<<< IPE-06.txt >>>
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"Island Paradise: Eternity" - Chapter 6 of ??
--> M/F, F/F and just about everything else
--> Author: HighlanderJM@hotmail.com
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"This was not how you expected to spend New Year's Eve,"
I silently commented to myself, perched in a window seat on
a jumbo-jetliner as it made its final approach toward the
Baltimore/Washington International Airport. I looked out
the window and realized that it was a winter wonderland,
with snow-covered grounds for as far as the eye could see.
"You could be on the beach back home," I reminded myself.
"Or better yet, holding Devon and Kristanna in your arms."
I frowned inwardly, wondering how I had gotten myself
into this situation. Then, I made a mental reminder that
it was for Pamela. I flew all the way from Peru to Miami,
and then here to Baltimore, because I wanted to be by
Pamela's side in her time of need. I wanted to help her.
Devon was a bit hesitant of me flying all the way to
Maryland when I approached her with the idea some eight
hours ago. However, I told her there was no changing my
mind. I asked Devon what she would do if Lindsay was
back home in Ohio, and someone called and informed us
that she was horribly sick. I asked Devon if she would
drop everything to go and be by Lindsay's side.
Devon then nodded her head in response and told me to
go and help Pamela. "Try and bring me home a souvenir from
Baltimore," Devon requested. "Bring Pamela home with you.
Bring her back to the island. She belongs here."
Kristanna was more understanding from the very beginning
once I told her of my impromptu plans. Of course, she had
always been understanding of me and the way I think about
certain things. Kristanna knew me quite well, and realized
that there was no changing my mind when it was already set.
Thus, Devon and Kristanna were in charge of the island
for however long I was away. I realized that I was missing
precious time with Lindsay, Amy, Stephanie, Sarah and
Britney, but Pamela's health and well-being was far more
important to me. My feelings ran very deep for this woman.
* * *
"Welcome back to the real world," I mumbled to myself,
zipping up my heavy winter coat and tossing a scarf around
my neck. I exited the jumbo-jetliner with the rest of the
passengers in first class, then searched for the blonde in
the green coat and red Santa's hat at the airport gate.
After a few seconds, I finally spotted Candice - Pamela's
younger (22-year-old) sister - and made my way over to her.
There was a light snowfall outside as I introduced myself
and shook hands with Candice, who agreed during our prior
telephone conversation to meet me here at the airport and
then drive me to the hospital.
Unfortunately, Candice told me, there was no news to
report on Pamela's condition. She had been in the hospital
all day long and was still in the midst of a wide array of
tests. I told her that we would have to go to the waiting
room and simply stay there until there was a diagnosis.
Of course, the weather was miserable after I procured my
suitcase at baggage claim and then stepped outside into the
parking lot with Candice. Earlier today, I reminded myself,
it was 90 degrees on the island. Now, here in Baltimore, I
found myself in eight degree temperature, with a wind chill
of -23. I hadn't experienced such cold, bitter weather
since I was a high schooler in New Jersey. My years in
California and on the island had definitely spoiled me.
My body felt numb and chilly until I was able to hop into
Candice's car and luxuriate in the warmth of its heater.
Our slow, 15 minute drive throughout downtown Baltimore, to
Johns Hopkins Hospital, reminded me of why I disdain city
life so much. I could not tolerate the traffic and all the
honking horns as we drove through the snow-infested city. I
had a certain longing for my peaceful island in the tropics.
I took the coward's way and insisted that Candice drop me
off right at the entrance to the hospital. She did so, and
then I quickly ducked inside and patiently waited for her to
find a parking place and then meet me in the lobby.
It may have been 11:00pm, but the emergency room was
bustling with activity. One kid had a broken collarbone and
was crying in the corner. A man had suffered a broken wrist
during a skiing accident. People were in wheelchairs. Some
old lady was complaining that she being forced to wait too
long for medical treatment. It was a place of apathy...
I stayed close to Candice as she went up to the reception
desk to ask if there was any news on Pamela's diagnosis.
The nurse said they were still running tests on her, but
hoped to have an answer soon. Candice then requested that
we be allowed to visit Pamela for a couple of minutes. The
nurse said she'd ask the doctor for us, but made no promises.
* * *
"You go in and see her," Candice said to me, as the nurse
offered to allow us to visit Pamela for a few moments about
a half-hour later. "I think you and her should be alone
when you meet up again - for the first time in months."
"But she's your sister..." I insisted.
"It's okay," she assured me. "Go in and see Pamela. I
will stay out here. Just tell her that I'm here for her."
She offered a faint laugh and added, "Besides, Pamela has
saw enough of me for today. She'll be happy to see you."
* * *
"Oh my God!" Pamela gasped seconds later, her pale hand
trembling as she latched onto my wrist rather tightly. "It
can't be! Jeremy! Is... is that YOU?"
Resting in a hospital bed several hours after a pair of
mysterious collapses, Pamela had a large assortment of wires,
all connected to health monitoring equipment, attached to her
body. She looked to be a shell of the intelligent, vibrant
woman I once knew and admired from earlier this year. Of
course, hospitals have a way of doing that to people.
"Oh God..." Pamela whined, her hand grabbing my wrist even
tighter. "Jeremy! Wh-What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to be by your side," I told her in a soft tone,
leaning down and kissing her hand as she held my wrist.
"Your sister, Candice, called me earlier and told me what
happened. I dropped everything and flew here A-S-A-P."
"All the way from Peru?" Pamela fretted.
"All the way from Peru," I confirmed, nodding my head.
"I don't know if I can be of any help or not... but I do
feel good that I am here for you." She squealed as I told
her, "I still love you, Pamela. I want you to be safe and
sound, but most of all, healthy. What happened to you?"
"They said it could be my heart, Jeremy," she cried.
I shook my head in response at her. "The doctors have
no idea why you fainted," I reminded Pamela, trying to keep
her spirits up. "It could have been anything. Don't go
thinking that it is your heart. You have to stay positive,
Pamela." I paused and added, "I'm no doctor myself, but it
seems to me if it was your heart, they would already know by
now. From what I understand, they first tested your heart."
The 26-year-old lifted her head and glanced at her body.
"I look like a human electrical socket with all these wires.
I don't like it, Jeremy. I don't like it!"
"You'll be fine," Candice murmured, stepping forward and
running her hand across Pamela's face. "These doctors will
take good care of you, and find out what the problem is."
Apparently, Candice decided to follow me in after all.
"It's not your heart," Candice added. "I think Jeremy
is right. If it was your heart, they would know by now."
"I'm just so scared..." Pamela reiterated. "My heart...
Maybe I have some sort of brain ailment!..."
When the doctor appeared in the doorway behind us, he
asked Candice and I to leave, saying it was time to run some
more tests on Pamela. I nodded my head at him.
"I don't want you to leave!" Pamela whined, now holding
onto my wrist with a vice-tight grip.
"We're just going to the waiting room," I said, my smile
warm and friendly. "We're not going to leave until they
find out what is wrong with you. I promise you that." I
leaned over and planted a gentle kiss upon the blonde's
forehead. "I trust you'll be fine, dear."
* * *
It had been a whirlwind day, to say the least.
After Candice called me on the telephone early in the
afternoon, saying Pamela had fainted and collapsed twice in
a five minute span, and was now in the hospital, I agreed to
immediately leave my island behind and catch the next flight
to Baltimore. Pamela needed me, I told myself.
Pamela was revived by the paramedics in the ambulance,
and was now shot up with all sorts of medication as she lay
connected to monitoring equipment in a hospital room. They
did not know what the exact problem was, but were going to
focus the initial tests on her heart. They stressed to
Candice, Pamela's younger sister told me, that this did not
necessarily mean anything was wrong with her heart. It was
just the starting point for their tests.
Upon my arrival, the primary doctor agreed we could visit
her a bit later, but only for a few minutes. Candice and I
sat idly by in the waiting room for 30 minutes until a nurse
emerged and finally offered us access to Pamela's room.
But now with that visit over, Candice and I ventured back
to the waiting room. There was a lot to think about. What
if it WAS Pamela's heart, after all? What if she were to
enter cardiac arrest? What if the unthinkable happened as
a result? I really rather not go into any great detail about
it. No matter what, this was going to be a LONG night...
* * *
When we first returned to the waiting room, Candice was
on pins and needles. She was worried sick about Pamela -
and for good reason. I tried my best to the one who was
calm and level-headed about it all. If I let my true
worries be known, I'm sure it would have done nothing but
make Candice feel even worse. I put on a strong face and
tried helping her stay positive through this ordeal.
Hours later, as the big wall clock read 2:30am, I was
teetering on the edge of falling asleep, but knew that I
had somehow stay awake and wait for word from the doctor.
I could not allow myself to fall asleep until Pamela was
finally diagnosed. No matter how utterly exhausted I was,
I HAD to stay awake - for Pamela's sake.
"It's good to have finally met you," Candice murmured,
slouched down in a nearby chair as she looked at me with
tired, heavy eyes. "I have heard so much about you from
Pamela. She loves you more than you'll ever know."
I offered a faint smile and responded, "The feeling is
mutual. Pamela has always meant a great deal to me."
Candice yawned and commented, "Your island sounds like a
wonderful place, but I could never go there myself."
"Why is that?"
The young woman giggled and answered, "I'm not bi-sexual
like my sister. If I were, though..." She giggled again,
but then the doctor finally approached us with some news.
I felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted
from my shoulders as the doctor said there were no direct
problems with Pamela's heart. Pamela had fainted twice, he
believed, because she suffered from two very treatable health
conditions - low blood pressure and hyperthyroidism.
The doctor explained to me that Pamela's blood pressure
was at a level which was not safe. It was extremely low, but
could be taken care quite easily. He said the reason for
her low blood pressure was most likely linked to a greater
problem - an overactive thyroid gland.
Without going into intricate, technical detail here, the
doctor basically said that an excessive amount of blood was
being pumped through the arteries of Pamela's heart. Her
thyroid was producing too many hormones and as a result,
throwing off the metabolism rate of her body - and causing
the rapid blood flow through her arteries. Fortunately,
there was no direct damage with her heart itself.
There were several ways to attack an overactive thyroid,
the doctor said. Some prefer radioactive iodine, but he
thought traditional medicine would be the better route. By
regulating her thyroid gland with medication, the doctor
told us, Pamela's blood pressure would increase to a far
more desirable level. The medicine would take care of her.
The doctor made us promise that I would have Pamela back
at the hospital one week from now so she could undergo more
testing. He did not need to ask twice. They will check her
out, he said, and adjust her medication dosage if necessary.
The doctor suggested that the two of us go home for the
night. Pamela was fast asleep because of the medication
and besides, he wanted to keep the princess at the hospital
overnight so they could further monitor her. Barring an
unforeseen event, Pamela would be released in the morning.
After I shook hands with the man and thanked him, he went
back to his duties as Candice and I contemplated our options
for the remainder of the evening. Candice did not want to
make the 10 mile drive to the apartment that she and her
sister shared together since a generous amount of snow was
still falling from the Heavens outside. I then suggested
that we check into the hotel across the street. She agreed.
I paid for a room, and the two of us literally dragged
our way up the steps to it. I was so exhausted that after
entering the room and locking its door, I fell upon the
nearest bed and was out like a light.
* * *
"Why don't you have a doctor?" I asked Pamela, straddling
her lower back some 15 hours later, as she rested front-down
upon the modest, single bed within her personal bedroom. We
arrived in her suburban hometown around noon-time, and I saw
to it that Pamela did absolutely nothing strenuous today. I
did not allow her to leave my sight as Candice had gone off
to work on this cold, blustery New Year's Day.
"I never thought I needed a doctor," she replied, as I
used both hands to gingerly massage her shoulders. She
writhed in relaxed pleasure as I was seated over the small
of her back, my hands working upon her tense shoulders.
"Besides, I'm a stripper. Strippers don't get insurance.
It's not a benefit of the job."
"A stripper?" I countered, and then Pamela gasped - as if
she had just said something terribly wrong. "You are still
a stripper? I thought you had a job at the library."
Pamela's eyes suddenly welled up with tears as she shook
her head, her expression tight and full of anguish. "I lied
to you, Jeremy. I... I wanted you to think I was working as
a librarian. I... I went back into stripping."
"Why?" I asked, exasperated.
"Don't think I didn't try to become a librarian!" Pamela
cried. "I know that is what you wanted me to do with my
life. You didn't want me to strip anymore. I tried and
tried to look for a good, decent job, but no one would hire
me! No one wants to hire someone who stripped for seven
years!" She sniffed her nose and added in a timid voice, "I
wanted you to think that I done good, Jeremy. So... I lied."
Trying to push that little transgression to the side for
the moment, I went back to my original point in saying, "You
have plenty of money to pay for a doctor's visit out of your
own pocket. I guess you're one of the highest-paid dancers
at your club. I gave you one and a half million dollars
myself. That's plenty of money for a doctor."
"I didn't want to pay hundreds of dollars out of my own
pocket for a doctor to look at me for 10 or 15 minutes, and
say I was in good health," Pamela countered. "Maybe even
thousands. I never thought anything was wrong with me. I
guess I thought I was immune, despite having these symptoms
the doctor told me about today. Muscle spasms, weakness,
feeling nervous." She paused and added, "I'll be forced to
get my own insurance now. I may have to be on thyroid
medication for the rest of my life. I just hate pills."
"You could have solved this problem such a long time ago,
though, if you just went to the doctor," I offered. "You
should go at least once a year, Pamela."
"I haven't had a physical since I was 19," she pouted.
"I'm 26 now. Some New Year's Day for me, huh? I wake up
in a hospital bed the day after passing out twice."
"You're going to have a full physical next week," I told
her. "I'm going to pay for it."
"You don't have to do that, Jeremy," Pamela returned,
gently shaking her head. "I will pay for it."
"It really doesn't matter who pays for it," I said. "All
that matters is that you get one. A thorough check-up."
"I still have that check you gave me, but I'm sure you
already know that," she murmured.
"What are you talking about?" I wondered.
"The check," she answered. "The check you gave me at the
end of the summer. A million and a half bucks. I never
cashed it. I don't know if I'll ever cash it."
"You never cashed it?" I exclaimed. "WHY?"
She frowned and responded, "I didn't want to put a dollar
amount on what was the best ten weeks of my life. You and
Devon were so nice to me, Jeremy. I... I didn't feel as if
I deserved to be paid all that money. If anything, you
should have been the one charging us."
"That check was yours," I gasped, still stunned. "That
money was yours. I thought for sure that you had cashed it."
"You must not pay attention to your bank account, then,"
she told me. "You better balance your checkbook."
"I don't have a checkbook," I laughed.
"I ruined your New Year's with Devon and Kristanna," she
pouted. "You should be home with them, Jeremy. I still
can't believe that Candice got you to come all the way here."
"You didn't ruin anything," I told her. "You can't blame
yourself for having a faulty thyroid. Many people do. I
have one too, dear. But not quite as bad as yours. I do
have to take daily medication for it, though." I smiled and
added, "Hopefully, you won't have to."
My heart sank in my chest as a tear streaked down Pamela's
face. She shook her head and told me, "I didn't know what
was going on last night. I felt like a lab rat with all
those wires connected to me. I... I really didn't even know
if I would survive the night. Would I... be alive... in the
morning?" Tears began streaming from her eyes as she added,
"My whole life and everything about it flashed before me last
night. What was important and what wasn't. It... my life...
I'm... I'm nothing, Jeremy. Nothing at all..."
"What?" I asked, now even more stunned, as I laid down
upon my side so I could look at Pamela face-to-face. The
tears were more prevalent now. "What do you mean?" I
reached out with my hand and gently touched her shoulder.
"Look at me," she quietly sobbed. "I'm a failure! I let
the best thing that ever happened to me - you - slip away
without even a protest. You treated me better, and with
more respect, than anyone else ever had before. You want me
to quit stripping, you want me to eventually become a
teacher. You want me to lead a productive life. Yet... I
lie to you, Jeremy. I can't tell you I went back into
stripping." She paused and added, still crying, "But it
doesn't really matter. No one cares about me anyway."
After a short pause, during which time I tried to sort
through my thoughts, I offered, "I care about you, Pamela."
"No you don't," she spat back. "No one does! No one has
ever really cared about me! You, Jeremy, you..." She shook
her head and cried harder, her words fading. "You have Devon
and Kristanna in your life. I'm nothing compared to them!"
"I DO care about you," I told her, my voice firm and
strong. "Devon cares about you. Do you know how many times
I have called her in the past 24 hours, updating her on your
condition? A countless number of times. Candice also cares
about you. She is your sister. How can you honestly say
people don't care about you?"
"Because I'm nothing but a big joke to everyone!" she
exploded. "My whole family looks at me as an outcast
because I've been a stripper for so long! Candice, I... I
think she tolerates me. That's it! Plus, she needs the
money I earn while dancing at the club to continue living in
this apartment." Pamela shook her head and added, "She is
like everyone else, Jeremy. She uses me for her own good,
but does not care about me one bit. Everyone hates me!"
I was speechless. I had no response for what she had
just said to me. None whatsoever.
"You don't care about me, Jeremy!" she hissed. "What
possible reason would you have to care about me? Look at
who you have in your life. Devon, the peaches-and-cream
dental assistant from Pennsylvania. The absolute girl of
your dreams. Kristanna? Kristanna is a sweet, innocent
farm-girl from Norway who would do anything to make you
happy. Me?" She laughed bitterly and continued, "ME? Me,
I'm nothing but a worthless, Godforsaken stripper! A SLUT!"
"No..." I finally said, shaking my head. "I care about
you, Pamela. I always have. And I always will."
Pamela shook her head and whined, "I'm really ashamed of
myself, and what I've become, Jeremy. I'm not happy at all.
Actually... I'm very depressed. I'm so far down into being
a stripper that no matter what, no one will ever like me for
who I really am. Then again, no one ever liked me in the
first place. I'm just a worthless use of garbage."
"No..." I said, shaking my head. "How can you say that,
Pamela? You're upset now. You don't really feel this way."
"YES I DO!" she exploded, sitting up and glaring at me
now. "I've always felt this way! When I was in high school
and beyond, the only way I could get people to notice me was
to have sex with them! No one ever took the time to look at
me as an actual person, and care about me! I was nothing
more than an object! A cheap thrill to them! The dumb
blonde cheerleader with the biggest breasts!" Pamela went
into a crying fit as she concluded, "All I've ever wanted was
for someone to look at me and say, you're a good person..."
"I've always felt that way about you, Pamela," I told her.
"You're lying!" she countered, on the defensive again.
"No I'm not. I wouldn't lie to you, Pamela. I don't lie
to anyone. You know how much I hate dishonesty."
"You think I'm a good person?" she asked, skeptical.
"Absolutely," I replied. "I've thought that since first
getting to know you back in June. Now I have also thought
that you were overly quiet and secretive most of the time,
but I always thought you were a good person. I've often
wondered why it seems you were trying to hide that good
person underneath your exterior."
Pamela went silent, appearing lost in thought. So I went
on saying, "Look at you, dear. You're a beautiful woman.
Blonde hair, a model's face... a killer body. You may not
be the most outgoing or friendliest of people, but the right
man... or woman, would have come along for you eventually.
They would have seen you the very way I see you - as an
honest, good person. You didn't have to become the class
slut in school, or the featured dancer at the strip club."
"Why try to impress people who are not even worth your
time?" I asked her. "You said no one cared about you in
high school, so you resorted to slutting. Why? To get them
to notice you? For what? If that was all they wanted from
you, Pamela, they weren't worth it. You're much better than
that." I shook my head and stressed, "I have ALWAYS said
that to you. You are better than you allow yourself to be."
"How can you say that?" she wondered, her voice cracking.
My words were definitely having a profound effect on her.
"Because it's the truth," I answered. "I think you're a
good person, Pamela. I always have." I paused and added,
"I would NOT have come all this way on a holiday if I thought
otherwise. Or, if I did not care about you. I would not do
that for someone if I did not like them or thought they were
a bad person. Get the idea that I don't care about you out
of your head, because it's not true. I DO care about you."
Pamela was silent again. "Devon cares about you, too," I
went on. "Candice cares about you, as well. After you
passed out yesterday, she was absolutely frantic. Candice
was crying; she was scared to death for your safety. She
called me on the telephone and begged me that I come and
visit you at the hospital, to make you feel better."
"Really?" Pamela asked, her spirits suddenly raising.
"Really," I told her. "Now I can't say much more for
Candice, but it does SEEM to me that she loves you, too.
She is your sister, after all. Your own flesh and blood."
"The doctor told me that I was lucky I got to the hospital
as soon as I did yesterday. He said if not, I could have
been a lot worse off. Maybe even dead." Pamela hesitated
and told me, "I might be better off that way."
"NO!" I countered emphatically, shaking my head. "Don't
think that way, Pamela! Get that thought out of your head!
Life is too precious. It should be cherished!"
"But why?" she cried. "I just feel so worthless."
"I'd miss you so much, Pamela, if you died yesterday." As
I said those words, I could not believe the conversation we
were having. Pamela was supposed to be very self-assured and
confidant of herself. I had always looked at her that way.
But in reality, she was an extremely lonely, depressed woman.
"I don't care about myself because no one cares about me,"
she gently added, which made me shake my head. "Why should I
care about myself if no one else does?"
"You're so wrong, dear," I told her. "I care about you.
I love you. Candice loves you. Devon..."
"I just... I want someone - ANYONE - to look me in the
eyes and say that they love me. I want them to mean it. And
I want to know that they mean it. I want, for once in my
life, to feel that I am needed. I'm more than an object."
"I do mean it, Pamela," were my words, as I stared deep
into her eyes. "I love you. I always have."
"You have your two wives," she said, shrugging my words
off. "What possible reason would you have to TRULY love me?"
"Pamela, I mean it. I love three people in this world -
Devon, Kristanna and you. You, Pamela." I shook my head and
added, "I guarantee you that your sister loves you, too. I
think you are too depressed to realize that."
"How can you love me?" she wondered.
After a long drought of silence, I held my hand up and
waved it before her eyes. "See that, Pamela? This ring I'm
wearing? You gave it to me just before you left Peru. I
remember what you told me then, too. The crown on the top
of the ring is a show of loyalty. The hands on the bottom
represent friendship. And the heart in the center... love."
I dangled the ring in front of her face some more before
adding, "You said this is a family heirloom of yours. You're
supposed to give it to your future husband. But... you gave
it to me. Me, Pamela. This is the nicest thing anyone has
ever given to me." I reached around her shoulders with both
arms, bringing her body close to mine in a warm embrace.
"I cherish this ring, Pamela. I never take it off. It
means so much to me. After you left me, I looked at this
ring everyday and thought about you. I always asked myself
if you were safe. Were you happy? Was everything okay in
your life? I wanted nothing but the best for you, Pamela.
I prayed for you everyday." Our embrace tightened...
"I know what it feels like to be lonely," I added. "I
know the feeling all too well. I was alone on my island,
save some visits from Kristanna, for six years. I lived in
total isolation, Pamela. I know what it feels like. I
don't want you to feel that way. I want to help you."
"Quit your stripping job," I told her seconds later, as
she was now crying in response to my earlier words. "If you
are not happy stripping, get out of it. Why continue to do
something if all it does it make you feel miserable?"
"And do what?" Pamela cried, as she ended our embrace and
stared deeply at me. "What would I do for a job? And don't
tell me to cash that check. I'll never cash it!"
"You could come home with me - to where you belong, on
the island," I answered, which made Pamela's eyes go wide.
"You want to be around people who love you? Both me and
Devon love you. Kristanna could grow to love you. Devon
told me to bring you home. She wants you back."
"What about my sister?" Pamela choked.
"I already talked with Candice about this very subject,"
was my response. "Candice would miss you, but would also be
happy because she realizes the one place in this world that
makes you happy - and forget your problems - is the island."
"I love Candice. She is my best friend..."
"You could come back and visit her anytime you want," I
grinned, feeling as if I had finally turned the corner here.
Pamela's more sensible, mature side was back on display. "I
could even give her some money so she can stay here in this
apartment, and make it through college."
I kissed Pamela on the forehead and added, "I want you to
take a couple of days, dear, to think all of this over. We
will talk to Candice when the time is right, and let her know
your decision. I want you to be sure of your decision. If
you really, truly want to stay here in Maryland, I would be
happy for you. All I want is for YOU to be happy. I want
you to do what's best for YOU. That's all that matters."
"Or, if you opt to go back to the island with Devon,
Kristanna and me, we'd welcome you with open arms. We would
give you all the love and compassion that you could handle.
You are a good person, Pamela. There is always room for good
people in our lives. My day is never complete until I can
put a smile on the faces of Devon and Kristanna. You could
be part of that mix, too. I would do anything and everything
to make you happy, Pamela. Whatever it takes."
"You are a better person than you believe," I continued.
"You're a much better person than you give yourself credit
for. I know how special you are, Pamela. You are more
special than I could ever relate with words. I... I would
treat you the way you need to be treated. I would treat
you like an angel... because that is what you truly are."
Tears (perhaps of joy?) went streaking down Pamela's face
once again. I offered her forehead another tender kiss and
added, "Take some time, dear. But first, you need to get
some sleep. You need rest, Pamela." I rose up from the bed,
saying, "I'll get your medicine. Take it, and then go to
sleep. We'll call Devon and Kristanna in the morning. I
will sleep out on the sofa tonight."
I turned to retrieve Pamela's medication from the nearby
dresser-drawer. Before I reached it, however, Pamela's voice
stopped me dead in my tracks.
"Jeremy?"
I looked over my shoulder at her. "What?"
"Thank you," she responded, her eyes totally bloodshot.
"I... oh dear God... I don't even know what to say..."
"Thank YOU," I shot back, smiling.
"For what?" she wondered, a bit puzzled.
I hesitated for a moment, but then smiled and answered,
"For being so totally open and honest with me, sweetheart.
For... trusting me with your feelings. I appreciate it."
She gulped her throat and asked in a very timid voice,
"Are there good hospitals in Peru?"
"Of course there are," was my response. "Real good ones."
Pamela sniffed her nose and whined, "Do you think I could
undergo those further tests I need and get my physical at a
hospital in Peru next week? Maybe the doctors here could
transfer my records, or something, to them."
I smiled at her and asked, "Are you telling me what I
think you are telling me, dear?"
"I don't want to keep you from Devon and Kristanna any
longer than I already have," she told me, taking a deep
breath while also wiping away her tears. "I made up my mind.
I want to go home with you tomorrow. To the island..."
<<<- End of Part 6 ->>>
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