Debra Cowan - Witness Undercover

Nolan lay unmoving as he had last night and now Laura noticed things she hadn’t been close enough to see when she’d looked in on him. Dark circles beneath his eyes, the parchment-thin appearance of his skin. There were still a few threads of black hair sprinkled among the thick whiteness.

Overhead she heard the muffled thwump-thwump of a helicopter. The silence of the room was broken only by the hum of machines. Because she knew Griffin would allow no one to get past him, she addressed her father as she wanted. “Dad?”

He opened his eyes, fixing his filmy blue gaze on her for a moment before recognition flared. “Laura?”

His voice was tentative, as if he didn’t believe she was real. “Yes, it’s me,” she choked out.

Her heart beat hard in her chest and she realized her palms were clammy.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

At his accusing tone, she stiffened, instantly defensive.

“Aunt Joy tracked me down. She told me you were ill.”

“And you came.”

“Yes.” Was he glad? Angry? She could tell nothing from his flat brittle voice.

He blinked slowly, almost as if he was too groggy to stay awake. Laura moved up the side of the bed. If he told her to leave, she wouldn’t do it. This might be her only chance— their only chance—to make any inroads. “I know this is probably the worst time to talk, but I really think we should.”

“We should.”

Relief flooded her.

Nolan peered hard at her. “What happened to your head?”

“Just bumped it. I’m fine.”

After a long moment, he labored out, “How did Joy find you?”

“She had someone track me down.”

“Someone from that agency of hers,” her father guessed.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Griffin Devaney.”

“Good man.” Nolan’s eyes fluttered as if it cost too much energy to keep them open, but he did. “Did you come so you could be tested as a donor?”

“Yes, and I’ve been cleared to be your donor, but that isn’t the only reason I came. I want to ask your forgiveness.”

“No.” He shifted on the bed, wincing.

Her heart sank, but she wasn’t leaving until she’d said what she needed to. “At least hear me out.”

“Not...what I meant.” Slowly, he lifted a hand and made a feeble gesture for her to come closer.

She moved up beside him, catching a faint whiff of his Old Spice aftershave mixed with the zing of antiseptic. His usually smiling face was haggard and wan, fatigue marking his mouth and eyes. The realization of just how ill he was shook her once more.

He grasped her hand, his grip weak. “I’m the one...who should...ask forgiveness.”

He seemed barely able to speak. Tears blurred her vision and she carefully squeezed his fingers.

“I never should’ve let you go,” he rasped.

“ I left you .”

“Still, I should’ve kept trying to see you.” His voice grew faint.

“Don’t strain yourself. Let me do the talking, okay?”

“I...I have things to say, too.”

She smiled. “I know, but I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“Okay.”

“Even before I moved in with Vin, I knew how wrong things were between you and me. Knew it was my fault.” She found it encouraging that Nolan kept hold of her hand. “I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“So have I,” her father rasped.

After graduating from veterinarian school, she had stopped visiting him. He’d never approved of Vin and she’d needed a break from his constant criticism of her life. Still, Nolan had persisted in trying to see or talk to her. Things had been strained between them and the breaking point had come when she’d told him about her decision to move in with Vin.

Nolan had disowned her and she hadn’t seen him again until the trial a little over a year later. He had come every day and attempted to speak to her, but she had refused. Another mistake caused by resentment and stubborn pride.

He moved as if trying to sit up.

“No, Dad.” She pressed a hand to his shoulder, shocked to feel the sharp edges of his bones. “Stay still.”

He eased back onto the pillow. “I should’ve tried harder to get through to you, shouldn’t have let it go on as long as I did.”

“That’s on me. It wouldn’t have mattered how hard you tried. I was too ashamed and embarrassed about all the stupid things I’d done. About how right you were about Vin. I couldn’t face you.”

“I’m not proud of the way I behaved, either.” He drew in a deep breath, pain creasing his waxy features.

Growing concerned, she eased closer. “Is there something I can do to help you with the pain? More morphine?”

“No. If I take more, it will knock me out and I want to talk to you.”

She wanted the same. Who knew how many more chances they would have.

“I want to put things right between us,” he said. “But I know it won’t be easy. Can you forgive me for being so stubborn?”

This was more than she had hoped.

“Yes,” she said in a shaky voice. “I need your forgiveness, too. I was a foolish, stupid girl.”

“You’re still my girl and you always will be. I love you.”

“What I did was so wrong. You were right all along about everything.” She wiped at her eyes, giving a small laugh. “I bet you never thought you’d hear that.”

A ghost of a smile hovered on his lips. “I’ve missed you.”

“I acted like an idiot.”

“We both made mistakes, honey.”

Laura could hardly fathom her strict unbending father admitting to mistakes. Perhaps the years had softened him. Or maybe it was the disease ravaging his body. She wasn’t sure she deserved Nolan’s understanding, but she wanted it. Wanted to start fresh for whatever time they had left.

The burden of guilt and resentment and shame she’d been carrying rolled right off of her. Thank You, Lord. For his forgiveness and Yours.

He was fading fast. Laura bent over him. “It’s okay to sleep, Dad. I’ll be in town until the transplant is finished. We’ll be able to talk again.”

If Vin didn’t get to her first.

“My first filgrastim injection is tomorrow. I’ll stop by and see you again if I can.” She would have injections on five consecutive days. The drug would move more blood-forming cells from her bone marrow to her bloodstream in preparation for the donation. “Four days after that, I can make my donation and you can receive the transplant.”

Nolan was fighting drowsiness and he looked even more pallid than when she’d come in. “Laura, girl, I...”

The door opened and Laura turned to see a frowning Griffin enter with a stocky bald man. Both were wearing paper gowns and masks. A clerical collar showed beneath the other man’s protective garment.

Griffin’s gaze went over the visitor’s head to find Laura. “The pastor says Nolan is expecting him.”

The other man came toward her, hand extended. “I’ve already met your young man. I’m Rick Hughes, a chaplain on staff here.”

Laura doubted Griffin cared for the assumption that they were a couple, but like him, she wouldn’t correct the error. Warily polite, she shook the man’s hand. “I’m Laura Parker.”

“Rick, Laura’s my—” Nolan broke off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

Laura held her breath and Griffin moved to stand beside her. She drew in his unique scent. He had instructed her and Joy to be careful about saying anything that might hint at the fact that they were related. Her dad knew this, too, but the medication lowered his guard. She hoped he didn’t blurt something out.

Nolan struggled to speak. “Laura’s my...donor.”

Relieved, she glanced at Griffin, who looked relieved, as well.