by Chris Taylor
Feeling the need to reassure his father and perhaps even himself, he leaned over and took hold of his father’s hand.
“Hi, Dad. It’s Clayton. It’s good to see you. It’s been awhile. I’ve been flat out at work and all the other stuff we get caught up in. Ellie and the kids send their love.”
He injected a lighter tone in his voice and continued. “The doctors and nurses say you’re doing well, Dad. They’re confident you’re going to wake up.” He paused and then spoke again with renewed determination. “Of course you’re going to wake up. You’re as tough as a piece of beef jerky. You’ve never let anything defeat you and this won’t, either. I won’t let it. You’re going to pull through this, Dad. You wait and see.”
His father remained quiet and unresponsive. Clayton’s shoulders slumped on a heavy sigh. He leaned forward with his head in his hands and recalled how angry he’d been since he heard about what happened. He was determined to believe the worst about the man he loved and respected beyond words.
How had he gotten to this point? When had he become so quick to judge? He prided himself on seeing things from all angles, on weighing up the evidence against the facts and then listening to his gut. It was the way he’d always worked and that had helped him become one of Australia’s most respected criminal profilers.
Yet, here he was, with his father, no less, and he’d passed judgement against the man in a matter of moments. Clay might have had Declan on his side, but Tom and Brandon weren’t. Even Riley had urged caution and his twin wasn’t known to hold back.
Could it be the stress he was under at home? Could that be the reason he’d been so quick to lay blame? For the past six years, he’d walked a tightrope between Ellie, the wife he adored and loved with his heart and mind and body and soul, and his daughter, Olivia, the little girl he doted on. He’d taken pains not to take sides, not to lay blame when the two females in his life clashed. It happened with a depressing frequency.
All at once, he let his anger slide. “Oh, Dad,” he confessed, “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do and I don’t know how to fix it. I love Ellie to distraction. She’s my life. But Olivia’s my daughter, my little girl. I thought I was doing the right thing by marrying Ellie. I thought she might be the mother Olivia had never known. But I was wrong. I was absolutely wrong. Olivia thinks she’s lost me, too. That I’m more into being Ellie’s husband than being her father. Or at least, that’s what she says.”
He drew in a ragged breath. “I thought it would pass, that Olivia would get used to having Ellie around. I hoped they’d bond, but it’s been six years and it still hasn’t happened. Even when the boys came along, Olivia continued to keep her distance. I hate to admit it, but if anything, having Mitchell and Damon has only made it worse. I thought we’d be one big, happy family, but the truth couldn’t be any more different.”
Clay lifted his head and stared at his father, but the man continued to lie unresponsive in the bed. With another sigh, he reached over and gave his father’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Riley had urged him not to upset the man and here he was, dumping his problems at his father’s feet. And not just little problems, either. At the moment, they seemed insurmountable.
Clay shook his head, despair weighing him down. Neither Ellie nor Olivia was going anywhere soon. He had to find a solution. He had to find a way for them to love each other, as dearly as he loved them both.
* * *
Duncan Munro struggled to hear his son’s voice through the thick sludge that surrounded him. His head pounded and felt like it was stuffed full of wadding. He concentrated hard and was sure it was Clayton who spoke to him in a voice so full of desolation, it nearly broke his heart.
In the next moment, he thought it was Riley talking; the twins sounded so much alike. Without Caller ID, it was impossible to tell them apart when they called him on the phone. But then he caught mention of Ellie and Olivia and suddenly knew it was Clay.
Duncan listened to the pain in Clay’s words and his chest went tight. He tried to turn his head, to open his mouth and offer comfort, but his brain refused to give the order. Nothing worked. He clenched his jaw in frustration. Or at least, he thought he did. His head was so foggy and dull, he couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Brandon
Grafton, New South Wales
Brandon strode out of the hospital and headed toward a garden on the edge of the entrance to the car park. Clayton’s continued anger at their father upset him. The fact that Clay had fair reason to be angry made Brandon even sadder. He didn’t want to believe his father was a cheat, but neither could he ignore what the evidence suggested.
What he wanted was to talk to his dad and have him allay his fears, like he always had in the past, but his dad was in a coma and no one knew when he’d wake; or even if he’d wake…
Brandon missed Alex, too and the thought that she could go into labor any minute constantly played on his mind. He pulled out his phone and dialed his home number, needing to hear her voice.
In contrast to his heavy mood, the warm summer morning bathed him in its heat and the light breeze carried the heavy scent of jacarandas. The trees were famous for their thick clumps of purple bell-like flowers and there were several large specimens in the hospital grounds, their branches generously laden. He’d always loved the sight and the smell of them—an integral part of his childhood.
The huge trees lined many of the streets of Grafton and this time of year, the delicate, frondlike leaves were a bright, almost lime green, providing a stunning contrast to the spectacular purple display. The trees also clung to the banks of the wide Clarence River that ran along one side of the city and provided a haven for the millions of bats that called the jacarandas home.
Brandon remembered watching with awe as a kid while the evening sky filled with the black shadows of bats. By the thousands, they’d fly from somewhere upriver and settle among the dark branches. It was a nightly event he could almost set his watch by.
The phone was finally answered and Brandon swallowed a sigh of relief. If Alex was home, she wasn’t in a labor ward and for that, he was inordinately grateful.
“Hi, sweetheart. It’s me. I just thought I’d call you and see how you were doing.”
“Brandon, how are you? How’s your dad?”
“He-he’s about the same, I think. I haven’t been in to see him, yet. We got in too late last night and I just arrived at the hospital. Clayton’s in with him now.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. You’ll see. He’s not going to give up easily. Where do you think you got your fighting spirit from?”
Brandon smiled at her compliment and hoped like hell she was right. “How are you doing? And the baby? No signs that it’s on its way?”
“No, darling, I promise. My due date’s still two days away and I’ll probably go over, like the last time. If anything happens, I’ll call you.”
“Promise?”
Alex sighed. “I promise. Now, go and say hello to your father. You need to make sure he’s all right.”
“Thanks, babe. It’s good to talk to you.” He paused and then added in a voice thick with emotion, “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“Say hello to Sam and Bella and give them both a kiss.”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Brandon ended the call and sighed. Alex was right. It was time he went in and saw his father.
* * *
Brandon glanced in the direction of the café that was situated on the ground floor of the hospital and spied Clayton and Riley in a queue of other customers who were waiting for their orders. Closing the distance between them, he touched Clay’s arm to gain his attention.
“How’re you doing?” he asked quietly.
Clay turned around and acknowledged him with a nod. “I’m okay. And Dad’s no worse. I ran into Riley outside the ICU. We thought we’d grab a coffee. Do you want one?”
�
�Yeah, but I’ll wait until after I’ve seen Dad.” Brandon switched his attention to Riley and greeted him with a shake of the hand and a brotherly slap on the back. “It’s good to see you, Riles.”
“You, too, Bran. I take it you haven’t been up there yet?”
“No, are they still letting visitors in?”
“Yeah, I think so. They didn’t tell me anything different,” Clay said.
“Good. I’ll…I’ll see you both in a little bit, then.” He turned away.
“Brandon?”
He heard Clayton call out his name and slowly swung around to face him. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. For earlier. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
Brandon shrugged. “Don’t sweat it, bro. We’re all doing it tough at the moment. None of us saw this coming. We’re all trying to deal with it the best way we can.”
Relief softened the hard lines of Clayton’s face. “Yeah, well, thanks for understanding. I was an asshole and I should have known better.”
Brandon patted his brother on the back. “He’s on the third floor, right?”
Clayton nodded. “Right down the end of the corridor.”
“I’ll see you shortly then,” Brandon said and then added, “I’ll have a cappuccino in a mug, no sugar.”
Clayton smiled softly and Brandon headed toward the elevators.
A young nurse with a bouncy, blond ponytail buzzed him through the doors of the ICU and met him on the other side.
“Your father’s right this way,” she said and he followed her into the ward. Her rubber-soled shoes made no noise on the shiny, cream-colored linoleum. Mindful of the other patients, he did his best to keep the sound of his boots on the floor to a minimum.
“He’s a popular man this morning,” the nurse mused. “You’re the third visitor he’s had today.”
“I guess you saw a couple of my brothers,” Brandon replied. “There are seven of us all together.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Seven sons? Wow!”
“No, not seven sons,” he corrected. “Five sons and two daughters.”
The nurse grinned. “That’s still wow!”
He smiled back at her. She was slim and pretty and a long time ago, he probably would have been interested. But that was before Alex.
“Here he is. I’ve just given him a wash. He still hasn’t regained consciousness, but it’s early days yet. Besides, that’s not a bad thing. It gives his body a chance to heal.”
Brandon edged closer to the bed and stared down at his father and tried to contain his surprise. The nurse’s voice faded away. He’d expected him to look ill—and he did. What he hadn’t expected was to see him look so helpless.
Taking a seat in the hard plastic chair by the bed, he leaned over and gave his father a kiss. His cheek was rough beneath Brandon’s lips. His dad was badly in need of a shave. Even a day’s worth of stubble was noticeable and left a dark shadow along his father’s jawline. His skin, usually burnished dark gold from his aboriginal heritage, was now almost as white as the sheets. Brandon stifled a surge of panic and took hold of his father’s hand.
“Hello Dad, it’s me. Brandon. It’s good to see you. You’re… You’re looking good. Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. This isn’t the end, not by a long shot. You’re bigger and stronger than that and you never run away from a fight.” He paused and dragged in a breath. “We all love you, Dad, but we need some answers. No one wants to believe you’d cheat on Mom. We just want you to tell us what happened.”
The respirator continued to do its monotonous job, filling his father’s lungs with air and then deflating them. Watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, Brandon prayed that the words he spoke were true. He wasn’t ready to lose his father. He didn’t know if he’d ever be ready, but he couldn’t let him go like this. With so much hurt and confusion and pain and so many unanswered questions.
He squeezed his father’s hand again and continued to fill the silence. “The baby’s due in two days, Dad. Alex is counting down. She’s had about enough of this pregnancy. It took a bit more out of her this time. I guess she’s that much older, too. I’m worried about the labor. She had such a hard time of it when Bella was born. I can’t stand to think of it happening again.”
He sighed. “I want Alex to have a C-section, but she won’t hear of it. She says it’s better for her and the baby this way, but hell, I’m not so sure. She wasn’t the one having panic attacks the last time whenever Bella’s heart rate fell below eighty. I thought I was going to lose them both. I’ve never been so scared in my life, even when I was working undercover in Jakarta, infiltrating terrorist cells.”
He dragged in another breath. “I-I can’t lose them, Dad. I just can’t. Alex is my life. And the baby…” He shook his head. “I used to think my career was all that mattered. I used to think I didn’t have the time or the inclination to be responsible for a child. Then, I found out about Sam and how much Alex still loved me and everything changed. Now we have Bella and another one on the way and I couldn’t be happier. It’s just the birth that terrifies me.”
He released his father’s hand and leaned back in the chair. “I guess you understand. You went through it seven times. At least, I think you did. Things were a bit different in your day; they didn’t always let dads into the birthing suite. Maybe that was a good thing? But I guess the stress and anxiety and the waiting would have been just the same.”
Brandon ran a hand through his hair and thought of all the times his father had been there for him. During his teenage years, his struggles with puberty were made even more complicated by issues pertaining to his mixed heritage. There was a brief time when he was nearly eighteen that he didn’t feel like he fit into either world: not the black world of his father or white world of his mother. It had taken the wisdom and love of his parents and many countless discussions with his father deep into the night to make him see and believe he fit into both worlds and it would always be that way, for as long as he wanted it to be.
He didn’t want to believe his dad had been unfaithful, despite the evidence that had been found. His father had been his role model, his inspiration, his yardstick for the way he lived his life. He refused to accept that the man he believed in and loved beyond measure could ever do something so hurtful, so dishonest. He sent a desperate, silent prayer heavenwards that his father would wake and explain it all away. The time couldn’t come soon enough.
* * *
Duncan felt the whisper softness of Brandon’s lips against his cheek and sighed. He hadn’t seen his third oldest boy for way too long. The lives of his children were so busy these days and most of them lived too far away.
If it had been up to him, he’d have had them all living in Grafton, close enough so that he could see them and spend time with them whenever he chose. The years sped by far too quickly; they were going by in a blur. He couldn’t keep up with everyone and everything. Life was too damned short.
He knew Brandon was worried about the impending birth of his child. He’d spoken to him about it before. He and Marguerite had been sick with worry the last time, when Brandon had called to tell them Alex’s labor hadn’t been going well. She’d been in labor for ten hours by then and the doctors were concerned. The baby was too big for her pelvis. Brandon hadn’t been able to keep the panic out of his voice.
Duncan understood exactly how his son was feeling. He’d spent many a tense hour outside a delivery suite. He’d been lucky that most of Marguerite’s labors had been short and uneventful, but he could still remember his fear when he was told the twins were in trouble.
It had been more than thirty-three years ago, but he could remember it like it was yesterday. Riley was in the lead and had gotten stuck in the birth canal. Both babies were at risk. It had been too late for a C-section. The door to the delivery room had swung open and closed more times than he could count. More and more medical staff filled the room, their faces more and more concerned. All Duncan could do
was pray.
In the end, it had turned our all right. When Riley and Clayton had been born fit and healthy, Duncan had been weak with relief and oh, so very grateful. It had been fortunate the rest of Marguerite’s births had given no one cause to panic. He didn’t know how he would have coped with another medical emergency where the lives of his family were at risk.
He had a bucketload of sympathy for Brandon’s predicament and more than a little understanding. All he could do was hope for the best and pray that both Alex and the unborn child would come out of it okay.
He sighed and thought of his wife and wondered if she’d stopped by. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but if his sons were near, it must have been more than a few hours. He hoped she’d visit him soon. He was tired and wanted to sleep. But he missed her with a vengeance and wanted to see her even more.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Josie
Grafton Base Hospital
Josie stepped through the double sliding doors and inside the foyer of the Grafton Base Hospital. A beautifully decorated Christmas tree, complete with brightly wrapped presents piled high beneath it, almost filled an entire corner. Not far away, a group of people dressed in choir robes sang joyful Christmas carols, reminding her that it was only a matter of days away. Glancing sideways, she smiled in pleasure when she spied three of her older brothers at the nearby café.
“Clayton! Riley! Brandon!” She walked over to where they sat at a table and greeted them. The men pushed away from their table, stood and returned her embrace. Josie turned to Riley.
“It’s good to see you, Riles. You’re looking fit and healthy. It feels like forever since I’ve been home. How are Kate and the twins?”
“You’re looking good, too, little sister. The Big Smoke of Brisbane agrees with you. Kate is as happy and serene as ever, the girls are little terrors.” He shrugged and added a smile. “Nothing’s new.”
