The Christmas Vigil (17 page)

A smile had tugged at the corners of her full lips and it had been all he could do not to laugh. It was either that or kiss her, and given that they were in the middle of the Emergency Room and she was his treating nurse, he didn’t think such a course of action was wise. Or, that she’d appreciate it.

Instead, he explained how he was a lawyer in a rather large firm downtown and that he had a certain…obligation to join with his colleagues in some Christmas cheer. “Just one or two, mind you,” he added and had then spoiled it by almost toppling off the bed.

She’d merely smiled and helped him upright, her hands cool and soothing on his heated skin. At the contact, her body stilled too, and he’d forced back a surge of satisfaction: She wasn’t as immune to him as she appeared.

When she tilted back his chin for a better look at the gash, he’d cataloged her perfect features. He took the time to savor each one until a blush stole across her cheeks. She dropped her hands and cleared her throat and mumbled something about finding the doctor. It was like the sun moved behind the clouds when she hurriedly walked away.

From the moment she first touched him, blood had flowed to his groin. She left him hard and wanting, made worse by the knowledge there was nothing he could do about it. He wanted her, but more than that, he wanted to
know
her: He wanted to know everything about her. He already knew her name. He’d seen it on her badge: Marguerite Riley, Registered Nurse.

Marguerite.
The name rolled off his tongue: rare, exotic, beautiful—just like her.

His brothers would chide him and tell him she was way out of his league and maybe they’d be right, but he’d always been a fighter and he’d never given up on going after what he wanted. It was one of the reasons he’d done so well in his legal career. He was ambitious and determined and yet still managed to live by his own internal compass: The end didn’t always justify the means.

In all his daily dealings, he did his best to live by that creed. Some days, it was easier to do than others, particularly in his role as a defense lawyer. There were times when he despaired at having to front a court room with a defendant he was certain was guilty. Still, he stood and did what he’d been paid to do and did it more than well and told himself it simply wasn’t his job to ask the question.

If the prosecutor was inept or too lazy to do his job properly, that was only Duncan’s gain—or more precisely, his client’s. But as the years went on, even after his move to Grafton, he’d become more and more jaded at the life on the defense’s side of the bar table.

After consulting with Marguerite, who was by then his beautiful wife, he’d decided to switch teams. He was in the process of making enquires with the New South Wales Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions about any job vacancies when he was approached by the Attorney General and asked if he would accept an appointment to the bench.

He’d been proud and honored to be nominated and more than a little taken aback. Not only was he a defense lawyer, but he was also an aboriginal. Never before in New South Wales had there been an aboriginal judge in the District Court. He couldn’t believe the timing of it. After telephoning Marguerite and receiving her wholehearted blessing, it had taken him all of five minutes to accept.

Apart from proposing to his wife, that had been the best decision of his life. He looked back now, more than thirty years later, and was proud of his judicial time. He’d been a hard judge, but he’d been fair and no one who came before him could argue otherwise. And he’d loved every minute of it. At last, he’d found his purpose: upholding the law he believed in with every ounce of his soul, but applying it with common sense, fairness and justice, in a world where they were often sadly lacking.

The day of his retirement had been met with both sadness and relief. Sadness that a part of his life had ended, but relief that he’d have more time to spend with his family and most of all, with his wife. His years as a lawyer and later a judge had often involved traveling to different circuits and it had meant there were times when he was away from home, sometimes for more than a week.

He’d missed football games, ballet concerts and swimming meets. He’d tried to make it up to them by raising his children to be the best people they could be; by example showing them how to reach for the stars and to never, ever let anything hold them back. And then he missed his wedding anniversary. Well, not exactly
missed it,
rather it had completely slipped his mind.

In all the years since they’d been husband and wife, he’d never forgotten the date. He’d even turned down work if it meant he’d be away on the date he and Marguerite were married. With seven children in the house, they hadn’t always been able to get away, but even on the occasions when they’d celebrated at home, it had always been special and full of love. After all these years, she was as beautiful to him as the night they’d met and he loved her even more.

But their last anniversary had gotten caught somewhere in his head. He’d thought about it a fortnight out and had been planning to take her to dinner. Somewhere nice and intimate, where they could enjoy a good meal and fine wine. Perhaps later, they could go dancing, like they had when they were young.

Only, none of it had happened. The day had come and gone. It had been nearly a month later, when he remembered that he’d forgotten.

She hadn’t said a word. She’d gone about her day like any other. She hadn’t given him a clue. Perhaps, she’d been a little quieter, looking back, he thought she might have been. Perhaps, she’d looked a little sadder, but not enough for him to wonder if something were wrong.

He bit his lip and wished again that she’d said something to remind him about their day. But he’d never needed reminding in the past and that was probably why she’d remained silent.

Had she thought he’d forgotten on purpose?
That he’d gone past the point where he cared? Had he been that inattentive? He didn’t think so, but then…

Now, he’d gone and ruined it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Marguerite

Grafton Base Hospital

The young doctor who’d introduced himself as Jordan Holland let Duncan’s eyelid drop back into place. He lowered his flashlight and turned to Marguerite with a satisfied smile. “He’s coming around, Mrs Munro. Just like we hoped he would.”

Relief and elation surged through her and she clasped her hands to her mouth. Her heart thudded so hard she strained to hear his words. The worst was over. Duncan was waking up.
Thank goodness, he was waking up.

“Do…do you know how long it will be before he opens his eyes and…speaks?” she stammered.

“The signs are all positive for that happening sooner, rather than later. His pupils are reacting equally and I’m very pleased with his other neurological observations. He’s reacting to pain and even to simple pressure. You saw his fingers move a little while ago and you even heard him speak. If I were to guess, I’d say it might be within the next hour or two, but it’s hard to say for certain. What I will say is that I’m sure he’s on the mend. You should be able to talk with him before the day is out.”

Marguerite breathed out on a sigh tinged with nervousness. She’d vowed to love and honor him, for better or worse, all the days of her life. She still believed in those vows, made so many years ago, and she would be there for him when he regained consciousness.

“If it’s okay, I’ll go downstairs and give my family the good news. They’ve come from all over the place to see him and are very much hoping and praying for the best. I’d like to tell them he’s going to pull through.”

“Of course,” the doctor said, nodding in understanding. “Take your time. Your husband’s not going anywhere.” He offered her a slight grin. Her return smile felt stiff and unfamiliar. She’d had rare opportunities to smile over the past twenty-four hours.

Despite the fact Duncan had mumbled the name of another woman, she leaned over the bed and kissed him softly on the lips and then pulled slowly away. He didn’t react, but she wasn’t disappointed. He’d moved his hand. He’d spoken. The doctor was certain he was regaining consciousness. It was more than good enough for her.

She pushed open the door that led into the corridor. The waiting area outside the ICU was empty and she realized Chanel must have gone back downstairs. Hurrying toward the elevators, Marguerite at last let the joy of the doctor’s announcement soak all the way through to her bones. While the fear of what she’d discover when her husband finally spoke didn’t dissipate, the sheer relief that he was going to be okay overwhelmed her. Her smile returned and slowly widened into a huge grin. She couldn’t wait to tell her children.

* * *

Tom was the first one to notice her. He was holding a cup of coffee halfway to his mouth when he spied her coming toward them. Clayton, Josie, Riley, Declan and Chanel were all seated at the table with him, so engrossed in conversation they didn’t notice her approach. Brandon was on the phone and stood a little distance from the table, his back half turned away from them.

Tom set his cup down and half stood. “What is it, Mom? What’s happened?”

She drew in a breath and opened her mouth. “It’s Dad. He’s-he’s…waking up. He’s going to be all right.” Her voice hitched. Tears burned. She swallowed the lump in her throat and cleared it, her voice hoarse. “They’re optimistic he’s going to be all right.”

Chairs scraped across linoleum. Amid smiles and cries of relief, she was engulfed in hugs from every direction.

“Mom, that’s fantastic!”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“When can we see him?”

The questions came from her in a babble of noise and confusion. She shook her head and held up her arms in an effort to quiet them down, like she used to when they were young.

“Children, please, one at a time. I can’t even hear myself think.” She softened the order with a smile and pulled the nearest one close. Chanel returned the embrace and hugged her tightly. Her youngest daughter looked up at her, beaming.

“It’s wonderful news, Mom. What did the doctor say?” The others stood close by, watching her expectantly.

“Your father moved his fingers and then he murmured a couple of words. I called for the nurse who got the doctor who examined him closely and then told me he was regaining consciousness.”

“I can’t believe Dad spoke,” Tom said. “What did he say?”

Marguerite shrugged and looked away. “Nothing important. He didn’t even make sense, but at least he said something. It’s a good sign. The doctor said it might be another hour or two before he’s conscious again.”

“Wow,” Josie added. “I can’t wait to tell him hello.”

“Me, either,” Declan said softly, his expression fierce.

Brandon turned to face them with an eyebrow raised in silent query. He still had the phone to his ear.

“Dad’s waking up,” Clayton mouthed. Brandon frowned with incomprehension.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Tom exploded. “Get off the phone! Dad’s waking up!”

Brandon’s eyes widened in shock. A moment later, he ended his call. His gaze moved from one sibling to another until it finally landed on his mother. “Dad’s waking up? Is it true?”

She nodded and smiled through her tears. “Yes, darling. He is.”

“Whoop! That’s fantastic news! I can’t wait to tell Alex.
Alex!
I almost forgot. She’s gone into labor. She’s called Lily who’s on her way over. She’ll drive her to the hospital. I-I have to go, Mom. I have to go and be with Alex.”

Marguerite’s heart beat a little faster in excitement at the thought of the impending arrival. “Of course, Brandon. Go. Your wife needs you. Dad will be fine. It might be a few hours before he’s fully conscious. By that time, you could be back in Sydney.”

“Yes, I’ve had a list of flights on standby ever since I arrived.” He checked his watch. “The next one leaves in a little under an hour.”

“I can drive you to the airport,” Clayton offered.

“That would be great, Clay. I’d really appreciate it.”

“No problem, Bran. I wouldn’t want you to miss the birth.” When Clayton spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion. “There’s something indescribable about being present when your children are born. It’s a moment you never forget.”

Brandon nodded. “Yeah, and with Alex having such a hard time of it with Bella, I can’t bear the thought of not being there to support her.”

He stepped forward and gave Marguerite a fierce hug. She returned it with an equal amount of enthusiasm. “Go and be with your wife, son and give her our love and best wishes. We’ll be thinking of you both and waiting to hear the good news.”

“Thanks, Mom. Let’s hope everything works out that way.”

“You have to think positive, Brandon. Take a look at your father. A little while ago, none of us knew what to expect or whether we’d ever get to speak with him again. Now, he’s waking up. Miracles happen, son. You just have to believe.”

“Oh, I believe in them, all right,” Brandon replied, his voice catching. “It was a miracle Alex and I ever got back together, let alone that we have two more children.” He pulled away from her. “I need to go to her, Mom. I need to be with my family.”

He turned on his heel and threw a glance in Clayton’s direction. “You ready?”

“Stay safe, Brandon,” she called out to his retreating form. He lifted a hand to acknowledge he’d heard and her shoulders slumped on a soft sigh.