He frowned. ‘Are you saying she won’t make it?’
Kim shook her head. ‘No. She’ll get through the surgery, but with the size and position of the tumour and, well, let’s be honest, if what I can see on the scan are mets on her lungs, they’re probably in other places too. Most likely brain and bones. I don’t think she’ll have that long.’
‘Thanks.’ Mitchell appreciated the doctor’s lack of sugar coating.
He swallowed hard before opening the curtain. Monika lay in the bed, connected to an IV line. A nurse was administering something through the drip.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘I don’t want an operation, Mitchell. Please,’ she begged in a frail voice. ‘Don’t let them operate on me.’
‘There’s no choice,’ he said. ‘You need to have surgery.’
‘Can’t they give me something to make my bowels work?’
‘It’s not that simple, Mrs. Horvath,’ the nurse explained. ‘You really need this operation. And the surgeon is good, I promise. You’re in safe hands.’
Monika’s eyes filled with tears. She turned her head towards Mitchell. ‘Take me home.’
Kim shot him a questioning look. He shrugged. He didn’t even know where her home was.
Pulling up a chair, he sat beside her and patted her hand awkwardly. He wished he knew what he was supposed to do or say but he was clueless. At least she was too unwell to attempt a deep and meaningful talk about the past. He certainly wasn’t ready to dredge it up and especially not in a public setting like this.
He sat in silence, listening to the nurses laughing about something, to the sound of a little boy in the adjoining cubicle who was eating ice-cream and jelly and being praised by his parents for being so brave, to the ticking of a clock and the clicking of the IV pump as it pushed the fluids into Monika’s veins as fast as the pump could go.
As he stared at the woman in the bed, he still found it hard to believe she was his mother. Her unexpected arrival had stirred up old insecurities he thought he’d long buried. For a long moment, as he sat there, the boy he once was when she left him surfaced and all the anger, frustration and resentment rose. He remembered all the years of being the poor foster kid. The kid who wanted to make friends but didn’t know how because he was too scared to let anyone into his life. Unloved. Unwanted. Inadequate. Could he open himself up to a relationship with this woman? He wasn’t sure.
Finally, when the orderly arrived to transfer her to theatre, he stood and briefly touched her shoulder as if it might burn him.
‘Good luck. I’ll, um, I’ll...be here when you wake up.’
Her eyes opened, and a tiny tear streaked down her cheek. ‘Thank you, son,’ she mouthed as she was wheeled out of the cubicle.
Mitchell stood watching them until they turned the corner and went out of sight. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so small or so helpless. Or so sad.
Why did it feel like he’d finally found his mother and now he was going to lose her again?
Chapter 29
Mitchell stood at the entrance to the hospital, sucked in a deep breath and rolled his neck from side to side to ease the kinks. The street was quiet and almost dark. He checked his phone. Nearly six. Where had the day gone? He’d spoken to Hope again as she was leaving Melbourne. Hopefully she was almost here because the kangaroos were shocking at dusk and the last thing he wanted was for her to have an accident rushing to get to him.
‘Mitch!’
He spun around, pulse thudding and breath catching. Hope climbed out of a small white SUV and he let his gaze slide over her, from her messy topknot down the figure-hugging T-shirt and jeans to her shoes. She looked beautiful and he could no longer deny how much he wanted—needed—her in his life. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it happen, but the deep connection he felt with her was too strong to ignore. No, he corrected himself. It wasn’t merely a connection he felt, it was so much more than that. It was love.
As he strode towards her, she jogged across the road, her limp barely perceptible. The too-fast beating of his heart had nothing to do with how quickly he’d moved and everything to do with how much he’d missed her. It had been five weeks since he’d seen her and missing her had become an almost physical ache. Whether or not she felt the same way he felt was irrelevant. Right now, he needed her more than he needed air. He was crazy about her and the sooner she knew it, the better.
He pulled her into a crushing hug, planning to hold her in his arms for as long as he could, until he figured out what to do next. Despite the heaviness in this stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of Hope’s body pressed against his. He let himself sink into the warmth, appreciative of the simple gesture of a hug. Her touch made the night feel a little less dark and the future a little less bleak.
She finally wriggled her way out of his grasp and looked up at him. He wasn’t sure whether it was the cold air or whether she’d guessed how much he wanted her that was making her shake. He smiled down at her. ‘Thanks for coming.’
‘I knew you needed me,’ she replied.
‘I did.’
She stood within kissing distance and he knew if he kept looking into her ocean blue eyes he’d be lost. The urge to kiss her was so strong he felt himself swaying towards her, but he kept himself in check. He needed to know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
It was subtle, but when her gaze flicked to his mouth, her eyes widened, and she licked her bottom lip, relief coursed through him. The time apart hadn’t defused any chemistry between them. When her lips parted, and her eyes partially closed, need uncoiled itself within him.
‘Hope...’ His voice came out sounding like a groan.
But instead of stepping back, like he’d expected her too, Hope stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips over his, gently caressing his jawline with her thumb.
He closed his eyes, inhaled the floral scent of her shampoo and kissed her back.
Hope finally dropped her hand from his face and stepped back. Serious eyes met his. ‘How are you doing?’ she whispered.
‘Better now that you’re—’
Her lips silenced him again as her hands delved beneath his shirt, her palms pressing warmth into his back.
When she stopped kissing him, he dragged in a ragged breath. Kissing Hope was like watching the sun rise after a long, dark night. It was everything he wanted and more.
Cheeks flushed, eyes dark, Hope appeared to be as lost as he felt. When she closed her eyes, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her with a restraint he didn’t know he possessed, then, burying his hands in her hair he pulled her tight and deepened the kiss.
It was only when someone walked past and coughed that brought reality back into focus. They broke apart and laughed. This time when she smiled up at him it was equal parts sweet as it was shaky. When he stroked her cheek, his hand shook too.
‘If we keep kissing like that, someone might suggest we get a room,’ she said.
‘No complaints from me.’
She chuckled.
He took her hands and searched her eyes. ‘I know it’s not the right time or place, but I need to apologise. I am so sorry I didn’t call you. I was so upset that day at the park when you told me you didn’t want to talk to me, but I wish I’d ignored you.’
Tears filled her eyes and her lower lip trembled. ‘I wish you had too. I’m sorry, Mitch, I screwed up. I let my fear get in the way of the best thing that has ever happened to me.’
He held his breath, daring to believe she was talking about him, not Macarthur Point.
‘I mean you,’ she said, squeezing his hands.
He exhaled slowly. ‘We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, we are.’
She pressed herself against him again and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into another hug. Neither of them said anything for a while, as if they both sensed all they needed in that moment was to hold each other.
There was no doubt now
that he and Hope were meant to be together and this time, he was going to do whatever it took. First, he’d deal with this issue with his mother then he and Hope would sit down and work out how to make their relationship work because this time he wasn’t letting her go.
‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he said, as if his kiss hadn’t told her that.
‘I’ve missed you, too,’ she replied.
A gentle breeze toyed with her hair. He lifted a hand to smooth it away from her face. When his fingers touched her skin, she tilted her head back and smiled at him.
‘How long are you here for?’ he asked.
‘As long as you need.’
‘That could be a long time.’
Her fingertips traced his jawline. ‘Is it okay if I stay at your place?’
‘You don’t even need to ask.’
‘How’s your mother?’ Hope asked.
At the change of subject, a hard knot formed in his gut again, like the knot that had sat in his throat since he’d found his mother in the motel room.
He ran his hands through his hair. ‘Still in surgery. It’s been nearly six hours since they took her in. No one’s told me anything.’
‘Do they have your number?’
He nodded.
‘Have you eaten?’
He scratched his jaw trying to remember the last time he’d eaten. Breakfast?
Before he could reply, she looped her arm through his. ‘If you can’t remember, it’s been too long. Come on, let’s get some food into you.’
‘But what if the surgery is almost done? I said I’d be there when she woke up.’
She pulled his hand. ‘They have your number. We’ll go down the road to the pub and grab a parmi or something simple. They’ll call you as soon as surgery is finished. She’ll be in recovery for a while anyway, so we have plenty of time to get back here after they call. Okay?’
She took his hand and pulled him down the street away from the hospital. At the pub, he followed her as if he was on autopilot. Hope led them to a vacant table near the fire. One of the young waitstaff appeared to take their order.
‘I’ll have a lemon, lime and bitters please, and a parmi and chips.’
‘Sure.’ The waiter looked at Mitchell. ‘And you?’
‘The same.’ He didn’t have the headspace to think of looking at the menu. Right now, food was the last thing on his mind.
Hope reached for his hands and squeezed them tight. ‘She’ll be fine.’
‘Will she?’
Hope smiled. ‘She has to be.’
He frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because you need answers and I don’t believe the universe or God or whatever is that unkind that she’d finally find you, then die without giving you the chance to talk and work things out.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
He sat back in his chair and stared over Hope’s head at the television screens behind the bar. One of them was showing greyhound racing, the other harness racing. His chest tightened. As much as he dreaded hearing what his mother had to say, it would be so much worse if she didn’t make it and he had to spend the rest of his life never knowing why she’d run out on him and left him.
It crossed his mind that he hadn’t helped deal with his past by burying it as deeply as he had. In order to stop the nightmares, he’d suppressed the memories of his childhood as much as he could, trying to trick his brain into thinking nothing bad had happened. But it was impossible to erase all the memories. Somewhere, in the dark recesses of his mind, good memories stirred. Memories of a mother who had loved him once. Chest aching, he blinked back unshed tears.
He felt Hope’s eyes on him, and he dragged his attention away from the screens back to her.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked softly.
He wanted to say “you”, but the timing was wrong. He was thinking about Hope, but in that moment, he was thinking about the woman in surgery more.
He lifted a shoulder. ‘What am I thinking? About how badly I handled things with my her. I was rude and judged her without knowing her side of the story.’
Hope took his hands. ‘Cut yourself some slack. We don’t always do the right thing in the moment. You were shocked and you reacted the way most people would.’
‘By pushing her away.’
‘You just needed time to process what she said.’
‘But what if she hadn’t left her number? What if I hadn’t decided to give her another chance.’
‘But she did leave her number and you did go and see her.’ She smiled as she squeezed his hands. ‘It’s going to work out. I know it will.’
‘I just wish I knew why she left me.’
‘I’m sure that’s why she’s here.’
‘To make amends?’
‘Maybe. Or maybe it’s so you can both have closure. You don’t know any of the reasons why she did what she did, and until you do, it’s going to eat at you for the rest of your life.’
‘You think she just made a stupid decision?’
She let go of his hands and sat back in her chair, hands folded in her lap. ‘I don’t know, Mitch. We all make stupid decisions and bad choices from time to time, but we don’t usually do it because we plan to hurt people deliberately. Sometimes our mistakes are just dumb errors of judgment at the time. Done without thinking through the consequences of our actions.’
Was she talking about herself now or Monika?
‘As long as when we make mistakes, we acknowledge them,’ he said. He could speak in riddles too. ‘Otherwise it’s too hard for the other person to forgive.’
‘And it’s too hard for the other person to trust.’
‘Yeah,’ he agreed.
He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure who she was talking about.
Their meals arrived and for the next five minutes they ate, mostly in silence. He barely tasted what was in front of him.
When his phone rang, he jumped. Heart racing, he picked it up and looked at the screen. It wasn’t a number he recognised.
‘It’ll be the hospital.’ He tapped the screen and brought the phone to his ear. ‘Mitchell Davis.’
‘Hi, this is Eliza. I’m one of the nurses from the hospital. Your mum is out of recovery and back on the ward.’
‘How is she?’ he asked.
‘Drowsy.’
‘We’re on our way.’
Hope pushed back from the table, pulled out her wallet and placed money on the table to pay for their unfinished meals. Then, grabbing his hand, she pulled him out of the pub and back up the street to the hospital.
Inside the hospital they navigated their way to Monika’s room. They didn’t need directions. There was only one ward for acutely sick patients. The lights were dimmed, and the afternoon duty nurses quietly moved from room to room, settling their patients for the evening.
They turned the corner and found Lachie standing there in his scrubs, with a Batman cap covering his hair.
Mitchell frowned. ‘Did you help with the surgery?’
He nodded.
‘How is she?’
‘Not great.’ Lachlan put a hand on his shoulder. ‘They tried to remove the tumour but there wasn’t much point. She’s riddled with cancer. I’m sorry, mate. It was open and close. The surgeon’s done what she could, but...’
Mitchell’s heart pounded in his chest. ‘Is she going to die?’
‘Not immediately. She’ll wake up from the surgery, but she signed an NFR when I did her consent. She didn’t want anything other than pain relief if the surgery revealed the cancer was bad.’
‘Wh-what?’ he stammered. ‘She knew she had cancer?’
Not that he’d given her much of a chance to speak and tell him anything, but wouldn’t she have told him that?
‘I’d say she knew. Or if not, she probably guessed.’ Lachie hugged Hope. ‘Good to see you. I’m glad you’re here for him.’ He turned back to Mitchell. ‘Do you want to see her?’
Mitchell hesitated.
Hope took his arm and gave it a firm squeeze, bolstering his strength. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’
He kissed her brow. ‘Yes please.’
And I never want you to leave.
*
Monika lay asleep in a two-bed room in which she was the only patient. The blind was drawn. The nurses had propped her up in the bed against pillows. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was twisted as if in pain. Her breathing was loud and laboured.
The air smelled faintly of Glen 20 air freshener. A bag of IV fluids hung from a pole and another pump administered a continuous infusion of Fentanyl into her body.
Mitchell pulled up a chair, sat and, after dragging in a deep breath, took her hand. It was cool in his, the skin wrinkled, as though there was nothing under it except twig-like bones. Bones so fragile they felt like he could crush them if he squeezed too tightly. Even the red hospital ID band was loose around her wrist. He tried to swallow but the lump in his throat was so large it was an effort.
‘Hi....er...um...’ He cleared his throat. ‘Hi...it’s Mitchell.’
Her eyes remained closed.
Hope sat carefully on the edge of the bed and laid her hand on Mitchell’s leg. ‘Do you want me to stay?’ she whispered.
He nodded. ‘Please.’
He examined Monika’s hands. Her fingers were long, her nails short and uncared for and she wore no rings. Had she ever married? It might be too late to ask her now.
He considered the things his mother’s hands should have done. They should have held him as a baby, bathed him as a toddler, pushed him on the swing as a pre-schooler, brushed his hair, read him stories, tucked him into bed at night, held his as they crossed the street on the first day of school. But they’d done none of those things. At least not for him. Did she have any other children? Were their half-brothers or sisters out there somewhere, oblivious to his existence? It was possible.
They sat, neither speaking for close to an hour. There appeared to be no change. Nurses came and went, checking the pumps, taking her blood pressure and temperature. He watched Hope scrolling mindlessly on her phone. Sometime after eleven she left to find them coffee and returned, handing him a paper cup without a word. She didn’t need to talk, just being there was all he needed, and it reminded him that when all this was over, he was never letting her go.
Holding onto Hope Page 26
