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George Murray sat back, stunned and shaken. "My God," he murmured.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2cpkYR9iOU
Calum gave him a rueful smile. "Blood doesn't make family," he said, his voice hoarse from his tale. "Love makes a family. And I could not be more proud of you than if you had been my trueborn son. Never you forget that, my boy. You've stood by your old man, and you gave me the headstart I needed to really get the business going. And look at us now! Jamie's set to step into your shoes as CEO, and he's already got a daughter he wants to train to succeed him one day. All thanks to a boy who didn't complain when he got handed a name that made him sound like a squid dish."
George had to smile at that, and he squeezed his father's hand. "You've been grand," he said. "And thank you. Now I know why Mum told you not to tell me anything; she went through that with her aunt, and she didn't want me going through the same."
"It wasn't lying," Calum said defensively, a twinkle of mischief in his pale eyes. "Not that. Just ... stretching the truth a bit."
"At least you didn't act all shady about it," George said, and the old man chuckled. Still, the younger man had a thousand questions whirling around in his brain, questions he knew he might never have the chance to ask. "Listen," he said. "I know you're tired. And I'm sorry. Your short story turned into a bit of an epic, but I'm glad to have heard it. Maybe you could write it down? Or dictate it?"
"Your da's way ahead of you," Calum said with another chuckle. "Go you over to me drawers. Second from the top."
George obediently went to the drawers, and he gasped as he pulled out a leather book, bound with twine. "Da, this is..."
"I wrote it when I first went into hospital, when me hand could still hold a pen," Calum said, as his son sat back down. "I wanted to get it all out on paper, while it was still fresh in me mind. You're goin' to find things in there I've not told a soul, not even your mam, and I made sure never to keep any secrets from her. But there were things about the foundin' of the business I couldn't tell anyone, except me journal. That's yours to keep, and to pass down to Heather, for her to pass down to her daughter, and so on. It'll answer all the questions I can see in your eyes, and it's sad I am that I can't answer them now."
George put the journal aside and took his father's hand, kissing the wrinkled skin. Having seen death many times, George knew death had finally come for his father. Looking outside, he saw the sun had come out during Calum's story, just peeking over the tops of the buildings. Calum saw it too, and he managed to pull himself into a slightly more upright position. His eyes seemed to be more blue, and tears trickled slowly down his cheeks. "There she is," he said. "There's me dove."
George couldn't see anything at first, but soon he saw - or fancied he saw - a pretty girl standing at the end of the bed. Her hair was ginger, her eyes green, and there was just the faintest smattering of freckles across her nose. A tall, black eyed boy with black hair stood next to her, and also, an older man with iron grey hair, accompanied by a woman, also grey-haired, and George's breath caught in his throat.
"Your mam and da," Calum said. "And your grandad and grandma." He smiled, despite the tears slowly trickling down his cheeks.
George fought his own tears, his throat tight. "Mam," he whispered. "Da."
The younger man and woman smiled at him. "Look at you," his mam said, her eyes glistening. "You've grown so grandly."
"Aye," his da said. "You're a credit to us, George. I'm glad I got to see you."
"Me too," George said, his words coming out in a half-sob. "Look after me other da, will you?"
"That's why we're here," his grandma said. "He can't make the crossing alone; we broke the rules so we could ensure he reaches us safely."
George frowned, and then he understood. "Take care of him," he urged his grandpa, the man he'd been named after at his birth. "Please. He's had a long and full life, and he needs his rest."
"We will," his mam said, reaching out and gently ruffling his hair. Her touch was light, almost as if a spring breeze had ruffled the ginger hair he'd inherited from her.
The first rays of the sun were just filtering into the room, and when George turned back to his father, his eyes stung with fresh tears when he saw Calum's eyes had closed. "Goodbye," George whispered.
Calum smiled. "Till the morrow," he said.
George gave his hand one final squeeze, and then sat back, waiting for the miracle. As the last breath left his father's lungs, he saw Calum's spirit rise from his inert body. Red of hair, his eyes as blue as they'd been in his youth, he was the picture of health. Laughing, he joined his family, and George smiled through his tears.
Later, the grief would hit him hard, driving him to seek refuge in the arms of his own family. But despite the pain, the memory of his father's joyful reunion would, he knew, keep him going through the long, sorrowful days ahead.
George carefully picked up the leather journal and put it in his suitcase, then endured the painful interval that followed when the doctors came running in response to his father's passing. By now grief had started to rear its ugly head, and the doctors, seeing how distressed he was, gently ordered him to go home and get some rest. "Your father's funeral arrangements are all in place," they told him. "We'll contact you when it's time."
"Thank you," George said, shaking their hands. "He was a grand man."
"One of the best," the chief doctor told him.
George nodded and left, hurting, but glad that his father, at the very end, was awarded yet another accolade. He'd been humble all his life, but as George left the hospital, he suspected Calum Murray was finally allowing himself to preen just a little at the attention.
Just as he should be, George told himself.
Just as he should be.
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