Tempting Taine (21 page)

Taine nodded in understanding.
 
"Can we see him?"

"Come with me." The nurse ushered them down a hallway and into a hospital room.
 
Old Mr. Hunter was lying on a bed under a mound of blankets, hooked up to a number of machines.
 
His face was shriveled and gaunt, and he looked small and grey.

Taine sat in the chair beside him and took hold of one wrinkled hand.
 
"That's not Dad," he murmured to Verity.
 
"There is nothing of Dad left in there."
 
There were tears in his eyes as he spoke.

The nurse stood at the door.
 
"The machines are the only things that are keeping him alive.
 
The doctors have suggested…"
 
Her voice trailed off.
 
"I'll leave you with him for a while.
 
I'll ask one of the doctors to step in and talk to you in a bit."

Verity turned to Taine, sympathy in her heart.
 
Losing a parent was not an easy thing to come to terms with, but she had to agree with him.
 
What was left of Mr. Hunter was only the shell of a man.
 
There was no spark of life.

Taine simply sat there, holding his father's hand, for over an hour.
 
In his
head
he was remembering all the good things he and his father had done together, all the love and joy and good times they had shared.
 
It would be time enough to think on the heartbreak later.

When the doctor entered the room, he stood up.
 
His legs felt stiff and awkward after so long in one place.
 
"Turn off the life support."
 
It took all his courage and then some to say the words that would end his father's life.

The doctor pushed her glasses up off the end of her nose.
 
"I beg your pardon?"

"There's no chance of him recovering, I understand."

She consulted the chart on her clipboard,
skim-reading
through the first few pages.
 
"No," she said definitely.
 
"His brain is too damaged.
 
He will never regain any significant cognitive function."

He clenched his hands into fists.
 
Hearing the prognosis from the doctor was harder than he had expected, even though he had known what she was going to say.
 
The last shred of hope for his father's recovery died in him at her words.
 
"And these machines are the only things keeping him alive."

"Well, yes.
 
They are breathing for him.
 
Without them, he would die almost immediately."

"Turn them off."
 
He sounded harsh, even to his own ears.
 
It was that, or
break
down and cry, and he wouldn't do that.

"If you are sure that is your decision."

Could he ever be truly sure?
 
Miracles did sometimes happen and people woke from comas years later.
 
But
no, Dad was old and it was his time to go.
 
"I wouldn't keep one of my farm dogs alive like this.
 
Dad would hate it if he knew what was happening.
 
So, yes, I am sure."
 
Blindly he reached out for Verity, needing the comfort of her presence by him.

"Would you like some time to say goodbye?"

"I've said my goodbyes now.
 
Please, just do it."
 
The slight crack in his voice was the only sign of the pressure he was
under
.

The doctor nodded.
 
"As you wish."

Taine sat back down and took hold of his father's hand again.
 
"Goodbye, Dad.
 
I might not have said it many times before, but I love you.
 
I hope you always knew."

The doctor came over and stood beside the bed, her eye on the monitor.
 
After a few
minutes
she spoke gently.
 
"He's gone now."

He stumbled to his feet, the enormity of what had happened suddenly hitting him.
 
"What now?"

"Go home," the
doctor
instructed him.
 
"Go to bed.
 
Get some sleep.
 
Come back in the morning and we will sort out the arrangements from there."

Aroha was watching cartoons in the living room with her Nana.
 
"You're late, Mom."
 
When she saw Taine come in as well, she switched off the TV and jumped up to greet him.
 
"Hey, what are you doing here, Dad.
 
It's not Wednesday."

Taine sat down on the couch and gathered Aroha into his arms.
 
"No, it's not Wednesday, but I'm afraid
your
Mom and I have some sad news for you."
 

Her eyes grew as wide as saucers.
 
"Oh."

He hoped that she could forgive him for the news he had to give her.
 
"You know that your grandpa has been very sick."

"Yes."
 
She nodded solemnly.
 
"He can't get out of his chair to play in the garden or anything."

"Well, your grandpa got very sick today and an ambulance took him to the hospital."

"Did the doctors make him better?"

"I'm afraid he was too sick for that.
 
He was too sick to stay alive and he died in the hospital."

"You mean, Grandpa's dead?"

"Yes.
 
Grandpa's dead."
 
His poor, foolish father, who had loved his farm more than he had loved any woman.
 
Such a waste to give his love to a piece of earth rather than to a living, breathing person.
 
His eyes
teared
up at his father's folly.

Aroha gave a loud wail, hopped off Taine's knee and flung her arms around her mother.
 
"Mom, tell me it's not true."

"It's true, poppet.
 
I'm
sorry, but he was very sick.
 
It was time for him to go."

Jessie cleared her throat.
 
"There's dinner saved for you in the kitchen.
 
There's plenty for two."
 
She got up and bustled into the kitchen, her eyes suspiciously moist.
 
"I'm sorry about your dad," she said as she passed Taine.
 
"He was a good man."

After dinner, when an inconsolable Aroha had finally sobbed herself to sleep, Verity turned to Taine.
 
"You'd better be off.
 
There'll be a lot to do in the morning."

He
couldn't
face the thought of going back to the farm his father had loved so much, and to the house that now sat empty.
 
Not yet.
 
Not when there was
warmth and laughter
and love right here.
 
"Let me stay."

Her nose wrinkled in doubt.
 
"You want to stay with me?
 
Here?"

"Just for the one night.
 
I need to hold you in my arms.
 
Nothing more."
 
He needed to feel her life beside him, to think about the future instead of dwelling on the past.

"Just for tonight, then."

A faint gleam of moonlight came in through the drapes in Verity's bedroom.
 
He shucked off his clothes in the dark and drew the covers over them both.

With Verity's warmth beside him, he could forget for a moment or two that his father, the last of his family, was dead.
 
He could forget that waiting for him was a cold and lonely house, a cold and lonely future.
 
Right here, with Verity in his arms, was where he wanted to stay.

Forever.

He shut his eyes, imagining how his life could be like.
 
Aroha racing around the paddocks after school, making his house ring with laughter again, and Verity in his bed every night.
 
All night.

He reached out for her hand in the darkness.
 
"Verity.
 
Will you marry me?"

She gave a sudden intake of breath.
 
"Marry you?" she repeated.

"It would be a good solution," he rushed in before she could turn him down.
 
"You and Aroha could come and live with me.
 
There's be no custody issues
to worry about.
 
We'd
both have Aroha all of the time.
 
She'd have both her parents living together in the same house, looking after her together."

"And what about Mom?"

"The house is big enough so that your Mom could come too, or she could have this cottage all for herself, whatever she would prefer."

"You want to marry me to avoid a custody battle?"
 
Her voice sounded brittle in the darkness.
 
"I thought our informal arrangement was working pretty well."

"No, not just for that.
 
I want you to sleep in my bed every night.
 
All the night through.
 
If we were married, Aroha would expect that we would share a bed like any other mother and father do."

"You want to marry me for
Aroha's
sake?"

"Yes, I do."
 
That was part of it, of course it was.
 
But not the whole truth.

"Maybe."

"Only maybe?"
 
His insides clenched with fear that she would refuse.
 
"It's a perfect idea.
 
What better solution could you come up with?"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore tonight.
 
I'm
tired.
 
We'll take in the morning."
 
And
she rolled away from him and refused to speak again.

They
didn't
talk in the morning - there was too much to be done to organize the funeral.
 
They
didn't
talk at the funeral - there was too much to be done for them both: him playing host to the mourners and Verity behind the scenes making sure everything ran smoothly.
 
They
didn't
talk later when the will was read and Taine learned that he was now the owner of a large and prosperous farm complete with house, and considerably more money in the bank than he had expected.
 

Taine found himself looking forward to the weekend more than usual.
 
With just the three of them, he and Verity would find the time to talk at last, and he would get the answer that he longed to hear.
 
He'd
even found a beautiful diamond engagement ring for her in the jeweler in town, and he was anxious to put it on her finger and claim her as his own.

Verity bundled
Aroha's
clothes into a duffel bag.
 
"You'll be fine with your father by yourself?" she asked again.

Aroha shrugged off her question.
 
"Sure.
 
Dad's
cool.
 
I still
don't
see why you don't want to come, though.
 
I thought you liked it at Dad's place."

That was the problem.
 
She liked it far too much - and it
wasn't
for her.

Taine had asked her to marry him on the night his father died, and she
had successfully
avoided answering him ever since.
 
It had been easy enough - there was always something to do, some excuse
to make
to put off the conversation that she dreaded.