Chapter 38 Samantha
SAMANTHA
I’ve never seen this side of Harry, and it scares me. I know he is old-school, strong, competitive, and tough. I’ve also seen him open up and be gentle, even funny.
The thing is, he is now shutting down and becoming distant again.
It’s hard to imagine what he is feeling, but I know he’s been through hell. He has also just told me William is talking about retiring.
I can sense that is worrying him, and now with Tusk sounding so sick, he must feel like his entire world is being attacked.
Again.
As I try to hold his hand, I can tell he doesn’t want comfort.
He is likely trying to steel himself from a wall of coming pain and hurt.
With some luck, we will soon arrive, and the vet will explain the new tests show promise. That they will soon do surgery, and all will be fine.
Then, I’ll be able to help Harry find someone like William, and they can learn what William does.
William can retire as planned and live in the cute old cabin around the lake, then things will be stable and back to normal again.
As we blast dangerously into the gates, we continue under the trees. We then pass the family cemetery on the estate, and Harry spins the wheel, fast. He then yanks on the handbrake.
We go into a spin on the soft wet grass, and I scream loudly. Harry is in control, looking as cold as stone.
We finally stop, and the weather is closing in again. As Harry gets out, thunder rumbles in the heavens. “Wait here,” he says coldly.
Walking up the slope alone, Harry looks down at the members of his immediate family.
He is wearing his long dark coat, and it blows in the wind with his long, black hair.
Far in the distance, his chateau stands next to the lake and forest. Beyond that, his wounded tiger is lying down in its massive enclosure, in pain.
Gulping, I stretch my cold fingers in my fine gloves. More thunder rumbles and raindrops start to fall. I look up, and the rain starts to really come down. “Oh God, no!” I say as Harry walks back down.
He avoids my eyes, leaps over the car’s door, and puts the Jag in gear.
Harry pushes through the gears as we streak along the private road and through the rain. We drive quickly up to the front of the chateau, the steady rain coming straight down.
William walks quickly towards us, and he instructs a staff member to drive the Jag into the garage.
Harry and I walk to a man with William. The man carries surgical gloves, and he and Harry exchange a glance.
“How do you want it, Harry?”
“Fast and hard,” my man says as if some warrior.
I try to process the madness and keep up. It’s hard. Who on earth can demand pain like that? Unless there’s a reason and he cares more about his tiger’s pain than his own.
“Tusk is abnormally strong, and you and I have seen him grow since he was a cub. We’ve all monitored his health well, and we’ve done it for years.”
“I understand. Please. Get to the point.”
“The thing is, Harry. It looks like a year, maybe two back, he had some stomach issue. And that started to develop, spread and complicate, unseen. No one’s fault, just jolly bad luck.”
I reach for Harry’s gloved hand, but he pulls it back.
He then crosses his arms, walling the pain in the falling rain. Trying to be alone.
“He won’t make it, Harry, and surgery won’t do a thing. Five major organs have been penetrated. He is, for lack of a better way to put it, riddled with the disease.”
I watch Harry’s jaw tighten, and he looks across his lake. My heart breaks for him, but also for the beautiful large creature I started to love.
“I advise we increase the dose, and well, give him a send-off.”
“No chance?” Harry asks as if now in some distant place.
“No chance, Sir.”
A lone tear runs down his high-boned cheek. Harry nods long and slow, and he looks to the old British vet. “Thanks. Can you do me one last favor?”
“Anything!”
“Take everything you have and leave. I need him alone.”
“Harry, are you—”
“Tusk is my responsibility, and the pain stops now. I will dispatch him, and fast.”
The old vet, Harry, and William exchange cold emotionless looks. The vet then nods, getting it.
“William, get the Land Rover ready. You know what else.”
“Sir,” William says, walking off in the rain.
Harry walks inside the chateau fast as if he has an inevitable job to do.
“Babe?” I say, running and trying to catch up.
Inside, Harry walks through the marble lobby. Under the great winding stairs, he enters the coat and boot room. He then steps up to a wall.
Harry slides a wooden panel across, and I freeze. He punches a code into a high-tech pad, and a small wall slides open. Harry enters a small old-school gun room, and I double-blink.
Quickly selecting a large rifle, he gets a box of long, scary bullets, and he moves fast. As Harry walks out, he hits the panel, and the room is again locked.
Harry lays the powerful rifle on the round rose-arrangement table, and he takes off his suit. He tosses it on the table, now in his boxer briefs.
He is in some kind of mission state, completely in the zone.
“Honey,” I plead. “Honey, what can—”
“Thermos, tea, honey, hot,” Harry says, pausing for only a second.
I see his eyes and feel his crushed spirit. Nodding, I run. After three minutes of fast hand work and careful pouring, I run back to the lobby.
Harry walks from the grand hall, the rifle on his shoulder. As he slips an old silver hipflask in his rain jacket’s pocket, a bottle of whisky goes into his shoulder bag.
He is now dressed in rugged old farm type clothes, matching his dark scowl. Harry walks outside fast, as if on some dark mission.
As William drives quickly up, I pause, unsure what to do.
He and Harry exchange a look, and I hand William the hot tea flask. He smiles at me, and I wipe my cheek. Rain is coming down faster now, and I try to understand the hard, older men.
“Need me to help, Sir?” William looks at Harry, and his face softens.
Harry shakes his head, and again, rain is dripping from his hair, chin, and nose.
“Harry?” I ask softly with my eyes big and my heart hurting for him.
The man turns, and it is not Harry anymore. It is some timeless warrior. A warrior with a horrible job to do. “Go inside.” I shake my head and try to take his hand. “Samantha, inside,” he says calmly.
I shake my head again. “No, Harry, please. Not alone!”
We exchange a look, and he can tell. He can tell I don’t want him to walk through hell alone. Tears stream from my eyes, and I sob.
Harry holds my wet face in his hands, and he yanks me into him. We hug tight in the cold rain, and I cry. I try to be stronger, but I can’t do it. I want to be stronger for him, but this is wrong. So fucking wrong.
All of it.
The rain comes down harder, and suddenly, Harry pulls quickly away from me. I stagger back a foot, and he looks up at the rain.
Harry feeds three long bullets into the rifle, then he throws it back on his shoulder and walks away.
As I watch my man head through the rain, more thunder rumbles in the heavens.
Across the lake, the tiger roars loudly, in pain, and lightning flashes, shaking me.
My world is burning, and it’s doing it right in front of my eyes.
I turn to William, and the kind old man exits the car. He holds me tight, and I let go. I cry in the pouring rain. My new life is breaking apart. Every piece of it.