Valerie and the Bachelor Ch. 08

Things were shaping up. All week since the harem girl night Marcus had been the perfect gentleman. They'd met for lunch twice, and on the second occasion he'd invited her old Human Relations boss and some of the clerical staff. Valerie got to wave her ring around under everybody's noses. Since the big dinner was scheduled for Friday Marcus begged off on an active Saturday, but he promised to take her to New York the next weekend to catch a play. She had to pick the play. He wanted to buy her a new car, but she demurred saying she had her own old Honda Civic plus the SUV she'd been driving. He said OK, but she didn't believe him since she'd seen a Lexus brochure in his den.

It was like everything that had gone wrong before was suddenly going right. He was so attentive and considerate, and the two times he'd taken her to lunch he'd acted damn proud. He was showing her off, and quite honestly, she liked it. At the first lunch date he even called across the dining room for an acquaintance to come over. He introduced her as his future wife, and insisted she display her ring as proof. It was a little awkward, and a little bit embarrassing, but she liked it anyway. Everything was going perfectly. There was only the thing about Rosalind. He didn't bring it up, and neither did she.

There was one other mildly disquieting concern, and she didn't dare bring it up with Marcus. Ever since she was fourteen she'd been just about as regular regarding some things as Old Faithful. That highly dependable regularity had always included her menstrual cycle. It had been five weeks since her first evening with Marcus, and she was three weeks into her cycle then. That made eight weeks, two months! She should have done something by now, but so far nothing. In the morning's she hadn't been sick or anything, at least not yet, but she was starting to feel a little off her oats. She thought she'd wait a couple more weeks to see what happened. Meanwhile there was the Friday night dinner party, and she had her part to play.

For her part Valerie put together the guests list, seating arrangements, and eating provisions with matchless efficiency. There were going to be a lot of children at the dinner. She set a separate table aside in a nearby room where she, Hilda, and one favored maid would concentrate on keeping them happy. The children's ages ranged from five to thirteen. It was quite a melange, but she was confident she could handle it. There were two with allergies whose food supplies that had to be managed. Well actually one child had an allergy and there was one with a food tolerance problem. She'd never known there was a difference until now. The allergy had to do with eggs, actually egg whites, while the tolerance problem was related to lactose and that meant milk.

Since the children would be seated separately, and she'd be close by if not at the table the whole time, she planned a simple coded format. The five normally healthy children would eat off the same standardized china plates the adults would use. So would the plates of the allergic and tolerance child, but they're plates would be discreetly labeled; the egg child's plate would be earmarked with a small yellow plastic snap, not more than a quarter inch in size. The milk intolerant child's plate would be marked the same way but with a blue snap. She would make sure the maid, Hilda, and both mothers would know the code.

All the children would eat the same foods. There was to be only one exception. They would all get a portion of tenderloin, some mashed potatoes, fresh tomatoes, iced tea to drink, and a fruit plate for dessert. But just to be on the safest of safe sides, the little lactose intolerant girl would get French fries, since Valerie had checked and found out, only at the very last minute, they were using instant mashed potatoes with the children. It was a tacky decision using instants, but too late to change, excepting for the one little girl.

Valerie left nothing to chance. Some of the adults would have lobster or some other kind of shell fish, some had opted for a specially prepared roasted chicken, and a few selected prime-rib. None of these foods went to the children's table. Nothing could be left to chance, right down to the decision to serve iced tea instead of milk.

The evening of the dinner was upon them. Marcus had left their choice of clothing in her hands and she'd outdone herself. Marcus was attired in a dark blue suit, starched white shirt, dark blue tie, and a pair of manly looking suspenders. Valerie had picked out a matching dark blue dress. It was short sleeved and had a narrowly scooped angular neckline that gave a hint of cleavage. The hem came to just above her knees. She wore dark blue high-heeled shoes with a pair of matching dark nylons. Knowing Marcus had a modest fetish about domestic attire she'd arranged that the cuffs of the sleeves and the edges of her collar would be sculpted with some ruffled trim. The ruffles were a tiny part of the dress, but they did hint at the illusion of her being something of a serving girl or maid. The affect was minimalist, but Marcus noticed it immediately. She could tell by the big smile.

The guests started to show. Coats, hats, and shawls were placed in the foyer. Before dinner drinks were provided the adults while the children were given the opportunity to engage in a raft of activities she'd planned. The older children, thankfully being girls, hung with the adults and pretended to be involved with their conversations.

Everything went according to plan.

Dinner was served! Valerie ushered the guests into the dining area, and briefly retreated to the children's dining area to help Hilda and the maid with seating and food dissemination. That's when the first signs of trouble emerged. During the pre-dinner entertainment social groupings emerged among the children. Now they wanted to sit according their new preferences. It meant some shifting, but nothing noteworthy. However, to be on the safe side Valerie told Marcus that she'd stay with the children while they ate. He didn't seem to mind, so she hunkered down between two of the youngest children correctly figuring a little meat cutting and bread buttering might be in order. The youngest children had no allergies or tolerance problems but the reference to butter was a misnomer. They were using a well-known and safe margarine.

Out came the foods, and everyone started to dig in. The little one to her right, having been separated from his older sibling required some serious affection. The one to her left couldn't manage her meats so Valerie had to do some heavy duty slicing. As things commenced Valerie felt just a little proud of herself. A talented woman she thought, a real multi-tasker, slicing and buttering both at the same time! How positively silly! She was having a blast!

Looking around the table, set up with eight seats, everything was going like clockwork. With luck she might even be able to leave things to Hilda and the maid and get to join the grown-ups.

With children it sometimes seems the worst things happen when they're the happiest. Valerie looked around the table, and everyone certainly seemed to be happy. Even the two early adolescent girls were in the act, helping and entertaining. The were laughing and giggling and trying to make eye contact with the one boy who was they're approximate age. The younger boys were all being well behaved, and this in spite of her being warned one was a little hellion.

Everything looked perfect! That's when it all blew up. Scanning the table for what she hoped would her last time before leaving for the adult section she saw the impossible. The little girl with the lactose problem had turned blue! She was grabbing her throat! Already the signs around her neck indicated a serious glandular problem.

Valerie jumped from her seat and ran round the table to the little girl. She shouted something she didn't remember just what and pulled the girl's chair back. She glimpsed at the plate. She had the correct plate. What could be going wrong? "Marcus!" She cried out. Marcus! Come quick!"

In an instant Marcus and a dozen other adults were in the room. He immediately recognized the problem and the seriousness of it. He shouted at Hilda. "Go in the kitchen and bring me some straws!

Hilda was incredulous. "Straws!"

It wasn't necessary to repeat the message Valerie was already in the kitchen. Shouting almost breathlessly. "Straws! We need straws!" She didn't know what for, but if Marcus wanted them, they were needed. She fled back to the eating area, straws in hand.

By then every adult was in the room. The stricken child's mother was hysterical. The father was trying to reach his daughter but Marcus pushed him away. The other men restrained him while Marcus went to work.

Marcus grabbed the straws from Valerie's outstretched hand and started pushing one down the little girl's throat. How he did it no one understood but he managed to get it past the swollen glands and into her larynx. He was forcibly breathing into the straw, and alternately pushing her chest down with his hands. He was compelling air down her throat into her lungs using a rigid plastic straw! She was breathing because he was compelling it in spite of a throat clogged by glands swollen in reaction to lactose she was not supposed to ingest.

It was a matter of minutes before they heard the ambulance arrive. Seconds later the paramedics were on the scene. The girl was being injected with something, epineptheral maybe? Valerie had no clue. What she did notice was the blue aura had begun to fade even before the paramedics took over.

Everyone followed the paramedics to the ambulance. The girl's parents joined her inside the ambulance. Marcus stepped back into the foyer, obtained a lightweight jacket and his keys. Turning to Hilda and Valerie who was standing beside her he pointed directly at Valerie and said in a low threatening voice. "I want you out of here before I get back."

Valerie was numb. "Marcus."

Looking only at Hilda he repeated in that same low ominous tone. "Gone. You hear?" He looked at Valerie. "Gone." He turned and ran to his car. He had to get to the hospital. He had to be with that family!

Valerie burst into tears. She ran after him! "No! No! Marcus! You're wrong!" She was apoplectic! This couldn't be happening. She'd done everything right. She had it right! Oh No!

Hilda had nothing to say. There was nothing she could say. She just stood there with a stricken look on her face.

It was Rosalind who made the first move. Stepping into the foyer recently vacated by Marcus she pointed a finger at Valerie. "You don't go anywhere." She turned to Hilda. "Keep her here. Let her wait over there." Pointing to a chair on the east of the foyer. In an instant she was gone as well.

Hilda walked Valerie over to a love seat at the end of the foyer. "Just wait here. This will work out. He's upset. That's all."

"I did everything right. It's not fair. It's just not fair"

"I know. But we always lash out at those closest to us. It's be all right." Hilda sat beside her and held her hand. "You'll see. Now try to stop crying."

"I'm crying about that little girl. I hope she's going to be well."

Hilda put her arm around her shoulder. "You saw. She was getting her color back even before the paramedics came. She'll be OK. You don't have to worry."

She kept crying. "I hope so."

Valerie stayed in the foyer all night long. She couldn't sleep, and she was afraid to get up and go anywhere lest Marcus come home and find her wandering about. The foyer wasn't being gone like he said, but it was the next closest thing. She kept telling herself. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. She felt all twisted up inside. Her whole body felt smarmy and shaky.

At the hospital Marcus sat in the waiting room with Rosalind and the girl's parents. Periodically a doctor or nurse came in and reported on any progress. Around 3:00 a.m. one of the emergency room doctors came in with a pretty definitive report. He explained the girl had a pretty close call, but it looked like things were working out. He had several questions and comments.

"Who was the one who put the straw down the girl's throat."

Marcus nervously responded. "I'm afraid it was me. Did I do much damage to her wind pipe?"

"Quite the opposite. The damage to her windpipe is minimal, and will quickly heal. But your quick use of the straw to get air into her lungs certainly saved her life, and absolutely guaranteed there would be no cerebral damage. I'd say the worst that will come out of it for our little girl is to not remember much of the incident. Otherwise, with some rest, she'll have a full recovery." The doctor reached out and clasped his hands on Marcus's shoulders. "You're a hero my man. That little girl will grow up thanks to you."

Marcus stood in place, rock solid still, immovable. He seemed to be looking off into space. He cracked for just a second. Eyes welling up with unshed tears, shoulders quivering like he was about to break down, but he held it in.

Rosalind watched him closely. "Why don't you go home. Get some rest. I'll call you if I find anything else out.

Marcus hugged his sister. "Thanks Rosalind. I've got a problem at home. It needs to be solved."

Rosalind was very worried about her brother. This was exactly the kind of crisis he didn't need. "Don't make any stupid decisions. Let's wait and find out the details."

He wasn't listening. He'd already left for the parking lot. His mind was made up. Valerie had nearly killed that little girl. They were all the same, stupid, self centered, thoughtless, and short sighted. He was angry with himself. He should have known better. Valerie at the best was a worthless twit, at the worst, well, he'd been here before.

Rosalind watched Marcus stalk off. She hoped she could intercept him before he did or said something he'd really regret. She turned back to the doctor. "What more can you tell us? What brought it on?"

"We got her stomach cleaned out and found some partly digested mashed potatoes, instant mashed potatoes. Most people don't realize instant mashed potatoes are often made with milk or milk by products. Usually there's some kind of indication on the box, a listing of ingredients, but besides the parents, who checks for lactose on an instant mashed potatoes box?"

The little girl's mother spoke up. "I knew that, but it never occurred to me she got instant mashed potatoes. Marcus's significant other, Valerie I believe, had said she was going to get French fries."

The doctor responded. "There were French fries in there too. My guess is, if you had a lot of kids she bartered her fries for something she seldom got, the mashed potatoes, or maybe one of the other children talked her into some kind of a trade. Kids can be creepy. They'll make those kinds of decisions without a thought and they'll do it right in front of you. If you're not watching every bite full, then, bang, you've got a trip to the hospital."

The doctor kept talking to the parents while Rosalind stepped away. That's how it happened. Valerie was cutting up some other kids meat, or wiping some gritty little face, and our sick little girl there was negotiating a food swap. I've got to get back to the house. Marcus doesn't know. Damn! She realized she didn't have her cell phone. Shit! Marcus never answered that stuff anyway. She yawned. She was so damned tired. She'd have to find a pay phone. But it could keep a couple hours. She looked at her watch. Hell it was nearly 4:00 in the morning! She had to get a little sleep, maybe forty winks. Rosalind walked over to a nearby emergency room sofa. It was big and soft. I'll just sit back a while, maybe an hour. Get myself together. Call in an hour. She was out like a light.

Back at the house, in a lonely dark foyer a sad and tearful young woman was trying to sort things out. Between the tears and the confusion she was trying to get things right in her head. I should have kept a closer watch. I could have gotten someone else to cut the meat, butter the biscuit. I should have been there. I should have anticipated something.

From an objective point of view maybe she should have. Maybe she could have, but no one knows for sure what can happen, only what did happen. Was she to blame? Kids do funny things. Recrimination can be an ugly word.

Marcus drove back to the house in a daze. He almost drove off the road. He'd loved her. He'd trusted her. He'd believed in her. But he'd been through this before. They were all the same. When push came to shove, when the bullet met the bone, they always came up short. Valerie was no different. He should have known better. This was it! This was the last time he'd ever put his trust, his faith, his love, or his heart in another woman's hands. The only woman who'd ever stood the test had been his sister. Rosalind was the only one. He'd never make this mistake again.

But what was he going to do with Valerie. Yes he loved her. He couldn't imagine going on without her, but she had to go. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He was a man, but not man enough for that. He couldn't, wouldn't try to face her. He'd be too weak. He knew that if he looked at her he'd forgive her. How many times had his first wife made a fool of him? More than he cared to remember. He wouldn't be somebody's fool again. She'd make the choice, not him. It wouldn't be on his head. She'd have to leave on her own. If she loved him, really loved him, she wouldn't, and if it was all a scam? Then he'd find out the truth.

Marcus pulled into the driveway and went inside. The way he walked one would have thought he'd been smacked with a bat, more like a limp than a walk. He felt old, tired. He walked straight into the house, looking neither to the right nor to the left. Had he looked to the left he'd have seen the stricken, ashen white face of the woman he loved. He was just too damn exhausted.

Hilda came out of the shadows to greet him. "How is the little girl?"

"She's going to be all right. Where's Valerie?"

Hilda wanted to say something about not rushing to judgment, but that wasn't her call. And she was afraid to tell him where she was. He might do something drastic. "She's about somewhere."

He had thought of something. It wasn't nice. "Put her back in the room upstairs. The one she used her first night. Clean the maid uniform she wore that second night, the black one with the starched collar and cuffs. Starch the whole damn uniform." He wasn't thinking coherently. "Put it on a hanger in the room. Tell her if she wants to stay, she stays as a servant, a domestic. If she doesn't like it?" He hesitated. "She can leave."

Hilda put her hand on his sleeve.

He looked down in surprise.

"Marcus. I mean Mr. Burke. Don't do it."

"I'm done. I'm wiped. I don't want to think. I don't want to think about anything."

Hilda wouldn't' let go She was crying. "Don't throw her away! You throw her away now you'll be throwing your whole life away. You'll regret it the rest of your life."

Marcus was bleary eyed and mentally at a complete loss. "It'll wait till I can think this out."

Hilda let him go, but she warned him as he stumbled up the steps. "Don't do this. It will be the biggest mistake of your life."

He wasn't listening.

Hilda went into the foyer. "He wants you to go back to the upstairs room. You're to be a maid. I've got to get the uniform you wore. He won't talk, and he won't listen."

Valerie heard what Hilda said in stark disbelief. "OK. I'm going upstairs." She knew what she had to do.

A few minutes later Hilda found Valerie in her tiny cell on the topmost floor. "I have your uniform for tomorrow."

"Thank you Hilda. I want to thank you for everything." Hilda closed the door and slipped down the hall.