Sins of Omission. Fern Michaels

Remembering George’s advice, he attempted a casual tone. Instead, his voice came out as uninterested and bored. “You’re early, aren’t you?”

      “But of course, chéri, but only because I am so eager to move you and your friend to my château. I have a wonderful dinner planned for the three of us. Special wine from my vineyard, roast duckling, new potatoes, and fresh vegetables. Dessert will be apple tart with heavy rich cream from my dairy…for you. Tell me, what do you prefer?” There was a girlish eagerness to her voice when she sought his approval.

      The best Reuben could manage was a weak “That sounds fine.” How was it that this woman managed to make him feel as if he were twelve years old and had just caught sight of a girl’s bloomers for the first time? He was grateful for the heavy blanket the nurse had thrown over him, even though it barely hid his growing erection. Madame Mickey seemed to fill the small cubicle—not her size, but her presence. Although she was standing beside his gurney, not touching him except for that brief kiss, his every pore was aware of her, all of his senses seemed to be filled with her. It was a sensation he had had before when she had come to visit him, asking after his health in that strangely husky, sensuous voice of hers. Early on he’d discovered how it had the amazing ability to sound maternal and whorish at the same time.

      “Poor darling,” Madame Mickey said softly, “does it hurt?” Her tone was solicitous and personal, but he wasn’t certain she was asking about the compresses on his eyes or the erection, full-fledged beneath the blanket.

      “I dressed especially for you and for Daniel,” she said lightly. “When your compresses are removed you will see the lovely colors I am wearing.” She hesitated a moment, as if she were changing her mind, then whispered close to his head, “For you. chéri.” He felt her fingers stroking his cheek. Reuben thought he would explode.

      “What are the colors?” he croaked.

      “My cape is a delicious apple red and my dress is one shade lighter. My hat is ermine and so is my muff. Here, darling, feel how nice.” She moved her muff over his cheek, his hand. He could imagine her breasts only inches away from his face. If he were to turn, just a bit…

      The fur was soft and cool against his hand. Reuben’s erection began to die. The fur felt as if it might have cost a lot of money. And the food she was promising made him suddenly want to gag. He had friends at the front who would kill for a slice of roast meat and a fresh potato; he himself had been one of those men just weeks before. He tried for a smile and wondered if it looked as sickly as he felt.

      “You are going to love my château,” Madame Mickey continued to babble, obviously unaware that anything was amiss. “There you will find everything to make you comfortable. All will be at your disposal, of course. You have only to ask for what you want. Le monde is yours, Reuben. Do you know what that means in English?” Reuben shook his head. “It means the world, darling. I can give you the world, and I will. My late husband, dear Jacques, left me a fortune, as you already know. When he knew he was dying it was his last wish that I not want for anything in this life, despite the war, despite everything. I’ve done my best to live up to his wish.”

      Reuben was silent, reflective. Madame Mickey seemed to sense his uneasiness. “I must be on my way, chéri. I have many more flowers to deliver and baskets of sweet rolls and jam. My cook was busy for two days. I must do my part for the wonderful men who are helping to make France safe once again. Vive La France!”

      “Long live America!” Reuben blurted out.

      Madame Mickey chuckled. “I like your spirit, Reuben. Yes, we all do our part, each in his own way. I must be off.” Lightly touching his compresses, she added, “Soon you will be under my own special care.” Her last words seemed to carry heavy meaning as she leaned over and kissed Reuben square on the cleft of his chin. Her fingers traced the deep dimple. Reuben shivered and felt the beginnings of another erection. “I will see you and your friend at one o’clock. Au revoir, chéri.”

      Chapter Two

      It was just past noon when Reuben walked stiff-legged down the hall to Daniel’s section of the hospital clinic. His hands were in his trouser pockets and his fingers were crossed. He felt both relieved and anxious. Relieved because his eyes felt less gritty and he could see much better; objects were sharper and his eyes were watering less. But he was anxious for Daniel. Ignoring the pain of his leg wound, he hurried through the wards and was brought up short when he saw the doctor and a nurse with a basin in her hand standing beside Daniel.

      I’m here, Daniel. The thought was so intense that for a moment he believed he’d spoken aloud. Reuben didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he noticed Daniel’s shoulders jerk and heard the doctor warn his patient not to open his eyes yet. Thick gauze-pad dressings beneath the swath of bandages were being unrolled, layer by layer. Reuben also hadn’t realized that his benefactress was watching from the far end of the corridor. When the heady scent of her perfume wafted toward him, he turned to face her. Even at this distance the apple red of her cape and the pure white of her hat stood out sharply against the gray-green of the clinic’s walls. He wanted to see her face, to see her eyes. Would they mirror that soft, solicitous tone of voice? Or would they be calculating and hard, waiting to see if Daniel was blind and judging what that would mean to her plans? Reuben turned again to Daniel, refusing to think about anything but this important moment. Everything depended upon what happened now; the outcome would govern the rest of their lives. He drew in his breath and waited.

      Daniel’s moment of truth had arrived. The doctor moved so his back was to Reuben, blocking Daniel from his sight. There were no more offered prayers. The one he’d said the night before was of the miracle category. In the dark hours of the night God had either made things right or He hadn’t.

      Reuben saw the round eyepads drop to the floor. He remembered his own agony at just this moment, and his innards twisted with fear. Daniel’s tortured cry of “I can’t see!” ripped through to Reuben’s soul. He tore across the space that separated them and was at Daniel’s side when the doctor issued his cautions not to panic and to give his eyes time to adjust to the dim light. Reuben placed a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder, calming him. “Another minute or so and then again—but slowly—open your eyes,” the doctor instructed.

      The seconds ticking by were small, separate eternities. Reuben remembered his own tortured unveiling, and his thoughts then that no one was there to comfort him. Madame Mickey, he’d discovered later, had been standing exactly where she was now.

      “Now, Daniel, open your eyes slowly. Your vision will be clouded and it will remain that way for some time. You’ll be able to see things, but not in detail and certainly not clearly unless you’re quite close to them. Open your eyes, Daniel,” the doctor urged.

      Daniel’s head was turned now so that Reuben was directly in his line of vision. His eyes flickered behind reddened lids, then he squinted and blinked gently in his first efforts to make out what was in front of him. Daniel’s first thought was that Reuben looked beautiful, although sharp creases of concern tightened the line of his mouth and narrowed his heavy dark brows. He smiled at the blurry shapes before him and closed his eyes again. The sigh he breathed sounded like an explosion in the quiet. “I prayed, you know, for days and sometimes all through the night when I couldn’t sleep.” He opened his eyes cautiously a second time to confirm his sight. This time he smiled.

      “Mazel tov!” Reuben shouted, squeezing Daniel’s shoulder. He looked down at his white knuckles and eased his grip. Wasn’t there something more he should do or say? Perhaps not. He’d prayed to Daniel’s God, and He had listened. Maybe there was a trick to all that praying after all. Pray for someone else and maybe then you had a chance of having your own prayers answered. His thoughts were interrupted by the doctor’s weary voice.

      “I’ve decided you should keep the cast on for at least another week, Daniel. You can leave the hospital if you think you can manage. Madame Mickey is waiting to take you to her château. Most of the paperwork is done, so all you have to do is dress and leave. Good health, son.” He patted Daniel on the head and shook Reuben’s hand. All the rest of the day, as the