The Christmas Vigil (15 page)

“What the hell happened to you while you were outside? Did you have an epiphany, or something?” Josie demanded, frowning.

“No, even better, I had a call from my wife. Let’s just say, she made me look at the whole thing a little differently.”

Tom shook his head. “Well, whatever she said to you sure changed your attitude. Thank her for me next time you talk to her.”

Declan smiled and went to tell them his news. At the last minute, he closed his mouth. He’d wait until he’d told his father. He deserved to be the first one to know. Impatient now to see him, he took a huge bite out of his roll.

“You look like you’re in a hurry, mate,” Clayton teased. “Easy does it, or you’ll be the next one in the hospital. They’ll be fishing out lumps of chicken that you’ve darn well gone and choked on.”

“I just want to see Dad. How is he, anyway?” He directed the question to all of them and was met with a variety of shrugs and murmurs.

“He’s about the same, as far as we can tell,” Tom finally offered. The nurse said he still has some swelling on the brain and he probably won’t regain consciousness until it recedes.”

“
If
he regains consciousness,” Josie added, her expression grim.

“Of course he will,” Declan said. “He’s Dad. He won’t let a little thing like this get him down. Not for long, anyway. Besides, it’s Christmas in a few days. We all know how much Dad loves Christmas. Did you notice the lights all over the front porch? He’s seventy years old and he’s still climbing ladders to hang Christmas lights! There’s no way he’s going to miss it.”

He looked around at his siblings and noted their half-hearted nods of agreement. Dread shivered along his spine and his body went still. “What? What is it? What aren’t you telling me?” He looked from one to the other and then swore out loud. “What the hell is going on?”

Tom sighed and clasped his arm. “It’s all right, Dec. It’s nothing. It’s just that…” And he proceeded to warn him about his father’s frail appearance.

“He’s unwell, Dec,” Clayton said quietly. “Prepare yourself. He’s really unwell.”

Impatience and a wave of urgency surged through him. He had to see his father for himself; make his own judgement about the precariousness of his dad’s hold on life. Finishing his coffee in two quick gulps, he pushed his chair away from the table. “Where is he?”

“He’s in the ICU. It’s on level three,” Tom replied.

Declan compressed his lips and nodded and strode toward the elevators.

* * *

The caustic smell of disinfectant and cleaning fluid burned Declan’s nostrils as he made his way down the corridor to the ICU. Nerves jangled in his belly. After what Clayton had said and the expressions on the faces of Josie and Tom, he was bracing himself for the worst. With a deep breath, he pressed the button to request admission and waited for it to be answered.

A young nurse with a bouncy, blond ponytail and a friendly smile opened the door within moments.

“Oh, hi, I’d like to see Duncan Munro. I’m—”

“His son. I can see how much you resemble your siblings. You all look quite alike. There’s been a fair parade of you through here today. It’s lovely that your father has so many people who care about him.”

“Thank you. Do you think he’s up to seeing me?”

“He’s resting peacefully at the moment. If you don’t stay too long, I’m sure it will be fine. My name’s Bridie, by the way.” She smiled again and then turned away, throwing over her shoulder, “Follow me and I’ll take you to him.”

Declan fell into step beside her and kept his gaze averted from the handful of other patients lying in beds along the wall. A moment later, she halted. In the bed lay his father. Declan drew in a sharp breath at the helpless fragility of the man before him.

The tubes and bandages were as his siblings had warned him. A tube protruded from his nose and another one from his arm. Yet another one drained urine to a bag which hung from the side of the bed. The respirator pumped and murmured, along with the flashing green LED lights of the monitors. The ward was otherwise quiet, apart from the whisper of machines attached to the other patients and the soft rubber-soled progress of the staff around the room.

Declan released the breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding and pulled up the chair near the bed. He was glad he’d been warned. It was a shock to see his father like this.

He looked like he was dying.

Immediately forcing the thought away, Declan took his father’s hand and held it fast.

“Hello, Dad, it’s Declan. How are you doing? You’re going to be fine, Dad. Everyone says so. Besides, it’s nearly Christmas. We all know how much you love Christmas. You have to get better, Dad and get out of here. Who’s going to carve the turkey if you’re not home? And what about the home brew we bottled together last time I was home? You told me you were saving it for Christmas. I’m not going to have one without you.”

Declan paused and waited for a response, but there was nothing. Trying hard to remain positive, he spoke again. “I have some news, Dad. Chloe’s having twins. Can you believe it? I’m still getting used to the idea. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He smiled. “I bet you still remember when Mom told you about Clayton and Riley. I bet you even remember where you were. I know I will. I’ll remember the moment forever. I can’t wait to tell the others. I’ll be bugging Riley to death, asking him a million questions, seeing as he’s already been there.”

He shook his head and his smile widened on a chuckle. “Twins, Dad! Can you believe it?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Chanel

Grafton, New South Wales

Chanel watched the passing scenery for a moment or two and then returned her gaze to the road. It had been years since she’d lived in Grafton, but she still knew her way around. There might have been a new building or two and the occasional new apartment block built since she’d left home to attend university in Brisbane, but there were still plenty of familiar landmarks around to guide her to where she was going.

“Take the next left, sweetheart. The hospital’s right on the corner.”

“Yes, Mom. I haven’t been gone that long,” she teased and flashed her mother a grin.

A tiny smile tugged at her mother’s lips, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Chanel bit her lip in concern. Her mother had barely spoken a word to her all day. Apart from telling the others she’d wait until later to visit their father, she’d done nothing but murmur the occasional comment to Chanel’s almost endless chatter. It was what she did when she was nervous or upset and ever since the phone call the day before, she’d been feeling a whole lot of both.

She pulled her car into a car park located directly across from the hospital and switched off the ignition. Gathering her courage, she turned to face her mother.

“What is it, Mom? What aren’t you telling me? I get that you’re worried about Daddy, we all are. But, there’s something else. I’ve seen you worried before and this isn’t it. It’s almost like you’re sad and mad at the same time. It’s not like it’s Daddy’s fault. I’m sure he didn’t plan on bursting a blood vessel.”

Her mother sighed heavily and shook her head. “Of course he didn’t. It’s nothing like that. I don’t blame him for becoming ill.”

“Then what, Mom? What is it?”

Her mother turned to stare out the passenger side window. She was silent for so long, Chanel didn’t think she was going to answer her.

“The police think your father’s been having an affair.”

Chanel’s shocked gasp was loud in the sudden stillness. “
What?
You can’t possibly be serious?”

Her mother turned back to face her with eyes that were filled with tears. “Yes, sweetheart, I’m afraid I am.” She choked on a sob and covered her face. “I don’t believe it, of course, but some of your brothers are struggling with it. I just wanted you to know.”

Chanel stared at her, helpless and confused. “Mom, please, I don’t understand. How could Daddy be having an affair? You mentioned he was found in a hotel room. You didn’t say anything about an affair. Besides, I’m with you. It couldn’t possibly be true. We’re talking about
Daddy.
I don’t believe it. I
won’t
believe it. The boys can go to hell,” she said a little more forcefully.

Her mother frowned through her tears. “Don’t talk like that, Chanel. They’re entitled to their opinion. They’re just trying to deal with the shock of it. We all are. Don’t judge them too harshly. I’m sure once they’ve had time to think it through, they’ll realize it couldn’t be true. Besides, I haven’t told you everything.”

In halting sentences, she told her about what the police had found in the hotel room. Chanel shook her head with increasing vehemence, shock and disbelief warring with her instinctive need to defend the man she loved above all others.

“Daddy would never do anything like that, Mom. I don’t care what the police said. You know it as well as I do. There’s another explanation. I know there is. As soon as Daddy wakes, he’s going to set them straight. You wait and see.”

She finished with a fierce frown, not at all sure she wasn’t trying to convince herself as much as her mother. No, it couldn’t be true. It might have looked that way, but there was no way her father would commit adultery. The mere suggestion of it was beyond absurd.

“Perhaps he was going to surprise you? Perhaps all those things were for
you
? Has anyone considered that? It’s nearly Christmas, after all and everyone knows how much Daddy loves to celebrate. Perhaps he was getting into the spirit of things a little early?”

Her mother stared at her and then her mouth tugged up on a smile. Hope lit up her features. “You’re right, sweetheart. You’re absolutely right. That’s what it was. Dad was waiting for
me
. Only, he didn’t get to call me before the aneurysm ruptured. Thank you, darling—it makes so much sense. I wish I’d thought of it myself.”

“Anytime, Mom. I’m more than happy to help. Let’s go inside,” she added, her voice soft and full of love. “I really want to see him.”

* * *

Chanel gathered her long hair in her hand and secured it with a hairband. The ponytail hung casually over one shoulder. It was more a style of necessity rather than grace, but it did the trick and kept her hair out of the way. When it was left loose, it had a tendency to fall across her face and she constantly had to brush it away. She didn’t want the distraction while she sat with her father.

The elevator stopped at level three and the doors slid open. She hoisted her handbag over her shoulder and followed her mother out into the corridor. They stopped outside the ICU and Chanel’s heart picked up speed. She wanted to see her dad, but she didn’t know what to expect. She was terrified she’d look at him and see a stranger.

Don’t be ridiculous,
she chastised herself. he’s your father, no different to the man you saw when you were home during the Spring Break. He’s had an accident, a bleed on the brain. That’s all.

An older nurse with short, dark hair opened the door in response to the buzzer and asked if she could help.

“I’m Marguerite Munro and this is my daughter, Chanel. We’d like to see Duncan Munro.”

“Of course, Mrs Munro. You’re welcome to visit. At this stage, however, we’re still asking that you come in one at a time and that you limit your visit to ten minutes.”

“Of course. I understand,” her mother replied before turning to look at Chanel. “You go ahead, darling. I’ll wait out here.”

“No, Mom. You go in first. I don’t mind waiting.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I saw him yesterday. I know how much you want to see him. I’ll go in after you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course. You won’t be long. I’ll go in when you finish.”

Chanel looked at her mother closely, but she appeared to be holding herself together. With a little shrug, Chanel leaned over and gave her a quick hug and then followed the nurse into the ward.

The smell was as familiar and comforting as the bedroom her mother still kept for her at home. Being in her final year of med school, Chanel had spent countless hours pounding the corridors during her practical blocks in the hospitals around Brisbane. The feel, the smell, the mood of a hospital never failed to stir her. They were places that ran the whole gamut of emotions: from joy at the birth of a baby to sadness and despair at a death. She loved every minute she spent in them. She couldn’t wait until she was working as an intern and calling the sterile, white corridors home.

Of course, it was different when the patient was someone she knew—not only knew, but loved and cherished and adored. Being in a hospital under those circumstances was a world apart from being there in the capacity of a doctor. The thought sobered her. When the nurse came to a halt in front of a bed, Chanel drew in a deep breath.

He looked smaller than she remembered, which was weird. She’d only seen him a couple of months ago. He couldn’t have shrunk in that time. She supposed it was because he looked so weak and lifeless, lying still and silent on the bed. Mindful of the bandages that swaddled his head, she stepped closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek, relieved to feel it warm beneath her lips.

“Hi, Daddy,” she whispered and then blinked back a rush of tears. This was her
father,
the man who commanded every room he entered. His booming voice could reach from one end to the other and his laughter was just as loud. He was vibrant, charismatic,
alive.
The man on the bed in front of her was anything but.