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The slight pressure of his fingers had to be my imagination—there was no change to his face at all. “I just hope you can forgive me.” My voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, barely heard over the sounds of the machines keeping him alive.
“Forgive you for what?” Ian said from directly behind me, and I jumped, releasing Granda’s hand for a moment.
I glared up at him. “For not coming to see him for five years,” I said sharply. Score one for Bella.
And then he put a cup of coffee in my hand, and the aroma drifted to my nose. It was black, the way I liked it, not lashed with heavy cream as Bella preferred, and I felt a reluctant warmth fill me. I needed that coffee.
Blinking back unwanted tears, I said a brief “thanks” and took Granda’s hand in mine once more. It was cool to the touch, almost cold, and I glanced worriedly at the windows. They were closed—no stray breeze was going to disturb him.
Ian had brought his own coffee in with him, and he re-took his seat at the end of the bed. We sat there peaceably enough as the nurse bustled around us, checking his vitals, straightening his pillows, and I realized there was nothing she could do, not really. His long life was coming to an end, and even though I wanted to scream and fight and rail against the fates, I was helpless. All I could do was hold his hand and wait.
No one disturbed us until the early afternoon, when Mary Alice strode in, all bustling efficiency, jarring in her bright, almost feral smile. “Enough is enough,” she announced. “You’ve monopolized Granda for too long. I hate to tell you this, Bella, but he’s not going to change his will for you at this point—all this show of grief is a waste of time when we all know you’d rather be out cruising around the countryside in your ridiculous car.”
I could feel myself shrink at the sound of her strident voice, and I desperately tried to summon my faithful mantra—what would Bella do? I didn’t give a flying fuck what Bella would do, I only knew I wanted Mary Alice to go away.
“Her ridiculous car is totaled,” Ian said in something close to a growl. “And she’s here because she needs to be here.”
At another time, I would have been shocked at his defending me, but at this point, I was past caring about anything.
“I have just as much right to be here as she does,” Mary Alice said, her voice rising, and I could sense Granda’s sudden restlessness. “If she’s going to have the chance to play devoted granddaughter then I have the same right...”
“Get out.” Ian’s voice was low, deadly, and Mary Alice halted her diatribe, staring at him in shock. A moment later, she rallied.
“You can’t tell me...” she began.
“Get out!” he thundered, and Mary Alice scrambled to the door, noisily complaining until the nurse shut it behind her. I turned back to Granda, and there seemed like the faintest trace of a smile on his face.
I squeezed his hand gently. I could still hear Mary Alice off in the distance, arguing with someone, but I knew we were safe. She wouldn’t come back, not without reinforcements, and even then, Ian would stop her, thank God. I wanted nothing from Granda but his peaceful passing, and I would do anything to keep him quiet and safe. Fortunately, Ian had chosen to be gatekeeper.
She came back, of course, this time with Valerie, but she’d obviously thought better of her deathbed ministry and departed more quickly than I could have hoped. Marcus came, looking everywhere but at Granda, and escaping as soon as he could, but Ian and I remained in silent amity throughout the long hours, as the day lengthened into dusk, and then night.
He slipped away just past midnight, so quietly that I was surprised I knew. Between one labored breath and another, he simply stopped, letting go, and I stared at him in numb disbelief as the nurse rushed in, all efficiency. She tried to detach my hand from his, but I refused to let go, refused to look at her, refused to do anything but watch Granda’s face for some sign of life. He was gone, and I could feel the tears drenching my face.
Ian stood abruptly, and I pulled my gaze away from Granda to stare at him. His face was cold, shuttered, as if something had closed inside him. “Don’t waste your crocodile tears on me, Bella,” he said in a low voice. “I know how much you really care.”
Rage sliced through me, hot and furious, wiping everything away. “You know absolutely nothing about me!” I shot back, my voice quiet in the still atmosphere.
“I know you’re a cheat and a liar, and that’s good enough. Go find Marcus and the two of you can console each other. I have to make arrangements.” Without another word, he stalked out of the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him.
Slowly, I released my grip on Granda’s cold, limp hand. My stomach had knotted painfully, and a sudden wave of nausea washed over me, so strong that I rose quickly, knocking my chair over as I tried to get out of the way.
“Don’t let him upset you,” the nurse said in her softly accented English. “Death takes some people that way.”
I tried to summon a smile, but my lips were trembling, and I knew anything I came up with would be a travesty. “I have to go,” I mumbled, my voice thick with tears.
She nodded. “I’ll take care of him. I’ve been with him for many years, and I can do this for him.”
She was a stranger to me, and she’d loved him as I did. I wanted to summon fury at all the years I’d missed, but it would do me no good. I needed to find someplace to hide, someplace where I could mourn undisturbed.
My tears had stopped at Ian’s harsh words, and I needed their release. I scrambled through the halls, downstairs to my bedroom and threw myself on the bed, ready to dissolve into uncontrollable weeping. My eyes stayed dry, my heart filled with cold rage. I wanted to kill Ian, whose words had been a verbal slap, stopping my grief cold. I felt dry and empty inside, icy as I tried to force the tears, tried to let go of my iron control. Nothing happened. I had been playing a role for so long that I couldn’t break free, couldn’t give in to honest emotion.
Ian’s contempt for me was a wound I well deserved. I was everything he said, a liar and a cheat, but I loved Granda, and his loss devastated me. Who the hell did Ian think he was, to question the depths of my grief? And why did I care? He was no longer the boy I had instinctively trusted—he was Ian the Wretch, making my life miserable when I was most vulnerable.
I slammed out of my room, not caring whom I woke, but the house was still and silent. Apparently, Ian had decided not to inform the rest of the household that Granda was gone—apparently he thought he had the right to make such decisions. He could do any damned thing he wanted—if I stayed locked up in my room for a moment longer, I would suffocate.
I was outside, barefoot when the rain started, just a light sprinkle at first, then growing stronger, the punch of thunder shaking the hills around Mariposa. I didn’t care. It was pitch-black, but I knew where I was going. Straight across the courtyard to the stables, to Ian’s apartments, to tell him...to tell him...
A hand clamped down on my shoulder, whirling me around, and I screamed, terrified, my emotions at fever pitch. Recognizing Ian in the brief flash of lightning did the opposite of calming me down.
