Unconditional (Book Two)

34. Thunderstorms to Sun Rays

Amelie's POV

As the plane lands smoothly back on the California ground, I let out a sigh of relief to the feeling of being back home and finally getting closer to take Jim to the doctor to get checked. I can't deny that I'm dead worried, even when he has been telling me repeatedly all the flight that I shouldn't be concerned, that me being alarmed is not good for the baby, that he will be fine. But for very obvious and rational reasons I can't not be worried, how does he expect me to do that when there is clearly something happening to him? He couldn't sleep the entire flight, he didn't want to eat anything, he plainly has a fever even though he denies that he feels like it's that, and his eyes are still yellowish, something I don't like at all. I just sense that there is something here that he is not telling me. For some reason, Jim doesn't want to let me know that he is feeling terribly sick...or at least something. And if that reason is not to worry me, then I think it is absolutely ridiculous.

Jim gently caresses my arm as the plane stops in front of the gate, and I can sense the weakness of his arms and legs slowly eating him until he can't move anymore simply by the way in which he stands up. I seriously don't know what is going on with him, and the worst part is that I don't have a very good feeling about it, even when I want to burry that feeling under the ground and reset my mentality with a more positive thought.

Jim holds my hand as we carefully walk forward to exit the plane, and politely though weakly thanks the flight crew for their service.

It is not long until we are out of the airport and in the car. Thankfully after stubbornly insisting that I will drive—because I am SURE that Jim is hiding his sick feelings from me—he gave in and let me take care of the road while he sits on the co-pilot seat.

"You should call the doctor," I say, hiding the angst in my voice as best as I can.

Jim takes a few seconds to talk a reply, but finally lets his weak voice out in a faking I-feel-fine manner, something that keeps building doubts inside my confused brain. "Yes, I'll call him once we get home to leave the luggage," he says, not really convincing me that he feels okay.

I simply leave my eyes on the now familiar streets of L.A, don't say a word or reply. What could be happening to him is totally unknown to me, something I have never really seen before. Definitely something not normal, and something I am desperately urging to have an answer to.

I feel a kind of 'relieved' feeling as my concerned eyes meet our house though, even when I feel urged to take my husband to the hospital.

"Just wait for me in the car," I state, as soon as I park in front of our house. "I'll take care of the luggage."

"Amelie, I can hel—"

"No, Jim. Just stay here, okay? I don't want you to start feeling worse." I pause, letting a breath out. "Won't take me long." And with a little rush, get out of the car and take the luggage in my hands.

There is the warm, relieving smell of 'home sweet home' as soon as I open the door, dropping the luggage on the familiar, creme marble floor. But at the same time, there is a scent with the creation of an antonym. It isn't familiar, welcoming, or even in my good memories. Something in here is not right, absolutely not right.

"Hello?" I state suspiciously, taking slow steps forward. It is in my mind the thought that somebody I don't like is in the house. And for a reason I feel a sudden fear that takes possession of my skin. I just really hope it's not... "Karen!" Indeed she is, standing right before me in a complete state of evilness; her typical recharged beauty looks as usual...and—horrifyingly—a charged gun in her hand.

Jim's POV

As I just wait in the car—the bright sun hitting my skin, and familiar L.A heat warming up my already feverish body—I can't help but simply rest my head on the car seat. I am clearly exhausted, and feeling more and more sick with each minute that goes by. But with my eyes staring directly at the tall front door of our home, I just wait to see my beloved wife again as soon as she just walks out of the house.