The Last Breath by Kimberly Belle

Author:Kimberly Belle [Belle, Kimberly]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Sagas, Contemporary, Fiction
ISBN: 9780778317227
Google: L6MQBAAAQBAJ
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 2014-09-29T18:30:00+00:00

21

EVEN ASLEEP, MY father looks angry. Brows knitted, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched. His lips are scrunched into a hard line that drives both corners downward, and his hands clutch the wool blanket in tight fists atop his chest. Even his dark brown hair, now thinning above the temples, sticks out in wild, almost feral peaks on his head. He doesn’t open his eyes when I approach his bed.

Neither does Fannie. Snoring softly in an armchair next to him, she naps with the wild abandon of a toddler, or perhaps a disaster aid worker on a ten-minute break. Her arms and legs are flopped wide, her mouth is hanging slack and open, and her head is thrown back against the cheap chenille fabric. Yet somehow, she makes her awkward position look comfortable.

I give her arm a shake. For someone so sound asleep, Fannie awakens with surprising clarity. She sits up and smiles.

“Why don’t you go take a break,” I whisper, gesturing toward my father. “I’ll sit with him for a bit.”

She nods, reaching fluidly for her clogs, and pushes to a stand. “Of course, darlin’,” she says in a stage whisper. “I’ll just be in the kitchen, making us some tea.” And then she stretches her arms to the ceiling and waddles off.

I sink into her still-warm chair and look at my father, feeling my stomach flip. I’ve had sixteen years of wandering the globe to distance myself mentally from him, from his constant cries of injustice and from my guilt at not believing his innocence, but for my father, the anger and resentment must still feel as fresh as when he was carted away in handcuffs.

“Oh, Daddy,” I whisper. His skin is still so orange, and his body barely makes a bump under the blanket. “I’m so sorry.”

“Huh?” He snorts, then cracks open an eye. “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me!” I say brightly. “I thought I’d keep you company for a while.”

Now both eyes open, but neither of them look particularly happy to see me. “Where’s Frannie?”

Fannie, I think but bite my tongue. “Making tea in the kitchen. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Dad doesn’t respond, other than to look at me like he can see right through me to the wall. His narrowed gaze gives me an extra jolt of nerves. I feel my face reddening.

“You must be thirsty.”

“I’m not.”

I lean forward to straighten a nonexistent fold in his blanket. “When’s the last time you had something to drink?”

Dad’s reply is to clamp his lips, close his eyes and turn his head. He stays like that for so long my gaze drops to his chest, just to make sure his lungs are still filling and falling with breath.

“Okay, then. How about something to eat? I picked up the ingredients for beef Stroganoff for tonight. That was always one of your favorites, right?”

“I can’t eat meat,” he says to the wall.

“Vegetarian stroganoff it is.” I look around the room for a magazine or book. “Can I get you anything to read? Or another blanket, maybe? Are you cold?”

Now Dad opens his eyes, but only to glare at me.

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