Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Why did he get it? The answer is obvious. The truth stares me in the face. He never said it, but he declared it in permanent ink on his skin next to the values that govern his behavior, his life.
“It’s not some kind of gravestone,” he says in a quiet voice.
My gaze slips to the pendant on the leather string that hangs in the center of his breastbone. “What’s not a gravestone?” I ask, pretending not to know what he’s talking about. It’s too deep, too personal. We don’t share that kind of intimacy any longer.
“The tattoo. It doesn’t symbolize grief.”
I can’t help from asking, “What does it symbolize?”
“Love.” His gaze intensifies. “The kind that gets under your skin.”
He’s indeed sentimental, much more than I gave him credit for, but I don’t want to acknowledge the things that have gotten under his skin. I want to forget.
Suddenly, I regret not using him. Sex is a good mechanism for forgetting. It’s too soon to think about sex when I’ve only been operated on yesterday, but my lady bits remind me they’re still functioning. My year of celibacy doesn’t help.
“Good night, Cas,” he says, stretching out on the sofa and pulling the blanket up to his chest. “Sweet dreams.”
At least he didn’t take off his pants.
One should always be grateful for small mercies.
Chapter 9
Ian
At sunrise, I put out Cas’s pills with a glass of water before slipping away, leaving her unattended for a few minutes to have a shower. I use one of the new, disposable razors in the bathroom to shave. Borrowing one of Damian’s outfits, I dress in yet another white shirt and pair of black pants.
By the time I get back, Cas is awake. She’s as obstinate as I remember, refusing to let me in, but I’m too grateful to have her back to mind her sass or attitude. She insists on walking to the bathroom instead of letting me push her in the wheelchair, claiming she needs the exercise. She wheels her IV rail along and does her business while I wait outside in case she changes her mind and calls for help.
After breakfast, the doctor arrives to examine her. He changes the gauzes—one on the front and one on the back of her shoulder—and removes the IV. He leaves us with painkillers, antibiotics, and an order to call him if infection sets in.
Free from the tubes, Cas has a quick rinse-down in the shower and dresses in Lina’s shorts and T-shirt. We manage to wash her hair by pushing a chair in front of the basin. Tilting back her head pulls her stitches, but even as she tells me so, she does it without complaining.
Showered, dressed, and fed, she looks a whole lot better. There’s even a smidge of color on her cheeks. She’s the Cas I fell for in Sun City, albeit a little thinner.
As promised, Lina and Damian arrive in the afternoon. They’re not alone as I expected. A child skips ahead of them, and Damian carries a girl not much older than a year in his arms.
I still where I sit on the sofa, reading a report from Banga on my phone. Cas, who dozed off in bed, opens her eyes and freezes. It’s minute. She blinks rapidly, smoothing over whatever jarred her.
The child who stops in front of me pulls my attention. He holds out a hand, standing on attention like a little soldier. “Hi, Uncle Ian. I’m Josh.”
Taking in his blond curls and blue eyes, something cracks in my chest. When I grip his hand and give a firm shake, a dimple appears in his cheek.
“Pleased to meet you,” I say in a formal voice, which makes him smile broader.
That feeling I had in Zimbabwe of fathering a child and being a family sparks under my breastbone.
Lina walks over to the bed. “I’m Lina, Ian’s sister-in-law. How are you feeling?”
“Good,” Cas says, managing a watery smile. “Thanks for everything you’ve done—are doing—for us.”
“You’re family,” Lina says. “There’s nothing we won’t do.”
Cas winces at the statement, but she doesn’t comment on the family bit.
Lina motions at Damian. “This is my husband.” She continues with a soft smile, “And this is Josie. She’s not walking yet, because her daddy spoils her by carrying her around.”
Damian addresses Cas in an impersonal tone. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better.”
Josie pushes her finger into her mouth and drools all over Damian.
“Josh.” Lina waves him over. “Come say hi to Cas.” To Cas she says, “He’s almost five.”
Josh walks to the bed obediently. Lina has to lift him so he can offer Cas a hand.
I get to my feet, taking in the scene. It’s a strange family reunion. It’s impossible to read Damian or to guess what he thinks. As a child, my brother was always stingy with his emotions. It looks like that hasn’t changed. At least Lina is bubbly and warm-hearted, smoothing things over.