Read Silver Dawn (Wishes #4.5) Online
Authors: G. J. Walker-Smith
From what Hannah had told me, Alex rarely spent time with the baby voluntarily. When he appeared at the doorway of the nursery less than half an hour after I arrived, I knew she must’ve sent for him.
He looked awful – so bad that I burst into tears at the sight of him. His usually bright brown eyes were bloodshot and his face looked drawn and tired. He was a mess, inside and out.
“Don’t cry, Charli,” he mumbled. “Please.”
I lowered the baby into his crib and grabbed a handful of tissues from a nearby change table. “I can’t help it,” I replied, keeping my back turned. “I’ve just met my little brother. It’s overwhelming.”
Jack wasn’t the reason for my tears, and Alex knew it. “That’s one way of describing the events of the past few days,” he muttered.
Confident that I’d pulled myself together, I turned back to face him.
Alex’s face was completely expressionless, and he hadn’t ventured any further than the doorway. “Why are you here?” he asked. “How did you know to come here?”
“I’d always planned to visit once Jack was born,” I replied. “I caught the first flight out after Floss called me.”
He nodded, but gave me nothing else.
“How is Gabrielle?” I repeated.
Alex brought his hand to his face, drawing invisible circles around his mouth with his finger. “She has a tube down her throat,” he replied on the brink of tears. “I can’t bear seeing her like that.”
Every single reply I built in my head was trite and cliché, and he didn’t need to hear any of them. I swung the conversation in a different direction instead. “You look like a derro, Alex.” I pointed at his dishevelled shirt. “Gabs would flip out if she saw the state of you.”
Alex looked down at his shirt and huffed out one hard laugh. “I don’t care. I can’t hold it together any more, Charli.”
He then broke down and cried.
My father had seen me hysterical a million times, but I’d never even seen him shed a tear before that moment. I put no thought into my next move. I rushed over to him and threw my arms around him. “You don’t have to,” I promised. “I’ll hold you together.”
***
Being there was really the only contribution I could make, and I quickly worked out that the biggest relief for Alex was that Jack now had company.
I paid careful attention to how he interacted with him. He was jittery and had trouble staying still, which meant Jack lost out in favour of pacing aimlessly around the room. Trying to calm him was pointless, but I tried. “Everything will work out, Alex. Just have faith.”
“Faith in what, Charli?” He spun back to face me. “Throwing it out to the universe isn’t working for me this time. Nothing is working.”
“She’s strong,” I mumbled. “Be hopeful.”
Alex was right upon me now, towering over me as if he was fighting the urge to knock me off my chair. “How can I be hopeful? They cut her baby out of her belly. They’ve driven needles up her arms. They’ve pumped her full of drugs. They shoved a tube down her throat, Charli.” He was so worked up that he had to pause for breath. “She looks awful and pale and when I hold her hand I can’t feel her touch me back. So don’t tell me to be hopeful. I don’t want to hear that from you.”
As hard as it was, I forced myself to look up at him. “What do you want to hear from me?” I asked calmly. “What can I say?”
Alex walked over to the nearest chair and slumped down, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “Nothing. I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
After a long moment, he lifted his head but didn’t get a chance to speak again. Jasmine and Wade walked into the nursery, wheeling the newest addition to their family in ahead of them.
Both stopped dead in their tracks. Jasmine looked shocked to see me but for some reason, Wade looked terrified – so terrified that he mumbled something to Jasmine and disappeared out of the room without so much as a hello.
Alex stood. “I’m going back upstairs.”
My father’s tolerance for the Beautifuls was low at the best of times, but he was usually much more polite about it. I felt the need to apologise to Jasmine once he’d gone.
“It’s okay,” she replied. “I feel bad for him.”
Word travels fast. I wasn’t surprised that she already knew what was going on, but the last thing I wanted to do was discuss it with her. I turned my attention to her new baby instead. The Davis baby was much smaller than Jack, and completely bald – but undeniably cute. “He’s lovely,” I complimented, peering into his crib.
“Yes,” she agreed simply. “I brought him in here so I could get some sleep.”
I nodded and looked across at my brother. “Jack will be glad to have company.”
“It’s good that you’re here, Charli,” said Jasmine. “You’re probably needed.”
She didn’t elaborate, for which I was grateful. On the off chance that she started asking questions, I made up an excuse to leave the room. “It’s been a long day for me. I might try and hunt down a cup of coffee.”
I’d almost made it to the door when Jasmine called me back. “I didn’t bring him in here because I need sleep.” She motioned to her son with a small nod. “I’m getting my hair done so we can take some nice photos.” Nothing about the confession shocked me, but her meek demeanour was confusing. “You must think I’m really lame.”
I shrugged but didn’t reply. Lame was one of the nicer words I’d used when summing up Jasmine and her skewed outlook on life.
“I’m really sorry for what your family’s going through right now,” she quietly added. “I can’t imagine how horrible it must be. Can you let Alex know that Wade isn’t upset with him?”
I frowned, confused. “Why would he be?”
“Alex nearly thumped him this morning,” she casually explained. “Hannah had to break it up.”
No wonder Wade had looked so terrified. I’d seen Alex’s frustration firsthand that day. Hannah Davis had probably saved his life.
“Alex isn’t himself,” I defended. “He’s under a lot of pressure.”
Jasmine nodded.
I was content to leave it at that. I checked on Jack one last time before making my way back to the door.
“Why did this happen, Charli?” Jasmine asked. “Gabrielle didn’t do anything wrong.”
For once, she wasn’t fishing for information. Her concern was genuine.
Perhaps that’s why I took the time to answer her. “She has an infection,” I explained. “No one knew until it was too late.”
“I’ve had three babies,” she said, gazing down at her boy. “Nothing ever went wrong.”
I’d never known Jasmine to have an empathetic bone in her body, which highlighted just how unfathomable the situation was. Two women had travelled exactly the same road within hours of each other. Both delivered baby boys. One was now preparing to get her hair done while the other fought for her life. Trying to make sense of it was pointless so I didn’t even try. “Luck of the draw, I guess.”
I’d spent many years trying not to show weakness where Jasmine was concerned. Breaking down in front of her wasn’t an option. I didn’t have it in me. I walked out the door without another word, managing to hold it together until I got all the way outside. Then I cried, and I couldn’t have cared less who saw me.
I’d never been in a position of having to take charge where Alex was concerned. I had no idea how to handle him.
First and foremost he needed food and sleep. When he reappeared back in the nursery I demanded that we go home for the night and come back in the morning. He was so shattered that he didn’t even protest, even when I commandeered his car keys and told him I was driving.
I wasn’t tired at all. Long haul flights usually kick my arse but Adam had booked my flight. Not even I could deny that travelling first class has its merits. I’d slept most of the way and had arrived feeling rested.
It was a quiet journey home to the Cove. The winter weather was calm and clear, unlike my thoughts.
Alex’s mind was busy too. At first he only spoke when I asked him a question. By the time we arrived home, he’d stopped replying at all.
***
It didn’t take me long to realise that bringing Alex back to the house might not have been the best move. It was a giant reminder of how things were supposed to be.
I tried my best to ignore the bassinette set up in the lounge room, which was difficult. What I really wanted to do was tell him how perfect it looked. It was fussy and frilly and totally impractical. It had Gabrielle’s French princess chic stamp all over it.
Alex walked straight through to the kitchen and headed to the fridge.
While his back was turned, I scooped pile of perfectly folded little clothes off the table and carried them down to the baby’s room.
I’d been happy to surrender my childhood room to my brother. It was the best room in the house. Even on cold days, the west facing window always caught the warmth of the setting sun. It was also the easiest to sneak out of. If raised the right way, the sash window opened silently. I figured Jack would probably appreciate that detail in fifteen years or so.
For now, he had plenty of other details to concentrate on, namely the magnificent mural on the wall. Every detail was perfect, but Gabi had clearly taken a bit of creative license when it came to depicting the animals.
The multicoloured birds and mauve turtle confused me so much that I moved closer to the wall in a bid to understand it better.
“They’re crows,” said Alex making me jump.
I dropped the stack of clothes into the cot and turned to face him.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Gabi thought they’d be less creepy if they were different colours.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “And are they?” I asked curiously.
He leaned against the doorway and folded his arms. “They’re still crows.”
I turned my attention to the wall. “And what about the purple turtle? I didn’t realise you were afraid of turtles too.”
“I’m not,” he replied dully. “Gabi is.”
I didn’t bother asking why. The Parisienne’s logic was even more skewed than mine at times. “Well, I think it’s fabulous,” I complimented. “Jack will love it.”
It should’ve been a light-hearted, funny conversation, but Alex shifted it in an instant. “She painted eight of them,” he told me. “What does the eighth crow in the poem mean?”
I glanced back at him, frowning. “Why?”
“Because I’m looking for magic, Charlotte,” he replied insincerely. “Give me something to work with.”
I’d spent a great deal of my childhood taunting him with the silly crow nursery rhyme. It was sinister and dark and had nothing to do with magic.
“One for sorrow, two for mirth,” he prompted, intent on torturing himself. “Tell me the rest.”
He wasn’t going to let it go so I did as he asked, keeping my voice even as I prepared for the fallout. “Three for a wedding, four for a birth.”
“Go on,” he ordered, annoyed by my pause.
“Five for silver, six for gold. Seven for a secret, not to be told. Eight for heaven – ”
“Eight for heaven,” he repeated, cutting me off.
“It’s just a silly rhyme, Alex,” I mumbled. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
He wouldn’t have looked any more pained if I’d struck him. “You’re absolutely right.” He choked out the words. “None of it means anything and I’m sorry I spent so many years telling you otherwise.”
Before I had a chance to reply, Alex walked out of the door. I heard the back door slam a few seconds later and the familiar sound of splitting wood a minute after that.
In times of crisis, people look for meaning. Alex’s biggest problem was that he couldn’t find one. His whole faith had taken a pounding because the theory that bad things don’t happen to good people no longer rung true.
I stood on the edge of the veranda and watched as he took his frustration out on the woodheap. I knew it wasn’t a pace he could maintain for long. He was exhausted before he even began.
As soon as he paused, I called out to him. “There’s still joy to be found, Alex. Gabi would want you to spend time with Jack,” I said strongly. “It’s not right that he spends so much time alone.”
Alex glanced across at me before raising the axe over his head and belting it down full force, obliterating the wood in front of him. “Don’t tell me what Gabi would want.”
“I’m not,” I insisted. “I’m telling you what Jack wants.”
“Don’t tell me that either,” he snapped.
The horrible situation he was facing had nothing to do with the baby. Pointing it out was harsh but necessary. “Stop punishing him,” I demanded. “It’s not his fault. He deserves more from you.”
In what seemed like slow motion, Alex dropped the axe as if he no longer possessed the strength to hold it. There aren’t words to describe how it felt to see my father brought to his knees by nothing more than the cold, hard truth.
“You have to talk to me, Alex,” I coaxed desperately. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
He didn’t move. I got the impression it was a position he could’ve maintained indefinitely, but at least he found words. “You’ll hate me, Charli,” he warned.
“I could never hate you.”
Alex finally lifted his head and looked across at me. “I wouldn’t choose him.” The words came out in a strangled sob. “If I could wind the clock back so he never happened, I would. Now tell me you don’t hate me.”
I’d promised to be the one to hold him together but I was beginning to realise just how ambitious that pledge was. He was unravelling before my very eyes, and I had no idea how to stop it.
“I don’t hate you, but you’ve got to understand something,” I said strongly. “Gabi would choose Jack. She’d endure all this and ten times more if it meant getting her baby here safely.”
Alex slowly levered himself to his feet as if he was damaged. It proved just how exhausted he was, and how heavy his heart must’ve been. “She can’t endure much more, Charli. That’s the problem.”
However unfair it might’ve been, I could feel myself getting frustrated with him. It was so unlike Alex to take on such a defeatist attitude. “What do you hear when the doctors talk to you?” I asked exasperatedly. “Once the antibiotics take effect, Gabrielle’s condition will improve.” My mouth had got the better of me again. It was a naïve and callous summation that came out sounding heartless and cruel.
Alex threw his head back and groaned in disgust. “What do you imagine when you think of her laying there in a coma, Charli?” he asked angrily. “That she’s sleeping peacefully while the Disney bluebirds fly around and draw back her bedcovers?”
“No,” I mumbled.
“My heart pounds every time I walk through that door because she always looks worse than the last time.” He thumped his hand against his chest. “So forgive me if hope is slipping.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied remorsefully.
“Don’t be sorry,” he muttered. “Just think before you speak. And if you can’t do that, just be quiet.”