Chapter Fifteen
“FADER,” AURORA CALLED as she burst through the front door, Jiro hot on her heels.
Not bothering to stop and remove her shoes or jacket, she rounded into the living room and found the TV blaring but no sign of Karl.
“Fader, I’m home. I’m so sorry I’m late.
” She would never live this down, her father would never let her forget her failings.
But right now she was feeling very contrite, as if she really was a bad daughter, which was exactly what Karl was going to say when he saw her. But he wasn’t in the living room.
Could have taken himself to bed already?
Highly unlikely. If he’d missed dinner, he would be starving, and he would want to tell her all about it when she finally got home.
She double-checked the living room, noting the Christmas tree still twinkled merrily in the window and nothing else seemed to be amiss.
She was just about to check the kitchen when she passed the stairway leading up to her bedroom and pulled up short. A crumpled heap of what looked like rags lay at the bottom of the stairs.
“Fader,” she cried, kneeling down beside him.
He was unresponsive and lying at an awkward angle.
Her chest tightened, and suddenly she could barely breathe.
What if he were dead? She couldn’t bring herself to turn him over and check.
It was Jiro who got down on the floor beside her, pushed her gently out of the way, reaching to check Karl’s carotid artery.
“He’s alive,” he said, sitting back on his heels.
“But I don’t think we should move him.” Aurora wasn’t sure whether to agree or not.
She suddenly had no idea what to do. Every coherent thought, every reasoned reaction fled in the face of her father’s disaster.
“I’ll ring for an ambulance,” Jiro said calmly.
“You should find something to cover him and keep him warm.”
“Yes, yes.” But it took a few seconds for her legs to get the message that she needed to hop up off the floor.
She was back in a flash with a throw rug from the couch, covering him gently.
Oh God, she’d known something bad would happen, had felt it in her bones.
She shouldn’t be relying so much on Millie.
The poor woman was upset to find that she’d missed Aurora’s message, and terribly apologetic about not being there when she was needed, but it wasn't Millie’s fault, not at all.
It was Aurora’s. She needed to work out a better care plan for her father. This wasn’t working.
She reached out her hand to touch her father, but then withdrew it.
She had no idea how badly he was hurt. Did he have broken bones?
A fractured skull? Internal injuries. The list grew bigger and bigger inside her head.
How long had he been lying here? He must’ve fallen down the stairs.
But what was he doing trying to get up to her bedroom in the first place?
She glanced up the tall staircase. She made sure the ground floor was wheelchair accessible.
But never once did she say she thought her room might cause a problem for her father, because she never dreamed he would want to get up there.
The next half hour became a blur as the ambulance arrived and the paramedics carefully checked Karl and finally got him on a stretcher, making sure to mitigate any spinal injuries.
Karl remained unresponsive throughout the whole procedure, and if it hadn’t been for Jiro standing steadfastly by her side, Aurora wasn’t sure she would’ve got through it all.
She told the paramedics they would follow the ambulance to the hospital, and she slipped into the driver’s seat of her car just as the ambulance pulled out of the driveway.
“Thank you,” she said to Jiro as he got into the passenger seat beside her.
“That’s never happened to me before. It’s like I was in a complete daze.
” It was a hard thing to admit. She thought she was tougher than that; she had to be tougher than that if she was going to be a good cop.
“It’s called shock, and just because you’re a highly trained police officer, it doesn’t make you any less susceptible when it’s your loved one who’s in pain.”
Funny, Aurora had never thought of Karl as a loved one before. Some days she even thought she hated him. But he was still her flesh and blood, and her reaction today proved that somewhere deep inside she still recognized him as her father.
They followed the ambulance all the way to the hospital, Jiro saying soothing words that she didn’t really hear.
Then they waited together, Aurora pacing across the waiting room, Jiro keeping step with her, until she told him to check on his own father, who was in another wing of the same hospital.
He did so grudgingly but was back in half an hour, telling her there was still no change, and still no sign of Taro either.
She didn’t want to comment on the irony of the fact that now both of their fathers were in hospital.
What a pair they were. But he said it for her in the end, when she suggested he try and get some sleep on one of the chairs in his father’s room—they were both exhausted, and he at least might get some rest—but he refused.
“You were there for me when I was distraught about my papa. I want to be here for you.” She looked at him properly for the first time since she’d found her father lying on the floor.
He stared back, dark eyes challenging, mouth quirked to one side.
She traced his high cheekbones, watched that truant lock of hair fall over his eyes.
She could smile and tell him he was being sweet, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.
Because she could see behind his provocative gaze that he wanted to be here for her, to support her.
It was an interesting revelation, because not many people in her life had actually been there for her.
Without asking, he stepped in and pulled her into his embrace.
And she accepted it wholeheartedly, sank into his arms and let out a deep sigh, releasing some of the tension from tonight’s events.
After their intimate moments in the cabin today, there was a bond between them now.
An ease and effortlessness that hadn’t been there before.
And now she felt safe in his arms too. Which again was a first for her.
She was the one who was supposed to make other people feel safe.
And earlier today she had done exactly that, kept him safe from the sniper.
Perhaps tonight it was her turn to receive instead of always giving.
“Thank you,” she said into his neck, accepting his sacrifice with grace.
She seemed to be saying that a lot to him this evening.
They stayed together for many, many moments, standing in the middle of the room, clasping each other, she drawing calm and resilience from him, him lending her his strength.
There was nothing sexual about this embrace, and she was glad he hadn’t tried to kiss her, because this was better; it was exactly what she needed.
A nurse bustled by the open doorway, the sound of her shoes squeaking on the linoleum finally breaking them apart. They separated, and she glanced up into his handsome face. He brought his hand up to wipe away a tear with his thumb. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying.
“Does your little sister know what’s going on?” he asked gently.
“Yes.” Aurora tried not to sigh with exasperation as she stepped away from him.
Astrid had been concerned of course when she’d called to tell her, but not concerned enough to leave her job and come up and see her father.
In some ways, Aurora didn’t blame her. But in other ways she resented the fact that she was left to deal with their father’s problems on her own.
And that resentment had boiled over, and she’d finally said some things she regretted.
But perhaps they were things Astrid needed to hear, because in the end conscience had got the better of her.
“Astrid is catching the train up tomorrow. She should be here by late afternoon,” she told Jiro.
It was a good thing that Astrid was coming; it was time she saw how bad their father was getting.
Until now, Aurora had been protecting her younger sister from the worst, but that was just delaying the inevitable.
Their father was going to need more care than Aurora could give sooner or later.
And she didn’t know what she was going to do when that time came.
The doctor came into the waiting room, and they both turned to her expectantly—this was the same doctor Aurora had spoken to when they’d first admitted her father, Doctor Hessel.
She was tall and extremely skinny, with sharp features, and short dark hair.
“He’s in recovery. You can come and see him now,” she said brusquely.
“He suffered a broken hip, a fractured wrist, and head trauma leading to a severe concussion.”
Aurora clasped her hand to her mouth. That sounded awful.
But then she quickly remembered who she was and where she was.
She might not be in her police uniform, but in this small town where most people would know who she was, she was expected to act a particular way.
Steeling herself, she squared her shoulders and nodded.
“At the moment, the head trauma is the most serious injury. We will need him to wake up before we can truly assess any impairments.”