I'll Be Watching You by Jane New |
Philip was
gone. Tracy knew
his big, old house as well as she knew her boss. The home’s creaks and
groans, the way the air moved within the walls, were as familiar as the
owner’s deep, rich voice and the scent of his exotic aftershave. A car horn
honked on the other side of the heavy timber front door, but behind it
silence lay like a thick, woolen blanket. She missed
hearing the grating of his wheelchair on the polished, mahogany floors
and the tinkle of the little bell he sometimes used when he needed her
assistance urgently. All the minute noises that told her Philip was
somewhere in the building were absent. He’d left
without her. He had asked
to sleep alone last night. Nothing unusual in that—they shared a mutual
need for a certain amount of personal space—but now, as she stood in the
main hall on the first floor, she realized why. He’d planned his
departure in a great deal of detail so that she wouldn’t know until it
was too late. Someone must
have helped him leave, someone he trusted. Was it Jasmine, his late
wife’s nurse? James, Philip’s caretaker until a few months ago? Or
Nicholas, the son of Philip’s old friend? It didn’t
matter who. How could Philip do this to her? What of his promise to take
her to Thailand with him? He had once asked her to be there when he had
the surgery to restore his withered legs. Now he had left like a thief
in the night. Tracy
marched to the kitchen, knowing a strong cup of tea would help her
gather her thoughts. She briefly considered the excellent brandy in a
decanter in the library, but seven o’clock in the morning was a little
too early for alcohol, even under these circumstances. A plain,
white, bond envelope was propped against her neatly stacked cooking
magazines in the center of the kitchen table. Her name was inscribed
upon the envelope in Philip’s elegant, cursive script. “My darling
girl,” he had written. “By the time you read this, I will be boarding my
flight. Please forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye. When push
came to shove, I found that the thought of you with me at the hospital,
seeing me at my absolute worst, was more than I could bear. “If God is
willing, I will be walking on my own two feet next time you see me. One
day soon, I will send for you. Until then, our old friends James and
Nicholas will be happy to take of your needs, and Jasmine too, should
you desire her. “Please
forgive an old man who, though irrational at times, cares for you
deeply.” The letter
was signed with a single, bold “P.” Tracy sank
into a kitchen chair and gazed at the letter, willing Philip to come
into the room behind her and tell her it was all some dreadful joke. The house
remained silent. She was
alone. Anger surged
through her, sudden and frightening in its intensity. Did he think she
would be revolted by seeing him after the surgery? Didn’t people who
cared for each other look after each other in times of need? She had
believed they had feelings for each other, however casual they were.
Didn’t that imply trust? Male pride,
she decided, thumping the table with her fists. It was nothing but male
pride. Philip might be financially successful and an influential man in
his own circles, but he couldn’t allow himself to appear weak in front
of her. He had learned to cope with his disability to the extent that
neither of them really noticed it anymore, but this, it seemed, was
another matter altogether. She reread
the letter. “...our old friends James and Nicholas would be happy to
take of your needs...” At least
Philip had taken her own desires into consideration. He understood,
better than anyone, the power of her libido. She reached
for her phone and tapped out a text message. |
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