The Parting Gift(14)

“Did you have breakfast?” Mara walked in, hands clenched in front of her delicate form.

“I ate.”

“Captain Graham,” she started hesitantly.

Oh, great. Here it comes.

“We should talk about your father.”

He waited for the reprimand he knew was coming.

She glanced around the room sheepishly. There was no place to sit besides the cot, and Blaine knew she wasn’t about to do something so forward. He could have made it easy on her and suggested moving into the kitchen, but instead he held his tongue and waited out the awkward silence.

“Would you mind coming out to the kitchen? I can make some coffee.”

This was shaping up to be a long day. And it wasn’t even lunch time.

Nodding again, he followed her out of the sewing room. Instead of sitting down right away he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, eyeing her.

Her frustration was evident, but she exhaled sharply and grabbed the coffee pot.

Silence didn’t bother Blaine usually, but the tension in the room stifled him. Confrontation was not his favorite, and he had the feeling that’s what was coming. Mrs. Crawford seemed to be the type who had to get everything out in the open. Why were women like that, anyway?

She poured the boiling liquid into two cups, set them on the table and sat down in his mother’s chair. The steam drifted lazily above the cups, dissipating into the air. It did look inviting, but not enough to draw him into an unpleasant conversation.

“Captain?” She glanced up at him in irritation. “Will you please sit down?” Bright green eyes pierced through him. She tossed her wavy brown hair over her shoulder and gestured to the seat across from her.

“I’ve been living here for two months. I was hired to take care of your father.” She held the cup in trembling hands. “The doctor sent him home with an estimate of six months left. I don’t think he’s going to last that long though. He’s gone downhill steadily the last couple of weeks. Faster than the doctor thought.” Blaine’s eyes shifted nervously between the cup in her hands and her face.

“What are you saying?” His gruff voice sounded foreign, like it wasn’t his own.

“He might make it to Christmas.”

Blaine choked on a bitter laugh and shook his head. “What do you want from me, Mrs. Crawford? It seems you are well qualified to handle this all by yourself.”

“I’m just his nurse; you’re his son!” Each word was ground out with righteous anger.

Heat consumed him, but he maintained a level tone. “You’re using that term loosely, Mrs. Crawford.”

She glared at him interminably. A suffocating silence hung between them.

“It was you who sent for me, wasn’t it? Not him.”

“Yes… but he asked me to do it. To find you and ask you to come home.”

“Home?” The indignation rose in his throat, and he had to swallow the lump lodged there. Blaine looked away from her toward the kitchen window over the sink and said more quietly, “Why did you send for me?”

Mara seemed taken aback; her head snapped to attention. “What kind of question is that? He’s dying; he wants to make things right! There are things you need to know. Things—”

“—that are absolutely none of your business.” Blaine cursed and stood abruptly from the table.

“Captain…”

“No.” He shook his head, then bellowed, “No!” Spinning on his heel, he stormed into his room and slammed the door.

Blaine felt out of control. Had he just raised his voice at a lady? Obviously being home had a negative effect on his ability to control his emotions, or was it just the fact that little Mrs. Crawford was irritatingly beautiful? It didn’t help matters that every glance at her stirred something within him he couldn’t control. An aggravating involuntary response to her beautiful clear emerald eyes and perfect pout. It was his own rotten luck that his father would bring in a beautiful nurse during his last days. Blaine knew she would make him feel better if he were ill – all he needed to do was look at her and he felt more alive. It was upsetting how deftly she made him feel like the Big Bad Wolf coming into their perfect little house.

Not theirs. His father’s.

Why was it that he always felt guilty for his father’s mistakes? He plopped onto the old cot and closed his eyes. He cursed again. Meddling woman. Doesn’t know anything. The long night of travel was catching up to him. Maybe after a little shut-eye he’d feel more prepared to deal with the situation.



****



The morning’s events plagued Mara’s thoughts as she made lunch for the two gentlemen. It was like the North versus the South. Every time she checked on David during the day, she made certain care to tiptoe up the stairs, so Blaine wouldn’t hear and wake up.

What a bear of a man! Imagine! Yelling at a woman? She was only trying to help, but he wasn’t seeing it as help. He saw it as meddling, the exact opposite of what she was doing! Couldn’t he see his father was dying? He wasn’t even at a hospital. He was home; sent home to die! Blaine needed to face that reality sooner rather than later. If something happened before he could reconcile with David, he’d never forgive himself. But Blaine wouldn’t listen to her, or even speak to his father. How was she going to get through to him?