"Chapter 15"
Two more days went by. A long call to the doctor explained and finalized why Alec was coughing so much: like both of them had suspected his lungs were filling with fluid, leaving him unable to breathe correctly and unable to lay flat anymore. With that came another minor scare—after a particularly harsh coughing fit he had drawn his hand away from his mouth to find it streaked with pink froth. Even with his best attempt to hide it Ellie could see the clear terror he felt seeing that, and he tried his hardest to keep it from the children. Fred, thankfully, was still too young to notice such things but Ellie suspected that both Daisy and Tom knew.
She and Alec had their second or third fight when he had a second episode while napping on the couch.
"Absolutely not," he growled, looking at her through pain-glazed eyes. His breathing was too ragged for Ellie's comfort but she didn't allow her resolve to waver.
"It wouldn't be for all the time," she argued, her arms crossed. "Just while you sleep."
"I don't need it," he snapped. "I'm not a bloody invalid who needs oxygen wherever they go."
Ellie's expression cooled. "That was uncalled for." She shifted from foot to foot, not about to back down. "If you have another episode like just now it should help you through it." When he didn't respond, she resorted to some of her exasperation with him. "You're being deliberately pig-headed about this, refusing the things that will help you."
He still didn't respond; well and truly concerned now she dropped her arms. "Are you afraid of what we'll think?" she demanded, the thought only then occurring to her. "That we'll somehow look down on you?"
He bit his lip, and that was answer enough. Ellie felt sympathetic understanding flood through her and she sat beside him. "You know that we never would."
He was silent for another long moment, afraid to catch her eye. "It's hard," he admitted in a small voice. "I'm not strong enough for this, Ellie."
He was one of the strongest people she'd ever met, and she hated the fact that he was so utterly blind to that fact. But she didn't say that aloud, knowing he wouldn't believe her. "That's why you have us here, Alec." She wasn't so bothered by calling him by name anymore, just as he wasn't by calling her Ellie. "Please, we've talked about this before."
He gave in finally, allowing Ellie to get the oxygen he needed—but even then it was clear that nothing was enough. He reached a point where he refused even the lightest, smallest meals Ellie could think of so she resorted to making him smoothies in the mixer but most of the time they were only half-finished; his weight, already light, started to significantly fall. Most nights he would be seated in the living room with a book until the rest of them woke up the following day. Then there was the first morning when he didn't leave the bed, too light-headed and in pain to move. Daisy stayed with him.
Ellie was so thankful for Alec's daughter; if Ellie needed to go to work Daisy volunteered to watch the boys. When Alec needed his medicines it was Daisy who measured them out and made sure he took them. It was Daisy, too, who helped him to the restroom and bath, refusing to allow Ellie to help her. But Daisy's importance wasn't just for her father; to Ellie's delight Tom started coming out of his shell. Being nearly a teenager she knew he was more interested in girls but to her credit Daisy merely treated him as a friend, at one point offering to go outside to play football with him. Tom, it was clear, was impressed and he admitted to Ellie one evening that playing with Daisy had been the first time since Danny had died that he had been out with a football.
Beth called late one afternoon, asking how everything was. Until that time Ellie had been merely focused on how everyone else was doing but with Beth's inquiry she almost broke down. She was not alone, however, and so she didn't but it was a near thing and Beth sensed it. She offered to come over again but Ellie steadfastly told her she needed to worry about her fast-approaching baby first, even though she desperately wanted her friend there with her.
Beth didn't fight her but she did say to tell Alec she sent her regards. Again Ellie wondered what it was the two of them had discussed but she resisted the temptation to ask.
Chloe, however, did stop over, undoubtedly curious about Ellie's latest guest—probably alerted by Beth who knew her daughter and Daisy were around the same age. To Ellie's delight the girls got on immediately; although Daisy was clearly exhausted and run ragged by stress and lack of sleep she accepted Chloe's invitation of walking down to the beach together.
Daisy loved the smell of the salty air, tinged as it was by the sea, although she disliked how cold the air was. Definitely approaching winter; she had grabbed one of Ellie's coats, a bright orange parka that was enormous on her.
"Your dad walked this way a lot," Chloe suddenly said, looking back at her.
"Did he?" Part of her twisted painfully at the mention of her father but the other part was pleased that she was walking the same ground he had. "You ever stop and talk to him?"
"Sometimes. Most of the tie we would just nod and continue on our own way but it kind of became a game after a while, I guess, to see if we'd mange to cross paths. Then there were times where when we could stop and talk for ten minutes. He mentioned you a few times, actually."
Daisy blushed. "I hate it when he does that," she admitted with a small laugh. "It's like your parents have always got to say how proud they are of you to the whole world—and you don't ever know what they're going to say."
Chloe laughed. "I know, right? My dad loved to brag on me and my brother Danny all the time. 'Dan just won this medal' or 'Chloe got full marks on her science exam'. It used to drive us crazy but that's Dad for you." She sobered, however, thinking. "He hasn't done that in a while, though. I think it hurts him too much—there was one time a month age he started to brag on Danny and he turned all funny afterwards."
"Does it—get any easier?"
Chloe stopped. "Kind of," she said slowly. "The first couple months were awful, everything any of us did reminded us of Danny. The jelly in the fridge, you'd look at it and think, 'He'll never put that on his toast again'. His linens would be in the closet and your first thought was, 'We don't have a use for those now.'" She kicked at the dirt for a moment, then met Daisy's gaze. "But I can have good days now. I can think of something he did or said and laugh instead of cry. And you'll always find ways of- of making a tribute, I guess. My password for my computer has Danny mentioned in it and every time I type it in I smile because I'm remembering him, not just reminded by something."
They had reached the edge of the ocean. "Tell you something, Daisy. Don't sit surrounded by grief all the time, okay? And don't let people tell you you have to. After Danny died my boyfriend Dean made me a fun room where I could just take a break and forget about how much I missed Danny. It's helped a lot."
Danny managed a weak smile. "I'll remember that."
Chloe started to type at her phone. "Tell you what," she said. "I'll give you my number so you can call or text me. We can hang out. I know you probably won't be here for much longer but we can still talk."
Daisy's smile widened. "Thanks. I want to stay here, actually. I like it better than I do Glasgow but I don't know how well my mum will like that idea. Maybe Ellie or John will help me figure something out."
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Ellie watched Chloe and Daisy walk away, grinning at the orange jacket Alec's daughter had chosen to wear. Well, at least it would keep her warm.
Alec, when she went in to check on him, was not at all impressed. "Please tell me Daisy didn't decide to wear that bloody monstrosity," he groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Sorry," Ellie apologized sweetly. "I've corrupted her."
"She's going to find herself disowned that way." He coughed then, long and hard; it didn't take much to set him off anymore, even if it was only a deep breath. When finally it was done he fell back wearily against the pillows sitting him up. "I've gotten a 'Do Not Resuscitate' order," he said hoarsely. "For when it happens."
She stared, taken aback. "When did you do that?" She couldn't remember him calling anyone or even so much as mentioning it before.
"While I was still in the hospital." He was cut off again with another bout of coughing; Ellie grabbed a few tissues that were sitting on the side table and handed them over, hoping to spare him some mess. When finally this coughing passed and he drew his hand away she sucked in a sharp breath.
"It's more blood than anything."
He bunched the tissues up—he was becoming much better at hiding how shaken he was by seeing it, but he was just a little too pale. "It's normal now."
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There was little change the next two days; he didn't fit and his coughing didn't worsen. Daisy spent more time with Chloe, either walking to the beach or climbing the cliffs; Alec's daughter finally met Beth and Mark, and Dean (who had been out of town the past couple months helping restore a relative's house), and explored the town.
Chloe showed her the main street and the businesses, going a little bit more into detail about Danny's murder case. They stopped into the Echo headquarters at Daisy's request.
Maggie Radcliffe was typing away at an article but greeted them both warmly, looking at Daisy curiously. "I don't think I've had the pleasure, miss-?"
"Daisy," she said with a smile, extending a hand. "Hardy." She, too, was looking at rather curious. "You were the one who wrote the article on my dad, weren't you?"
Maggie shook her head, the cigarette held loosely in her fingers following the motion. "Not me, I'm afraid. That was written by Olly Stevens, my most excellent protégé. He's not here for the day, though, he was called to a meeting out of town by an old friend."
"Oh." Daisy deflated a little, clearly disappointed she wasn't able to thank the main writer, but very quickly she perked up again. "Well, I just wanted to thank him, then. And you, too, since you listened to my dad." She reached into her pocket then and withdrew a wrinkled piece of notebook paper, handing it over to Maggie. "Please, I want you to write this when it's time."
Maggie frowned, taking the paper hesitantly. Very quickly her expression dropped and she looked up at Daisy. "I'm so sorry, petal. Of course I will."
Daisy's smile was tremulous. "Thank you."
They left the Echo very quickly afterwards, and Chloe did not bring up what Daisy had wanted the editor to write. They had not gone very far before they ran into Paul, on his way to talk to meet one of his church-goers. "Paul Coates."
"Daisy Hardy."
When hearing that the vicar had been in several times to see her father Daisy was certainly surprised, explaining she had never seen Alec go within five feet of the church in her entire life, but it was clear she liked Paul. "Could you come around tonight?" she asked quietly, almost shamefully.
Paul looked at her curiously. "Of course I can." His grin was small but genuine. "Better warn your dad, otherwise he'll probably throw something at me."
"It's alright, he has terrible aim." Her humor was genuine. "He's just—he's not doing well."
She didn't have to clarify. Paul understood and he nodded, quite serious now. "Of course," he said again. He nodded at Chloe and then went on his way down the sidewalk. Daisy watched him go then finally shook herself, determined not to allow her mood to dip any further.
"Now, where was that chip stand you were telling me about?"
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Daisy was still out—invited for a quiet dinner with the Latimers—when Paul came knocking at Ellie's door. It was John who answered and let him through. Fred was playing with a set of blocks on the living room floor and Tom was distractedly watching a show, but the latter greeted the vicar sincerely enough before going back to what he was doing.
Ellie, hearing voices, appeared at the top of the stairs. She was already dressed in comfortable pajamas, thin pants and a large shirt, but she looked thoroughly tired. Paul wondered how much worse things could have gotten in the few days he hadn't visited. "Paul. We weren't expecting you."
"Alec's daughter, Daisy, invited me over. I'm sorry, I can come back tomorrow—"
"No, no," Ellie said hastily, descending the stairs. "No, you don't have to do that, Paul. Actually, I think you should be here, I think Alec's annoyed with only a couple of us to talk to."
"And you know how I am with conversation," Paul replied with a small smile. "I'll see myself up, then. Is he sleeping?"
Ellie shook her head. "He doesn't much, anymore," she admitted. "Mainly he'll sit and read. Or one of us will read to him."
When Paul entered the guest room, Alec was clearly already aware who was there because he barely looked over. To the vicar's amusement he was almost through reading The Last Battle in the Narnia series.
"How did you like them?" he asked, sitting down on the chair beside the bed.
Alec glanced over. "They certainly don't make kids' books this way anymore," he answered dryly. His voice was hoarse.
If Ellie was exhausted it was clear that Alec was doing even worse. His skin was waxen, his hair unkempt, and although it was clear he had shaved there was the dark shadow of stubble present on his face again. His breathing was harsh even with the help of oxygen.
Paul sat on the chair beside the bed. "Your daughter invited me over."
Alec rolled his eyes. "She invites everyone. Don't take it personally."
"Well, someone's got to do the inviting anyway and it certainly won't be you." Although the words were sharp Paul's tone wasn't, lessening some of the gravity by edging it into a joke. Alec snorted, then grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you going to finish it tonight?" He gestured to the book.
"Dunno." For a long moment the retired copper merely gazed down at the now-closed book held loosely in his hands. "I've been getting headaches recently. Can't concentrate as well anymore."
"Here, hand it over." Paul rifled through the pages, reveling in the familiar homely smell of a well-used book, before finding the place Alec had left off. "Oh, this is a good part, Eustace being dragged through the stable door."
"Yeah, wonderful, his fate being a sacrifice to Tash," Alec said sarcastically, looking at him like he was crazy.
Paul grinned. "O yea of little faith," he murmured softly, and began to read: "'Tirian and the Unicorn rushed to rescue him. But the Calormene was now far nearer the door than they. Before they had covered half the distance he had flung Eustace in and shut the door on him…'" He read for nearly an hour and a half, entirely engrossing himself in the story as he always did, all through the final battle of Narnia and the new beginning with all of Aslan's beloved, including all of the well-loved characters from the very first book. By the time he was reading the last paragraph his voice cracked from a dry throat. "'…All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before'."
It was quiet for a long moment; Alec had listened to it all without saying a word about it. The vicar had a good voice, probably born from reading scripture every Sunday.
They were books his mum would have read. She would have loved them to bits, probably spouting off facts about certain passages in the books mirroring the Bible; hell, he could see the parallels, they weren't difficult to spot. But Paul was silent, clearly allowing him to make the first move.
"So their reward was to die," he said flatly.
Paul looked over, startled. "No. Their reward was to be with Him for all eternity. Aslan took them from their world to His own because He loved them."
"Funny how I've heard vicars like you say that exact thing to grieving people. Did you tell Beth that?"
Paul didn't bristle. "I did," he answered truthfully. "I told her because she asked. I can't explain why things happen the way they do. I can't explain why Joe Miller murdered Danny, I don't know why Danny had to die, I don't know why this has happened to you... but I keep my faith. Because sometimes my faith is all I have." He leaned forward, voice soft. If he had been loud Alec would have known he was just spouting words but he wasn't. "That's all God wants from us: to have faith. To believe and be saved in Him."
"Even the dying?"
The sarcastic, even bitter, edge was still there in Alec's voice, Paul noticed; but it wasn't entirely put off. He was listening even now.
Keep going.
"From anyone," he answered truthfully. "Anyone at all."