Owen Chissolm did not sit down. He was a big man, over six feet tall and bulky. He wore a dark pinstriped suit, a white shirt and a red, grey and navy tie. His sombre clothes and the greyish tinge to his face robbed him of his much-vaunted colourful personality. He had been handsome in his youth, probably more handsome than his son. He could still be called striking with his strong features and thick, snowwhite hair. But he looked old this morning, old and sick and tired. He made a stiff, uneasy gesture.
'I don't come with good news, Mrs Aylward.', She held his gaze steadily. 'I know. You don't have to break it gently. I know Kirsty is dead, Mr Chissolm. I don't expect you to understand, but I. .. I felt her die early this morning. I tried to contact you then, but I was told you were unavailable. I would appreciate it if you'd just give me the facts.' Even as she spoke, Karen had to fight the grief she was controlling so rigidly.
Owen Chissolm stared at her for a long moment. before he sat down. He sank back into the chair and passed a hand across his forehead as if clearing his mind. 'It was a terrorist bomb. Not directed at anyone in particular, planted in a parked car across from the hotel where your sister .. .'
He paused and cleared his throat. So far he had recited the facts quietly and calmly but his voice shook a little as he continued. ' ... where your sister ... and my son ... were staying in Tel Aviv. Kirsty and Hal were leaving to go out for dinner. They'd just passed through the doors to the street. Kirsty was slightly ahead of Hal. She .. .'
'He's alive!' Karen could not control the surge of bitterness that drove her to her-feet. 'He's alive and Kirsty is dead. She was in front of him and she took the brunt of the explosion, didn't she?'
Owen Chissolm displayed no emotion. 'As far as I know my son is still alive, Mrs Aylward. A team of surgeons have been operating on him for some three hours now. There's a slight chance that he might live.'
Karen turned away, regretting her outburst. Her hatred of Hal Chissolm was shot into fragments by the realisation of his father's pain. Shame burnt scorching heat into her cheeks. 'I'm sorry,' she muttered, and dropped back on to the sofa. She stared down at her hands for a few fraught moments until suitable words formed in her mind.
'It was good of you to visit me personally when you must be ... so worried. I hope the operation is successful.' She sucked in a deep breath and plunged on. 'Can you tell me what I should do about ... about Kirsty?'
He did not answer. She glanced up to find a strange mixture of compassion and determination in his expression. 'Your sister lived for several minutes after the explosion.'
The memory of the pain and the frantic futility of those few minutes shadowed Karen's eyes. 'I know.'
Owen Chissolm cleared his throat, obviously discomfited by a knowledge he didn't understand. 'Mrs Aylward, Kirsty died in Hal's arms. She was able to speak to him before she died.' He paused, seemingly uncertain as to how best to continue. 'Even if Hal survives this operation, the doctors have warned that various complications can arise. He'll be on the critical list for some time. I've come to ask you to grant my son's most urgent request. Possibly his last request.'
The look in his eyes ... the question ... Suddenly Karen's stomach curled into knots.
'Hal wants to see his son.'
No! No, no, no! The scream rocketed around Karen's brain. Other questions darted into it. Why, Kirsty? Why did you tell him? It was a sacred trust between us. You vowed secrecy. Never to tell anyone, ever.
Owen Chissolm's eyes were boring into her, watching, waiting. 'Kirsty told him before she died that they had a son, and the boy was with you.'
'David is my son now, Mr Chissolm,' Karen stated with all the fierce possessiveness of a mother. 'Not Kirsty's, not Hal's. Mine.' She held his hard gaze with an unwavering hardness of her own.
'How old is the boy?'
'That's immaterial!' she retorted vehemently. Her hands were shaking and she clenched them into tight fists.
Owen Chissolm studied her for a long time before choosing his next words, and when he spoke it was with surprising gentleness. 'Mrs Aylward, I have no intention of trying to take the child away from you. I simply want you and the boy to fly with me to Tel Aviv as soon as it can be organised-today if possible. Whatever the cost. Hal is my only son and I .. .'
The slight falter in his voice was firmly corrected. 'I'll pay anything to do what I can for him. Once we're there you can decide what you want done about your sister. I'll make myself responsible for any arrangements you'd like carried out. If Hal is still alive, I would ask you to visit the hospital with me and show him ... the boy. That's all I ask. I believe you can understand my desire to give my son anything that can help him at such a time as this.'
He heaved a sigh and the sickness was back in his eyes. 'I apologise, very sincerely, for intruding on your privacy and your grief. I appreciate that I have no right to ask so much of you. I can only appeal to you ... beg you to come with me.'
'No!' Fear left no room for compassion. She couldn't do it. It would be admitting that David was Hal's son, and she would never do that. Not for any reason.
'Kirsty wanted Hal to know he had a son, Mrs Aylward. It was her dying wish. Can you ignore that?'
No, she couldn't. Tears blurred her eyes. She did not understand why Kirsty had betrayed her. Perhaps her sister had believed that Hal was dying too and she had wanted him to know they were leaving a life behind ... a son born of both of them. A son who had been handed over to Karen a few days after Kirsty had given birth. As much as Karen recoiled from Owen Chissolm's proposition, as much as she hated Hal Chissolm, she owed Kirsty too much to refuse her last wish. She owed her David.
'Just once, then. I'll go, and I'll take David. But I'll only show him to Hal one time. No more than that,' she choked out despairingly, admitting nothing, yet knowing that her acceptance was a tacit admission.
'That decision is up to you, Mrs Aylward. I will not press you further.'
Tears rolled down her cheeks. 'He's my son,' she whispered, her eyes imploring him for more' assurance. Would adoption papers stand up against the might of the Chissolm family? Would she lose David too? Surely the law would be on her side.
Owen Chissolm climbed to his feet and stepped over to the sofa. He took Karen's hands and gently pulled her up. Still holding her hands and looking her straight in the eyes, he spoke with a firmness which steadied her. 'I promise you that you won't lose anything by coming with me. But we have to move quickly or it could be too late.
'Leave it to me, I'II get everything organised. Pack whatever clothes you think you'll need, and be ready to leave this afternoon. I'll keep you posted on developments.'
She wanted to ask ... what if Hal died before they left? But it didn't matter. Owen Chissolm knew about David now. Hal had never wanted a child, wouldn't want it at this late date either. It was his father who was the danger.