybe don’t stalk her in the first place? Hell,maybeyour notes were what drove her insane—”
“Enough,” I command through gritted teeth, preventing him from saying aloud what I’ve been worried about from the moment I saw her tears fall on the new music sheets.
The only thing keeping me together is the knowledge that I’ve been sending her letters for almost a year and this is the first time she’s suffered like this. I’d even say the lettershelpedher, at least in the beginning.
After her father died, she was a wreck. I watched over her during her depressive and manic episodes at a loss for what to do until she was committed into the hospital and finally diagnosed. When she came back, I realized one day that she could hear me as I practiced piano down here. Her angelic voice drifted back to me and before long, I was singing along.
That duet sparked an idea. Watching from behind her mirror and listening through the ducts wasn’t enough. I had to get closer to her, learn everything about her.
Letters have always been my method of communication with those outside my family, but this time, I hadn’t wanted to be the Phantom of the French Quarter. I sent them unsigned, desperately hoping she’d be amenable to the idea of a secret admirer. When she interacted back with me and I heard her sing to herself about her demon of music, the name stuck.
“She loves my notes,” I insist. “Something else happened. Something started all of this anxiety she’s been struggling with. I just have to figure out what.”
“You don’thaveto do anything but leave that girl alone.”
In direct opposition to his order, I edge closer to the bed, trying to see what Dr. Portia is doing as she digs through her bag. Scarlett’s silver eyes flash toward me and she gives me a curious half smile. As if drawn to her, my foot takes another step, only stopping when my brother roughly grabs my shoulder.
“Focus, Sol. Do you plan to keep her here under the guise of protection? What about Rand? He’s all but declared his intentions in making her his.”
“She’smine,” I growl.
“No. She. Is. Not. She’s aperson, Sol. Not a trinket you can polish and set on the shelf. Neither of you seems to understand that. You have to let her go. Leave her alone.”
My mouth works in a fury over his demand and accusations but the fact that Scarlett has lain down again under Dr. Portia’s calm ministrations eases my nerves.
“I can’t keep her, I know that,” I finally admit. “But I will keep her safe. Beyond that, I’ll let her decide.”
Ben looks as if he wants to argue more, but he must realize the ground I’ve afforded him. “Fine. If this gets out of hand any further, though, or if Rand calls for war over her,Iwill be the first to stop you. I have to protect Maggie, my daughter, and our people above all else. She’s not one of ours.”
“Not yet,” I repeat my answer from the first time we had this disagreement.
Dr. Portia closes the curtains, symbolically silencing our conversation before she turns toward us. “Her vitals are good. She’s tired and complained of a headache, but that’s normal. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already back to sleep. I’ve left some over-the-counter pain pills for when she wakes back up. Keep watch over her, although, it seems that whatever she took was purged from her system quickly enough to not take root. I’ve also hooked her up to an IV drip. That should lessen the harsher side effects tomorrow, if there are any. Once you get through the bag, there’s no need for another. If you come across any problems just give me a call. I’ll be right upstairs.”
Relief sags my shoulders and I swallow to wet my suddenly dry throat before speaking. “Thank you. Thank you for helping her.”
