At first, I wasn't sure if I heard him correctly when he said that he was the half brother of Henry, but I was sure that there was a glint in Dr. Brenner's eyes I did not familiarize myself with, what with all the waxing philosophical I have made how expressive his eyes were, while in his conference room. I felt my heart thumping loudly within my own ears at the realization of what he said before the elevator doors closed. What does the good doctor know? What was that look he gave me when he said he knew Henry? Why do I feel so uncomfortable all too suddenly? I was cleared of all wrong doings in Henry's death. It was accidental. I did not know there were real bullets in the gun. But there was something in Dr. Brenner's voice when he revealed he was at the funeral because he happens to be related to Henry. Did the doctor know I was fucking his half brother? Was it his intention to hire my firm to fish more information from me? Did he suspect me of something regarding his brother's death? There were many unanswered questions for Dr. Brenner to consider. It was not covered in the news as Henry's last will and testament clearly indicated that he does not want any type of news about him. He was very specific about it, so, how did the doctor know he even died? Somehow, I get the feeling that Henry wasn't too forthcoming with me regarding his family. I wonder what other things the bastard hid from me. No one in our circle even knows he has any family. I feel as if Henry, even at death, is having his last laugh on me. That is when the dream about the white rose and the thorns wounding me went flashing before my mind. And I knew… even after death, Henry will never let me be. I felt a sudden panic coming on and I tore needlessly at my chiffon blouse. I wanted to escape from my own skin, claw at it and just breathe. I want to breathe. I need to inhale oxygen and let it out from the depths of my soul. I want the air to somehow purify me and yet I felt I was in the skin in which I find inescapable. In the spacious area of the 12 by 12 elevator box, I looked up, getting light headed and wanting to scream, tear at my hair and run. I was starting to hyperventilate and I feel faint. "God, please, please." I frantically thought to myself. "Please what?" My own subconscious asked back. I wanted to jab my finger at the elevator buttons to stop the suffocating compartment from moving to the lobby floors. I wanted very badly to go back up to the floors where Dr. Chris Brenner's office was located and confront him, but my knees were getting wobbly underneath me and I was going to hurl. A million questions were going through my mind and the possible answers to why the doctor waited until I was on my way out to mention anything about Henry. Half brothers! They were half brothers!
The elevator doors finally opened to the lobby floor and I hurriedly stepped out. I was again at the safety of the public anonymity of bustling people unaware of my oncoming mental break down. I exaggerate, perhaps, but that is what it feels like to me. My mental health seems to be coming apart from the seams. I have been given way too much to process under a week. Holding Henry in my arms when real blood came oozing out of his chest and stomach, the way he smiled at me and said, "You did it, slick. I'll see you soon." His voice teeming with pain from the bullet wounds and that unforeseen determination in his eyes, determined not to make it to the emergency room and that wink, that wink, he gave me, before closing his blue eyes forever. And the police questions over the little games we play and the request for my consulting services by a Dr. Brenner I have never heard of in our state as a practicing physician, a brilliant neurosurgeon only established in New York. All of these seemingly separated circumstances; they are all too much to process in such a short period of time. And yet, they all seem to be connected and linked with each other. Perhaps, they were only disconnected because I didn't know what they were as they were happening, at the time. I walked towards the garage and tried shakily to find my car. I can't even remember which stall my car was parked anymore. My mind is reeling from all that I had just gone through and the day is not even half done. The accident in the freeway, the cause of that accident, the vision of Henry by his Benz and my instantaneous reaction of slamming on the brakes when that car in front of me decided to stop abruptly. And suddenly, I felt the effect of being rear ended by that BMW. My back wanted to give out besides my knees buckling underneath me and I found myself on my knees, on the dirty garage concrete ground sobbing as if I had been robbed of all my earthly belongings. I can hear myself cry, no, wail as though the very soul of me has been ripped off my chest. It was too hard to breathe when I shook from tears like that and yet I can't find the strength to stop myself from the anguish I felt. I was in emotional agony and I know not why. I heard myself cry out his name and haltingly whispered, muttered; "Henry, Henry, god, why? Why, Henry?" and for the first time, I cried for him. I didn't cry for him at the funeral, I cried for the circumstances between me and him but I never cried for him. A hand went on my shoulders as I cried, unaware of the emptiness of the garage and the person's hand was like an electric shock on my shoulder that I spun around so fast I landed on my butt on the pavement.
"Isabeau, are you alright, god, what is the matter?" Dr. Brenner's deep voice asked me as I stared at him in confusion. I tried to pick myself up on my own but was beaten by his move to scoop me up from my position. He lifted me up from the pavement and there was nothing I could do to protest. He did not help me up to stand on my feet but literally scooped me up to carry me and as he walked unsteadily, confused in which direction he needed to take me as he did not know which car is mine, I could only plead, "Please put me down, doctor, I can walk on my own." And my voice came out defeated. "Nah, I don't mind. Just tell me which one is your car." He insisted. And then, I realized, I can hear the beating of his heart on my ear. What I pictured earlier in the conference room was happening. My head, my ears are next to his beating heart. And I can smell him again, that faint Bulgari Classic Cologne for men. I surprised myself at the thought that my mind was suddenly aware of the name of the damn scent. "Dr. Brenner, please put me down, please. "I again, pleaded to him. He looked at me with his deep sea green eyes and shook his head no. I couldn't believe it. He refused to put me down and I felt I had no choice but to succumb to the heady feeling I was having and buried my face on his chest. My sight was getting blurry from my contact lenses getting fogged up by the tears that were welling in my eyes. I heard him speak softly as he asked me where I thought my car was located and all I could do was muttered a weak "I don't know." When he heard what I said, he then told me that he was going to drive me home instead and that the very least, he knows exactly where his car was. I should feel ashamed for the lack of direction I had in telling him where my car was, but I just felt my consciousness was doing its best to detach from the whole situation that I was left numbed and uncaring of what he thought of me. Or, at least, that is what I was trying to tell myself. He carried me to the elevators like a lifeless rag doll. Had it not been for propriety's sakes, I would have been sucking on my thumb just nestling in his arms. I was a hot mess.
We got off the 2nd level of the parking garage and he continued to walk towards his car. As we approached a steel gray, S class Mercedes Benz, Dr. Brenner put his right leg up to cradle my backside as his one arm held me as his other hand reached in his pocket for his car keys and remotely started the car's engine. I didn't even care that the car he drove was the same model, make and year that Henry drove. At that point, there wasn't anything active going on my mind anymore, as far as questions or doubts. My mind has gone to the deepest level of catatonia. I simply existed without caring. That was all I could surmise. I fought the urge to bring my thumb to my lips and start sucking like an infantile being. I suppose if I allowed myself the luxury, he might just call the men in white to put me in a straight jacket and lock me up and throw the key away. He repeated the motion of his one leg coming up to my backside and opened the car door and gently put me down on the passenger seat. I looked up at him but he was already turning away to go around the car to the driver's side. I watched him as he walked around the front of the car and realized how much he resembled Henry, only he had darker hair. As he got in the driver's seat, I watch him look at me with sympathetic and very concerned gaze. "I don't know what happened earlier in the garage, but, Isabeau, you are really beginning to scare me. Please say something." He said in a very soft and warm voice. I felt my mouth open to speak. But for some odd reason, my voice box wouldn't cooperate and I couldn't say anything. I believe I may have croaked a "what" to him, I am not sure. All I know was that I felt I was in his car and at the same time, I wasn't there. It was as if I was floating over my own body just watching myself make a total imbecilic ass of myself. "Speak, goddamnit, speak!" my brain kept saying, but no words would formulate on my lips. And suddenly, Dr. Brenner reached out to me with his hand and it went directly to my cheek. He was brushing off my hair from my face with his hand and he felt warm. His hand sent electric shock to my being. I managed to say thank you and he smiled at me warmly. My mind kept telling me to get a hold of myself, that this is the last thing a client needs to see, me, completely lifeless, mindless, all because he happened to be the half brother of someone whose death wasn't really something I put too much thought or care in. What a pathetic way of sealing a business deal, I thought.
"You're welcome." He said to me. "Do you think you are able to tell me where you live, Isabeau?" He added. The comfort to which he says my name was both soothing and disturbing to me. I finally sat up straight and shook my hair off my face and spoke. This time, I heard myself speak in an articulate manner which befuddled even me. "Head towards Interstate 5 and take the freeway junction, 4454 Southeast 8th Street, in Bellevue, just off the 405 freeway, doctor." I said to him. I was calm and collected. Before he placed the gear on drive, he again reached out to me, but this time, his hand went to the back of my head and he pulled me close and boldly planted a full kiss on my lips. His lips were more than warm, bordering on hot, on mine. His kiss was deep and though I was taken by surprise with his move, I felt my whole being cooperate with his mouth. I let him kiss me and felt his tongue inside my own mouth. He tasted sweet, like peppermint and chocolate at the same time. His tongue probed my tongue and I felt my tongue tasting him and massaging back his tongue with my own. And his other hand came around my waist as he pulled me closer to his body. And although my mind and lips cooperated with his kiss, my arms laid listless on my sides, my hands on my lap. I wanted to reach out to pull his head closer to mine for the kiss but my arms wouldn't move. It was as though I was paralyzed from the neck down. I could feel his body pressing closer to mine and I could feel his arm around my waist tightening to pull me in closer, but my body wouldn't respond and my arms just laid there. "You're so beautiful." He whispered in my ear as he pulled away from me. He stared in my eyes for a while and he was biting his lower lip, as if he was tormented by the choice of kissing me again and not giving me the impression that he does not want to take advantage of the situation. My mind was screaming for him to kiss me again, but all I managed was a sigh and I whispered a thank you. "You are a very beautiful and mysterious woman, Isabeau, and I could kiss you all day but this is inappropriate. Please accept my apologies for being distracted and behaving unprofessionally." He again whispered in my ear, all the while, his hand that was in the back of my head moved gently on my throat and neck. He finally withdrew his hands from touching me and placed them on the car's steering wheel. He momentarily stared ahead and he looked like he was deciding whether to drive off or place his hands again, on my person.
As my mind tried to figure out what his next move would be, that was when he faced me, and his hand shot up to the back of my head, as he drew me closer to him again. He started kissing me again and this time around, my arms cooperated with my desire and they went around his neck and I kissed back. As urgent as his lips were, mine were more pressing and hungrier. My sense of being was being comforted by the act. This whole kissing a stranger, a newly signed client for our consulting firm, soothing me, seeking my lips, my tongue, as I allowed a mindless desire take a hold of my senses, was both comforting and deviant at the same time. It enveloped my body like a fire that started at the core of my psyche and was consuming me. It was like Henry bringing my body to a roaring fire. Henry! Oh god, Henry was Dr. Brenner's half brother. My mind struggled to stop what was happening but it wasn't insistent enough to stop his hand caressing my back while his other hand mussed up my hair as he pressed on for a deeper kiss. I felt my torso slowly melting underneath him and if it wasn't for the gears and the car seat divider, I would be laying under him, just coming up to meet his eager body in synchronized motion to his breathing. He kept whispering in my ears how wrong it was to keep kissing me but his action was aiming for more than the kiss. I can feel some strangers passing by the car, not exactly seeing what it was we were doing, but sensing that something lurid was going on as I hear their faint whisper, their giggles. The car's interior was fogging up to abstract the view completely from the outside. It was then that his mobile rang and shook us both from our compromising position. He disconnected from me and abruptly felt his breast pocket to fish out his mobile phone and answered it with ragged breathing. I straightened up and pulled my skirt down and wiped the edges of my lips. I could still taste his mouth on mine. I didn't look to the side to look at him and just stared straight ahead. I was both mortified and excited at my own action. And my mind wondered whether he thought of me an actress behaving like a damsel in mental distress only because I wanted him to get affectionate with me or that I was an unstable woman who borders on nymphomania and had no care whether he fucked me in the car or not. My brain, at times can be the dirtiest and nastiest nemesis my self conscious can have. I am a lot harder on my own self than anyone and I am highly judgmental of my very own actions. I overheard him say on the phone that he was running a bit late and that he should reschedule his appointments for tomorrow, and then overheard him say where his location will be which was the Eastside, where I lived. He made no mention of why he would be there or when he will get back to the hospital and it occurred to me that he must have been talking to either his nurse or secretary. After he hung up the phone, he looked at me and said, "I will bring you home now. I think you should take the day off."
I made no objection to what he said. I stared out the passenger side window as the car moved towards the garage exit. He was also silent and made no attempt to speak after he's announced he was bringing me home. My mind wasn't trying to make sense of what happened in the garage. My near breakdown was real and I felt my body tensing up again at the thought of what he has revealed to me regarding Henry. The drive from the hospital to my home wasn't more than twenty minutes and when we arrived at my driveway, I saw my Russian neighbor sitting by the balcony looking on at us. I was sure that Mr. Dobrovsky was thinking it was Henry's car and its normal unannounced appearance on my driveway. I brought my gaze down to my feet as the car stopped. Dr. Brenner looked up at the two story town home and whistled. "You have a nice place here, Isabeau." He said admiringly. The outside of the town home is indeed nice. New awnings, with a cream colored sidings and turquoise colored trim. It was very modern and classy looking at the same time. I remember our Home Association panel taking votes on what color themes we would like for the place when they repainted everything. Dr. Brenner stepped out of the car and came around to my passenger side, opened the door and as I prompted myself to get out of the car, he scooped me up and carried me. He kicked the car door shut softly and I heard Mr. Dobrovsky call out in his broken English asking if I was alright. I had no strength to answer but the doctor answered him politely and assured him I was fine. When we got to my doorstep, Dr. Brenner gently put me down on my feet and I fished out my keys from my purse and opened the door. I walked in slowly without looking back at him and saying nothing. It was as if I just expected him to walk in right after me, which he did. "Will you be alright, Isabeau? I have to get back to the hospital." He said in a clear voice, clearer than he has spoken to me in the car, as if he wanted to make sure what he said would register in my brain. I faced him and nodded. Then, out of nowhere, I said in a voice as clear as his, "Thank you for driving me home, doctor. Your half brother, did you know the circumstances of his death?" My eyes leveled his gaze squarely. Why I asked that question, I had no idea, but my voice wasn't going to get silenced, not at this point. He looked me straight in the eyes; he grinned uneasily, nodded and said, "Yes. I know. You shot him, Isabeau." And he turned towards the door before I could react.
The elevator doors finally opened to the lobby floor and I hurriedly stepped out. I was again at the safety of the public anonymity of bustling people unaware of my oncoming mental break down. I exaggerate, perhaps, but that is what it feels like to me. My mental health seems to be coming apart from the seams. I have been given way too much to process under a week. Holding Henry in my arms when real blood came oozing out of his chest and stomach, the way he smiled at me and said, "You did it, slick. I'll see you soon." His voice teeming with pain from the bullet wounds and that unforeseen determination in his eyes, determined not to make it to the emergency room and that wink, that wink, he gave me, before closing his blue eyes forever. And the police questions over the little games we play and the request for my consulting services by a Dr. Brenner I have never heard of in our state as a practicing physician, a brilliant neurosurgeon only established in New York. All of these seemingly separated circumstances; they are all too much to process in such a short period of time. And yet, they all seem to be connected and linked with each other. Perhaps, they were only disconnected because I didn't know what they were as they were happening, at the time. I walked towards the garage and tried shakily to find my car. I can't even remember which stall my car was parked anymore. My mind is reeling from all that I had just gone through and the day is not even half done. The accident in the freeway, the cause of that accident, the vision of Henry by his Benz and my instantaneous reaction of slamming on the brakes when that car in front of me decided to stop abruptly. And suddenly, I felt the effect of being rear ended by that BMW. My back wanted to give out besides my knees buckling underneath me and I found myself on my knees, on the dirty garage concrete ground sobbing as if I had been robbed of all my earthly belongings. I can hear myself cry, no, wail as though the very soul of me has been ripped off my chest. It was too hard to breathe when I shook from tears like that and yet I can't find the strength to stop myself from the anguish I felt. I was in emotional agony and I know not why. I heard myself cry out his name and haltingly whispered, muttered; "Henry, Henry, god, why? Why, Henry?" and for the first time, I cried for him. I didn't cry for him at the funeral, I cried for the circumstances between me and him but I never cried for him. A hand went on my shoulders as I cried, unaware of the emptiness of the garage and the person's hand was like an electric shock on my shoulder that I spun around so fast I landed on my butt on the pavement.
"Isabeau, are you alright, god, what is the matter?" Dr. Brenner's deep voice asked me as I stared at him in confusion. I tried to pick myself up on my own but was beaten by his move to scoop me up from my position. He lifted me up from the pavement and there was nothing I could do to protest. He did not help me up to stand on my feet but literally scooped me up to carry me and as he walked unsteadily, confused in which direction he needed to take me as he did not know which car is mine, I could only plead, "Please put me down, doctor, I can walk on my own." And my voice came out defeated. "Nah, I don't mind. Just tell me which one is your car." He insisted. And then, I realized, I can hear the beating of his heart on my ear. What I pictured earlier in the conference room was happening. My head, my ears are next to his beating heart. And I can smell him again, that faint Bulgari Classic Cologne for men. I surprised myself at the thought that my mind was suddenly aware of the name of the damn scent. "Dr. Brenner, please put me down, please. "I again, pleaded to him. He looked at me with his deep sea green eyes and shook his head no. I couldn't believe it. He refused to put me down and I felt I had no choice but to succumb to the heady feeling I was having and buried my face on his chest. My sight was getting blurry from my contact lenses getting fogged up by the tears that were welling in my eyes. I heard him speak softly as he asked me where I thought my car was located and all I could do was muttered a weak "I don't know." When he heard what I said, he then told me that he was going to drive me home instead and that the very least, he knows exactly where his car was. I should feel ashamed for the lack of direction I had in telling him where my car was, but I just felt my consciousness was doing its best to detach from the whole situation that I was left numbed and uncaring of what he thought of me. Or, at least, that is what I was trying to tell myself. He carried me to the elevators like a lifeless rag doll. Had it not been for propriety's sakes, I would have been sucking on my thumb just nestling in his arms. I was a hot mess.
We got off the 2nd level of the parking garage and he continued to walk towards his car. As we approached a steel gray, S class Mercedes Benz, Dr. Brenner put his right leg up to cradle my backside as his one arm held me as his other hand reached in his pocket for his car keys and remotely started the car's engine. I didn't even care that the car he drove was the same model, make and year that Henry drove. At that point, there wasn't anything active going on my mind anymore, as far as questions or doubts. My mind has gone to the deepest level of catatonia. I simply existed without caring. That was all I could surmise. I fought the urge to bring my thumb to my lips and start sucking like an infantile being. I suppose if I allowed myself the luxury, he might just call the men in white to put me in a straight jacket and lock me up and throw the key away. He repeated the motion of his one leg coming up to my backside and opened the car door and gently put me down on the passenger seat. I looked up at him but he was already turning away to go around the car to the driver's side. I watched him as he walked around the front of the car and realized how much he resembled Henry, only he had darker hair. As he got in the driver's seat, I watch him look at me with sympathetic and very concerned gaze. "I don't know what happened earlier in the garage, but, Isabeau, you are really beginning to scare me. Please say something." He said in a very soft and warm voice. I felt my mouth open to speak. But for some odd reason, my voice box wouldn't cooperate and I couldn't say anything. I believe I may have croaked a "what" to him, I am not sure. All I know was that I felt I was in his car and at the same time, I wasn't there. It was as if I was floating over my own body just watching myself make a total imbecilic ass of myself. "Speak, goddamnit, speak!" my brain kept saying, but no words would formulate on my lips. And suddenly, Dr. Brenner reached out to me with his hand and it went directly to my cheek. He was brushing off my hair from my face with his hand and he felt warm. His hand sent electric shock to my being. I managed to say thank you and he smiled at me warmly. My mind kept telling me to get a hold of myself, that this is the last thing a client needs to see, me, completely lifeless, mindless, all because he happened to be the half brother of someone whose death wasn't really something I put too much thought or care in. What a pathetic way of sealing a business deal, I thought.
"You're welcome." He said to me. "Do you think you are able to tell me where you live, Isabeau?" He added. The comfort to which he says my name was both soothing and disturbing to me. I finally sat up straight and shook my hair off my face and spoke. This time, I heard myself speak in an articulate manner which befuddled even me. "Head towards Interstate 5 and take the freeway junction, 4454 Southeast 8th Street, in Bellevue, just off the 405 freeway, doctor." I said to him. I was calm and collected. Before he placed the gear on drive, he again reached out to me, but this time, his hand went to the back of my head and he pulled me close and boldly planted a full kiss on my lips. His lips were more than warm, bordering on hot, on mine. His kiss was deep and though I was taken by surprise with his move, I felt my whole being cooperate with his mouth. I let him kiss me and felt his tongue inside my own mouth. He tasted sweet, like peppermint and chocolate at the same time. His tongue probed my tongue and I felt my tongue tasting him and massaging back his tongue with my own. And his other hand came around my waist as he pulled me closer to his body. And although my mind and lips cooperated with his kiss, my arms laid listless on my sides, my hands on my lap. I wanted to reach out to pull his head closer to mine for the kiss but my arms wouldn't move. It was as though I was paralyzed from the neck down. I could feel his body pressing closer to mine and I could feel his arm around my waist tightening to pull me in closer, but my body wouldn't respond and my arms just laid there. "You're so beautiful." He whispered in my ear as he pulled away from me. He stared in my eyes for a while and he was biting his lower lip, as if he was tormented by the choice of kissing me again and not giving me the impression that he does not want to take advantage of the situation. My mind was screaming for him to kiss me again, but all I managed was a sigh and I whispered a thank you. "You are a very beautiful and mysterious woman, Isabeau, and I could kiss you all day but this is inappropriate. Please accept my apologies for being distracted and behaving unprofessionally." He again whispered in my ear, all the while, his hand that was in the back of my head moved gently on my throat and neck. He finally withdrew his hands from touching me and placed them on the car's steering wheel. He momentarily stared ahead and he looked like he was deciding whether to drive off or place his hands again, on my person.
As my mind tried to figure out what his next move would be, that was when he faced me, and his hand shot up to the back of my head, as he drew me closer to him again. He started kissing me again and this time around, my arms cooperated with my desire and they went around his neck and I kissed back. As urgent as his lips were, mine were more pressing and hungrier. My sense of being was being comforted by the act. This whole kissing a stranger, a newly signed client for our consulting firm, soothing me, seeking my lips, my tongue, as I allowed a mindless desire take a hold of my senses, was both comforting and deviant at the same time. It enveloped my body like a fire that started at the core of my psyche and was consuming me. It was like Henry bringing my body to a roaring fire. Henry! Oh god, Henry was Dr. Brenner's half brother. My mind struggled to stop what was happening but it wasn't insistent enough to stop his hand caressing my back while his other hand mussed up my hair as he pressed on for a deeper kiss. I felt my torso slowly melting underneath him and if it wasn't for the gears and the car seat divider, I would be laying under him, just coming up to meet his eager body in synchronized motion to his breathing. He kept whispering in my ears how wrong it was to keep kissing me but his action was aiming for more than the kiss. I can feel some strangers passing by the car, not exactly seeing what it was we were doing, but sensing that something lurid was going on as I hear their faint whisper, their giggles. The car's interior was fogging up to abstract the view completely from the outside. It was then that his mobile rang and shook us both from our compromising position. He disconnected from me and abruptly felt his breast pocket to fish out his mobile phone and answered it with ragged breathing. I straightened up and pulled my skirt down and wiped the edges of my lips. I could still taste his mouth on mine. I didn't look to the side to look at him and just stared straight ahead. I was both mortified and excited at my own action. And my mind wondered whether he thought of me an actress behaving like a damsel in mental distress only because I wanted him to get affectionate with me or that I was an unstable woman who borders on nymphomania and had no care whether he fucked me in the car or not. My brain, at times can be the dirtiest and nastiest nemesis my self conscious can have. I am a lot harder on my own self than anyone and I am highly judgmental of my very own actions. I overheard him say on the phone that he was running a bit late and that he should reschedule his appointments for tomorrow, and then overheard him say where his location will be which was the Eastside, where I lived. He made no mention of why he would be there or when he will get back to the hospital and it occurred to me that he must have been talking to either his nurse or secretary. After he hung up the phone, he looked at me and said, "I will bring you home now. I think you should take the day off."
I made no objection to what he said. I stared out the passenger side window as the car moved towards the garage exit. He was also silent and made no attempt to speak after he's announced he was bringing me home. My mind wasn't trying to make sense of what happened in the garage. My near breakdown was real and I felt my body tensing up again at the thought of what he has revealed to me regarding Henry. The drive from the hospital to my home wasn't more than twenty minutes and when we arrived at my driveway, I saw my Russian neighbor sitting by the balcony looking on at us. I was sure that Mr. Dobrovsky was thinking it was Henry's car and its normal unannounced appearance on my driveway. I brought my gaze down to my feet as the car stopped. Dr. Brenner looked up at the two story town home and whistled. "You have a nice place here, Isabeau." He said admiringly. The outside of the town home is indeed nice. New awnings, with a cream colored sidings and turquoise colored trim. It was very modern and classy looking at the same time. I remember our Home Association panel taking votes on what color themes we would like for the place when they repainted everything. Dr. Brenner stepped out of the car and came around to my passenger side, opened the door and as I prompted myself to get out of the car, he scooped me up and carried me. He kicked the car door shut softly and I heard Mr. Dobrovsky call out in his broken English asking if I was alright. I had no strength to answer but the doctor answered him politely and assured him I was fine. When we got to my doorstep, Dr. Brenner gently put me down on my feet and I fished out my keys from my purse and opened the door. I walked in slowly without looking back at him and saying nothing. It was as if I just expected him to walk in right after me, which he did. "Will you be alright, Isabeau? I have to get back to the hospital." He said in a clear voice, clearer than he has spoken to me in the car, as if he wanted to make sure what he said would register in my brain. I faced him and nodded. Then, out of nowhere, I said in a voice as clear as his, "Thank you for driving me home, doctor. Your half brother, did you know the circumstances of his death?" My eyes leveled his gaze squarely. Why I asked that question, I had no idea, but my voice wasn't going to get silenced, not at this point. He looked me straight in the eyes; he grinned uneasily, nodded and said, "Yes. I know. You shot him, Isabeau." And he turned towards the door before I could react.