The Christmas Vigil (18 page)

“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 sit 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.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Marguerite

Grafton Base Hospital

Now that the moment was upon her, Marguerite didn’t know whether she wanted to run and hide or demand to hear the truth from her husband. She was back to feeling terribly unsure what his words would reveal, and the uncertainty of the outcome was tearing her up inside.

A nurse had found her in the lobby where she’d been listening to the sound of carolers. A small group of men and women were singing Christmas carols, their faces angelically immersed in the beautiful hymns. Marguerite had heard them from the café where she’d been seated with her children. She’d pushed away from the table and moved toward the sound, their music stirring deep inside her soul.

She’d always loved Christmas. It was her favorite time of the year. She didn’t need a therapist to tell her the reason. It had everything to do with her husband. He was her life… He was her everything. She couldn’t bear the thought that he might have been unfaithful; she prayed in quiet desperation that she wouldn’t find out there was someone else…

A nurse had touched her gently on the elbow and murmured the words she’d been longing to hear: Her husband was awake and he was asking for her.

Even now, after relaying the good news to her children and heading toward the elevators, the nurse’s words kept bouncing inside her head:
He was asking for her.

Surely, that was a good sign? Surely, that could only mean he still loved her as deeply as he always had? He wouldn’t be asking for her if his conscience wasn’t clear.
Would he?

She sighed impatiently and shook her head, doing her best to keep those thoughts at bay. They were doing nothing but filling her head with confusion and second-guesses. Regardless, Duncan was awake. It was time she learned the truth.

She came to a halt outside the all-to-familiar doors that led into the ICU. With another fortifying breath filling her lungs, she squared her shoulders and pressed the buzzer that would gain her entry. The next few minutes passed in a blur. She was ushered into the hospital ward by a nurse with a wide white grin.

Barely aware of her feet moving, Marguerite followed the girl again and stopped at her husband’s bedside. His bed had been raised, allowing him to recline against the pillows. The tube in his mouth had been removed, along with the one in his nose. His eyes were closed, but his color had returned and all at once, she was dizzy with relief.

He was alive and he was going to get better. He was breathing on his own. He looked like the husband she’d loved for so long, no longer a man balancing between life and death. She took his hand and pressed it to her lips and tried to still her trembling. Tears filled her eyes and she let them fall. She gasped on a sob and then gasped again when he opened his eyes and stared at her.

“
Marguerite.
” His voice was so scratchy, she barely heard him, but then he said it again.

With a cry of joy, she leaned over the bedrail and embraced him a little awkwardly. The strong, sure beat of his heart thumped reassuringly beneath her ear. He still needed a shave and he still smelled of hospital, but he was hers and he was awake. Slowly, she lifted her head and moved away from him. The chair she’d vacated earlier was where she’d left it and she eased herself down onto it.

Duncan turned his head in her direction, his gaze dark and shadowed. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m so sorry.”

Her heart stopped cold and her body filled with dread. She shook her head in wordless denial. All of a sudden, her courage deserted her and she prayed that he’d say nothing: She simply didn’t want to know.

As if sensing her distress, Duncan’s eyes grew more desperate. “Please, I need to tell you. I need to explain.”

“Who’s Susan?” The words fell out before she realized it. Wishing she could cover her ears but knowing she couldn’t, she clenched her jaw and braced herself against what was to come.

Duncan merely frowned at her, his eyes shadowed and confused. “Did the police tell you where they found me?”

She shook her head no and caught the flash of relief in his chocolate eyes. Anger stirred low in her belly. “Riley did.”

The relief in his gaze dissipated and the tension increased around his mouth. “What did he tell you?”

She compressed her lips, suddenly wanting it over with. “You haven’t answered my question. Who in heaven’s name is Susan and why were you waiting for her in a hotel room?”

He closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped. With every moment that it took him to answer, her anger grew. Her chest tightened. Heat crept up her neck.

“Susan is an artist and it wasn’t her I was waiting for. I was waiting for you.”

His reply was so quiet, she wasn’t sure she’d heard it correctly. “But you called out her name. You said you had to see her.” She suddenly registered what he’d said. “What is her being an artist got to do with anything? How do you think I’ve been feeling, knowing half of Grafton knows my husband was cheat—”

“No!”
The word seemed to be wrenched from deep inside him. His eyes were filled with pain. He gripped his head with his hands, as if that could somehow relieve it. “That’s not how it was. It was meant to be a surprise. I-I’d forgotten our anniversary and I wanted to make it up to you. I’d been planning it for weeks. I’d bought all those things in secret, I’d even booked the room. All that was missing was you.”

Marguerite stared at him, disbelief warring with an ever-increasing hope.
Had
he planned it all for her? She stood and moved closer to the bed and searched his face for the truth. He held her gaze without flinching. Tears ran down his cheeks.

“I was just about to call you,” he continued hoarsely. “Everything was perfect, just like I’d imagined it. I couldn’t wait to see you and watch the surprise on your face. You were so sad when I forgot our anniversary. I’ll never forgive myself for causing you such pain. I wanted to give you a memory that would wipe out the awful one; a memory you would cherish forever.”

A sob caught in her throat. It was just as she’d hoped. He hadn’t been unfaithful. He’d been trying to show her how much he loved her and how sorry he was for causing her distress. He loved her. He’d always loved her. Just like she’d always loved him.

Her heart flooded with emotion and she could no longer speak. She sobbed against his strong, broad chest and cried tears of joy and happiness and relief.

His arms came up around her and held her as best he could. She thought of their children and knew she must go and tell them. They were nursing their own private pain with the unknown hanging above them, like a toxic cloud of nuclear waste. Any moment, it could fall and cover them and their lives would never be the same again.

But it hadn’t happened. It wasn’t true. Their father wasn’t an adulterer. He hadn’t cheated on his wife. He was the man they’d always looked up to, respected, admired and loved. He was the man who’d inspired them, encouraged them and helped them along the way. He was Duncan Munro: her husband; their father; her love.