Chapter 14
Sara rubbed her hands on her jeans, needing something to do. Beth, who had been texting Mick, dropped her phone back into her bag and took Sara's hands in her own.
"Hey, relax."
"I'm nervous." She gave a hysterical laugh. "A nervous vampire."
"That's normal. Well, the nervous part anyway. This is a big deal," she said, trying to soothe.
Sara just nodded. "A week ago I thought I would be making this trip with Josef. In this new life I find myself in, nothing seems to go the way I planned." She smiled weakly.
Sara had told Beth about her decision to give Josef some space.
"Hey, you have me. Not quite a soul mate… but-"
"But a good friend. Thanks for coming with me."
The limo stopped. "We're here," said Beth. "Ready?"
Sara nodded, her nerves resurfacing. "As I'll ever be."
The door opened, and Smith stood on the outside. "I assured Mr. Kostan that I would accompany you on your visit, Miss Whitley."
"It really isn't necessary, Smith. But thank you for the offer."
"You misunderstand Miss, it isn't an offer. I am under direct orders."
Sara began to argue but Beth touched her arm and gave her a look that said, 'don't bother.'
She sighed and faced the house instead. It was a massive three-story red brick mansion. It wasn't the home she had stayed in as a child. And she didn't even know whether her father still owned that residence.
Beth took the lead and knocked on the front door. She had been the one to make the appointment with John Whitley since she had met him once before.
Beth recognised the housekeeper, the same who had greeted her when she and Mick had visited. "Hi, Beth Turner to see Mr. Whitley."
The housekeeper let the trio in. If she recognised Sara, she didn't let on.
"Right this way, please."
She led them down a hallway and to a closed door. She knocked. "The study. Mr. Whitley is waiting."
Beth nodded her thanks, looked Sara in the eye and smiled encouragingly. She entered first.
Sara followed Beth and looked around, not immediately spotting the man sitting in the wingback chair in front of the fireplace. This may have been a different house, but the books were the same. The familiar smell of the library evoked an unexpected feeling of nostalgia. She remembered her childhood in her fathers study, and the hours they would spend pouring over the books he loved.
She looked around in amazement before her eyes fell to the frail creature in the chair to her right.
John Whitley was not well. His body was a shadow of its former youth and glory. He had cushions propped everywhere in an attempt to make him more comfortable. He had to be in a considerable amount of pain. She knew now why she hadn't immediately discerned his presence. His heartbeat was so shallow. She could hear it now though; faint and feeble, but beating still.
Sara was overwhelmed with an affection she didn't know she would feel. Although she had cared for her parents, they had never been exceptionally close. The older Sara had become, the more time John Whitley had spent with work. For a long time, she had wondered whether those hours in his library as a little girl had been nothing but a dream. Until that moment, she hadn't realised how much she had missed him.
He hadn't noticed her yet, but as if some cosmic hand intervened, his gaze moved to her, and froze. She was sure that for a split second, his heart had even skipped a beat.
Beth, seeing the connection, said, "Mr. Whitley, I know my reasons for coming to see you were rather vague. But as you can see, it was every bit as important as I alluded to." Beth looked from father to daughter. "Please, welcome your daughter."
John had still not uttered a sound. He hadn't even blinked.
Sara took a step toward him, then another, and then kneeled before him. "Dad? Dad, it's really me."
"Sara?" his voice was hoarse and strained. "Oh my God. My daughter, is it really you?" he reached out a hand and touched her hair.
Sara nodded. Too overcome to speak.
"It's a miracle."
Sara didn't need any more encouragement. She gently, but happily, launched herself into her father's fragile arms. John Whitley breathed in shakily, smelling the scent so familiar to him, and shed tears for the first time in years.
"Dad! I've missed you!" she pulled back and gently traced his features. He was a ghost of his former self. It broke her heart to see him in so much pain.
"Sara… Where? How? I don't understand. I searched for you… I was sure you were dead."
"I'll explain everything later. I'm just so happy to see you."
John Whitley pulled his daughter back into his arms and sent a prayer of thanks to God.
And then, he stiffened.
Sara pulled back, concern written on her face.
"Dad? Are you ok?"
Sara watched her father's eyes rove all over her face, her hair, her body – the parts he could see. He took in the fact that her hair hadn't grown an inch since they last saw each other…That the colour was the same vibrant copper it had always been… The fact that her skin no longer held the pink tinge associated with health and vitality… and that her breathing wasn't normal or regular as it should have been.
Sara saw the truth dawn in her father's eyes.
"My God. You're one of them aren't you?"
Sara moved to touch his arm and he shrunk away from her. "Dad, it's still me," she said in earnest.
"But it's not you! He did it! That cowardly bastard made you one of his kind, didn't he?"
Panicked, she said, "Please, let me explain…"
"You're an abomination! A stain on this earth! Hell is what waits for your kind! How could you let him do this to you?"
Sara shrunk back as if she'd been struck.
"I read your journal! You wanted this? To live among the living, but never be alive. How could you want that?"
Slowly, she said, "I am what you say I am." Her father gasped. "Charles turned me in the summer of 1955."
"Fitzgerald, now parading to the world as Josef Kostan. I knew the moment I met him that something wasn't right. I should have sent you away then! Your death would have served you better!"
Sara slowly retold her father her story. The turning gone wrong, the coma, her miracle. With each new revelation, her father seemed to become more and more agitated. He began wheezing.
Beth, who had silently hung back, wanting to give the duo their privacy, looked over at Smith. "Get the housekeeper! He needs help."
"Sara, let me see." Beth tried to move past Sara, but she leaned in closer, trying to assist. It just made it worse. His respiration was severely compromised, and being near her seemed to be setting it off. "Sara!" Beth said firmly. "I need you to move! Please!"
In a daze, Sara moved out of the way. The housekeeper and a nurse came barrelling into the room and took over. Drugs were administered and within minutes, the crisis was averted.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the housekeeper said.
Sara stood in a corner of the room watching, horror written on her face. She had almost been the cause of her father's death.
Beth looked at her sadly and nodded to the housekeeper. John was being sedated. There was nothing more for them to do here.
She went over and gently guided her to the door.
"Wait…" a feint voice said.
They turned back to see John try to speak, fighting the drugs that were already taking affect.
He spoke slowly, and painfully, tears falling from the corners of his eyes. "You… you were my daughter sweet, Sara… and I loved you more than my own life… It would be a lie on my part… to say that I am not happy to see your face… I am... But I cannot accept what you are..." He began coughing again.
"Mr. Whitley, please!" The nurse fussed. He waved her off.
"My Sara… is dead to me... And you are not her… Do not show your face here again… Or I will be forced to finish what I started with Kostan… Next time we meet... death will follow…" More coughing. This time, the housekeeper ushered them out.
Sara's knees buckled. Smith and Beth caught her before she fell to the floor.
"Sara! Come on. Let's go."
Sara forced her legs to move. Her entire body numb. She was only partly aware of being shepherded back into the limousine.
She had no one, and nothing. No life, no old friends, no humanity… no Josef… She was alone.