He’s doing a good job hiding the truth. But I guess he should. That’s what he made a career of. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“I’m in congestive heart failure. It’s a complication of the cancer. My lungs are filling with fluid faster than they can pull it off. I’m slowly drowning on my own fluids. You can’t possibly imagine what it’s like to be lying here slowly suffocating. And that’s what’s gonna get me. It won’t even be the fucking cancer.”
There has to be something that can be done. “I can have the best doctors brought here immediately.”
“No. That’s not what I want—or what I’m going to ask of you. I don’t want to prolong this.”
“What do you need?”
He sighs. “I know you, Sinclair. I’ve watched you for years and I know the things you’ve done. And still do. You aren’t afraid to end a life.”
No. He can’t possibly be asking me what I think is coming next.
“I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t desperate for your help. Please. Put me out of my misery. Help me die with dignity.”
What he’s asking for is a mercy kill—assisted suicide. Not something I do. “I eliminate those who deserve to die. They’re terrible people who do dreadful things.”
“We all deserve to die. It’s just a matter of when and how. I choose now and in a dignified manner. Not lying in this bed pissing in a bag and shitting in diapers someone else has to change for me because I’m too weak to wipe my own ass.”
“I’ve never killed an innocent person.”
“Then don’t think of it as ending my life. Consider it the finale of my misery.”
Bonny will never approve. “Bleu won’t want this for you.”
“Hence the reason I’m asking you and not her.”
“She’ll never forgive me if I do this.”
“Or me, and that’s why it would be a secret only we would share. I don’t want my girls to know I chose to go out that way.”
I can’t keep a secret like this from my wife. “I’m sorry, Harry. I can’t do it.”
“I realize this is huge. You need time to think about it so don’t give me an answer now.”
He has my final answer. “No. I’m telling you now I can’t do it. There won’t be any thinking about it.”
Bleu comes into the room carrying a container of chocolate cake in each hand. “One for now and one for later, just in case.”
“Oh, girlie girl,” he sighs. “I’m afraid my craving has passed. I’m sorry I sent you for it.”
Sadness spreads over Bleu’s face. “It’s okay, Dad. We’ll be prepared when your craving comes back.”
I can’t look at Harry right now. “I’m going to step out and make some calls home.”
“Tell Thane and Isobel I said hello.”
“I will.”
* * *
I’m consumed by my father-in-law’s request. It’s all I’ve thought about all day.
Harry isn’t simply dying. He’s a victim of a slow, agonizing death. The end is in sight, almost within his reach, yet so far away.
I hate what Harry’s experiencing but how can I possibly kill my father-in-law? I can’t. It isn’t right. Even I know that.
Bleu opens the bathroom door and the scent of her shower gel invades the bedroom. She stands in the doorway giving me a view of how she looks in one of her new satin gowns. “Like?”
“Love. You look beautiful.”
She comes to bed and crawls over me. Her mouth roams my neck. And chest. And stomach. It’s making its way below my waistband. “Mmm … I love my hot, Scottish husband.”
She stops when I don’t lift up for her to pull down my sleep pants. “What’s wrong?”
How do I say this without alerting her to how poor her father’s prognosis is? “Nothing is wrong. It was a long day with Harry and I’m having a difficult time getting him off my mind. It sort of makes it impossible to get it up when your father is in my head.”
She rolls off me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”
“It’s okay. His condition is a lot to take. Trust me. I get it.”
“How much longer do you think he has?”
“It’s getting close,” she says quietly.
“How do you know?”
“I went through this with Julia, my adoptive mom. I recognize the signs but he’s hiding them from us.”
Does she know? “What do you mean?”
“He’s in pain. I can tell. But he isn’t admitting it because he thinks he’s protecting us.” She’s crying. “I don’t want him to suffer. I’d do anything to take it away for him but there’s nothing I can do.”
She’s sobbing. I usually tell her to stop because I can’t stand it but it seems a selfish thing to say right now. This isn’t about me. If she needs a good cry, then she just does.
I pull her into my arms. “Cry all you want. Kick if you need to. Scream as much and as loud as you like. Do whatever you need to do. No one is here but us.”
“It feels like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t catch my breath.” She’s sobbing harder. She scoots away and I feel her leave the bed.
I get up and turn on the bedroom light. She’s standing in the corner of the room with that same wild look in her eye—like a scared animal ready to flee. “You’re breathing fine. You just need to slow it down so you don’t hyperventilate.”
She’s frantically fanning her face with her hands. “I’m burning up. I can’t breathe when I’m hot.”
I grab the closest thing I can find and use it to fan her.
“My hands are tingling. I think I’m gonna pass out.”
“You’re hyperventilating. Slow your breathing. Do it with me.” I’m afraid touching her might worsen it, so I stand before her and breathe in and out slowly, making the motions with my hands. “Do it with me, Bonny.”
She’s wide-eyed and trembling. She places two fingers against her carotid. “My heart’s beating too fast.”
Shit. What is happening? “Do I need to call for help?”
“No. It’ll pass but I need time.”
It feels like an eternity before she begins to come down from whatever the hell just happened. “It’s going away.”