Читать книгу Let the Dead Sleep - Heather Graham, Heather Graham - Страница 6

Prologue

“THIS IS IT, Ms. Cafferty,” Dr. Vincenzo said quietly. He cleared his throat. “We’ll, ah, leave you alone to say your goodbyes.”

Danielle Cafferty stared at Vincenzo, feeling too bewildered and stunned to cry. Until this morning she’d convinced herself that her father would live forever. He was a big man, hearty and robust, the perfect example of a he-man Highlander, rugged as the Scottish terrain that had bred him. But then the call had come from Billie McDougall that Angus Cafferty was in the hospital. His heart was giving out.

Vincenzo stared back at her awkwardly. Surely, as head of an esteemed cardiac unit, he’d dealt with other situations like this. But he hesitated, then touched her hand gently and left, followed by his sympathetic nurse.

So she understood that it was a matter of time. Her father had fallen into a coma an hour ago and now...

She sat in the hospital chair by his bed, holding his hand. She stroked the back of it, fighting tears, feeling as if her head were the size of a melon—dull, aching and hollow. “Hey, I still believe in you,” she told him. “I’ve always believed in you. You’ve been such an amazing father with your tall tales and stories—I feel like I know my mother, and Mom died when I was four. New Orleans is home, but you’ve taken me to places around the world. Now, come on, you can survive this! We’ve been through all these years together and weathered so many storms...right, Dad?”

Her father didn’t answer.

She glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. The television was on with the volume low; she listened to ads for the year’s new cars and the newscaster interviewing a businessman, Brandt Shumaker, about his plans to go into politics. A local blues group came on and she listened to the music for a minute and said, “Good group, Dad. When you’re better, we’ll go see them.”

Her father didn’t reply.

She had to keep talking. “I bought a new print last week. A Blue Dog print. I don’t know what it is, but I love them. My work’s completely different, but of course that’s true for most artists. We all have our individual visions....”

She was speaking inanely. Anything. She refused to accept that his life was slipping away.

And then...

Angus Cafferty sat bolt upright, gazing at her. His snow-white hair was mussed and wild; his sky-blue eyes settled on her intently.

“Lass, so late, too late! I should have spoken to you about this so many times, so long ago. I’d thought...I’d thought I’d wait until you got to the age of thirty, never thinking this could come so quick upon me. Just a few more years...just a few to leave you in a normal life, to know innocence—I was a fool. I have let you down, but you hear me now, Danni, please, hear me now! You mustn’t sell the shop. You must never sell the shop. It’s our lot in life, that’s what it is, and one that matters in a manner most dire. Ah, girl, what have I done? Wanting all to be safe and serene for you....” His Scottish burr, somewhat softened by his many years in the American South, was suddenly strong again. His words were filled with passion. He leaned toward her, gripping her hand so hard that it hurt, but he was alive and touching her and she couldn’t cry out.

“No, Dad, don’t worry, I’ll never sell the store. It’s your store. You’ll get better, I can see that now. You’ll come home and—”

“No! Ye canna sell the store! And the book, lass, you must read the book. Never doubt what you see or hear, never fear for your sanity or that of the world—turn to the book. The answers are in the book and it will bring you through heaven and hell and all realms in between. Do you hear me, lass, do you hear me? Ah, I love you, Danni, my girl, I love you so much. Cling to my words and live long but, mostly, live well. You’re brilliant and beautiful, but the world changes.... The book, Danni, read the book, and look to it in all things!”

His grip on her hand eased; he fell back on the bed, his eyes closed and his lips silent.

Danni jumped up and rushed to the door, her tone frantic as she called out. “Dr. Vincenzo, come quickly!”

Vincenzo appeared in another doorway and strode down the hall toward her.

“He spoke to me! He spoke and fell back...but he spoke!”

Vincenzo frowned and walked over to the bed. He laid a hand on Angus’s arm, then turned to face her. “Ms. Cafferty, I know this is a difficult time... I was trying...I...” He paused and shook his head. “Ms. Cafferty, he did not speak to you. He had passed when I left this room. I wanted to give you a few minutes alone with him before having him brought down to the morgue.”

“What?” Danni gaped at him blankly. “No, no,” she said. “My father sat up and spoke to me.”

Vincenzo looked at her pityingly. “He’s been gone for at least thirty minutes now, Ms. Cafferty. Feel his arm. He’s growing colder already. I’m so sorry, I can see how you loved him. But he’s what...almost ninety. He had a good life. And he was certainly loved.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. He talked to me. He sat upright and he spoke to me,” Danni protested.

Vincenzo wasn’t going to argue with her. He pursed his lips as if forcing himself to keep silent. “Is there someone you could call to be with you?” he asked. “I can see if we have a chaplain or a priest in the hospital.”

She frowned at him, shaking her head. “I haven’t lost my mind.”

“He’s gone, Ms. Cafferty. I’m so sorry, but your father has passed.”

Danni winced. She held back the tears that threatened and said with dignity, “I’m fine. I will stay with him a moment longer if that’s all right.”

He left. She sat at her father’s side, and when she took his hand then, she knew the truth—the mighty Scot who had filled her life with love and adventure was dead. Her tears came then in a river.

“Danni?”

She looked up.

Billie McDougall, tall and thin as a reed, a man who had seemed as old as her father but was twenty-odd years younger, stood in the door. He was accompanied by Jane Pearl, her father’s office manager, bookkeeper and sometime clerk. They were like family; they were her family now.

“Come, lass,” Billie said. “Come away now. Your father was old and tired, and he needs to sleep now and rest from the weary rigors of this world. He loved you, lass, and he was loved in return, and that is the true measure of any man’s life.”

“Danni, we’ll take you home. We’ll get you a nice cup of tea with a shot of Scotch or whiskey and it will help you through the night,” Jane said.

Billie walked in and stood over Angus’s body, his cap in hand. “I will continue in your place, my dear friend,” he said. And, to Danni’s ears, it was like a vow.

As if Billie, too, believed that Angus could still hear him.

Jane set her hands on Danni’s shoulders. “Come with us now, Danni. The doctor said you’ve been with the corp—that you’ve been with your father for over an hour. It’s time to take care of yourself, as he would have wanted.”

Jane had strong hands and arms for a woman. She could be forceful.

Danni moved to the door. But then she turned and came back to place a kiss on her father’s forehead and laid her head against his chest as she had so many times as a little girl. “I love you,” she whispered. “I will always love you. You’ll live forever in my heart.”

He was growing colder; he was a corpse.

But he was her father.

“Let’s go now,” Jane urged.

“You will always be with me,” Danni told her father passionately as she was led out at last.

Billie remained, looking sadly down at his mentor, his friend and boss.

“Oh, Angus!” he said, anguish in his voice. “She doesn’t know yet, does she? I told you that you’d not live forever. Poor lass. Danni has not yet begun to know just how you will stay with her—just what you’ve left behind!”