The Christmas Vigil Page 13

  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 returne
d 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.

  “They’ll be fine, Mom. Alex will be, too.” Josie offered the words of comfort and Marguerite nodded gratefully.

  “Of course they will. I’m just being silly. It must have something to do with all the emotions we’ve had to deal with over the past twenty-four hours. I’m suddenly quite exhausted.”

  Chanel’s eyes immediately clouded with concern. “Come and sit down, Mom. Have a coffee. Have you even eaten today?”

  She let herself be led with a daughter on either side and took comfort from their gentle ministrations. She couldn’t wait to talk to Duncan and sort things out once and for all. Then her life could return to normal. The thought that things might never be normal again intruded sharply, but she forcefully pushed it aside. Duncan hadn’t been having an affair. She simply flat-out refused to believe it.

  And that was that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Duncan

  Grafton Base Hospital

  The second time Duncan struggled to return to the light that beckoned him, he was a little more successful. Some of the pain in his head had receded and the weight on his chest was slightly more bearable. Determined to reach his goal, he tried to take a deep breath, intent on pushing through whatever he had to in order to come out on the other side.

  Instead, he choked and coughed and spluttered and gasped. There was something in his throat, something obstructing his breathing. Hands reached for him, holding his face and body while he thrashed his head from side to side, trying to rid himself of whatever it was that was blocking his path to the light.

  “It’s all right, Mr Munro. Take it easy. I’m Doctor Jordan Holland. I’ve been looking after you. You’ve been on a respirator. Lie still, while we remove it.” The calming voice registered through the fog that clouded his brain. He concentrated on the words and at last understood. He was in a hospital. He had a breathing tube stuck down his throat. Surrendering to the efficient ministrations of the people working over him, he sighed in relief when the tube was eventually removed.

  “There you go. I’m sure that feels better.”

  Duncan squinted into the light he’d been so desperate to reach and caught the hazy image of a young man in a white lab coat hovering above him. Duncan nodded and tried to speak, but his mouth was so dry, all he could manage was a croak.

  “It’s okay,” the man he presumed to be a doctor said. “Take your time. You’ve been through a bit of an ordeal. We’re glad to have you back with us.”

  Duncan frowned and tried to remember what had happened. The hotel room and his reason for being there slowly came back to him. He’d gone to so much trouble to make sure everything was perfect. He’d brought everything they needed and a little more. He’d been beside himself with excitement at the thought of showing her the necklace. He’d been just about to call his wife when the room had tilted and his world had gone black.

  Marguerite! Where was she? He needed to see her. He needed to explain. He could only imagine what she thought…

  “H-how long?” he rasped, trying his best to keep the doctor in focus.

  “How long have you been unconscious?”

  Duncan nodded.

  “About twenty-four hours, we think. You were unconscious when a staff member from the hotel found you. The police and the ambulance were called and then you were transported here. It’s now—” He glanced at his watch. “A little after three.”

  Twenty-four hours. He felt a fresh wave of nervous desperation. He had to see his wife. He had to talk to his family. He drew in a cautious breath and eased it out. He opened his mouth again and then closed it and cleared his throat, grimacing at the soreness.

  “M-my wife,” he managed. “Where is she? I need to see her.”

  The doctor nodded and smiled and leaned over to pat his hand. “Of course, Mr Munro. She was right here. I’ll have someone take a look outside and see if they can find her. You’ve had plenty of visitors. All seven of your children have been here, so I’ve been told. You’re very lucky to have such a loving family.”

  Duncan wondered at the doctor’s wistful tone but soon dismissed it and focused his thoughts on his family. The knowledge that he hadn’t dreamed their presence by his bedside warmed his heart. At the same time, dread crept through his veins. He wasn’t sure which of them thought him guilty of adultery. He only hoped one of them wasn’t Marguerite.

  Renewed urgency rushed through him and he struggled to si
t up. He grabbed for the bedrails and tried to gain enough leverage to lift his head and shoulders off the bed. “Please,” he gasped. “I need to see my wife.”

  “Shh, it’s okay, Mr Munro. Someone’s gone to find her.” This time, it was a pretty blond nurse who spoke gently to him. “You’ve only just come out of a coma. We’ll raise the head of your bed so that you can see a little better. We don’t want you sitting too far up at the moment—and especially not unsupported. You may still feel slightly dizzy and maybe even a little nauseous if we rush things.”

  Duncan slumped back against the pillows and sighed. The effort had worn him out. He grimaced in annoyance and pain. He’d been out cold for only a day and he felt as weak as a day-old kitten. He wasn’t used to feeling so helpless, so dependent upon those around him. If his head wasn’t pounding like an orchestra of kettle drums he’d have been as irritated as hell.

  The nurse with the kind blue eyes must have noticed his expression. She leaned down, close to his face and rested her hand on his arm. Her touch was cool and calming on his skin.

  “Would you like me to get you something for the pain or an ice cube for your throat, Mr Munro?”

  The compassion in her voice brought tears to his eyes. He bit his lip and nodded. He hated feeling so feeble, but at that moment it was all he could do not to sob from the pain.

  “It’s my head. It’s…it’s agony. But, please don’t knock me out again,” he begged. “I need to speak with my wife.”

  “Of course,” the nurse smiled with understanding. “You’ve only just woken. We don’t want to put you back to sleep again.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered and closed his eyes, not even caring that the tears now rolled silently down his cheeks.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” the nurse replied and disappeared from his sight. Duncan sighed and closed his eyes…and waited.