Love in the Dark (LarssonSiblingsSeries#1)

CHAPTER THREE - DELILAH

DELILAH

I fiddle with the tubes feeding oxygen into my father's lungs until he sighs in relief. A couple of days ago, he had an attack so bad I had to call for an ambulance. Finding him in his chair, gasping for breath with his lips turning blue had me reaching to call them again, not listening when he begged me not to. Hospitals have become my dad's second home over the past two years with his Pulmonary Fibrosis becoming impossible to handle at home.

It's hard to see him so sick.

"Promise me that you'll never smoke." Dad coughs through the words.

I press the button near his hospital bed, causing it to shift forward. "I promise. It's never appealed to me."

"It's a dirty habit. One I'm regretting more than anything right now. The doctor said my fibrosis is more than likely caused by my twenty-a-day stick addiction."

I sit back down on the chair next to the bed and grab hold of his hand. "Yes, but you stopped smoking ten years ago."

Watching his face crease with the pain in his chest is torture. I wish I could take it all away. "I'm in my fifties. I shouldn't be this way."

"It's a bad spell. Once we get your oxygen levels back up, you'll be feeling so much better."

I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince more, him or me.

Dad starts to move the IV line in his hand. "I want to go home. It's depressing in here. The food is awful, it smells like piss, and the toilet is disgusting. The only joy I get is from you visiting and the pretty young nurse bringing my medication in the morning."

I laugh as I rest my fingers over his hand to stop him from doing any damage to his drip. "I thought you might show an interest in the new nurses' on shift."

"I'm not dead yet, baby girl. Apparently, my Scottish accent does it for them." He throws me a wink.

I smile at the sister of the ward as she does the rounds. "Oh, is that right?"

"Aye," he chuckles, a slight tinge of pink in his pale cheeks. "Your old man has life in his bones yet."

I check my watch to see it's time for me to go back to work. "I don't doubt it. I best get back to work, but I'll see you later on."

Dad lets me kiss his cheek, stealing another before I can stand up. "You do not need to come and visit me a second time. You're busy keeping my business afloat while I'm in this mess. They'll probably discharge me tomorrow. I'll see you then."

Getting myself together, I grab my belongings and walk over to the edge of the hospital bed. "Well, okay then. I guess that means I can get stuff organised. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Of course not, lass. Get yourself making those pennies."

I absorb how much healthier he looks now he has the right amount of oxygen in his blood, worrying that I won't be able to care for him anymore. He needs professional help. "You ordered dinner, right?"

"Yeah, a wee turkey salad."

"I'll cook your favourite when you come out. That'll give you something to look forward to, huh?" I reply, my hand reaching out to squeeze his foot covered with the thin bedsheets.

Dad grins at me. "I love your cooking, baby girl. I canny wait."

After blowing him a kiss, I make my way off of the C Ward to follow the signs out of the hospital, giving the nurses sat at their station a wave goodbye. Over these past few years, both my dad and me have grown to recognise the faces that work here.

The shop is cold when I get inside, telling me the boiler is on it's way out again. I can't afford a replacement, so I deal with what I have. Not wanting to be cold, I grab some gloves from the desk and get stuck into the paperwork.

A couple of hours pass by in a stressful work haze, surrounding me in tonnes of paper and files, my fingers hardly having a break between typing on the keyboard and scribbling in multiple notebooks. I call it organised chaos as I remember where everything important lives. It wouldn't hurt to file a few bits, though, probably making it a little less daunting.

I'm scribbling a name on the file divider when the bell above the door chimes, warning me of someone's arrival. I drop everything on the desk just as my eyes lift to meet Edward's. The temperature in the room suddenly drops even lower as he strolls across the place with a pile of envelopes in his arms. I can't make out his mood. Stoic as ever, he keeps his cards close to his chest.

"You weren't in so the postman left your mail with us. You need to stop him from doing that. I don't like having the responsibility of holding other people's stuff," he says, throwing the envelopes and booklets onto my work notes.

I begin to tidy up my desk, feeling his eyes surveying it all. "Good evening to you as well."

The disapproval is strong in the air. "How can you be this unorganised? Doesn't it stress you out?"

Our advertising company is somewhat run down with its fading walls and stained floors that are hidden by the many rugs and paintings that try to hide the mess. The only good thing about the place is the solid oak desk and leather computer chair. It's highly embarrassing, and I long to give the shop a real makeover.

"Yes, it does stress me out. But, I have other things on my mind, so I'm pushing that hurdle down the list," I say, shoving the pens in the pot near the computer screen.

Edward looks around the room as if he's going to catch some kind of deadly disease from just being in here. I already know he hates it in here. There really is no need to be rude. "There's no wonder you have no client base. Who would trust a company who can't even be bothered to seal up the cracks on the wall?"

I feel protective of this shop. It was all I knew as a child playing out the back in the summer holidays, and helping to hand out flyers in the wintertime. "Do you ever have anything nice to say?"

Edward pulls off his baseball cap to turn it the other way, signalling that he's in for some exercise as I let my eyes wander down his gym clad body. "I have plenty of nice things to say about people, just not you."

I shake my head. "If your sour mood is about the EcoMax deal then you need to get a grip."

"You know my company can provide a better service. Give me their contacts, and it'll all be over."

I rip into an envelope. "Not a chance in hell."

"Why are you so difficult?" he says.

My laugh is loud. "You think I'm difficult?"

Edward fiddles with his watch strap. "Yes."

"Stop acting so spoilt." It's verging on ridiculous the way he's going on about this deal like it's his right to have it. "Act your age, man."

I keep reading through the letter when he goes quiet, hoping that he'll disappear the way he came in. There's a quote written down here from a firm who convert housing for medical reasons. If dad's house is fit with the medical equipment he needs, then there will be fewer hospital visits, making it easier for his daily carers too.

No such luck with Edward leaving as he pipes up. "Have you done your research on the company yet? A big corporation like them will be needy, you know? They'll demand things that feel impossible, push your patience to the limits."

I flare my nostrils out. "I'm sure they're a walk in the park compared to you. I pitched to them. I stood in front of seven other agencies and told them why we could help them expand. I know what I'm doing. So, don't you dare stand here and ask me if I've done my research yet. I probably know more than you. I'm over this conversation. Thanks for bringing the mail. Goodbye."

It's not often that Edward is silent, but it seems my words get through to him as he spins around and storms towards the door, turning back to look my way. I wait for him to say something mean, but he doesn't, merely opening the door to slam it closed behind him.