That’s when she discovered the reason behind his change in behaviour.
When she was cleaning the kitchen, she’d found a cache of empty Scotch bottles. Alarmed, she found more in his bedroom and bathroom, some half full, a couple unopened. Alarmed, she gathered every one of them, debated facing him about the sheer number, then decided to throw the evidence away.
But the drinking hadn’t stopped.
“It’s okay, Daddy. You’re gonna be okay.” Her smile kept quivering, like it didn’t belong, but she forced it to stay. “You just need to rest.”
In his tight expression, she saw pain and regret. The corners of his bruised eyes were wet with tears. He knew he was dying.
“Oh, Daddy, please. Please don’t. I can’t—” A shuddering sob tore through her, and she thought,I will never be the same.
“I’m sorry, Susan,” he whispered.
She laid her head on his chest and wept. When his hand came to rest on the back of her head—a comfort she would never feel again—she couldn’t breathe.
Eventually, the door to the room opened again. “I’m sorry, Miss Rankin.” She recognized the kind voice of Nurse Holly. “I need to change his dressings. I’ll send someone to the waiting room for you when it’s time.”
Sassy didn’t want to leave him, but he had fallen asleep again. She wiped her eyes, kissed his hand again, and fled the room. Outside, in the corridor, she leaned against the wall, puffing for air and aware of a sharp, tightening pain around her head. The wall itself seemed unsteady, and stars drifted across her closed eyes.
This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. She needed to wake up from this nightmare.
But when another nurse walked past, she had to accept the truth, because now she wasn’t the only one in the cool, echoing corridor. Suddenly, she couldn’t bear to be alone. She staggered toward a pay phone and fumbled in her pocket for change, then she hesitated, the receiver held inches from her face. Whose number did she know? She inhaled deeply, needing to think clearly. Marion, she knew, would come without hesitation, but she had looked exhausted the last time she saw her. No, not Marion. Who else could she call at four in the morning?
“Operator? I need the number for Tom Duncan.” In a flash she remembered a mention he’d made in passing of his apartment building. She gave the street name to the operator.
His voice was hoarse. She pictured him then, his beautiful eyes barely open, his hair sticking out in every direction.
She sucked in a sob. “Tom. My dad.”
“Sassy?” Then again, more alert. “Sassy? What’s happened?”
All she could do was breathe at first, a desperate panting in an attempt to answer him without collapsing. How could there be words for this?
“He… he…” She wanted to tell him everything so she’d no longer be the only one facing the emptiness. She needed him here, to help her manage, to stop the floor from moving under her feet. In the end, all she could say was “Please come to the Western Hospital. He’s dying, Tom.”
Her legs felt like jelly as she returned to the waiting room. She sat, then dropped her head into her hands, her mind blank with panic.
“Miss Rankin?”
A policeman stood before her. “I’m very sorry, ma’am,” he said kindly. He held a small notebook in one hand and drew a pen from his pocket. “I know this is a terrible time for you, but I need to go over the details of the accident with you for my report. Do you feel you’re up for this?”
She stared dully at him, thinking,No, I’m not. Go away. Leave me alone.But she said, “I want to know.”
In a daze, she heard him recount everything about the scene of the crash,the condition of her father, and the ambulance ride. The way the policeman spoke was so matter-of-fact, it almost felt like it had happened to someone else. Then he was gone, and she stared at his receding back, wondering how she got to this place.
The nurse had not come for her yet, so she drew her knees to her chest, needing to hold herself together somehow. Her brow rested on them, and she closed her eyes, welcoming the darkness that helped ease her throbbing headache.
What felt like minutes later, a pair of warm, strong arms gathered her up against a solid, wool-clad chest. The light scrape of a beard brushed her brow.
“I’m here, Sassy. Tell me what I need to know.”
Tom’s voice rumbled through her, and she clung to him for a moment. Then she pulled herself together as best as she could and held his gaze. “I should have said something. I should have stopped him.”
“What happened? Were you with him?”
“No. He was alone, but I found out last week that he’d been drinking a lot ever since Joey went missing. Last night he had way too much, then he drove his car into a building. I don’t know if he was drinking at a bar or at home, and I have no idea where he was going in the middle of the night. He was going so fast the police think he might have passed out with his foot on the accelerator. They told me there’s nothing left of the car.”
“Miss Rankin? You can come in now.” The nurse eyed Tom. “Family only.”
