The Christmas Vigil (6 page)

Chloe bit her lip. “I think I need to wake Declan. This is something he needs to know. He’ll want to fly up there with you, if he can. He’ll want to be there for his mom.”

“Yeah, I think that might be for the best. I doubt he’ll want to work tonight once he’s told Dad is so ill. Clayton’s flying from Canberra into Sydney and will get a connection from there. Declan might be able to get on the same flight.”

“I’ll look into it right away. You need to be together. Your father and mother need you and you all need each other. It’s times like this that family is so important. Believe me, I know.”

This time, Brandon’s sigh was filled with relief. “Thanks, Chloe. I appreciate your support and I’m sure the rest of the family will, too.”

“Give my love to your parents and tell them I’m praying hard.”

“I will. Please have Declan call me as soon as he can.”

Chloe ended the call and set the phone back on the coffee table. She was loathe to wake her husband, but she didn’t have a choice. His father was gravely ill, perhaps dying.
Who knew how much time he might have left?
It was important Declan be there. At the very least, he’d want to know.

She stood up from where she’d been sitting on the couch and immediately swayed with dizziness. She’d been feeling lightheaded and nauseous for the past few weeks. It would come and go in waves and appear and disappear without warning. She’d put it down to a virus her daughter must have brought home from day care. Even though Jessica hadn’t displayed any symptoms herself, it was possible she’d come into contact with it and had passed it on to her mother.

Chloe grimaced. It wouldn’t be the first time. At fifteen months of age, Jessie was still in the baby room at the local day care center and seemed to come into contact with more than her fair share of stomach bugs and other viruses. No doubt she’d have a sturdy immune system by the time she started formal schooling. No doubt they all would.

With the wave of dizziness passing, Chloe walked down the hall toward the bedroom she shared with her husband. She glanced in on their daughter, who’d settled for an afternoon nap not long after Declan had gone to bed. Jessie’s eyes were closed and her breathing was deep and even. Chloe smiled, pleased to see her little girl was asleep. Dinner time was always so much more pleasant when she was rested.

Chloe continued further down the hall. Her gaze skimmed over the collection of framed photographs that lined either side of the dark-green walls. The twelve-foot-high, pressed-metal ceilings allowed for a veritable gallery of pictures to be hung on display at eye level and upwards. What started out as a hobby was fast becoming an obsession, particularly since the birth of Jessica. Chloe never tired of spending quiet time with her baby and capturing the endless special moments through her lens.

The majority of the pictures were family photographs. Declan came from a family of nine. She came from a family of six. In addition, there were spouses, children, nieces and nephews… She was never short of subjects.

Reaching the end of the hall, Chloe drew in a deep breath before she eased open the half-closed door that led into their bedroom. The aged, polished timber floorboards were soft and shiny beneath her bare feet. Despite his fatigue, Declan’s clothes hung neatly over the back of the carved wooden rocking chair that stood in one corner of the room. He’d been a neat freak when she’d met him and three years of married life hadn’t changed a thing. She supposed she was lucky. Plenty of women would envy her having a man who cleaned up after himself—especially when he did it without having to be asked.

The man in question lay spread-eagled across the king-sized bed, naked apart from his underwear. His arms were flung out above his head, his lips slightly parted in sleep. His brown hair was mussed and probably in need of a haircut. Secretly, she loved it a little longer like that. It reminded her of the wild streak in him, hidden beneath his designer suits.

Not many of his work colleagues knew how much he loved to ride his 1199 Panigale Ducati motorcycle at full throttle along the freeway north to Sydney in the middle of the night, dressed from head to toe in black leather. It was his way of relaxing and clearing his head of the daily stresses of working in the Child Protection Unit. She understood his need to indulge in something a long way removed from the often-depressing reality of his job.

The thought of waking him less than an hour after he went to bed still didn’t sit well with her, but what she’d told Brandon was right. Having their father lying seriously ill in hospital was something Declan would want to know, despite his attempt to catch up on much-needed sleep.

Chloe sighed. He’d been working so hard lately, with many late nights at the office. He was in the middle of an international online pedophile investigation and they were slowly closing in. It was imperative for Declan’s team of investigators to keep up the momentum and that meant long work shifts. When he did finally make it to bed, his sleep was often broken by Jessie waking in the night, cross and irritable from teething.

And now Chloe was going to interrupt his slumber yet again…

She eased herself onto the bed and laid her hand upon his cheek. He stirred and turned his head to press a kiss against her palm. Her belly somersaulted with need, as it always did when he touched her. His eyes fluttered open.

“What is it?” he murmured, his voice clouded with sleep.

“I’m sorry to wake you, darling. I-I just took a call from Brandon.”

A slight frown marred the smooth skin of his forehead. “What’s he calling about?”

“It’s your father. He’s in the hospital.”

Declan half sat, coming fully awake. “In the hospital? Is he all right?”

“No, darling. I’m…I’m afraid he’s not.”

* * *

By the time Chloe finished telling Declan what she knew, he’d dressed and packed an overnight bag. A quick text to Clayton about his flight details and Declan managed to secure a seat on the same plane to Sydney with a connection to Grafton. He kept himself occupied with the minutiae of leaving in an emergency, including a phone call to his boss, Gary Julian, to request the time off.

Throughout his preparations, he did his best to come to terms with the news that his father was critically ill. The fact that a brain aneurysm had ruptured was frightening. That he’d been in a coma since they’d found him, even more so.

Chloe watched him make his arrangements, her expression full of sadness and concern. She’d offered to come with him, but hanging around a hospital room with a toddler was no fun for anyone. He was glad she hadn’t delayed telling him, even if he desperately needed to rest. He’d been pulling unbelievably long hours at work, buried so deep within the belly of his current investigation that he barely had time to come up for air—but he needed to be with his family more. It was as simple as that.

He looked around for his phone, intent on calling his mother and spied it on the coffee table in the living room. She’d be crazy with worry for his dad. The two of them were inseparable. He couldn’t imagine how she’d cope without him by her side.

Scrolling through his contacts, he found his mother’s number and listened impatiently while the call dialed out. Chloe came into the room and leaned against the door frame with her arms loosely folded across her chest. He looked up at her and his heart warmed at the love and support in her gaze.

He thought of his father lying near death in the hospital and his heart went out once again to his mother. If anything ever happened to Chloe, he was certain, beyond a doubt, his life would fragment into pieces and he’d never be able to put them back together.

His mother’s pre-recorded message sounded in his ear. He sighed quietly, knowing she probably had her phone on silent or even switched off in deference to the rules of the hospital. No doubt she was glued to his father’s side. He felt a fleeting moment of pity for the nursing staff that might have the temerity to suggest she take a break and leave off her vigil.

He left a brief message, letting his mother know he was on his way, and then ended the call. Chloe stepped nearer and slipped her arms around his waist. He took her in his arms and leaned his chin against her hair, taking comfort from the familiar scent of her shampoo.

He missed her already.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Marguerite

Grafton, New South Wales

From her position on the wooden bench that stood on the banks of the Clarence River where she’d escaped to after leaving her husband’s side,
Marguerite stared across the wide expanse of water and brushed away her tears. She still couldn’t believe what had happened.

Even her years of nursing experience hadn’t prepared her for the shocking sight of Duncan, usually so vibrant and full of life, lying so still and deathly pale in the ICU. It was always different when the patient was someone you loved. It had been the same when her daughter, Josie, had badly broken her leg.

The sudden departure of a pelican lifting up and over the water momentarily captured Marguerite’s attention. She watched its graceful progress along the river, its wings stretched far out wide. It was joined by another one and they flew together, proud and majestic, and eventually disappeared from view.
 

She sighed and her troubled thoughts circled back to Duncan. She could tell that Riley was struggling to reconcile what had been found in the hotel room with the father he knew. She could understand his confusion. She was perplexed, too. In her heart, she was certain Duncan hadn’t been cheating on her, but her head kept doing its best to override it.

She’d been married to him for forty years. She knew him as well as she knew herself. With every fiber of her being, she refused to believe he’d been unfaithful. And yet there was the lingerie, and the candles, the oils, the lubricant, the rose, the champagne in an ice bucket on a tray that held two glasses…

Her husband had been expecting a woman—a woman he intended to have sex with and as far as she knew, that woman wasn’t her. Though she steeled herself against it, the thought of his betrayal cut deep. The last time she’d seen him, had only been that morning. He’d been in the garden, admiring the bountiful crop of roses. She’d waved at him from the kitchen window and he’d cheerfully returned her greeting. She’d even seen him snip off a large, red bud and hold it up to his nose, breathing in its heady fragrance. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same rose that had been found in the hotel room.

A fresh wave of tears burned behind her eyes. She leaned forward until she was on the edge of the bench where she’d taken refuge. Resting her head in her hands, she breathed through the pain. There were facts and then there was knowledge. She
knew
her husband. He would die before he cheated on her. It was as simple as that. There had to be another explanation.

She’d given him her love and her loyalty for more than forty years and he’d reciprocated in kind. Now he was gravely ill, perhaps even dying. She’d continue to show him the loyalty he deserved until he was well enough to explain what had happened and how he’d come to find himself in such a compromising situation. They’d laugh about it and then even cry at how lucky they were that he’d pulled through and had lived to tell them about it.

Sitting upright, she brushed at the tears on her cheeks and drew in a deep breath. It did no one any good to sit around moping—least of all, Duncan. He needed her love and he needed her support. It was thought that many patients in a coma could still hear things around them, were still aware of their environment. She needed to pull herself together and get back there, to the hospital. To her husband.

CHAPTER NINE

Tom

Sydney, New South Wales

Detective Sergeant Tom Munro leaned back in his chair and glanced at the clock on the far wall of the squad room. A couple of hours to go and he’d be out of there. It had been a quiet day. He and his fellow police negotiator, Andy Warwick, had filled the day completing paperwork and catching up on the humdrum of other less-important activities that got pushed aside whenever a call came in for their help.

He glanced at Andy where he sat at his desk not more than three or four feet away and noticed he was playing Solitaire on his computer.

“What are you up to for Christmas, Andy? Got any plans?”

Andy looked over at him and shrugged. “I’m not sure what Cally has planned. She’s talking about going back to Watervale and spending a few days with Kate.”

“That’s right. I forgot she went to school with Riley’s wife. How often do they catch up?”

“Not as often as they’d like. Cally’s never keen to visit in case she runs into her father. They reconciled when Grace was born, but their relationship is still rather strained. She prefers to avoid him if she can. Kate and Riley came down to Sydney for Grace’s baptism and they caught up then.”

“Of course. I forgot about the baptism. That was only a couple of weeks ago, wasn’t it? Lily and I were out of town, so we missed seeing them.”

Andy grinned. “Yeah, it was a shame. We had a great day. Unfortunately, Cally couldn’t change the date. I think she booked it in about a minute after Grace was born. She was determined to get our daughter christened while she could still fit into Jack’s christening gown. It had been made by her Aunt Mary while Cally was still pregnant. Because Mary died when Jack was eight the gown holds enormous significance.” He shrugged. “It didn’t matter to me. I only want to see her happy.”