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“I need to see my dad.”
She tossed her head back in frustration. “You Valentines! Stubborn as mules! One second you’re on death’s doorstep and then you’re rushing to try to hop out of bed. So I’ll tell you what I told your father: you’re staying in bed until Dr. Lucian says you’re alright to get up and move around.”
It didn’t make a damn bit of difference to me if Dr. Lucian or Lucifer himself tried to stop me; I was going to see my father, one way or another.
I reached out for Vanke’s wonderfully plump hand, which looked as soft and warm as a cinnamon bun. She automatically reached out to help me, and I thrust my legs out from the covers. Before she could stop me, we were on the move, with her huffing and puffing happily, pretending to be oh-so-very annoyed. But clearly just as pleased as I was that I was strong enough to be up and about.
At my father’s door, I knocked once and let myself inside.
He lay in bed with a tray on his lap. He was so surprised to see me that he nearly flung his soup onto the quilt.
“My girl!” he exclaimed, with a sheen of joyful tears springing into his eyes.
“Don’t get yourself all excited!” I told him, wagging my finger as I hobbled across the room, and joined him on his bed.
“You scared the stuffing out of me,” he said, shaking his head like it was all my fault.
“Look who’s talking,” I said, and helped myself to a ripe pear that was sitting on his tray.
He watched me eat my pear with blushing fatherly pride, and once I had finished and set the core on the tray, he reached out for my hand.
“I really am just so sorry. Truly. For putting you through that hellish engagement, that horrible wedding. That I almost lost you…” He pursed his lips and shut his eyes. “Unspeakable. It was a terrible position and I hope, with all my heart, that you will forgive me.”
Little did he know, of course, that I had understood and forgiven him even as it was all unfolding. Even as I’d cursed him and his addiction, I understood he’d had no other choice. But this was an important moment—a real apology. No excuses, no schemes. And weak though I was feeling, I was strong enough to stand my ground and hold it.
“I’ll accept your apology if you promise me one thing. No more gambling.”
He shook his head in agreement. “I nearly met my maker, my girl. I made the same promise to myself long since. No more. I swear it.”
“Ever,” I repeated.
“Ever,” he said with a serious nod.
In his eyes, I could see that he really did mean it. Whether or not I could keep him away from the cards for good would be a matter for another day, but at least it was a start. And that was a victory that I could be proud of.
I blew out a relieved breath and then scooted up beside him in bed, sitting next to him, both of us with our heads propped up against the pillows. He smelled fresh and clean, like aftershave and soap, and it made me just enjoy the simple pleasure of being alive and well.
“Do you remember anything that happened?” my father asked, staring up at his intricately painted ceiling beside me, as if we were gazing at stars.
“You mean, after I got sick?” I asked.
“Mmm-hmm,” he said, sounding slightly mischievous.
“Nothing. Just the strangest dreams.”
“Well,” he said, sounding rather tickled. “Your fellow Vasile is very devoted, let me tell you.”
I froze for an instant, with my eyes stuck open. “You mean, I didn’t dream that part?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw my father shake his head. “I’ll tell you. It was enough to make an old man’s heart melt. He stayed by your side every single day. As soon as he learned you were sick, he barged in here like something out of a Shakespearean love story. Would not leave. Vanke tried to swat him away with a dishtowel. ‘Brute!’ she said. ‘Leave the poor girl alone!’ But he wouldn’t go. He would not. Even your mother tried to get him out, and you know how angry she can get, what with the pointing and glaring. But it didn’t matter. Your Vasile wouldn’t budge.”
Your Vasile. I wished so much he’d stop saying it that way. Vasile was nothing of the sort. I was grateful that he’d sent the doctor to help us, but I felt that I had grieved for him so much and so hard that I could hardly find the strength to feel anything more. And anyway, it was all over. He was gone, that much was very clear. His guilt had been absolved, it seemed.
