The Christmas Vigil (8 page)

He spied the back of Declan’s dark blond head and then recognized his other two brothers. Brandon and Tom held large takeaway coffee cups in their hands. All three of them looked grim. He closed the distance between them and greeted each of them with a brief hug.

“Hey, Clay. Good to see you,” Declan murmured.

“You’re looking good, bro,” Tom said.

“You finally made it,” Brandon muttered.

“Yeah,” Clayton replied. “No thanks to the cabbie.”

“It’s lucky you weren’t hurt,” Tom said, eyeing him closely.

“Yeah, that’s just what Mom would need. Another family member in hospital,” Brandon added.

The reminder of why they had gathered sobered all of them. Gazes dropped to their feet and coffee cups were tilted toward suddenly silent lips. Clayton scuffed the toe of his boot across the shiny surface of the airport floor. A moment later, he cleared his throat. “It couldn’t have happened at a worst time.”

“Is there ever a good time for something like this?” Brandon asked. “It’s not like Dad asked for his blood vessel to rupture.”

“I think Clay’s referring to the fact Christmas is right around the corner, Brandon,” Tom said, shooting Brandon a warning look to calm down.

“I’m with Clay,” Declan added. “We all know how much Dad loves to celebrate the holidays. He’s going to be pissed if he sleeps through it.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll pull through. He’s as tough as a piece of leather. I’m sure this won’t do him in,” Tom added.

A renewed surge of anger rushed through Clayton’s veins. “And then what? Is Mom supposed to simply forgive and forget and welcome him back with open arms?”

His outburst was met by frowns of confusion from Tom and Declan. Brandon jammed his hands into his pockets and lowered his gaze.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tom asked.

“What would Mom have to forgive? Like Brandon said, Dad didn’t ask for this to happen,” Declan added.

Clayton looked from one brother to the other. The confusion remained on their faces. He shook his head and frowned darkly at Brandon before eyeing his other brothers. “Don’t tell me you don’t know? Didn’t Brandon tell you?”

Clayton and the other two turned as one to face the brother in question. Brandon stared at the floor, an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“I was the one who called Tom. He only knows what I do. So, what didn’t you tell me, Brandon?” Declan asked, his voice low and threatening.

“For Christ’s sake, Bran, what the hell is Clayton talking about?” growled Tom.

Brandon’s cheeks reddened under the combination of their stares. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you, Dec. It’s just that, when I called with the news, you were asleep and Chloe answered your phone. I-I didn’t want to just blurt it out to her. Then later, we sorted out the flight details through texts. I-I didn’t want to text you about it. I wanted to call you back and tell you, but I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t know.”

Tom turned to Clayton. “So, we’re back to you. What the hell’s happened to get you all riled up about Dad?”

Clayton stared at him and then shook his head, trying to find the words. He threw a glance in Brandon’s direction, hoping his brother might help him out, but once again, Brandon avoided his eye. Drawing in a deep breath, he prayed for the right words. With a concerted effort, he kept his anger in check and as quickly and concisely as he could, told them everything.

* * *

After filling in the necessary paperwork, Clayton collected the keys to the rental car from the man behind the counter outside the Grafton airport and went and joined his brothers who were waiting nearby with their luggage.

“Right, whoever wants a ride, feel free to join me. Anyone who would rather sort out their own transport, be my guest. Riley texted me to say he left the hospital an hour ago. He had to go. Kate and the twins are sick with the flu. He’s needed at home. But he did say there’s been no change with Dad. He’s still in a coma. No better. No worse.”

Brandon and Tom sidled away. They’d been giving him the cold shoulder the entire flight—ever since he’d told Tom and Declan about their father’s philandering. He didn’t get it.
How could they defend the man?
Riley might have urged him to keep an open mind, but Clay knew his twin was merely going through the motions. He believed what Clay believed: the evidence didn’t lie. Their father was having an affair and nothing anybody said could change it.

Brandon and Tom had tried to argue that nobody knew for sure, that what Joel Parker had found could have been misconstrued, but they were a family of police officers. Law enforcement ran through their blood. They couldn’t honestly believe there was any other explanation. It was what had kept his anger simmering since the very moment he heard.

“I’ll get my own car,” Brandon muttered. “It’ll be easier if we have two.” He moved off toward the rental car counter.

“I-I might go with him, keep him company,” Tom added hurriedly, avoiding Clayton’s gaze.

Clayton stemmed his irritation and offered a curt nod. “What about you, Dec? Are you going to travel with me?”|

Declan nodded, his face closed. “Yeah, I’ll ride with you.”

“Good.” He glanced at Tom. “We’ll see you at the hospital.”

Twenty minutes later, Clayton and Declan met Tom and Brandon in the car park outside the Emergency Room, the latter having only just arrived.

“We’ve just come from the ICU,” Clayton said by way of greeting. “It’s past visiting hours and the staff won’t let us in.” He grimaced. “They’re restricting Dad’s visitors to one at a time and they say he’s had enough for today. Uncle Gary and Aunt Susie dropped by and Mom and Riley were here most of the afternoon. The nurse also confirmed what Riley told us a little while ago: Dad’s condition remains unchanged, which apparently, is a good sign.”

Brandon frowned. “So that’s it? We’ve flown all the way up here on the first available flight and we can’t even see him?”

Clayton stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Not tonight, anyway.”

Brandon’s eyes glinted with anger in the well-lit car park. “That’s bullshit. They can’t refuse to allow us to see him. He’s our father.”

Tom put a hand on Brandon’s arm in an effort to calm him down. “I think they can, mate, and what Clay says is right. If he’s stable, that’s a good sign. I’m sure if the staff thought there was a chance he might…”

“Die,” Declan supplied.

“Yeah…die,” Tom continued. “Then they’d bend the rules and let us in.”

Brandon’s shoulders slumped on a sigh. “You’re right. I guess it means we’ll see him in the morning.” He looked around at the three of them. “Where are you all staying?”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Marguerite

Grafton, New South Wales

The knock on the front door broke into Marguerite’s troubled thoughts and she quickly finished hanging fresh towels on the rail in the guest bathroom. With the aid of the myriad of fairy lights Duncan had strung up across the front porch a couple of weeks ago and the life-sized Santa that glowed in the dark, a glance out the window showed the silhouettes of her sons. Her heart tripped over:
They’d come.

Hurrying down the stairs, she patted her hair and smoothed out the light cotton dress she’d donned after she’d showered upon her return from the hospital. Switching on the porch light, she swung the door open wide.

“Mom!” She was enveloped in one hug after another from a quartet of large men: Her sons. Not one of them less than six feet. All of them broad-shouldered and lean, like their father.

Brandon and Tom stood off to one side and seemed to be avoiding glancing at their brothers. Clayton and Declan looked equally determined to avoid looking at their brothers. She sighed inwardly and blinked back tears, for once at a loss to help them. Each of them would need to deal with what had happened in their own way. All she could do was to love them and pray any fallout wouldn’t last long.

“Boys, I’m so pleased to see you and I’m glad you chose to stay here. Come in, come in! It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you all.” She led them into the kitchen, which had always been the heart of the house. They dropped boots and light jackets and suitcases in the hall and followed her into the room.

The air conditioner hummed quietly on the wall, keeping the room temperature comfortably cool. The sun had set hours before, but the summer heat lingered in the air. There was often a breeze from the river that helped keep the humidity down, but tonight not even a leaf stirred in the still evening.

Her sons crowded around the kitchen counter and suddenly filled the room. She wasn’t used to having so many men in her kitchen. It had been much too long since they’d all been there together. She frowned and tried to think back to when it had been and decided it was more than a year ago, when Riley’s twins had been christened.

Busying herself at the sink, she filled the electric jug and set it on to boil, trying her best to keep her thoughts from straying to the reason they’d gathered
en masse.
She should have known it was an exercise in futility. Not more than a minute later, Clayton broached the subject.

“We went to the hospital on our way from the airport, but the nursing staff wouldn’t let us in. They said visiting hours were over and that Dad was resting peacefully. Riley was there until a little over an hour before we arrived. He told us nothing’s changed.”

Marguerite nodded. “Yes, I left about the same time. I guess that’s good news. At least he hasn’t deteriorated. We can only hope and pray for the best.”

She hoped she sounded more positive than she felt. For the sake of her children, she would put on a brave face and do what was required to survive this. There would be time enough in the future, after Duncan was well, to ask the questions that burned inside her.

Because, of course, he would recover. She refused to consider any other possibility. Duncan was a fighter—strong and determined and stubborn. He wouldn’t die without giving his side of the story. He wouldn’t dare; and she was more than prepared to listen. They’d been together for most of their lives. Whether or not he’d cheated—and she still refused to believe that he had—he deserved a fair hearing. It was the least she could do, despite the obvious opinions of some of her children.

Even now, Declan was shaking his head. “I still can’t believe it, Mom. What he did to you! I want to yell and curse at him. I want to shake him and insist upon an explanation.”

Clayton nodded, his expression grim. “He has some explaining to do, all right,” he growled. “The minute he wakes up, I’m going to demand to know what the hell he was thinking! He’ll be lucky if I don’t knock him back out.”

Marguerite’s heart filled with sadness. She hated to see her children like this. She hated it even more that their father wasn’t present to defend himself and to set things right. She only hoped that when he came out of the coma, he could.

“Declan, Clayton. Please don’t speak like that. I know what Joel saw, or at least, what he says he saw, but I also know your father. I’ve been married to him since I was twenty-five. I don’t believe he was having an affair. I don’t believe it for an instant.”

“Exactly,” Brandon said. “It’s like I’ve been telling you guys. We all know Dad. There’s no way he’d be involved in something so…deceitful. I’ll admit, when Clayton first told me, I was shocked But the more I thought about it, the more it had to be some kind of misunderstanding. Come on, guys. Dad’s the most honest, upstanding,
trustworthy
man we know. His integrity and loyalty have always been beyond reproach. That’s one of the reasons why we admire and love him—just like he loves us. There’s no way he’d cheat on Mom. There must be some other explanation.”

“Yeah, like what?” Clayton muttered, his expression revealing that he remained unconvinced. “We’re all coppers. The facts are the facts. If we weren’t talking about Dad, none of you would think twice about the evidence. Okay, so it’s circumstantial, but any copper worth his salt’s going to—”

“But this
is
Dad,” Brandon interrupted, “and Mom’s right. We need to give him the benefit of the doubt. We owe him that much, surely? Right, Tom?”

All eyes turned to Tom, including Marguerite’s. Tom squirmed under the combined weight of their stares and she immediately felt sorry for her oldest son.

“It’s all right, Tom,” she hurried to reassure him. “I know exactly how you feel. Like Brandon, when I first heard, I nearly collapsed with shock, even while my heart told me it couldn’t possibly be true.”

“Tom’s going Switzerland on us,” Brandon half joked. Marguerite frowned in confusion.

“I’m staying neutral, Mom,” Tom explained. “It’s the only way I can deal with it. I know all about the evidence in the hotel room, but I also know Dad. I don’t want to believe he would do something like this.”

Marguerite stepped forward and reached up and gave him a hug. “It’s okay, Tom. We’ll get through this. One way or another, we’ll get through this and we’ll come out the other side, I promise you.”

She stood back. Her gaze encompassed the four sons who stood before her. “I mean that for all of you. We need to pull together and help each other through this and we need to help your Dad. He’s gravely ill and he’ll need all the love and support from us that he can get. Does everyone understand?”