Tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away, determined not to weep. Not yet, at least. Not until she was truly gone. For now, she yet breathed. For now, she could hear him. At least, he hoped she could.
Even if she could not, he had this chance to unburden himself, and he was going to take it.
“I know you were doing what you thought best,” he murmured, stroking the tracery of blue veins rising in relief from her bony hands. “You did your utmost to protect your children. I understand that now. Would that I had then. But I was young and proud, and I did not want to accept Graham’s blood money. I understand why you made the choices you did, and although I may disagree with them, I should have found forgiveness within me.”
He paused, studying her face for any signs of life. Her chest yet rose and fell, but her face was still as a plaster death mask. Part of him wanted to rail at her, to cry out, to demand she wake so he could have this last dialogue with her, this chance to free himself of the burden of his pride.
“I forgive you for forcing me into accepting Graham’s funds,” he added. “I have done a great deal of good with his money, and I will continue to do so. Originally, it was to spite him. To throw away his coin on commoners. But it evolved into something more. I enjoy helping people, Mama. I think that is a trait I inherited from you. You were forever taking care of someone or some creature because it gave you pleasure to do so. Whether it was a son who must have been a terrible duty to you at times, or a stray cat in need of a filled belly, or a man who never acknowledged you in public, or even a toad which had gotten itself trapped in a garden pot, you were a caretaker. None of us deserved you. Right, mayhap the cat. The toad probably would have found his own way out, eventually.”
He tried to smile, but his eyes had welled with tears once more. He swallowed hard. “I suppose what I am trying to say in my own selfish way, Mama, is that I should have forgiven you a long time ago. I hope you can forgive me for holding on to my pride and anger when I should have let go. I hope you forgive me for staying away for seven years when I should have held you close, and for not appreciating you until it may be too late.”
He inhaled, his body shaking involuntarily as he struggled to contain his sobs. The tears were running freely down his cheeks now. “I also hope you shake free of this. That you open your eyes and rail at me for being such an arse.”
Decker paused, praying for that miracle, hoping his mother’s eyes would flutter open to reveal that sky-blue gaze so like his own. But she remained virtually motionless, her breathing shallow.
“I am married now, Mama,” he continued. “I should have written you. You and Lila ought to have been there at the wedding ceremony. You would love Josie. She has the same endless heart you do. My wife is…incredible. There is no other way to describe her. And I do not deserve her, that much is certain. But because I am a selfish cad, I am not about to let her go. Not ever. I do not want to let you go either, Mama.”
He clutched her hand tighter, willing her to wake. For her condition to improve.
“Give me a sign you can hear this, Mama,” he begged, swiping at the wetness on his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Please tell me you know how much I love you and how sorry I am. And that I will see to Lila’s every need.”
He waited, stared. Her eyelashes trembled, fluttering faintly before going still again.
Decker pressed a reverent kiss to his mother’s hand, and then, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he prayed.
“My love, youmust get some rest,” Jo told her husband softly.
The sun had risen, and it was half past six in the morning.
“I cannot,” he said, wearier than she had ever heard him.
He had spent the entire night holding a vigil at his mother’s bedside. His sister Lila—a pensive young lady who shared Decker’s dark hair and bright-blue eyes—had remained until nearly three o’clock in the morning, when she had fallen asleep. Jo had finally convinced the poor, exhausted girl to seek a few hours of sleep in her own chamber. Decker, however, had proven far more stubborn. He had refused to leave or sleep. And so Jo had done the same, remaining in a chair at his side the entire night. Every hour or so, he attempted to browbeat her into seeking some slumber of her own.
She was ashamed to admit she must have dozed off at some point. She woke when the first stirrings of dawn were painting the sky, to find Decker still stroking his mother’s hand, watching over her. Jo’s heart ached for him. Although the physician had said Decker’s mother had been lucid the previous day, there had been no sign to suggest she would reawaken since their arrival.
“I will remain here with your mother,” she urged. “I promise you that if there is any change, I will have you fetched immediately. You need to sleep.”
He shook his head, his handsome countenance grim. “Youneed to sleep, darling. Leave me here. I shall be fine. Go on.”
“I was able to sleep for a few hours,” Jo countered. “You have not slept at all. Just an hour or two, Decker. You will make yourself ill if you do not.”
His jaw tightened. “I will not leave her. I turned my back upon her for seven years. The least I can do is remain here with her now until…”
He did not finish his sentence. There was no need to, for they both understood what he had been about to say. The desolation on her husband’s face broke her heart.
Jo bit her lip against the sting of tears. “You did not turn your back upon her, my love. You did what you thought was right.”
“But I was wrong,” he ground out, his tone bitter as he raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it tousled. “I was selfish and stupid and filled with my damnable pride. Each letter I received from her, I waited for her to apologize, to tell me she had been wrong, to ask for my forgiveness. And in seven years, she never did.”
“Two stubborn hearts,” she said. “Please, Decker, get some rest, I beg you.”
“I cannot go,” he said bleakly. Earnestly. “But I want you to get some sleep, Josie. Go to bed.”
“I will not leave your side,” she told him firmly, meaning it.
He studied her, his sensual lips tightening. “It would seem we are at an impasse.”
She belonged with him. Always. It was as simple and uncomplicated as that. But it was also her duty to look after him. To urge him to sleep when he had dark crescents shading the skin beneath his eyes. To hold his hand and sit with him if he would not.
