“Thank you, I will,” Bowie said, unnerved by being in her presence.
It was impossible to ignore the changes in her appearance. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, and the lack of makeup made her look even younger than he knew she was, but the dark circles under her eyes and the huge weight loss were evidence of how hard this was on her. But he’d come to ask her a question, and he wasn’t leaving until he got it said. Unconsciously, he leaned forward, as if shortening the distance between them would make her answer easier to bear.
“I just heard about your father.”
It was all she could do to stand her ground when she wanted to run.
Sweet Jesus, my worst nightmare is coming true. He’s going to ask.
Her knee-jerk reaction was to occupy herself with work so she wouldn’t have to think, so she put down the guardrail and resumed her father’s bath. She folded the sheet back so she had access to his right leg and fished the washcloth out of the water.
“Talia?”
“What?” she said, as she wrung out the excess water and began wiping the soap off her father’s skin.
“When was your father diagnosed with Alzheimer’s?”
“Years ago,” she muttered, and rinsed the washcloth, then wiped all the way down to his foot.
“How many years?” Bowie asked.
She dried him, then pulled the sheet back over his leg.
“Oh, I don’t know...maybe seven or so, but at this point it hardly matters.”
Bowie had tried to fool himself, tried to tell himself he was over her—over all this—until now. Why did he feel like his whole future hinged on how she answered his next question?
“Is this why you wouldn’t marry me?”
The question felt like a death blow. Without thinking, she put a hand to her heart, expecting to feel a mortal wound. Instead, all she did was leave a wet handprint on the front of her shirt.
Bowie knew he made her nervous. He also knew she wouldn’t be afraid of him. He’d never done anything to her but love her, so it had to be because she was about to be caught in the lie that had ended them.
“What does it matter?” she finally said, and, to her credit, faced him, even lifting her chin as if she expected a blow.
“Matter? What does it matter?” he asked, and then circled the bed and took her by the shoulders. “I thought you didn’t love me.”
A soft moan slipped out of her mouth, the punctuation to an answer she couldn’t voice as she dropped her head and closed her eyes.
“No. You don’t get a pass on this,” he said, gripping her shoulders tightly. The moment he did, he was shocked that he could so easily feel her bones. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? God, please tell me that didn’t hurt,” he whispered, and pulled her into his arms.
The shock of being held was second only to the fact that she was in Bowie Youngblood’s arms. It was too much too soon. She didn’t have time to block the flood of emotions and regrets.
One sob bubbled up, and the next one choked her. Before she could stop herself, she was crying.
Bowie had his answer, and it broke his heart. She broke his heart. All the time he’d wasted being angry and feeling used, he should have been at her side.
Six
“You should have told me,” Bowie said. “We could have figured some—”
Talia shoved him away. Her face was still streaked with tears, and her words came out in choked, angry sobs.
“We? What newlyweds get married like this? I would have had no time for you. There would not have been an ‘us’ or college. It would have been Dad and me, and you in a separate space in my head and heart.”
“I just thought...there are places where...”
Again Talia reacted in anger.
“Stop talking!” she said, and then took the tail of her blouse and wiped the tears off her face.
When she did, he saw the hint of ribs and her too-tiny waist, and shut the hell up. It was blatantly obvious how ignorant he was of this disease and what she had endured.
She strode to the other side of the bed and finished bathing her father without looking Bowie’s way again.
Afraid she would kick him out, he went over to the sofa and sat down, watching the gentle way she tended her father’s body. When she began to roll him toward her so she could wash his back, Bowie jumped up and did it for her.
Too tired to argue and aware it would be to her father’s detriment not to accept, she finished his bath, then began rubbing lotion all over his skin.
“Tell me when you’re ready and I’ll ease him back down,” Bowie said.
“You can do it now,” she said, and then proceeded to put lotion on the rest of his body, diaper him and cover him back up.
As she began gathering up the bath things, Bowie picked up the basin of water.
“Where do I pour this?”
“Bathroom is down the hall, first door on the left. Just pour it in the tub.”