Bleeding Darkness. Brenda ChapmanЧитать онлайн книгу.
the summer before and the jealousy that consumed his waking hours and disturbed his sleep. He asked, “Where’s Mom and Lauren? She texted me that she arrived last night.”
Adam nodded. “Lauren got here yesterday late afternoon. The two of them are at the hospital and with any luck they aren’t fighting yet. I was on my way over when I heard you pull up.”
Tristan said, “Viv wants to lie down for a bit, but I’ll be right behind you after I get these suitcases upstairs. My old room, I’m guessing?”
“Yeah. Mom replaced your single bed with a double.”
“Only a double?” Vivian frowned and set the dog on the floor before she stood up. She straightened the folds in her plaid skirt. “The way you flail around, Tristan, a king is barely large enough.” She paused. “I thought Mona and Simon would be coming with you, Adam?”
“Mona called this morning and she’s booked a flight to Toronto for later this afternoon even though I asked her not to bother yet. Simon will stay with her sister. She’s renting a car and will be here around suppertime.”
Tristan stopped with his foot on the first stair. “Is Dad that bad?”
Adam nodded. “He hasn’t got much longer. Maybe a few days at the most. He keeps slipping in and out of consciousness.”
“How’s Mom taking it?”
“Stoically, of course. It’s how we roll, remember?”
“There’s not a McKenna born who shows fear or pain.”
“Although we’ve been known to drink away our worries,” said Adam. “Tristan, why don’t I wait and we can go to the hospital together?”
“Yes, why don’t we go in one car?” Vivian asked.
“I thought you wanted to lie down,” Tristan said, pausing with a suitcase in each hand.
Vivian turned her luminous eyes on him. “If your father’s that close to the end, I should make an effort to see him now. Give me a few secs to freshen my face and I’ll be ready to go.”
Tristan shrugged at Adam, letting him know that as far as women and decisions went, it was best not to question. Especially not when the woman was pregnant.
David opened his eyes and turned to see out the wide rectangular window on his right side. The snowflakes were falling thick and fast and he licked his lips, trying to imagine the taste and the soothing cold on his skin. Would he experience such sensation on the other side? He’d know soon enough.
“Your father’s awake.”
Evelyn’s face came into focus. He shifted his gaze and Lauren’s face leaned in next to his wife’s. Lauren. He’d wanted to tell her something but his mind couldn’t corral the thought. He tried to move his mouth.
“Get him some ice chips.” Evelyn’s voice. The tone she used with Lauren but not the boys. The books on raising kids had said not to show favourites, but Evelyn hadn’t gotten the message. His extra attention to their daughter to try to balance the scales had only thrown gas on the fire. Just one more regret on a long list.
“How’re you doing, Dad?” Lauren rubbed the ice chips on his lips and he tried to smile.
“Hanging … in.”
He felt her hand on his forehead for a moment and then Evelyn manoeuvred Lauren a few steps back out of his line of sight. “The boys are coming by soon. I’m still checking with the doctor to see if I can bring you home now that I have so much help.”
He managed to say, “That would be good.” Good, but not likely. He knew he was never leaving this bed except in a body bag. He was quite certain Evelyn knew it too. Her greatest strength had been twisting the truth to protect her version of the world. Not letting in any of the ugliness. Problem was that hiding from the truth had ruined them all.
At the bottom of it, he knew that he was to blame. Would he make the same choices today? Would he stay silent about what he’d done?
He closed his eyes and let himself float away.
Zoe tucked in his sheet before she stretched out on the bed next to him. Her matted dark-brown hair trailed over the side of the bed and her eyes, the colour of walnuts, were wide open, watching him. Blood dripped from the gaping wound in her neck, staining the white blanket underneath her a shocking crimson. Her delicate hand slipped inside his large, rough one.
“Am I dreaming or is this real?” he asked himself. This could not be real. He turned his face sideways and kissed the top of the girl’s head, which was snuggled against his chest.
“No point coming back to haunt me for what I did after all this time,” he said. “I did what I did for a reason. What would be the point of laying blame?”
He expected some sort of argument but got nothing from her. She lay still next to him, as deeply asleep as Lauren used to be when she was a baby and had drunk a bottle of warm milk. The girls had been inseparable friends from grade school on. Zoe petite and dark-haired, Lauren tall and slender with blond-streaked curls. How many times had he heard them giggling in Lauren’s bedroom or watched them walking arm in arm down the road?
Lauren and Zoe. Zoe and Lauren.
I loved you both
As my own.
Two little peas in a pod.
Arms linked and faces shining
Until death did you part.
“I’m going to get some late lunch,” Lauren said. She’d had enough of walking on eggshells with her mother and could do with a smoke and a vodka tonic. Make that three vodka tonics.
“Tristan will be here soon. Don’t you want to wait until you’ve seen him?”
No mention of Vivian, as usual. “That’s okay. I’ll see them back at the house later today.”
“Well, suit yourself.” Her mother’s face was wearing her tight, pinched look and Lauren waited for the other shoe. “You always do,” Evelyn added, her eyes spoiling for a fight.
There was a time when Lauren would have engaged with her mother’s rebuke, but she knew the battle would end up a draw and leave her feeling lousy. She picked up her purse from the floor and stretched herself to full height. “See you later,” she said with fake gaiety. She beamed a smile even though the effort cost her.
She took the elevator and found her car covered in a layer of snow at the back of the municipal parking lot where the snow had drifted. After swiping off the thick coating on the windshield with her arm and waiting for the car defroster to blast out hot air enough so she could see, she worked her way over to Princess Street and continued south toward the waterfront. The snow had tapered off to a light sprinkle but the roads were slick with ice and she drove slowly. She took a left on Wellington and was lucky enough to find a parking spot near the Iron Duke.
She pushed open the door and took a stool at the bar in front of the long line of beer taps. She ordered a tall vodka with lots of tonic and ice, knowing she had to pace herself. The bartender set the drink on a coaster in front of her.
“You look familiar,” he said.
“I used to come here a long time ago.” She took a sip, deliberately keeping her eyes down, swirling the liquid in her glass as she set it back on the counter. She sensed he hadn’t moved and tried to think him away.
“Lauren? Lauren McKenna?”
She slowly raised her eyes. Stout. Grey stubble and kinky hair. It took a few seconds for her to place his eyes. When she did, she grinned. “Hey, Clint. How’ve you been?”
“Well, you know. Trying to stay out of trouble. I started working here a couple of years ago. You were in Toronto last I heard.”
“Still am. I’m home because my dad’s not doing well. He’s not