EPILOGUE

2.2K 96 43
                                    


He was still and pale.

Tamsin couldn't help but push back the hair covering his forehead. She held his limp hand in hers, kissing it. Praying for some miracle. In the end, it'd gotten so bad that he'd had to move permanently into the hospital. They all knew he was close to the end. Tamsin had been against it from the beginning, but the kids had convinced her it was the best thing for him.

Though Angus had been able to see for many years now after having undertaken a special operation for his eyes—they'd had to perform it three times before it actually worked—they were now closed, his breathing shallow, but steady. There came a soft knock at the door, and Bethany, their youngest, poked her head inside the room.

'Mom?' She whispered gently, coming inside. Tamsin noticed a heavy stack of textbook's in her daughter's arms. Beth, one of out the five children they'd had, was finishing her last year of university and studying to become a doctor. She was also the last child to live in the same town as Tamsin and Angus—the other four had spread out to different corners of the United States, settling into new careers and marriages. Beth was her baby—but not for long. She, too, was engaged, to Lina and Brett's son, Michael. The wedding was set for June, but Tamsin knew, deep inside of her, that Angus wouldn't be there to see it.

Beth's eyes—so much like Angus', big, blue, caring—widened with worry when her eyes fell on her father and his crumpled figure. 'How's dad?' She asked, sitting down next to Tamsin.

'He's still.' Tamsin responded. She had vowed—from the moment she'd given birth to her first child, Leila—that she would never let them see her cry. They would never see her crumble. She had always wanted to be strong for them.

'Dr. Brooks said he's weakening,' Beth whispered, her eyes filling with tears. She was so much like Angus in that way. She cared so much for everyone else. She had always been so gentle and quiet. All of their other children—Leila, Ethan, Natalie and Isabel—were quite the opposite. They were fierce, loud, and the life of the party. At the same time, though, they were all unique, and all had different interests. Beth, for example, was quiet and loving. She cared only about helping others, hence her decision to become a doctor. Leila, on the other hand, was a divorced single mother with a little girl, Chloe. She lived in Minnesota and worked as a secretary for an architect. Ethan was married with no desire to have children, and worked as a flight attendant, which made it hard for him and his wife, Marlene. Nat was a human rights lawyer living with her boyfriend in Los Angeles, and Isabel was an artist. She'd always connected with Angus on a level none of the others had. He'd always guided her through her art.

And now, after forty blissful years of marriage and successful careers and children, they were here. In a hospital. Fighting cancer.

Angus stirred a little, making a whimpering noise Tamsin had never heard before. A moment later he grunted in pain before his eyes snapped open. 'Tams...' He trailed off, barely having the energy to say her name.

Tamsin instantly reached for his hand. She glanced at Beth. 'Honey, why don't you go see if your brother and sisters want some coffee?' It was a ploy, of course, to get Beth out of the room. Tamsin didn't want her daughter to see what she knew was so obviously coming. Her eyes squeezed in pain.

A tear trickled down the side of Angus' face. 'I'm in pain,' he whispered. He would never have done such a thing before, admit to being in pain or admit to being miserable, which only confirmed what she was already dreading: that he was so close to the end. She wanted more than anything in the world for time.

Time. Something that had never meant much to her before. Except now. Now it was all she ever thought about. If only we had more time.

'I know you are,' she whispered back.

Angus gasped, wincing. He exhaled a shaky breath and clutched Tamsin's hand tightly. Her hand moved to page the nurse, but he stopped her. He only took a moment to caress her face, even though she knew the movement hurt him. It costed him everything to say it, but he did:

'My beautiful woman,' he rasped, 'I've loved you the same way since we were seventeen.'

And then those beautiful eyes closed, never to be opened again.

---

Hey, guys! If you made it this far to the end of the book, then I thank you immensely. It's readers like you guys that vote & comment and show me that they appreciate my work that keeps me motivated to write :)

Thank you all  so much for your kind words & support.


The Boy with the Blind EyesWhere stories live. Discover now