The Secret Life of Ceecee Wilkes Part 11

CeeCee flipped the safety back on and lowered the gun to her side as they walked into the living room. Genevieve sat down on the sofa again, leaning forward and rubbing her back. "You're a loose cannon, aren't you?" she asked.

"Keep quiet," CeeCee said. She was glad now of the mask. The plastic features would remain frozen no matter what emotions she felt behind them. Her trembling hands in their white gloves, though, were a giveaway.

"Put that gun away. Please," Genevieve said.

She sat down in the chair by the window again and rested the gun in her lap, wondering what they would do now. Would they sit there facing each other for the entire night? Maybe all day tomorrow as well? Exactly how far was it to Jacksonville? She looked at her watch. Quarter past midnight! She'd had no idea it was that late. Were Tim and Marty in Jacksonville yet?

"Please take off that mask," Genevieve said.

CeeCee shook her head. Her scalp was perspiring beneath the wig. It felt like worms crawling through her hair and she wondered who else might have worn the wig before her. She longed to rip it off and scratch her head.

"Why are you doing this, Sleeping Beauty?" Genevieve's voice had softened, and with it, her features. She was very pretty. Maybe beautiful under other circ.u.mstances. Right now, her skin was a little too pale. Wan, even. Her blue eyes looked clouded and troubled in the overhead light, and there were two small, vertical lines between her eyebrows.

"I'm doing it because Tim's sister is a victim of the system," she said, parroting Naomi's words. They sounded as inauthentic as they felt coming from her mouth.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Genevieve asked. "'A victim of the system'?"

"I don't want to talk about it." CeeCee felt the tremor in her hands again. She clutched the handle of the gun between her hands to stop their shaking.

"Do you know her? The sister?"

"No, but I know Tim and I know he loves her and I love him so I want to help him." The words spilled out before she could stop them.

Genevieve c.o.c.ked her head, looking at her differently. "You're in love with Tim?" she asked.

"Yes, but that's not the only reason I'm-"

"There's something you should know about your...boyfriend," Genevieve said. "I taught him in my Spanish cla.s.s, Sleeping Beauty. He's a...a womanizer."

"You taught him?" She remembered Tim saying that Genevieve was a Spanish professor, but not that he'd had her.

"He's a lady-killer." Genevieve sat as far forward on the couch as her belly would allow. "He played around with every woman in that cla.s.s. He even had an affair with one who was married."

CeeCee raised the gun and pointed it at her. "Shut up," she said. "I don't want to hear your lies. You may have taught him, although I'm not sure I believe that, but you don't know him."

"Please put the gun down."

"You promise to shut up?" CeeCee asked.

"Not another word about your darling Casanova."

"I said shut up. shut up." CeeCee lifted the gun higher, the barrel jerking through the air in her uncertain hands. She had to be careful. The cotton fabric of her gloves was slippery.

"I'm sorry." Genevieve leaned back on the sofa, clearly afraid of the gun. "Put it down, okay?"

CeeCee lowered the gun to her lap again.

Genevieve sighed and rubbed her forehead. "How long is this going to take?" she asked.

"That depends on your husband," CeeCee said. "What's he like? How do you think he'll react?"

Genevieve shot her an angry look. "He's a man of integrity," she said. "He loves me tremendously, but he won't do anything that would compromise his integrity."

CeeCee squirmed. She loved Tim tremendously. Was she compromising her integrity for him? Holding a gun on a pregnant woman didn't feel all that magnificent at the moment. It felt wrong.

Suddenly Genevieve started to cry, pressing a hand to her mouth. "I want to go home. home." She looked at CeeCee. "I have a five-year-old daughter," she said. "I was supposed to pick her up at the sitter's after my cla.s.s. She's probably so scared."

Was this her new tack, CeeCee wondered? She'd failed in her character a.s.sa.s.sination of Tim, so now she was trying to win sympathy for her daughter. At least that would give them something safe to talk about.

"What's her name?" CeeCee asked.

"I truly don't feel well." Genevieve adjusted her girth on the sofa.

"It's just nerves," CeeCee said. She didn't feel well either. "What's your daughter's name?" she repeated.

"Vivian. I dropped my purse when they grabbed me or I could show you her picture."

"What does she look like?"

Genevieve closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the sofa. "Strawberry-blond hair," she said. "I'm glad she's not a redhead, like me. I'm glad she was spared that."

"Why?" CeeCee asked. "Your hair's a beautiful color." She felt her true personality slipping out and knew she'd better keep her guard up.

"Thanks, but I don't like it." Eyes still shut, Genevieve patted her hand on her belly. "I hope this one is a blonde or a brunette," she said, her voice tired, as though she knew they were simply filling dead air with their conversation. "Anything but a redhead."

CeeCee remembered being five or six, waiting for her mother to pick her up from school. She'd waited by the wide double doors for a long time, watching for her always-prompt mother, but she hadn't been afraid at all. She'd played hopscotch with imaginary lines on the sidewalk, looking up only when a neighbor called to her from a car, saying that her mother had to work late and she would take her home. She hoped Vivian was similarly resilient and unafraid when her mother didn't show up. She hoped that fervently.

"I guess we should try to sleep," CeeCee suggested. "I made up a bed for you." She glanced at the handcuffs Tim had put on the end table. With Genevieve's pregnancy, the cuff-her-to-the-top-bunk plan wasn't going to work, that much was clear.

"Oh." Genevieve screwed up her face, both hands on her belly. Genevieve screwed up her face, both hands on her belly.

"Are you okay?" CeeCee asked.

It was a moment before Genevieve seemed able to speak. "I don't know," she said. "I've had some Braxton Hicks...some false labor contractions...the past few weeks. That's probably what this is. But maybe I'd better lie down."

CeeCee didn't trust her. "You walk ahead of me," she said, getting to her feet.

It took Genevieve a moment to push herself up from the sofa. CeeCee thought of helping her but didn't dare. In a heartbeat, Genevieve could tear off her mask or punch her in the face and grab the gun. She couldn't get that close.

They reached the bedroom with the bunk beds. "Oh, no," Genevieve said when she saw the beds. "I can't fit on one of those. Is there a real bed I can lie down on?"

What the h.e.l.l, CeeCee thought. "There's a double bed in the other room. I haven't made it, though."

"I don't care." Genevieve left the room, her face still tight with pain, either real or affected, and crossed the hallway into the larger bedroom. CeeCee followed, the gun at her side, and watched Genevieve kick off her navy-blue pumps and slowly lower herself to the bed. She stretched out on her back, then winced with discomfort and rolled onto her side, one arm over her eyes. "Can you turn the light out?" she asked.

"No," CeeCee said. There was a small, upholstered chair in the corner of the room and she sat down on it. "Not unless I cuff you to the headboard."

"What?" Genevieve's arm flew from her face. "Oh, give me a break, Sleeping Beauty. I'm eight months' pregnant and feel like death warmed over. If you think I'm going to run off, you're..." She shook her head. "Just turn it off. Please."

CeeCee walked out of the room and turned on the hall light. Then she switched off the light above Genevieve's bed and took her seat again. The room was bathed in shadow, but she could still see Genevieve clearly enough.

Now all she had to do was stay awake.

Chapter Thirteen.

You've wanted to be a teacher ever since kindergarten when you had Mrs. Weiss. Is that still what you want to do? I see you watching all the nurses I've had and I know you admire them. I know how surprised you were, too, when you realized Dr. Watts was a woman. I wonder if you might end up being a nurse or a doctor? You're sure smart enough. I think you'd be good at it.

CeeCee snapped awake with a start. Someone-or something something-was moaning, and it took her a moment to remember where she was. In the dim light, she saw Genevieve on the bed, propped up on her elbows.

"Oh, no," Genevieve said. "Oh, G.o.d, help me."

CeeCee got to her feet. "What are you doing?" She walked across the room to turn on the light.

Genevieve was panting, gulping air. "I think these are real contractions," she said. "I really do. This is how it felt with Vivvie."

"People don't go into labor that fast," CeeCee said. She hadn't been asleep all that long; it was still dark out. Genevieve had had to be faking. to be faking.

"You think you're a doctor all of a sudden?" Genevieve flopped back on the bed, blinking at the overhead light. "Oh, my G.o.d," she said, both hands covering her face. "You've got to get me to a hospital."

"I don't believe you."

"Please." Genevieve looked at her. "You've Genevieve looked at her. "You've got got to believe me. I'm having contractions." to believe me. I'm having contractions."

"It's too early. You said-"

"Don't you think I know it's too early?" Genevieve snapped. "Babies can come early, you stupid girl. And it's not good when they do. They need to be someplace where they can get special care. And I almost bled to death after Vivian was born."

"Why?" CeeCee asked. She's faking this, She's faking this, she told herself. she told herself. Stay calm. Stay calm.

"They just said that redheads can bleed more. They can hemorrhage."

"That's crazy," CeeCee said.

"Look!" Genevieve snapped as she struggled to sit up. "I don't care if you believe me or not, but you've got to get me to a hospital. If anything happens to this baby..." She shook her head. "Do you want that on your conscience?"

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" CeeCee asked. Even if Genevieve was was telling the truth, what could she do? Where was a hospital? She had no idea. Nor could she imagine driving the car on the dark, rutted roads. She was once again glad that the mask hid her fear. telling the truth, what could she do? Where was a hospital? She had no idea. Nor could she imagine driving the car on the dark, rutted roads. She was once again glad that the mask hid her fear.

"Oh, no." Genevieve spread her legs a little and looked down at the rapidly darkening crotch of her blue slacks.

"Are you...?" Was she urinating on herself?

"My water broke." Genevieve locked eyes with hers. "Oh, my G.o.d," she said. "I'm scared." If the wet splotch on her pants wasn't enough, there was something in her voice that told CeeCee she wasn't faking. "Where's the nearest hospital?"

"I don't know." CeeCee stood still, holding the gun at her side. She felt a tiny finger of panic run up her spine. How could she take her to a hospital? What about the plan? What about Andie? They'd all end up in jail.

"Is there a phone book here?" Genevieve asked.

"There's no phone."

"I mean for the address."

"I'll see." CeeCee ran out of the room, knowing that she'd looked through every cupboard and closet before Genevieve's arrival and she did not recall seeing a phone book. Maybe, though, she'd missed it.

In the kitchen, she lay the gun on the counter and pulled out drawer after drawer. She opened cupboards she knew were empty, all the time wondering what she should do. On the refrigerator, there was a magnet advertising a restaurant in New Bern. It had a phone number and an address, and she realized that even if she had the address of a hospital in New Bern, she would have no idea how to get there. Could she possibly find her way back to Naomi and Forrest's? She doubted it, and they would kill her if she showed up there, with or without the governor's wife. She heard Genevieve scream and put her hands over her ears. What do I do? What do I do?

"Sleeping Beauty!" Genevieve called.

CeeCee ran back to the bedroom. Genevieve was propped up on two pillows, one tremulous hand at her throat. "Listen," she said. "This is happening too fast. You might have to deliver the baby."

"Oh, no!" CeeCee said. "Maybe we should just start driving. Try to get to New Bern."

"Is that where we are? New Bern?"

"Near it." She grimaced. Tim had gone to the trouble of blindfolding Genevieve so she wouldn't know where she was being taken, and she'd just told her.

"There's a hospital in New Bern," Genevieve said.

"But I don't know where it is. I don't even know what direction to go. We're way out in the woods."

"d.a.m.n it." Genevieve choked back a sob. "You are worse than useless!"

"We have to try," CeeCee said. "We can't stay here. I might be able to get us to...a friend's house. They have a phone there. But I'm not sure I-"

"Why didn't you say that before?" Genevieve sat up and tried to get to her feet, but she doubled over, leaning hard against the night table and howling with pain. It was the sort of sound a wounded animal might make. CeeCee grabbed her arm to help her onto the bed, but let go suddenly, worried that she was being duped after all. Maybe Genevieve had had urinated on herself to make it look as though her water had broken. She took a step backward and let the woman struggle, panting and perspiring, onto the bed alone. urinated on herself to make it look as though her water had broken. She took a step backward and let the woman struggle, panting and perspiring, onto the bed alone.

"It's too late to go anywhere," Genevieve gasped. "The baby's coming. It's coming."

To CeeCee's horror, Genevieve started to pull off her slacks.

"You're going to have to-" Genevieve stopped tugging at her slacks and held still on the bed, eyes closed, panting, concentrating hard on something CeeCee could only imagine.

"I don't know what to do," CeeCee admitted, more to herself than to Genevieve. She'd seen a film on childbirth in her senior health cla.s.s, but that was hardly enough to prepare her to deliver a baby.

"Get these off me," Genevieve said, nodding in the direction of her slacks. Her hair was pasted to her forehead with sweat.

CeeCee stood by the door, paralyzed.

"Listen to me!" Genevieve said sharply. "You need to help me. You chose to be part of this fiasco, now you have to see it through. I'll tell you what to do. Help me get my pants off, d.a.m.n it!"

CeeCee moved forward and tugged off Genevieve's pants, dropping them behind her on the floor. Then, feeling squeamish, she pulled off her underpants, which were soaked with a pink-tinged liquid.

Genevieve's eyes were closed, her head pressed into her pillow. "My poor baby," she said. "My poor baby."