Page 50 of Whispers of My Skin

“Monique,” Fermin intervenes. “It was nothing to do with Joel, it was just an unfortunate accident. Tara fell off a horse and into a ditch.”

“What on earth was my daughter doing on a horse in the first place?” she yells, “Are you already attempting to turn her into some kind of a cowgirl?”

Fermin starts to intervene again, but I can handle this. I’m not some wimp who needs to hide behind the tight trousers of this Beau Brummell character.

“I was out working on the ranch when Tara decided to come looking for me. She took one of the horses from the stable, but unfortunately she was galloping too fast to notice the ditch in front of her in time, and got thrown off her horse,” I explain as calmly as I’m able.

“I blame you for this, Joel Sadger. You and your despicable cowboy ways—if my daughter hadn’t been anywhere near a horse, none of this would have happened, would it?” Monique shrieks accusingly. “Make no mistake, as soon as my daughter is well enough to get out of this place, she’ll be seeking a quickie divorce. I’m holding you totally accountable for what happened today, especially as she should have been resting and taking care of herself, considering her delicate condition.”

Fermin and I both frown in confusion.

“What condition?” We both turn and ask at the same time. Is she implying what I think she is? How is that even possible?

Monique stares back at us while we just stand there with gaping mouths. There’s a look of blind panic on her face, as if she’s let the cat out of the bag about something she wasn’t meant to, belatedly realizing neither of us knows what she’s talking about.

But my mind is already putting the pieces together, as is Fermin’s.

“Tara can’t be pregnant,” Fermin says slowly, shaking his head. “She’d never act so irresponsibly by putting her baby at risk if she were.”

“Of course she isn’t pregnant, you imbecile,” Monique blurts out, before suddenly crumbling into tears. “That’s not it at all. The truth of the matter is… Tara is terminally ill. She’s dying, in fact.”

As Monique starts sobbing loudly, I have to ask myself several times if what I’m hearing is true.

“She’s what?” I ask in disbelief.

“Tara is very sick,” she says. “She has a degenerative liver condition that doctors haven’t been able to accurately diagnose.”

“But surely… there must be something they can do,” I mumble trying to get to grips with what I’m hearing.

Tara is dying? No, that’s just not possible. Dying. That fucking awful word pounds around my head like thunder.

There has to be something, a cure, a new treatment. I’ll travel to the ends of the earth to find a way to save her, I refuse to accept there’s nothing more that can be done for her.

“We’ve tried our best,” Monique murmurs, “But Tara is very stubborn and refuses to waste money on doctors and hospitals since we don’t have sufficient health insurance, and with the economic difficulties we’ve been going through ...”

“What the fuck? What’s wrong with you? Your daughter is sick and that’s not a priority? You’re prepared to waste money on bespoke suits for your latest husband, yet you’re not prepared to fund more treatments for her?”

I’d spend every penny I had, every penny I could beg, steal or borrow to find a way to make her better. And that’s what I’ll do. Tara is my number one priority, for sure. And two, three, four to infinity. Even if I’m really, really mad at her right now for keeping all this from me.

“Tara is stubborn, so what could I do?” Monique repeats again like that’s the answer to everything. I just don’t understand this selfish, stupid, vapid woman, and I can’t bear to deal with her, or even be in the same room as her, even if she is Tara’s mother.

“Gotta go,” I say, without speaking to any of them in particular. I can’t breathe in this fucking waiting room, it’s suffocating me. I need some air, to be on my own to get my head around the bombshell that’s just been dropped on me. Why the hell didn’t Tara tell me?

I stumble out, blindly making my way to the elevator, and I’m just about to put my hand on the call button when a hand grips my shoulder to stop me.

I have pretty quick reflexes, and my first instinct is to lash out.

“Woah there, cowboy, just cool it.” Fermin steps back from me, his arms raised in surrender.

“Not now, Fermin. I have to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have no idea.”

“You can’t just leave.”

“Why not?” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Who’s going to stop me?”

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