Bonus Kisses Page 2

  Forty minutes later I have twenty-four-hour care organized starting tomorrow afternoon, and Lisa is looking into getting a hospital bed installed in the living room on short notice.

  I walk into Nicky’s room with a plan in hand, but come to a dead standstill when I see some stranger with a head full of dreadlocks bend over her bed.

  “Hey!” I call out, and the person whips up and swings around. “Fuck me,” I whisper when I recognize the face that is burned in my memory.

  Last time I saw it was right before Spencer was born.

  “I asked her to come,” Nicky says from the bed, her eyes on me, but her hand clasping her sister’s tightly.

  Chapter Two

  Taz

  That voice.

  Goosebumps break out over my skin as I swing around at the sound. The softly whispered fuck me when he recognizes me almost has me running.

  The thirty-eight hours and four airplanes it took me to get here—from the small airstrip by the clinic to the international airport in Kinshasa, via Paris to New York, and finally Springfield—left me too much time to think. I’d reconsidered the wisdom of the split second it took me to make a promise I hadn’t really thought through all the way.

  The man who has my hair stand on end was one of the main reasons I almost changed my mind.

  Damn, he looks good. A little gray in his whiskers and a few more lines in his face, but otherwise he’s still the same Rafe I first met nine years ago in my parents’ kitchen. The same deep blue eyes pin me in place.

  All I can hear is the blood rushing through me, but I realize Nicky must’ve said something when his gaze flits to the bed behind me. I turn around. Shame instantly floods me when I see the mere shadow of my perfect sister lying in the hospital bed.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rafe finally says. “Need I remind you of the last time she decided to show her face? You were a mess for months.”

  I wince at his description of my last visit home five years ago. Nicky catches it and shoots me an apologetic smile. I instantly realize she hasn’t told him the reason why I left in such a hurry and never returned.

  “Well, I don’t have months now. Besides, that was not Taz’s fault,” she defends me, but Rafe won’t hear it.

  “For the life of me I don’t understand how you can stand up for her. You forget I lived through the aftermath.”

  “You don’t know everything.” Nicky’s voice is weak and her eyes tired. “I need her. I can’t do this without her.” Her hand finds mine and she grabs on as the first tears I’ve shed in years start rolling down my cheeks “Please, Rafe,” she pleads. “I need you to back me on this.”

  His eyes soften on her, before turning to me with suspicion and concern. It fucking hurts, but I lift my chin and stare him down, my sister’s fragile hand in mine strengthening me.

  Rafe’s only answer is a curt nod.

  The reason why a united front is necessary becomes clear when, half an hour later, Mom walks in the room pushing my father in a wheelchair, a sight that shocks me.

  She stops right inside the door, clutching a fist to her chest when her eyes land on me.

  “Out,” she growls, and the single syllable is like a dagger in my back. My gaze darts to my father whose face has gone slack.

  “Mom…”

  Nicky’s plea goes unheard as my mother narrows her eyes on me. “How dare you show up out of the blue. You broke your father’s heart.”

  Not even my sister’s surprisingly firm hold on my hand can give me the strength I need for this face-off. I’ve been traveling for days with little to no sleep, endured barbs from the one man who has the power to injure me, and haven’t even begun to process that my sister is dying. There is no way I can handle my mother’s anger or my dad’s disappointment.

  “That’s enough,” Rafe barks unexpectedly at my mother, shocking her as much as it shocks me. Then he adds a bit more gently, “Taz is here because Nicky called for her.”

  Using the brief silence that follows as my mother struggles to understand, I bend over my sister, my face close to hers, effectively shutting everyone else out. “I’m going to step out, but I’ll be back.”

  “Promise?”

  “I need a coffee and some fresh air, I promise I won’t be long.”

  I kiss her papery cheek and without looking at Mom or Dad, slip by them and out of the room.

  In the hospital lobby, I pick up a much-needed cup of coffee and head outside into the Missouri spring chill. Sinking down on a bench right outside the doors, I take a deep tug of the warm brew.

  I wasn’t kidding, I need some air and a little space to come to terms with the request Nicky dropped on me, right before my parents showed up. My sister wants to die at home and she wants me to help make that possible.

  The brutal reality tears through me and I stuff my fist in my mouth, stifling a sob.

  My sister, my first and best friend throughout childhood, is dying. The many years wasted sit like a stone in my chest now that time is slipping away. Regret is an evil bitch.

  I guess I always assumed we’d have time to sort through our issues. Not only with Nicky, but Mom and Dad as well. Instead, I’d hidden out on a different continent, convincing myself I could do more good there than back home, where I seemed to do everything wrong.

  Stupid. I should’ve known it eventually would bite me in the ass. With his diagnosis of Parkinson's, I’d always figured Dad would be the one to bring me home. I never thought it would be my perfect and much too young sister I’d come to say goodbye to.

  Pulling out my phone, I dial the New York number for the US headquarters of Doctors Without Borders. There’s no choice, really. Of course I’m going to stay and look after Nicky. After having given nine years of my life to the organization—when others generally sign up for one, maybe two years—I don’t encounter any resistance when I tell them I will need an indefinite leave of absence and may not be returning to the Congo.

  A few tears escape when I think of the people I’ll miss, the friends I’ve made, and I bend my head to wipe under my eyes.

  I know I’ve done the right thing, but it won’t be easy.

  “Taz?”

  I look up to find Rafe standing a few feet away, looking at me curiously. “Hey.”

  “Nicky asked me to get you. The cardiologist is with her, he’d like a word.”

  I shoot to my feet, toss the half-empty coffee cup in the garbage and wipe my palms on my jeans. “Everything okay?”

  “I think he wants to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

  “Hardly,” I mumble, heading for the entrance, Rafe falling in step beside me.

  Rafe

  Talk about conflicted feelings.

  I almost hadn’t recognized Taz with her now long, multi-colored hair twisted into dreadlocks, but when she’d turned around—those deep brown eyes wide open—the air sucked out of the room. Emotions instantly swirled before anger firmly settled in place. It was the safest option to go with.

  It’s mostly gone now. After some very difficult discussions these past few hours, I just feel intensely sad.

  Nicky’s parents—her mother in particular—had been pretty vocal in their disapproval of the plans for their daughter to die at home. I suspect they’re still in denial and I can’t say I blame them. Sticking your head in the sand is a heck of a lot easier than dealing with the pain reality brings.

  It didn’t help that Nicky insisted having their younger prodigal daughter be the one to look after her. Aside from the lack of medical training, Sarah has her hands full with her husband whose Parkinson’s is quite progressed. Taking on the care for Nicky would’ve been too much.

  In the end they agreed, when a surprising vote of support came from Dr. Abawi, who emphasized the focus should be on quality—not quantity—of life at this point. The cardiologist took Taz aside to go over medications and a plan of care, with Sarah observing the interaction from a distance.

  Even with everyone on one page—
more or less—the situation remains a challenge.

  “What about the kids?” Sarah asks the moment Taz disappears down the hall.

  She finally headed to the hotel across the street to grab some shut-eye, unable to stay standing from exhaustion. With plans in place to move Nicky home early tomorrow morning, Taz should grab rest while she can.

  “I talked to Kathleen. She’s dropping them off tomorrow after school, once we’ve had a chance to settle in.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” she says. “They don’t even know Natasha. She’s a stranger to them.”

  “That’s enough, Sarah,” Ed unexpectedly pipes up. His soft raspy voice doesn’t hide the steel underneath. The man doesn’t assert himself often and it startles his wife. “She’s their aunt, their mother’s sister, our daughter. The kids will take their cue from us.” He underlines his words with a sharp look. “It’ll be hard enough without the adults in their life shooting barbs at each other.”

  Sarah looks duly chastised and I feel the same. Ed is right; Sofie especially is very sensitive to moods and atmospheres. Too perceptive for her age, she picked up on the growing distance between her mother and me this past year. Five-year-old Spencer simply follows along with whatever vibe his sister puts out there.

  The kids’ welfare has precedence over any family squabbles or grievances.

  Not soon after, my in-laws say their goodbyes and leave. They’re heading back to Eminence tonight, so someone is at the house when the hospital bed is delivered first thing tomorrow morning.

  “Tough day.”

  I snort at Nicky’s softly whispered comment and turn to look at her. “That’s gotta be the understatement of the century.”

  She smiles before her face turns serious. “I love my sister.”

  I reach over and lace my fingers with hers. “I know you do. I’m just not sure she deserves it after the way she turned her back.”

  “Don’t say that,” she hisses, pulling her hand from mine. “She’s not the only one who carries responsibility for that.”

  It’s the second time, since Taz showed up, Nicky suggests there’s more to her sister’s years of absence. I shake my head, unable—or maybe unwilling—to deal with any more revelations or upheavals. For someone who is usually adept at suppressing emotions, I feel like I may come apart at the onslaught of the past few days.

  “We should call the kids, and then you should have a rest,” I offer. “You need your energy for tomorrow.”

  A cop-out. I know it and she does too, but she still nods her agreement and I pull out my phone.

  “Hey, Kathleen, how are they?”

  “Good, all things considered. I haven’t talked to them about tomorrow yet, though. Figured you guys would want to tell them yourselves. They’re just getting ready for bed, let me go get them.”

  “Hang on.” I hand the phone to Nicky and see the moment the kids get on the line; her face lights up instantly.

  “Hey, baby. How was school?” She smiles chatting with the kids, trying to inject as much normalcy in the chaos of their lives as she can.

  This whole fucked-up situation suddenly hits me hard, and I dart into the restroom to try and get myself under control. I’ve never felt so goddamn raw in my life.

  When I return to Nicky’s bedside, after taking a breath and splashing some cold water on my face, she looks at me questioningly, but I merely shake my head. Moments later she hands me the phone.

  “Hey, Pipsqueak.”

  “Hey, Daddy. Mommy says she’s coming home tomorrow, is that true?”

  “Yeah, honey. She’ll be home when you come back from school.”

  “So she’s all better?”

  Jesus, this is torture.

  I roll my eyes to the ceiling and take a shaky breath before answering. “She’s still pretty sick, Sofie, but she can’t wait to get home and see you guys.”

  It’s quiet on the other end of the line as my all-too-perceptive Sofie processes my response and the fist squeezing my chest goes a little tighter.

  “Spencer wants to say hi,” she finally says, her voice dejected.

  “All right, honey. You sleep well, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me talk to your brother.”

  “Okay. Love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you more.”

  By the time I end the call, after a brief chat with my sleepy youngest, I notice Nicky has drifted off, her face deeply lined, and teardrops shimmering on her pale cheeks.

  Chapter Three

  Taz

  “You’re nervous.”

  I look up from the kitchen sink where I’m hand-washing the few dishes we used for lunch. Nicky, who’d fallen asleep on the couch earlier, is now watching me.

  “A little.”

  I’d slept a restful ten hours sprawled out in the king-sized hotel bed last night. Not surprising, since I’ve spent most of the past almost decade on narrow cots and barely-there mattresses. It was tempting to simply stay in bed indefinitely, instead of facing my family again.

  As luck would have it, my parents already went home last night, so there was a little less tension in the room when I walked in. Most of the morning was spent getting Nicky released and ready for the trip home, and sorting out her medication at the hospital pharmacy. The drive to Eminence had been relatively quiet, something I was grateful for, since the increasingly familiar landscape of the Ozarks brought on a full range of memories for me. Good and not so good.

  My parents had been waiting at the house I grew up in when we got there, but they didn’t stay long. They moved to a small bungalow in town when Rafe bought the clinic, and with it the house, nine years ago. Shortly after Dad was diagnosed he retired, determined to get as much traveling in as his condition would allow.

  Rafe didn’t hang around long either. He had some work to do at the clinic before Kathleen dropped off the children. Nicky was visibly tired but wanted to stay on the couch, not ready to let me help her into the hospital bed set up in front of the bay window in the living room.

  “They’ll love you,” she says, a soft smile on her face before worry replaced it. “But for the record, I’m nervous too. Now that I’m home, I’m second-guessing if this was such a good idea.”

  I drop the dishrag in the sink and wipe my hands before joining Nicky on the couch.

  “I’ve learned that in most of Africa,” I start, taking her hand in mine, “death is seen more as a transition than an ending. They don’t look forward to the inevitable, but focus instead on the living that is left. Those who die continue to exist in a spiritual way as part of their family. They don’t believe death is final, but rather an unending circle.”

  “I like that.” Nicky sniffles, and I hand her the box of tissues off the table.

  “Me too. I like the idea we don’t stop being part of a family, simply because we’re no longer there physically.”

  I don’t realize the double meaning of my words until I feel my sister’s hand squeezing my own.

  “I like that even better,” she whispers. “You may not have been here, but you were never gone from my heart, Taz.”

  I blink a few times when my nose prickles with the tears that want to come. No time for that with the kids on their way home.

  “Ditto,” I respond in a raw voice, before clearing my throat and changing the subject. “I’m not a parent, but maybe it would be easier to let the kids come with their own questions about what is happening. From my experience, kids are not stupid and often more tuned-in than we think. Let them indicate what they’re ready to hear. We need to take their cues and be honest in our answers.”

  Nicky nods and opens her mouth to answer when the front door slams open and a tow-haired little boy comes barreling through.

  “Mommy!”

  My heart pounds in my ears as I watch the little Rafe replica advance on his mother, throwing his spindly arms around her neck. Pleasure and pain display in stark contrast on Nicky’s face as she closes her arms around his small body. I have to swallow hard
.

  Not far behind, Kathleen guides in Spencer’s more restrained big sister. Last time I saw Sofie she was a precocious toddler with a ready smile for everyone. There’s no smile now, only suspicious eyes and a sullen look on her face.

  “Oh my God, Taz.” Kathleen lets go of the girl and I can barely get to my feet before she throws herself in my arms. “It’s so good to see you,” she sniffles in my neck, and I have a hard time keeping my own emotions in check.

  Over the past years my friend has kept me informed on the welfare of my family. Pride had prevented me from reaching out myself, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t lapping up every little tidbit of information Kathleen shared with me.

  She lets me go and takes a step back, her hand reaching up to tug on my dreadlocks. “When did you get these?” she wants to know, her fingers rubbing over the odd beads I had woven into my hair.

  “Years ago. It was either this or shave my head. I wanted something with the least amount of daily fuss. One of my patients put them in.”

  Over Kathleen’s shoulder I see Sofie finally approach her mother and sit beside her on the couch, her eyes still full of suspicion as she stares at me.

  “Your hair looks funny,” her brother points out. “Like rope.”

  Before I have a chance to answer, Kathleen does. “They’re called dreads. They look like rope but are really soft, come feel.” A smile plays around my sister’s mouth as she releases him so he can reach out when I bend down. His little fist closes on my hair.

  “How do you brush it?”

  “I don’t have to brush it. It stays exactly like this,” I answer, smiling down at him.

  His head whips around to his mom. “I want dreads too,” he announces.

  “You just don’t want to brush your hair,” his sister snaps, speaking up for the first time.

  “So?” her brother fires back, but before the siblings can take the bickering any further, their mom jumps in.

  “Guys, this is your aunt, Taz. Mommy’s sister.”