Orchids for the Ill
Mason
LAUREN
I let out a sigh of relief as I shut down my computer. Another grueling day at Campbell Industries was finally over. But today was different. Today, I had some time to visit my dad. I couldnât help the small smile that crept onto my face as I thought about it.
I planned to stop by a flower shop and pick up some orchids, his favorite. I loved how his eyes would light up when he saw me. It made him seem more alive. Lessâ¦sick.
I grabbed my purse and coat, ready to head for the elevator when I heard his voice.
âMs. Hart.â
I froze, a shiver running down my spine as Mason stepped out of his office, his gaze piercing straight through me. Why did he have to be so attractive? It would be so much easier to despise him if his looks matched his unpleasant personality.
âYes, sir?â I responded.
âWhere do you think youâre going?â
âMy shift is over,â I said, puzzled.
âItâs only over when I say it is.â He dumped a massive pile of paperwork on my desk. âI expect all of this to be sorted before you leave tonight.â He turned to retreat back into his office, dismissing me as if I were his servant.
âA-actually, sir,â I stuttered.
Mason paused and turned around, a look of disbelief on his face as if he couldnât believe Iâd actually spoken up. I was almost as shocked as he was. I recoiled from the anger in his eyes.
âWhat?â
âI actually had plans todayâ¦â I remembered the last time I didnât speak up and admit that I was going to see my dad, and it resulted in me humiliating myself and walking his dog. I didnât want that to happen again.
âWhat could possibly be more important than the job thatâs providing the roof over your head?â he asked, his voice frosty.
I bit my lip. I wanted to keep my personal life as separate as possible from work. But it didnât seem like Mason was giving me a choice.
âI was going to see my father,â I said, my voice barely above a whisper. âHeâs quite sick.â I couldnât bring myself to meet Masonâs gaze as I said it. I braced myself for him to reject my request and prepared for a long night at the office.
But he didnât say anything. I looked up, confused.
Masonâs expression was unreadable. He looked as if he couldâve been carved from marble. Like one of those classical gods youâd find in a museum in Italy.
âSir?â I asked, uncertain.
âIf these arenât on my desk by the end of tomorrow thereâll be hell to pay, Ms. Hart.â And with that, he turned and disappeared back into his office.
For a moment I just stood there, stunned. Mason Campbell, the cold, heartless monster, had actually let me go?
I didnât waste any time and practically sprinted to the elevators. I wasnât going to stick around for him to change his mind.
***
The mix of stress and joy of seeing my dad when I reached the hospital was overwhelming. I had missed him so much.
There werenât any orchids at the flower shop. It was a letdown, but at least I would get to see my dad.
Dad was in bed, watching TV. All his hair had fallen out and he looked frail and pale. He didnât look like the man I knew.
This person lying there looked like a shell of what he used to be.
I wanted to cry. The tears were about to spill when I wiped them away. He wouldnât want to see them. If there was anything he hated, it was seeing me cry over him.
I would put on the fake smile he wanted. I would be strong for him.
For both of us.
âHi, Daddy!â
âLaurie!â he said, a big smile spreading across his face.
He stretched out his arms, and I came around to hug him. I rested my head on his chest and took a deep breath. I had missed hugging him. He felt so much like home.
My dad was my anchor. Without him, I would be lost in a sea of loneliness and sadness.
âHow are you doing today?â I asked.
âIâm wonderful now that youâre here.â
The smile on my face faded and he took my hands.
âDonât look like that. You should always wear a beautiful smile on your face,â he said.
âBut Dadâ¦â
He smiled knowingly. âI know, darling. The job means a lot to you and youâre doing it for both of us. Iâm really proud of the person youâve become, Lauren.â
I hugged him again, trying to look happy and cheerful.
âIâm happy youâre at least enjoying your life,â he added, âI wouldnât want you to be sad all the time.â
âHey, you came.â Becky walked in, holding a tray of food.
âYeah, I did. How are you?â
She smiled and pulled me into a hug. Becky was a warm person. I liked to think of her as a big sister and a second mother.
âIâm great. Hey, Vincent, Iâve got you some food.â
After Dad ate, he fell asleep.
And then Becky said she needed to talk to me about something and I followed her out of his room. I knew from the look on her face that it wasnât going to be a pleasant conversation.
I tried to look brave but when she started talking, I couldnât keep up the facade anymore.
âThe chemo treatment didnât work,â she said in a sad voice. âThe doctor said if we try another treatment, his body might fail because of how weak itâs getting.â
âSo what does that mean?â I whispered, but it sounded so loud in my ears. âBecky, what does that mean?â I pressed again when she wouldnât speak.
âIt means he doesnât have much time left. Iâm so sorry, Lauren.â
Shock and horror hit me, washing over me in hot and cold waves as the deafening silence grew, drowning out all sound but a high-pitched ringing in my ears.
I took a sharp intake of breath.
My heart was on fire, my vision blurred until I couldnât make out anything in front of me.
Heâs not going to make it.
Oh, God.
A sob shook me to my core.
I felt arms encircle my neck, pulling me into a comforting embrace.
I felt it. This indescribable pain. It pierced my heart, unlike anything Iâd ever experienced.
It felt like Iâd already lost him.
He was my only family and now he was slipping away. When my mom left us, I was devastated. I wept in Dadâs arms for weeks on end.
He held me, telling me that loss was a part of life. No matter how deeply we love someone, they canât stay with us forever.
One night I asked him why she left without a word, and if she didnât love us. He told me that sometimes saying goodbye to someone you love is the hardest thing to do.
And my mom did love us, but her love wasnât enough to keep her here. We should cherish the time she spent with us.
I told him I despised her, that no mother who truly loved her family would ever abandon them.
He smiled and said, âSomeday Iâm going to leave you too, Laurie. It wonât be my choice, but it will happen. Will you hate me then?â
I cried and clung to him, promising that nothing could ever separate us.
Cancer proved me wrong.
How was I supposed to live without the most important person in my life?
How could I see the world the same way when it had taken away the one person who meant more to me than anyone else?
How could I spend the last moments of Dadâs life without feeling like my heart was being ripped apart?
It was going to be unbearable to watch him die, to witness his last breath.
âBecky.â I pulled back and looked at her through my tear-filled eyes.
âIs there no wayâ¦â I couldnât finish the sentence.
She shook her head.
âOkay, does he know?â I asked.
âHe knows. Heâs just so worried about how youâll handle it, but I knew I had to tell you. And thereâs one more thing.â
I looked up at her, my vision still blurred from my tears.
âI reached out to your mother,â Becky said.
Her words made me catch my breath.
âMy mother?â I managed to say, barely hiding my shock and anger.
âI called her. He wanted me to. She has a right to know heâs dying.â
I laughed bitterly.
âShe has a right to know? She left us, Becky. So no, I donât think she has any rights here. What did she say?â
Becky looked annoyed this time.
âShe said sheâll drop by when she has time.â
I laughed again, a hollow, empty sound.
I wasnât surprised. âWhen she has time, huh? Thatâs good to know.â
What else could I expect from the woman who abandoned us all those years ago?
I left the hospital in a daze, unable to process the news. I asked the taxi to drop me off a couple of blocks from my apartment. The walk might help clear my head.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost tripped over the package left on our front porch. It was a vase filled with orchids.
I stared at it, confused. Who sent these? I picked them up, their familiar scent making me smile through my tears. Just a small, thoughtful gesture like this was exactly what I needed. Could these be from Beth?
Thatâs when I noticed the small envelope tucked among the flowers.
I opened it, intrigued. The letter wasnât signed, and there was no return address. Inside, only three words were written in a bold, elegant script.
~For your Father.~
A warmth spread through me. I instantly knew who mustâve sent these. Iâd recognize that handwriting anywhere.
But it had to be a mistake. That rude, terrifying, bastard of a man couldnât have possibly sent this. He couldnât possibly have a kind side.
~Mason Campbellâ¦~
Could he actually have a heart?