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“Around 2:30. Connor is just making lunch. Everyone had a late start today.”
I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my jeans and nodded.
He pushed away from the fence, “Just so you know, dad hasn’t been right for a long time now. I just thought it was age. But it’s not, he has dementia. He probably won’t remember you.”
“Yeah, Wren told me that he does.” He started walking towards the house, and I fell in step with him and said, “That’s okay though, I don’t remember him either.”
“No, I suppose you don’t. You didn’t miss anything, and personally, I consider you the lucky one for it.”
I stumbled on a tuft of grass at his admissionwhere the lawn met the gravel in the driveway and would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed my arm.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, and suddenly became embarrassed when I looked towards the patio to see Rory standing there watching us. Tossing my hair in dismissal of him, I looked at Declan. “Why don’t you consider yourself the lucky one for knowing our father?”
“Because. He’s a prick… or was until the dementia showed up.” A deep sigh came from his chest, and he continued. “He never wanted anything to do with me until I was old enough to work for the family.”
“He was the head of the mafia, wasn’t he?” I ask, barely above a whisper. “And now you are.”
Declan stands there looking down at me, leaning with his hands on his hips. He squints either from the sun shining so brightly or he’s thinking.
“What did your mother tell you about our father?”
I shrug. “Not much. She just said to never go to meet him and that he wasn’t nice. What you told me, confirmed that.”
He looked off into the distance as if he were thinking about what to say. Finally, he broke his silence. “Tomorrow night we are having a dinnermeeting. You, Rory and I will be there as well as Wren. You will be filled in on everything and have some decisions to make. For now, let’s get some lunch and then go meet the old man.”
∞∞∞
I follow Declan and Wren down the corridor of the hospital with Connor and Rory bringing up the rear. I feel like a sore thumb in the middle of all of them. I mean, I’m not short by any means, and have at least a good six inches on Wren, but walking between the three men all over six feet tall, I feel like a mouse compared to them.
We stop outside of a closed door and Wren says, “I think you and Kat should go in first Declan. All of us might be too much for him at once.”
“I agree. Why don’t the three of you go to the cafeteria and get a coffee.’ He then looks at me. “Ready?”
I nod without saying a word, and he pushes the door open. We step into a dimly lit room with curtains drawn, and for some reason, I want to turn tail and run. It’s because the scene before me is all so eerily familiar. My mom died in a hospital room that was just like this.
Tears spring to my eyes as I look over the bed and see an old frail man laying there with machinesbeeping around him.
“How long has he been like this?” I ask Declan, barely above a whisper.
“The day before we called you. So, a week now,” he says as he moves over to the far side of the bed. I watch as he pulls the blankets up to under the old man’s chin, just like I had done for my mother. Tears spring to my eyes at the gesture and the memory.
“Is he in a coma?” I ask, wiping my eyes.
Declan shakes his head. “No, he’s just sleeping.”
I was relieved to hear that. I wanted to be able to look into his eyes and see if they mirrored mine. My mother always commented when looking into my gray eyes, it was like she could see a storm brewing in their depths, just like my father’s. I needed to see it for myself.
“Do you want to meet him?” Declan asks, leaning on the sidebar of the bed.
I nod, unable to speak.
He rests his hand on our father’s arm and gives it a light shake. “Dad?”
The old man grumbles, but Declan tries again. “There is somebody here that wants to meet you.”
Tomas shakes his head but opens his eyes and looks at him. “Who the hell are you?” he says to hisson in a thick Irish brogue.
“Dad. It’s me, Declan.”
