The Christmas Vigil (11 page)

* * *

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.”

“You love them and you know it,” she replied, not believing his gripe about the twins for an instant.

“Of course I do,” he replied. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to strangle them every now and again.” Riley softened his words with another smile and Josie addressed Clayton and Brandon.

“You left early this morning.”

“Not really. Who’d have thought you could sleep so long? It’s good to see you up at last, little sis,” Brandon teased and ruffled her long blond hair.

Josie poked out her tongue and then grinned. After getting in late the night before and then spending time catching up with everyone, she’d overslept. By the time she made it to the kitchen, Tom and Declan were on their way out and Clayton and Brandon had already left. Her mother was also keen to return to her husband’s side, but knowing that his visitors would probably still be restricted, she’d graciously agreed to wait until her children had seen him. Chanel opted to wait with her. Josie felt no such patience.

Instead, she’d rushed to catch a ride with her brothers. There hadn’t been time to deal with her hair and pull the thick mane back into the sensible bun she normally favored. She barely had enough time to grab a coffee from the pot her mother had made earlier.

The boys returned to their seats. Josie snagged a chair from the next table and squeezed in between Riley and Brandon.

“How did you get here?” Clayton asked.

Josie grimaced. “I caught a lift with Tom and Declan. I should have taken my own car or waited to ride with Chanel and Mom. Those boys did nothing but argue the whole way. Declan’s convinced of Dad’s guilt and Tom feels equally sure about his innocence. Anyone would think they were lawyers, the way they’ve been at each other’s throats, standing guard at opposite ends of the bar table and refusing to concede the other might have a point.”

Clayton and Brandon shared a guilty look. Josie frowned. “What? Not you, too? How
could
you? How could you think Dad’s guilty of cheating? You two know him even better than I do!”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Brandon protested. “I’m not the one who had him tarred and feathered.”

She turned a disappointed gaze on Clayton. “Not
you
, Clay? You climb into people’s minds for a living! How could you jump to such a conclusion about your own father without any proof?”

Her brothers exchanged a look. Josie was immediately suspicious. Sudden fear that she might not like what she was about to hear held her immobile. Her gaze shifted from one man to the other. “What is it, boys? What haven’t I been told?”

“It depends,” Clayton muttered.

Josie blew out a breath of exasperation. “On what?”

“On what Mom told you,” Brandon added.

Josie sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Mom told me Dad had been found unconscious in a hotel room and the police thought he might have been meeting a woman there. I assumed it wasn’t his wife,” she finished, her voice dry. “Of course, I barely paid it any mind. As if Dad would be cheating on Mom, huh? The very idea’s ridiculous.”