"Could you please eat, honey?"
"I'm not hungry."
"I know that you're
upset, and you have every right to be. And this is your first night home,
that can't be easy, but you HAVE to eat, sweetie."
"I said I wasn't hungry."
"But-"
"Laura! Leave the
boy alone! If he's not hungry, he's not hungry."
Lucky watched silently
as Luke stood and pushed his chair in. He lifted his plate and looked to
his son expectantly. Lucky watched his father angrily for a moment, then
stood as well, plate in hand. "You want it?" he asked. "Here! You can have
it!" He hurled the plate at the wall, where it shattered and spilled its
contents on the carpeted floor.
Laura gasped in shock
and rushed forward to pick up the shattered pieces. "Let him clean up for
himself, Laura," he siaid, and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Don't listen to him,
Lucky. He just doesn't know how to express his feelings. He's really very
upset and nervous, just like you-" She broke off as she realized that Lucky
was not listening. He was staring at the fragments of porcelain at Laura's
feet, his eyes fixed on the broken floral design. "Lucky," Laura said slowly,
then got to her feet and crossed the room to her son. She pulled him into
a hug, and he leaned his head gratefully on her shoulder. "It's been a
long day," Laura said. "Why don't you go upstairs and get ready for bed.
There's a pair of boxers and a shirt on the bed for you."
Lucky nodded numbly
and started toward the stairs. He glanced over his shoulder at his mother,
who had returned to her task. "Mom?" he called.
Laura looked up and
smiled gently. "Yes, Lucky?"
"Thank you. For everything,"
Lucky added, then headed up the stairs to his room.
Laura watched his
retreating back, and wiped a stray tear from her cheek.
Alexis turned the key
in the doorknob, and was relieved to hear the lock click. She had been
more than a little worried that Helena had had her locks changed. She stepped
into the dark room and quickly switched on the light. She drew in a sharp
breath at the sight before her.
"What's the matter,
Alexis? Haven't you seen a living corpse before?"
Martin smiled widely
at the young man before him. "First time?" he asked.
The young man nodded
nervously. "I'm not usually one for grave robbing."
"Well," Martin said.
"Mr. Cassadine asked that we move this one to a more immediate area."
"Did he give a reason?"
the young man asked. "I can't see what he has to do with a corpse."
"Who knows?" Martin
asked. "Perhaps his taste in women is a bit---- different than most mens.
Maybe he likes 'em stiff," he added, and chuckled.
"That's disgusting."
"Well, he's disgusting.
He's going to bury a teenage girl in his backyard, for cryin' out loud."
"RE-bury a teenage
girl," the young man corrected.
"That's right. Re-bury.
So, you ready to start digging?"
"I guess," the young
man responded, and the two set to work. After a moment, the young man stopped
and leaned on his shovel. "Martin," he said.
"Yuh," the man grunted,
pausing to wipe sweat off his forehead.
"I knew her," the
young man said slowly. "Elizabeth Webber. She was seeing one of my friends."
Martin looked up at
him curiously. "You mean you're digging up your friend's girlfriend?"
"You offered me the
job."
"You needed money."
"Yeah, well, this
is not what I had in mind." The young man stared at the ground, his expression
grave.
"Jeez, Sly, if I knew
you were going to be this difficult, I would've hired someone else." Martin
went back to his work, shaking his head irritably. Sly watched silently
for a moment, then joined in the work.
Since the soil was
fresh, they had finished digging in no time. Sly stepped away from the
grave, and watched as Martin worked the lid off the coffin. "What the hell?"
Martin said, his voice betraying his shock.
"What?" Sly asked,
and leaned forward to look in at the older man.
"There's nothin' in
here."