The Confession (22 page)

Aimee smiled at the friendly face behind the desk. “I’m looking for Emily Sinclair. She asked me to drop off some papers to her.”

“You must be Aimee.” The friendly young redheaded girl smiled, exposing a mouth full of braces. “She asked me to bring you back when you arrived. Follow me.”

Aimee followed obediently behind the young girl. It wasn’t until she’d entered the hallway that it became clear this was still a medical facility. But even with the machines, the nurses, and the medical charts, it felt homey and comfortable. It was apparent how much love Emily had put into its design.

“She’s right in here. She’s expecting you.”

Aimee opened the door, thanked the girl again and stepped inside. Emily was seated next to a hospital bed talking with a pale young woman. Her head was covered in a bright red scarf and her arms were wrapped around a sleeping baby. Another young woman with a pixie face and a contagious laugh sat beside her, and the nurse, a pretty red head, stood across from them. The four of them were laughing at something one of the women said. They hadn’t spotted her, and not wanting to interrupt, she stood back.

Looking around the room she was again amazed by the little details. The room was a cheery yellow and the bed sat at an angle allowing the occupant a clear view of the gardens through the window. White wicker chairs with yellow and lavender throw pillows sat beside the bed. Instead of thin hospital blankets, the bed was covered in a colorful lavender quilt, and the television wasn’t mounted to the wall but settled inside a white oak armoire.

The petite brunette was talking about her brother. It seemed he was a “tall and dashing police officer” who didn’t date much and she was telling Emily she should take him out.

“He’s young enough to be my son.” Emily shook her head, a slight blush rising on her cheeks. “Lexie, I promise you that I will go out on a date, right after you do.”

“Well there goes that idea, Lexie.” The girl in the bed laughed and suddenly began to cough and choke.

Aimee watched as Emily gently lifted her forward and helped her sip from a water glass. The nurse walked over and made an adjustment on the IV machine, and the brunette lifted the sleeping baby from her arms and laid him into a small basinet before heading to the sink to refill a water pitcher.

She spotted Aimee. “Hi, can I help you?”

All eyes turned to her before Emily rose from the edge of the bed. “Aimee, you made it. Come on in, there are some people I’d like you to meet.” Emily placed her hand on the small of her back and escorted her toward the bed. “Girls, this is Aimee, my new assistant, life preserver, and friend. Aimee, this is Maggie, our favorite guest, and my dear friend.”

She held out her hand to the frail woman in the hospital bed. She was weak, and her skin was transparent, but her eyes were vibrant and full of life. Aimee liked her immediately.

Emily pointed at the petite brunette. “This is one of my favorite volunteers, Lexie Wayne. She is a lousy matchmaker, but has the Midas touch around here.”

Lexie shook her hand, and leaned in closer, whispering loudly. “I’m her
very
favorite volunteer. She’s mad I won’t start dating so she has an excuse to go out with my devilishly handsome brother.” She leaned back, and scanned Aimee up and down. “Wait a minute. I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

“Leave her alone, Lexie.” Maggie raised the bed, pulling herself closer to the conversation. “You make Jordan sound like a charity case. He doesn’t need you to set him up. Besides, judging by Aimee’s choking, she’s not married, but she’s not single either.”

Emily laughed and shook her head. “And this is Marissa. She is one of my best nurses. I don’t know what we would do without her around here.”

Marissa was still working the buttons on the IV machine, but looked up and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Aimee. We’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you. I was dropping off some papers for Emily. It was very nice to meet all of you.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Emily headed for the door ahead of her.

“She seems so young,” Aimee didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud.

Emily nodded her head. “She is too young. She’s barely twenty-four, and her son will lose his mother before he sees his first birthday.” She took a deep breath. “Cancer is the worst evil. It hits where and whom it wants without any regard for age, gender, health … Or with any concern for the good people it takes, or for the people it leaves behind aching from the loss.”

Emily stopped at the front desk, and waited for Aimee to pull out the papers that needed signing. Aimee wasn’t sure what to expect when she’d walked into the hospice house, but she hadn’t expected to feel pulled to step in, to help. Seeing the companionship of the women, seeing the difference they made to the patient, and the genuine joy on each of their faces, she wanted to be a part of it, to make a difference.

Emily handed her the papers and thanked her again for bringing them by. “We’re always looking for volunteers,” she said in that knowing way of hers.

Aimee smiled and nodded her head. It was no wonder Emily was so respected and revered. It wasn’t her money or her status, it was her heart. She gave every part of her to the people who needed her most.

Aimee swallowed down the lump in her throat.

The tapping of Mark’s boots echoed down the quiet hallway of San Francisco General. He hesitated at the door. He took a deep breath and pushed it open. A blue drape was pulled closed around the bed. The sound of beeping machines reverberated through the room.

He’d turned to leave when the curtain suddenly slid open and a nurse shuffled out, writing something on her clipboard.

She looked up, appearing startled to find someone there. Her bright blue eyes lit up. “You must be Marcus.” She held her hand out to shake his. “Your father has been asking for you.”

He wasn’t sure how to process the fact that his father was waiting for him. He hadn’t been sure he’d come at all. He’d spent the morning driving along the coast, trying to untangle his thoughts. He kept getting stuck on the things Aimee had said to him, and when he turned his car around to go home, he knew what he had to do.

“Can I go in there?” Mark motioned at the closed curtain.

“Of course. He’s sleeping now, but I think he’d be happy to wake up and see you there.” She held back the curtain for him to enter before leaving the room.

Mark walked to the side of the bed. The mountain-like readings of the heart monitor continued their repetitive beeping. His father lay motionless, his hands above the covers, an IV line taped to his arm. He looked pale against the white sheets. Frailer than he’d been the last time he’d seen him and nothing like the villain he always pictured.

He struggled to identify the emotions that raced through him. Jumbled pieces of sadness, resentment, worry. He’d always held tightly to his anger. It was only now he realized it had been a shield, a way to keep him safe from the alternative. Hurt wasn’t an emotion he was comfortable with.

His father shifted, his eyes drifting open. Mark could identify the moment he spotted him. His eyes grew wide with surprise, before his face settled into a soft smile.

“You came,” he said in a raspy voice.

“How are you feeling?” Mark sat in the chair beside the bed.

“I’m hanging in there. I didn’t think you’d come.”

Mark couldn’t answer him. The reasons he’d come were unclear in his mind. He replayed the words Aimee said. Was it possible that his father didn’t have anyone else? The fact that the thought made him sad didn’t sit well. He’d asked to be alone. He walked out on his family and never looked back.

“I’m not sure why I did.”

His father was quiet for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again.

“Why did you ask me to come here?” Mark finally asked, rubbing his hands down the length of his thigh.

“I needed to see you.” His father watched him. “I needed to talk to you, to try and bridge the distance between us.”

His anger boiled to the surface. “What would lead you to believe that’s even remotely a possibility?” He stood abruptly from the chair.

“Hope.”

The word was spoken so silently that it took Mark a moment to process it. Again, he thought of Aimee. She seemed to have a strong understanding of the situation. He wished she could tell him how he was supposed to deal with it.

He sighed and sat back down, lowering his face into his hands.

“Mark … ”

He could feel his father’s eyes on him. He looked up but couldn’t speak.

“I know there is nothing I can ever do or say to make up for all the wrong things I’ve done. The fact that I hurt you and your mother, deeply, is something that I will have to live with for as much time as I have left.”

He scooted up higher on the bed and cleared his throat. “Even returning the money to your mother couldn’t erase the damage that was done — ”

“What are you talking about?” Marks voice rose above the machines.

His father looked away, hiding his face. “I only meant I understand it wasn’t about the money for either of you.”

“But you made it sound like you gave the money back.”

His father turned to face him, his eyes growing wide. “She never told you?”

Mark shook his head, struggling to understand why he felt like breathing a sigh of relief.

“That part doesn’t matter. It was the right thing to do, but it could never undo the wrong that had already been done.”

The curtain opened and the same blue eyed nurse shuffled in.

“Good, you’re awake.” She smiled brightly at both of them. “How are you feeling?”

Mark stood to leave.

“Please stay.” His father pleaded.

He wanted to walk away, to bury himself in the familiarity of his anger. The look of fear in his father’s eyes stopped him.

“I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. I’ll be right back.”

Mark stopped outside the door and leaned against the wall for support. He was surprised by the fact that his father had returned the money. He was stunned that his mother hadn’t told him. But more than anything, he was astounded by the fact that he could physically feel small pieces of the wall around his heart falling away. He was petrified of the yearning taking its place.

He walked down the hall and into the waiting room, taking his place behind the man currently filling a coffee cup at the vending machine.

The man turned and smiled cynically. His eyes were red from crying, his face ashen from an apparent lengthy run with no sleep. “I recommend the triple caramel macchiato with extra whip cream.”

Mark laughed, “Must be some vending machine.”

“It’s been a long night, and a longer day. I’ve had so much of this sludge that I’ve resorted to fantasizing that it tastes good.”

“I only come here for the coffee. Well, that and the incredible ambiance of the place.”

“You need to get out more.” The man raised his paper cup in a mock salute. “I hope whoever you’re visiting today gets home to you soon.”

Mark nodded his head and took a swig of the bitter coffee. “You too, and be careful, this stuff alone could guarantee you a room here.”

Mark headed back down the hall, and was stopped by his father’s nurse and another doctor as they left his father’s room.

“I’m Dr. Olep, your father’s cardiac surgeon.” He held out his hand to shake Mark’s. “We’ve scheduled your father’s surgery for nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I think he’s strong enough, but it’s still a pretty serious procedure.”

Mark lowered his head in embarrassment. “What’s the procedure, exactly?”

If the doctor was surprised by Mark’s lack of information, he didn’t let it show. “We’re going to perform a triple bypass. It’s fairly common, but no less serious. Our concern is the stress on his heart so soon after his last heart attack. The damage from the prior two is significant.” He reached over and placed his hand on Mark’s shoulder in reassurance. “We’re confident this procedure will repair the damage.”

Mark nodded his head and mumbled his thanks before stepping back into the room.

“You’re still here,” his father said, his tone one of surprise, as Mark walked through the curtain.

“I told you I would be.”

“I know, but … ”

The room grew silent, the tension crackling between them. Mark searched for something to say. He’d spent years trying to understand how his father could betray him so heartlessly. Now he had the opportunity to get answers to every question he’d ever had, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask one. Was it fear of the answers? Or was it easier to hold onto the anger without them? He wondered at what point in his life he’d become comfortable with his anger and mistrust.

Not sure he was ready to evaluate himself, he asked, “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

His father looked stunned by his question. “A little bit I guess. Don’t like hospitals much.” He grew silent again, but Mark could see he was about to say something. “I’m really glad you came today.” He swallowed hard. “But why did you?”

Mark turned and looked out the window. He watched a cloud float gently across the face of the sun. He thought again of the words Aimee said. “Because it was the right thing to do, and even if you don’t deserve to be, you’re still my father.”

His eyes filled with tears. “I don’t deserve to be, and you deserve so much better.” He turned his head away, and slowly turned it back, looking at Mark intently. “I have very little I’m proud of in this life, but you, you make my time here worth something. I wish I would have realized it then, before I messed everything up between us.”

Mark didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he went to speak and it burst from his lungs. “I don’t know if I’m ready to do this now.”

“Does that mean you might be ready to talk about it later?” his father asked, his voice pleading, his eyes filled with desperation.

Mark stood up and tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash can. “What time are they rolling you out of here tomorrow?”

“I think they said a little after eight.” His eyes asked the question that his mouth didn’t.

“I’ll see you then. Get some sleep.”