by Chris Taylor
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Marguerite
Grafton Base Hospital
Now that the moment was upon her, Marguerite didn’t know whether she wanted to run and hide or demand to hear the truth from her husband. She was back to feeling terribly unsure what his words would reveal, and the uncertainty of the outcome was tearing her up inside.
A nurse had found her in the lobby where she’d been listening to the sound of carolers. A small group of men and women were singing Christmas carols, their faces angelically immersed in the beautiful hymns. Marguerite had heard them from the café where she’d been seated with her children. She’d pushed away from the table and moved toward the sound, their music stirring deep inside her soul.
She’d always loved Christmas. It was her favorite time of the year. She didn’t need a therapist to tell her the reason. It had everything to do with her husband. He was her life… He was her everything. She couldn’t bear the thought that he might have been unfaithful; she prayed in quiet desperation that she wouldn’t find out there was someone else…
A nurse had touched her gently on the elbow and murmured the words she’d been longing to hear: Her husband was awake and he was asking for her.
Even now, after relaying the good news to her children and heading toward the elevators, the nurse’s words kept bouncing inside her head: He was asking for her.
Surely, that was a good sign? Surely, that could only mean he still loved her as deeply as he always had? He wouldn’t be asking for her if his conscience wasn’t clear. Would he?
She sighed impatiently and shook her head, doing her best to keep those thoughts at bay. They were doing nothing but filling her head with confusion and second-guesses. Regardless, Duncan was awake. It was time she learned the truth.
She came to a halt outside the all-to-familiar doors that led into the ICU. With another fortifying breath filling her lungs, she squared her shoulders and pressed the buzzer that would gain her entry. The next few minutes passed in a blur. She was ushered into the hospital ward by a nurse with a wide white grin.
Barely aware of her feet moving, Marguerite followed the girl again and stopped at her husband’s bedside. His bed had been raised, allowing him to recline against the pillows. The tube in his mouth had been removed, along with the one in his nose. His eyes were closed, but his color had returned and all at once, she was dizzy with relief.
He was alive and he was going to get better. He was breathing on his own. He looked like the husband she’d loved for so long, no longer a man balancing between life and death. She took his hand and pressed it to her lips and tried to still her trembling. Tears filled her eyes and she let them fall. She gasped on a sob and then gasped again when he opened his eyes and stared at her.
“Marguerite.” His voice was so scratchy, she barely heard him, but then he said it again.
With a cry of joy, she leaned over the bedrail and embraced him a little awkwardly. The strong, sure beat of his heart thumped reassuringly beneath her ear. He still needed a shave and he still smelled of hospital, but he was hers and he was awake. Slowly, she lifted her head and moved away from him. The chair she’d vacated earlier was where she’d left it and she eased herself down onto it.
Duncan turned his head in her direction, his gaze dark and shadowed. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m so sorry.”
Her heart stopped cold and her body filled with dread. She shook her head in wordless denial. All of a sudden, her courage deserted her and she prayed that he’d say nothing: She simply didn’t want to know.
As if sensing her distress, Duncan’s eyes grew more desperate. “Please, I need to tell you. I need to explain.”
“Who’s Susan?” The words fell out before she realized it. Wishing she could cover her ears but knowing she couldn’t, she clenched her jaw and braced herself against what was to come.
Duncan merely frowned at her, his eyes shadowed and confused. “Did the police tell you where they found me?”
She shook her head no and caught the flash of relief in his chocolate eyes. Anger stirred low in her belly. “Riley did.”
The relief in his gaze dissipated and the tension increased around his mouth. “What did he tell you?”
She compressed her lips, suddenly wanting it over with. “You haven’t answered my question. Who in heaven’s name is Susan and why were you waiting for her in a hotel room?”
He closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped. With every moment that it took him to answer, her anger grew. Her chest tightened. Heat crept up her neck.
“Susan is an artist and it wasn’t her I was waiting for. I was waiting for you.”
His reply was so quiet, she wasn’t sure she’d heard it correctly. “But you called out her name. You said you had to see her.” She suddenly registered what he’d said. “What is her being an artist got to do with anything? How do you think I’ve been feeling, knowing half of Grafton knows my husband was cheat—”
“No!” The word seemed to be wrenched from deep inside him. His eyes were filled with pain. He gripped his head with his hands, as if that could somehow relieve it. “That’s not how it was. It was meant to be a surprise. I-I’d forgotten our anniversary and I wanted to make it up to you. I’d been planning it for weeks. I’d bought all those things in secret, I’d even booked the room. All that was missing was you.”
Marguerite stared at him, disbelief warring with an ever-increasing hope. Had he planned it all for her? She stood and moved closer to the bed and searched his face for the truth. He held her gaze without flinching. Tears ran down his cheeks.
“I was just about to call you,” he continued hoarsely. “Everything was perfect, just like I’d imagined it. I couldn’t wait to see you and watch the surprise on your face. You were so sad when I forgot our anniversary. I’ll never forgive myself for causing you such pain. I wanted to give you a memory that would wipe out the awful one; a memory you would cherish forever.”
A sob caught in her throat. It was just as she’d hoped. He hadn’t been unfaithful. He’d been trying to show her how much he loved her and how sorry he was for causing her distress. He loved her. He’d always loved her. Just like she’d always loved him.
Her heart flooded with emotion and she could no longer speak. She sobbed against his strong, broad chest and cried tears of joy and happiness and relief.
His arms came up around her and held her as best he could. She thought of their children and knew she must go and tell them. They were nursing their own private pain with the unknown hanging above them, like a toxic cloud of nuclear waste. Any moment, it could fall and cover them and their lives would never be the same again.
But it hadn’t happened. It wasn’t true. Their father wasn’t an adulterer. He hadn’t cheated on his wife. He was the man they’d always looked up to, respected, admired and loved. He was the man who’d inspired them, encouraged them and helped them along the way. He was Duncan Munro: her husband; their father; her love.
EPILOGUE
Duncan
Grafton, New South Wales
Christmas Day
The delighted squeals of the children sent a surge of joy straight to Duncan’s heart. Riley’s twins, Rosie and Daisy, chased after one another around the living room with dolls and spades and sand buckets clutched beneath their arms. Their parents shook their heads in exasperation and asked for them to stop, but to little avail.
Brandon and Alex snuggled on the couch, their three-day-old baby son, Justin, cradled lovingly in their arms. Their daughter, Bella, sat at their feet, engrossed in a new toy that rattled and rolled and played music.
Chloe returned from yet another trip to the bathroom looking pale and drawn. It might have been Christmas Day and she might have been three months along, but her morning sickness hadn’t let up and was beginning to take its toll. She took her seat beside Declan and Jessie and offered her husband a shrug and a tiny smile. Declan pulled his wife close and pressed a loving kiss on her forehead.
Tom and Lily sat together at the other end of the couch. With their fingers entwined, they murmured and softly laughed while they watched the younger children play. Cassie and Joe had gone outside, enthralled with their Christmas gifts. For Joe, it was an iPad and for Cassie, a new smart phone.
Clayton and Ellie stood off to one side, their faces taut and distant. Duncan sighed inwardly and hoped they’d work things out. He’d tried to talk to his son earlier, when he’d noticed the obvious strain between Clayton and his wife, but Clayton had brushed his efforts aside and Duncan backed away. He respected their need for privacy and to sort out their problems on their own. He only prayed there wouldn’t be lasting damage; the kind that never heals.
Olivia had removed herself from the gathering as soon as the gift giving had finished. He hadn’t failed to notice she’d only thanked her father. Of course, the boys had more than made up for her lack of exuberance. Mitchell and Damon had almost bowled Ellie over in their enthusiasm to show their mother what Santa had left for them under the tree. She’d smiled and hugged both of them close, but Duncan had caught the sparkle of tears in her eyes. The sight broke his heart.
He stirred from his position in his favorite armchair and the girls at his feet turned as one, identical expressions of concern on their faces.
“Are you all right, Dad?” asked Josie.
“Can I get you anything, Daddy?” asked Chanel.
He leaned forward and ruffled their hair with his hand, like he used to when they were young. “No, thank you, sweetheart,” he said to his youngest and then turned his gaze on Josie.
“I’m fine, darling, but I think all that gift giving has worn me out. Not to mention the huge portion of Christmas lunch I consumed. I think I might go upstairs.”
Josie smiled. “Okay, Dad. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”
He looked across at his wife who stood on the other side of the room. She was untangling a toy fishing line from the hair of one of Clayton’s sons. The boy’s brother looked on nearby, trying desperately to hide his guilt. Duncan covered his mouth to contain a chuckle.
As if she sensed his gaze, Marguerite looked up and smiled. His heart thumped hard with emotion.
God, he loved her.
He raised an eyebrow and indicated the stairs with his head. Her smile widened and her eyes sparkled with sudden mischief. He pushed himself upright and his daughters moved out of the way. Suddenly eager to get to the bedroom, he made haste across the living room floor.
“I’m taking a nap,” he muttered to anyone who cared to listen.
He’d barely turned down the bed when he heard her open the door. She closed it silently behind her and swung slowly around to face him. She stared at him with eyes that were already shadowed with desire. The familiar spark surged through him. After all these years, he still wanted her.
“It’s not too soon, is it?” she asked.
“No, the doctor cleared me for gentle exercise yesterday morning and then he wished me a Merry Christmas.”
She smiled and her eyes teased him. “I guess I can be gentle.” With tender fingers, she touched the wound on the side of his head. The bandages had been removed before he’d been discharged, but the incision had been covered with a dressing. Marguerite had been given the job of cleaning it twice a day with Betadine and peroxide.
She stepped back and he watched while she undid the buttons of her blouse of Christmas red. It fell from her shoulders. Her straight, fitted skirt soon followed. She stood before him, proud and beautiful, in nothing but her underwear.
He moved to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Reaching inside, he pulled out the red velvet jeweller’s box. The police had recovered it from the hotel and had given it to him, along with the suitcase of other things. The constable who had handed it to him had blushed to the roots of his hair. Duncan had refrained from making a comment.
He came up behind his wife and put his hands on her shoulders, pressing his lips against the silkiness of her bare skin. She shivered under his attentions and his body stirred in anticipation.
“I have a gift for you,” he murmured between kisses.
“Mm?” she murmured and moved her head to give him greater access to her neck.
He kissed her again and then withdrew. She turned slowly to face him. He held the necklace in both hands. “Happy anniversary,” he whispered.
Her eyes went wide. “Duncan, it’s beautiful. Where ever did you find it?” She reached for it and he laid it flat against his palm.
“In a jeweller’s store up the coast. It reminded me of you the moment I saw it. The diamonds remind me of your sparkle and light. The rubies remind me of your lips. The sapphires remind me of your beautiful eyes and then there’s the heavy gold chain. It reminds me of the color of your hair and your skin in the summer sun—and the price of it…” He winked at her and smiled. “The price of it reminds me that no money could buy what you’ve given me over the years. Your value can never be measured.”
By the end of his little speech, she had her hands up to her mouth and tears sparkled in her eyes.
“Hey,” he protested gently, “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“They’re tears of joy,” she whispered and kissed him softly on the lips.
“I’m glad, because I haven’t finished yet.” He went over to the closet. Pulling open the door, he retrieved the second gift he’d stowed there. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll have to open it.”
Carefully, she unwrapped the large present and then gasped when she saw what it was. A painting of the two of them as they’d been not long after they’d married. Young and just as in love as they were now.
“I commissioned Susan to paint it. I meant to collect it the day I fell ill. I guess that’s why it was playing on my mind; why I mentioned Susan’s name in the hospital. I was concerned I’d forgotten to get it. I didn’t want it to go missing.”
“Oh, Duncan, it’s beautiful. I love it!” She leaned close and offered him a kiss.
“I’m glad,” he murmured and kissed her back.
The kiss turned heated and his lips moved over hers. Pulling away, he undid the clasp of the necklace and fixed it around her neck before taking her back in his arms. He slanted his mouth against hers and deepened the kiss, loving the feel of her. She tasted of brandy and Christmas pudding and custard. She tasted of love.
With increasing urgency, his hands went to his polo shirt and he dragged it over his head. His shorts followed. Glancing across the room, he spied the windows and cursed beneath his breath. Striding across the room, he drew the drapes against the summer heat and flicked the thermostat on the cooler to low.
Marguerite’s hands went around her back and she fumbled with the clasp of her bra.
“Here, let me,” he murmured and brushed her fingers aside.
The lacy, black undergarment fell to the carpet and joined the growing pile of clothes. His hands went immediately to her breasts and he sighed in contentment. He bent his head and pressed kisses across her chest.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
She blushed and looked away. “I’m sixty-five years old.”
“Twenty-five. Sixty-five. Ninety-five. Age is just a number. It’s what’s in here that counts.” He pressed a hand to his heart. “You’ll always be the girl that I married and I’ll love you until I die.”
She put her arms around him and her eyes filled with love. “You’re my one and only, Duncan. You’re my love. You’re my life.”
He pulled her closer and rested his cheek on the top of her head, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. As tall as she was, he was taller and she fit neatly under the crook of his arm. It had always been that way and it always would be.
’Til death do we part.
NOTE TO READERS
I do hope you have enjoyed reading Duncan and Marguerite’s story. Please feel free to leave a review for The Christmas Vigil. Every re
view is appreciated and really helps a new author like me.
Click here to sign up for my newsletter if you would like to receive news on upcoming Munro Family stories, release dates, book launches and other snippets. I love to receive feedback from my readers. Please feel free to contact me at [email protected] Let me know who your favorite Munro family member is.
The Ransom—Book Seven in the Munro Family Series is the next book in the Munro Family Series and is Lane and Zara’s story.
Here’s a sneak peek:
When Ellie Cooper married Clayton Munro, she was hopeful his daughter, Olivia would accept her into her life. Six years later, despite all of Ellie’s efforts, the ten-year-old continues to reject her at every turn. Then Olivia goes missing while in Ellie’s care…
Detective Senior Sergeant Lane Black of the New South Wales State Crime Command catches the case. A child is missing, presumed kidnapped and time is of the essence. To complicate matters, the State Attorney General’s youngest daughter was present at the time of the kidnapping. The girls look very alike. Could it be a case of mistaken identity?
When the Attorney General, David Dowton, is told his daughter’s best friend has been kidnapped, he’s immediately assailed with guilt. He knows the abduction has nothing to do with his daughter or her friend. He agonizes over what to tell the police. He certainly can’t tell them the truth.
When Lane interviews David, his suspicions are aroused. Why is the man so nervous? David’s oldest daughter, Zara, is also on edge. Immediately drawn to her exotic beauty, Lane does his best to remain unmoved and impartial. A child is missing. He needs to put together the pieces to find her before it’s too late.
Will the Dowtons cooperate with his investigation? What are they hiding…and why?
The Ransom will be released on 5 January, 2015 and is AVAILABLE NOW for pre-order.