My head snapped to the door. Blinking away the tears, I stared at the old man standing there as the doctor left. “What do you mean?” The question came out a little harsh, but I didn’t care. Who the heck was he?
He neared the bed and caressed Saint’s hair. “Whatever we try, he won’t survive. It’s his destiny. Unfortunately.”
I shot upright. “Who the hell are you?” I barked, tears blinding my vision once more. “And what freaking destiny? How can you be so cruel? He will live.” I was shouting now, my chest heaving in disbelief.
The old man turned deep blue eyes on me and all I saw was pain there and deep sorrow etched into his tired face. He shook his head, came around the bed to my side and placed a hand on my shoulder.
Something in that touch, calmed me. “Please,” I whispered. “He can’t leave me.”
“He needs to rest, my dear. My son has fulfilled his time here,” he replied, his voice heavy with sadness.
I gasped, shaking my head vehemently, the word ‘no’ stuck on my lips like a song on a loop. “How can you say that?”
His sigh was filled with enough emotion to tell me that he knew something I didn’t. “Come, let me tell you a story. One that will make you understand everything.” He gestured to the couch near the window.
I shifted my gaze back to Saint’s face and my heart thundered in my chest almost like it was urging me to do something, anything to wake him. He appeared so peaceful, I hated him for it, at the same time aching for him to open those beautiful green eyes and promise me everything was going to be okay. I looked at the other man again when he gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“You’re his father?” The shock of his earlier words had worn off enough for that relationship to register. “Why haven’t I met you before? If this is his destiny, why didn’t he say something to me?”
“Come,” was all the response I got. When he noticed my reluctance, he smiled softly. “You can stand here all night and it won’t do him or you any good. What I tell you, might.”
That pricked my heart a little bit. Dragging my feet, I followed him to the couch and after I sat down in the single armchair, he took the double seater next to me.
“Has Saint mentioned anything about our family to you?”
Fidgeting with an invisible thread on my jeans, I slowly shook my head. “Besides knowing he’s from Winthrop where I first met him and belonging to the Sinclair brotherhood where our second meet took place, I know nothing else. Seems like third times a charm is only for fools.” I let out a sarcastic laugh and glanced at the bed once more.
The beep of the heart monitor, the only sound that greeted me. Despite the bitterness creeping through me over the cruel hand fate had played with me, I accepted that the soft sound gave me a measure of comfort. Saint was still alive.
“Perhaps it might seem that way, child.” His father drew my gaze. “Unless there is more to you two meeting than we dare to hope.”
I must’ve looked as confused as I felt because he leaned forward and patted my hand lightly. This close, I could see the resemblance between him and Saint now. It gave me an idea of what an older Saint would look minus the blue eyes obviously.
“What I’m about to tell you might appear bewildering at first, but I beg you listen to the full story before you decide it is nonsense. Would you do that, if not for me then for Saint.”
“Sure,” I replied, my curiosity overshadowing my depressive state.
“Very well.” He sat back in his seat and drew something out of a brown satchel I hadn’t noticed before. When he set the bag on the floor and placed the item on his lap, I realized it was a thick leather-bound book with cream pages. “A Winthrop family heirloom.” He gently caressed the cover. Any other time and I would’ve been excited at the prospect of learning more about the Castle. Now, I merely nodded. “This has never been shared with anyone outside the Sinclair family.” His smile was gentle.
A retort sat on the tip of my tongue about whether I should feel privileged, but given the circumstance, I refrained. “Thank you.”
If he doubted my sincerity I had no idea, but his next words hinted he was trying to gain my trust. “Not even Saint knows of its existence.”
Eyes wide, my jaw dropped and I stared at him until my curiosity got the better of me. Closing my mouth, I asked, “then why share it with me?”
“Following on some salient niggle, I’m inclined to believe that it is what I need to do. Call it fate, sheer luck or perhaps just that it feels right.” His laugh was soft, accompanied by a smile filled with hope. “Shall we begin?”
“Yes.”
With a nod, he opened the book and angled it for me to read the opening text.
