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.