by Kade Charest
“Derrick—” she wasn’t sure what she was going to say.
Suddenly Derrick’s face was close, and he had her face in his hands, pulling it as close as possible. “Taylor,” he said softly, “this is what I want. It is always what I have wanted, and it has always been you. I need you, and your company needs you to do this. Please don’t let me hang anymore. I swear on my life I can make you happy. I will spend my whole life making you happy,” he said, looking into her eyes. He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip and then kissed her softly.
Taylor wanted to push him away, but she was just absorbing everything. And as with every time Derrick kissed her she was absorbing nothing except feelings right now.
Okay, so maybe they did have passion, but that was it. She did not love Derrick Fletcher in the way he wanted her to.
Derrick’s phone rang, but he didn’t stop.
“Your phone,” she said against his lips.
“I don’t care,” he replied and then slid his tongue through Taylor’s parted lips and slipped his hands up the sides of her face, burying them into her hair and anchoring her to him.
The ringing of Taylor’s phone drew her slightly from the heaven she was currently in. She didn’t know if anything was certain between them, but right now it didn’t matter. Except the incessant ringing of her phone was starting to distract her.
“Ignore it, Taylor, ignore it and stay here with me. Figure things out with me,” Derrick pleaded against her lips.
This really did seem like the best idea, so Taylor nodded and pressed her lips back to Derrick’s. Her confidence was gaining, so she slid her tongue forward and just completely fell in rhythm with Derrick. She didn’t notice anything.
Even Henry entering the room.
“Mr. Fletcher,” he said with a strained tone. Taylor jumped. Neither she nor Derrick had noticed another presence until Henry had spoken.
Derrick’s head whipped quickly in his direction. “What?” he exploded.
“Ms. Fletcher is on the phone. Your sister, sir, she needs you,” he said, pushing his phone to him.
Derrick stared for a confused moment at the device and then shook his head, as if to bring himself to the here and now. He grabbed the phone quickly.
“Marty,” he said into the phone. Taylor tried to back up and give him some space, but Derrick just tightened his grip on her, holding her to him. It was different than him wanting her close. Taylor got the feeling that Derrick needed her close right now, and how could she possibly say no? She had leaned on him significantly in the last few weeks, and so she stayed put, squeezing him back to let him know she was there.
And then Taylor heard Marty’s guttural crying through the phone.
Something was very, very wrong.
“Okay, Marty, okay. I’m coming, we’re coming,” he said to her and disconnected. Derrick swallowed, and he looked overwhelmed. He turned to Taylor, “It’s my dad …”
“Go Derrick,” Taylor said to him, nodding that she understood. She didn’t need specifics; she knew that his family needed him. No way was she going to stand in the way of that.
“Please come with me,” he pleaded.
Taylor paused and then nodded. “Of course,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the door. How could she not be there for him after all the times she had recently begged him to stay and he had done so without question one minute and then endured her spewing craziness the next?
Henry had the door open before they could even ask him, and together they made their way to a waiting car.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Derrick felt absolutely paralyzed.
If Taylor hadn’t led the way to the car, he would probably still be rooted in his apartment. She had gotten him into the back of the Range Rover and was now holding his hand, giving it the occasional squeeze. It was enough to let him know he was not actually paralyzed, that this was really happening.
His father had sat down with him and Marty four months ago, though it felt like yesterday.
“I am dying. The treatments are no longer working.”
His words shot through the air and landed like a spear right into Derrick’s stomach.
“No, Daddy. No, please no,” Marty had pleaded. She went over to him, kneeling before him and grabbing his hands in desperation. “Please Daddy, no,” she continued on, pleading, tears covering her face, her voice becoming more shrill and disembodied.
“Marty,” Simon softly soothed. Marty resorted to laying her head in his lap and sobbing, but she didn’t call out or interrupt him. “My Marty, I would give you the moon if you asked me, but this is a fate I cannot escape.”
“What do you mean, Dad?” Derrick asked, coming out of the trance that his father had induced.
Simon sighed heavily as he stroked Marty’s head. “Marty, please. Please sit up. I need you to both hear me.”
Marty pulled herself up and looked at her father, but the reluctance in her body was visible.
“I can feel my body failing, and the treatments have ceased working. There is nothing else—”
“There must be something, Daddy. You can’t—”
“Marty!” Simon called, bringing her back to silence. “I need you both to listen to me,” he said, looking to her and then to Derrick. “There is nothing more that can be done, and I am tired. I am just so very tired.” Simon looked at Derrick and then down at Marty. “And I am in pain,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “I wish to just enjoy what I have left with you both, see you happy and enjoying life,” he paused to take a breath, seemingly to give himself strength, “and when it is my time, I just want to be with you both and to go in peace.”
And now it seemed the time had come.
“Derrick.”
It was Taylor, and Derrick looked to see they were approaching the hospital. It glowed eerily ahead of them.
“We’re here,” she said to him, and Derrick could only stare at her. Deacon, one of the security staff for the Fletcher family, stood waiting in the hospital entrance and came over as soon as they were in sight.
“Mr. Fletcher, Ms. Preston, I will take you up.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Derrick saw Taylor nod and then start to move forward; she grabbed Derrick’s hand and pulled him with her. And thank God she had because Derrick had wanted to stay right where he was and not face any of this.
Deacon led them through a hallway and then to a service elevator, which they took up to the seventh floor. Security guards were in the hallway, and there was a person in a suit who came forward as they made their way down the corridor.
“Mr. Fletcher, I am Ryan Campbell, VP of hospital services. I had wished to meet you downstairs. I am sorry.”
Derrick didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what to say. Nice to meet you? No problem?
“Mr. Campbell, we appreciate your assistance, but we really need to get to Mr. Fletcher’s room please,” Taylor said.
“Oh yes, of course,” Campbell mumbled his reply and led them down the hall.
There was more security hanging at the entrance to the hallway and at the end of it. The room they were led to was right smack in the middle.
Henry opened the door, and Derrick walked in with Taylor.
His dad was almost unrecognizable to him lying in the hospital bed and wearing the generic hospital gown. He was still, very still, and his coloring was blanched. He blended in with the white bedding too well. Derrick had just seen him that day, had he looked that pale earlier? Had he really been missing how worn out he looked? Or was the hospital setting making it look worse than it was?
“Derrick,” Marty said through a hiccupped sob as they walked in. She made her way to him, and Taylor released his hand so he could go to her.
Derrick moved forward on his own for the first time since he had gotten her phone call.
“Marty,” was all Derrick could say as he embraced his sister.
“I’m not ready, Derrick. I can’t do this. I’m not ready—I need h
im,” she said hoarsely into his chest.
“What happened?”
“He collapsed,” she said softly. “He got up from dinner, and he just collapsed …” Marty was cut off as she started sobbing into his shoulder again.
Derrick stroked his sister’s hair and looked over her head at his father. “He is so pale. When did he get so pale?” he whispered.
“I’ve been putting makeup on him,” Marty said.
Derrick pulled back from her and looked at her face to see if she was kidding.
She laughed when she saw his face. “Just a little bronzer, he said if not—”
“If she hadn’t, I’d look like I was starting the much-feared zombie apocalypse,” Simon interrupted weakly. His eyes were still shut, and he lay motionless. If Derrick hadn’t seen his lips move, he would not have believed he had even spoken.
Derrick wanted to go over to his father, but he knew Marty needed him too. But suddenly Taylor was there, and Marty went easily into her open arms. God, what would he do if she weren’t there?
Derrick went over to his father and sat on the bed. Slowly Simon moved his hand toward Derrick’s, and he grabbed it.
His eyelids rose just slightly. “My boy,” he said and smiled. “That is what I said to you when I met you for the first time. You know that?”
Derrick shook his head at his father. Derrick had always prided himself on having a quick wit, the right joke, perfect comedic timing, but he couldn’t find any comment or remark for this situation. All he could do was study his father’s face, absorb the warmth in his hands, and record the sound of his voice.
“I have never seen you so quiet for so long,” Simon said.
Derrick shrugged. He didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to ruin or taint this moment with something stupid.
“I love you, Derrick,” Simon said to him, and a tear fell out of each Fletcher’s eye. “I want you to be happy. Are you happy?”
“Yes, Dad,” Derrick replied instantly.
“Really?” he pushed. His eyes had fallen shut by this point, but he squeezed Derrick’s hand to let him know he was listening.
“Yes, Dad. I am very happy,” Derrick assured him. “Are you in pain?”
“No,” Simon said, “but I am comforted more by knowing my children are happy and will be happy when I die.”
His dad was still pushing, but Derrick didn’t know what he wanted him to say. Well, no. To be honest, Dad, I wish you weren’t dying, that Taylor trusted me, and that I wasn’t going to be handling Fletcher Enterprise without you. But how could he lay all of that on him now?
“Daddy, we are happy, but we are not happy about this,” Marty said, sitting on the other side of the bed and grabbing Simon’s other hand. “We don’t want this for you.”
“I love you, Marty,” Simon whispered to her.
“Please don’t go, Daddy,” Marty begged him.
Simon could only squeeze her hand in response.
There was a soft knock at the door, and Taylor got up and opened it partway to see who was there.
“Hello. I’m Frank, Si’s oncologist,” said the man at the door.
Taylor opened the door more to let the doctor in.
“Hi, um, Frank. I am Taylor Preston. These are Simon’s children,” she said, gesturing to the bed.
Frank came over and shook Derrick’s hand and patted Marty on the back. He looked very relaxed, not tense like the other hospital staff Derrick had seen when they had come in. He was in jeans and an Ohio state T-shirt. “Could I speak to the two of you please?”
“Hi, Frank,” Simon said, his eyes still shut.
“Hey, Si, I’m just bringing them up to speed, like I told you I would.”
Simon nodded and released his children’s hands.
Derrick knew he needed to take the lead on this one, so he walked around the bed and helped Marty up and met the good doctor over in the far corner of the room. In their absence, Taylor had pulled up a chair to Simon’s bedside. Derrick watched as Simon motioned her closer and spoke to her so quietly that Derrick couldn’t even hear sound.
“Your father,” Dr. Frank said, interrupting Derrick’s thoughts, “is, as I know he has told you, terminal in his cancer stage.”
Derrick took it in. Marty rubbed the tears off her cheeks, but held back her sobs for the moment.
“He has told me he has spoken to you both and made you aware that he wished to be made comfortable when the time came. Unfortunately that time is here.”
Derrick nodded. He heard him, but he wasn’t sure he absorbed it. “What do we do next?”
“I recommend a continuous medication drip to help his pain and make him the most comfortable, and to have his family at his side.”
“How long does he have?” Derrick asked.
Frank took in a breath and let out a heavy sigh. “That is by far one of the hardest questions people can ask me. It is so dependent upon the person. But I can tell you he is ready and his body is worn out. If I had to guess, I would say probably not beyond twenty-four hours.”
Marty turned into her brother, sobbing. “Derrick, I can’t, we …”
“Marty, these are Dad’s wishes,” he reminded her gently. “He’s at the end. Let’s just be with him and help him be comfortable.”
Marty looked at Derrick. He was ready for her to fight him. But she just let more tears fall. Knowing their dad was in pain had bothered Marty, and she just wanted to make sure he was comfortable, even if that meant letting him die.
With her head down, Marty nodded, and Derrick pulled her into a hug. “Let’s do this,” Derrick said over her head to the doctor.
Dr. Frank nodded and patted Derrick on the shoulder, then he left them alone.
Derrick leaned down to Marty’s ear, “You need a break?”
Marty shook her head, and Derrick could feel wet through his shirt as she rubbed her tears all over his shoulder. “I don’t want to miss a second with him,” she choked out, and so Derrick walked her back to their father’s side.
Taylor and Simon were no longer in the deep discussion they had been while Derrick and Marty were talking to Dr. Frank. Now Simon was asleep, or at least he appeared to be; his eyes were closed, and his breathing was steady, rhythmic and fast. It was faster than Derrick had ever noticed, and Derrick wondered if he had hid that too. Taylor was still nearby with her phone clutched in her hand, staring across the room. She startled when Derrick and Marty got closer and moved quickly to allow them to get closer to their father.
Once Marty was seated, Taylor leaned into Derrick, putting her hand on his arm. “I’ll be right back,” she said. Derrick nodded, and Taylor leaned in and kissed his cheek before she left. Derrick was surprised and excited at the touch. But then Taylor kissed the top of Marty’s head, and it made more sense: she was just comforting them, it hadn’t meant what he wanted it to mean deep down.
Derrick directed his attention back to his dad, and he could see now how hard he was working to live. It was painful just watching him struggle to breathe, and Derrick could not even imagine how he felt. He was eager to see someone come in and help ease his struggle.
“Derrick,” said Simon hoarsely.
The nudge that Marty gave Derrick suggested that it hadn’t been the first time he called him.
“What’s up, Dad? You okay?”
Simon opened his eyes, “I love you.”
Derrick felt his throat close up. “I know, Dad,” he croaked out, “and I love you.”
“I haven’t always shown—”
“Yes you have, Dad,” Derrick assured him, “you have always shown me. I have always known that you loved me.” Derrick was being completely honest. It may not have always been hugs and kisses, but sometimes being stern and pushing your child to do their best showed just as much love as a hug; Derrick knew this.
Simon smiled at him weakly and let his eyes shut. “Okay,” he resolved, and Derrick hoped he had appeased any guilt his father might have.
The door
opened, and a woman with a calm smile and a bag of fluids walked in. “Hey there, I’m Sara,” she said. “I met your sister earlier, Mr. Fletcher. I’m your dad’s nurse.”
Derrick nodded. “Call me Derrick,” was all he could say.
“No problem,” she said easily. Derrick was glad Sara didn’t seem enamored with his celebrity status and that she was comfortable in what she was doing. She went over to Simon and touched his arm gently. “Hey, Simon, I’m going to hook you up to a pain medicine drip. Is that okay?”
Simon nodded, and Sara got to work.
Taylor reentered the room, introduced herself to Sara, and thanked her. Derrick was completely captivated with Taylor. He was so glad she was there to take care of him and Marty while they were essentially falling apart. She was so strong. Derrick knew she had it in her, and here it was, just when he needed it.
Time ticked, and an hour was gone before Derrick knew it. In that time his dad’s breathing had settled down. It was slower, and his eyes had been closed for a while. The medication seemed to be doing its job. Every now and then, Taylor would squeeze Derrick’s shoulder just to let him know she was there.
The door opened again, but Derrick didn’t turn to look. Sara had been in and out, checking on Simon and checking in with Derrick and Marty. This time, however, when the door opened, Taylor got up. Derrick watched Taylor greet and speak softly to a man with a shiny bald head. He looked vaguely familiar to Derrick, but he figured he was a hospital rep of some sort. He would let Taylor deal with him.
Derrick had refocused his attention on his dad when Taylor came back over. “Derrick,” she said softly.
Derrick looked at her and the balding man who had accompanied her to the bedside. “What’s up?”
“This is Judge Thompson. He is going to marry us tonight.”
It seemed like even the clock stopped ticking because it was so shocked by what Taylor had just said. Derrick stared at her with his mouth hanging open, Marty whipped her head up and looked at Taylor, and Simon’s eyes opened the widest they had been since Derrick had arrived.
Derrick’s lips moved without saying anything, but finally he managed to say, “What?”
