The Prince Of Kuching 60 Chloroform And Guil

"Meaghan!" Her neighbor, Shel, was walking briskly towards her. Meaghan didn't feel like talking, but courtesy demanded she respond.

"Hi, Shel. I see you're back from your trip. Look, I'd like to chat, but I'm really tired. Can we do this another day?"

Shel's concerned face focused on Meaghan's. Nodding, she put an arm around the younger woman's shoulders and clucked sympathetically.

"I know you're tired, but there is something I need you to do for me."

Meaghan barely registered the bitter-smelling fabric covering her nose and mouth before, without even a chance to protest, she slipped away into darkness.

~ ~ ~

Rickie drove home in a daze, the events of the day and the confrontation with Meaghan leaving him feeling strangely detached.

After coming home, he spent some time explaining to his father what had happened at the FLNG gas rig. He didn't tell mention what happened between Meaghan and him; that experience was just too raw to go over.

After declining breakfast, he went to his bedroom to shower and change, taking care not to get the incision site wet. When he came out, there was a plate containing fruit, toast, a pat of Nutella, and a gla.s.s of juice on the nightstand next to his bed. He methodically ate, not even noticing the taste.
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After finis.h.i.+ng his repast, he began pacing in his bedroom, feeling wide awake, then he stopped and pressed the number one on his speed dial.

"Please leave a message after the tone…" Rickie hung up before the announcement finished, desperately wanting to hear Meaghan's voice and not some mechanical voice reading a script.

Several hours later, Rickie frowned at his cell phone. He had attempted to contact Meaghan several times that morning, but her phone stubbornly went to voice mail every time. He debated going to her house to explain things in greater detail, but was afraid she would refuse to let him in. Snapping the cell cover shut, he shoved it back into his pocket and resumed pacing his bedroom.

A knock sounded on his door, and his father's a.s.sistant walked in. JoAnne took one look at his face, and shook her head.

"You've got it bad, don't you?" Rickie's protest died as he looked into her eyes, and saw a similar pain.

JoAnne nodded. "I don't regret my daughter, but that doesn't mean I didn't hurt over the b.a.s.t.a.r.d that fathered her. You really love Meaghan, don't you."

His throat tight, Rickie gave a brief nod, and JoAnne took a step forward and hugged him hard.

"Oh sweetie, I'm happy for you. But what happened?"

"What is there to be happy about," Rickie bit out, a wave of anger overriding his more tender emotions, "She doesn't want to see me, and I don't know what to do to fix this."

He pulled away from the a.s.sistant and resumed pacing.

JoAnne, ever the practical one, had brought bottled water with her, and handed one to him.

"I think the two of you just need to sit down and talk."

Rickie shook his head at his. "I don't think talking will solve this. She thinks we are in different social circles, and she thinks I lied to her."

JoAnne made an exasperated sound. "You are in different social circles, and you did lie to her."

Rickie wheeled around and gave her a fierce look, but it was completely lost on her.

"An omission is still looked at as a lie, and you never told her you worked with her parents or that you knew them personally. That's why you two need to talk. Allow her the chance to know everything, including that you love her, and let her make the decision. She's a smart cookie; I know she'll choose correctly."

Rickie blindly reached out for a chair and sat down, his muscles suddenly too weary to keep him upright. His response was quiet, pus.h.i.+ng out around the pain in his chest.

"What if she doesn't choose me?"