The Widow's Fate They Chose Was My Escape Plan novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: The Special Blend
Willa marries the bedridden Rory Keane, pours out Desmond's toast on his warning, and the doctor draws up an unlabeled syringe.
The Keane townhouse had a bedroom on the third floor with the curtains drawn and an oxygen tank beside the bed.
I was married in that room four hours after I signed.
I wore the gray dress I had put on that morning for the memorial.
My mother's pearls were still in my jewelry box at the Harcourt house, and nobody had given me time to go back for them.
An officiant stood at the foot of the bed with a book and a nervous cough.
Two witnesses waited beside him.
One was a Keane lawyer.
The other was Conrad.
He had followed my car across town and arrived at the door out of breath.
"I'm the only family you've got here," he said when I looked at him.
"You're the family who sold me," I said. "Stand over there."
He stood where I pointed.
Desmond Keane came in last, in a camel coat, with a warm, kind face.
He was the heir's uncle, a tall man with silver hair, and he took both my hands in his.
"Willa," he said. "You can't know how grateful this house is."
His palms were warm and dry.
"Rory has had no one for a long time. Now he has you."
I said, "I'm happy to help."
I meant it. I was only helping myself.
Then I looked at the bed.
Rory Keane lay propped on four pillows with a clear tube under his nose.
He was thin and pale in a way that made his gray eyes look too big for his face.
His dark hair needed cutting.
His hands lay on the blanket, long and still.
He was thirty-one, and he looked at me without any welcome at all.
"So this is the bride," he said.
His voice was low and raspy, but every word was clear.
"The Harcourts sent the one who signs fast."
"The Harcourts sent the one they could spare," I said.
Something moved in his face.
It was gone before I could name it.
"Let's begin," Desmond said. "Rory tires easily."
The officiant read the words quickly.
I said mine in a flat voice.
Rory said his between breaths, and his eyes never left my face.
When the officiant asked for the ring, Desmond produced a plain gold band from his pocket.
Rory's hand shook when I took it.
I slid the ring onto his finger, and his finger was thin under my thumb.
Then the officiant told us we were husband and wife.
Nobody clapped.
Conrad shifted his weight, and the floor creaked.
"Now the toast," Desmond said warmly.
He crossed to a tray by the window where a silver teapot and two cups sat waiting.
"Champagne is too much for Rory's stomach," he said. "A little of his special blend, for both of you."
He poured the first cup himself and carried it to the bed.
He poured the second and carried it to me.
His hands did not shake at all.
"To a long marriage," he said.
I lifted the cup.
The tea smelled of ginger and something bitter underneath it.
Rory lifted his own cup to his lips, and Desmond watched him.
Then Rory's eyes cut to me, just for a second, and moved to the cup in my hand.
It was a small movement, and I understood it: do not drink.
I pretended to drink.
I let the cup touch my lip and tilted it, and kept every drop in the saucer.
When Desmond turned to speak to the lawyer, Rory caught my wrist.
His fingers were cold and much stronger than they should have been.
He drew me down toward his cheek, so Desmond would see only a bride kissing her husband.
His breath moved against my ear.
"Whatever he hands you in this house," he said, so quietly I barely heard it, "hand it back."
I straightened.
My face did not change.
"Thank you, Uncle," Rory said aloud, and let his head fall back against the pillow with a long, weak breath.
Desmond patted his shoulder.
"Rest now. Doctor will look in."
The door opened.
A man in a gray suit came in with a black leather bag, and Conrad stepped aside to let him pass.
He set the bag on the bedside table and took out a syringe.
There was no label on the vial in his other hand.
He drew it up slowly and flicked the barrel with one finger.
Nobody in the room said a word.
Rory looked at the ceiling.
His hand, the one with my ring on it, closed on the sheet.
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