Room for Recovery

by D. J. Jamison

  “Good question,” Amos said. “The key is to provide the tools for the task at hand. If he’s writing a paper, you want to make sure he understands the resources available, the research and structure of his paper, but you must also leave the thinking to him.”

  Beau asked for a few more pointers, and Amos obliged him with a story or two from his days teaching before Beau lifted the book and read another chapter.

  When Amos’s eyes fell shut, Beau stood and checked the time. His ride home would be waiting. He’d told Wade he’d be ready by 8 p.m., so he quietly pulled the blanket up over Amos and sneaked out.

  He waved to the nurse on his way, a smile on his lips. The opportunity to visit with patients and make their stay a little brighter was Beau’s favorite part of volunteering, which was why he’d been leaning toward nursing.

  Today, he’d also discovered a fallback plan if medicine didn’t work out for him. After talking to Amos and working with Wade, he could see how teaching could be another path.

  He just had to decide which direction was right for him.

  ***

  That night when Wade picked him up, he followed through on the tutoring session he’d skipped the day before. Beau was tempted to ask about Helen’s dating situation but decided against it. He didn’t want Wade to be distracted, especially when the tutoring sessions had been going so well.

  To Beau’s surprise, Wade was a great student. He took Beau’s advice seriously as he rewrote his paper, and when Beau gave him study breaks, they talked: about their families, their friends, movies, music. Pretty much everything except Wade’s girlfriend. By some unspoken agreement, she was never mentioned.

  Beau felt silly for ever thinking Wade was embarrassed to know him. He’d even gone out of his way to talk to Beau in the hallway at school a few times, mostly just greetings in passing, but he’d also officially met Ker and Nate while waiting for Beau to pack up after school one day, and they’d reluctantly agreed that he wasn’t as douche-like as expected. They hadn’t stopped encouraging Beau to go out with Miles, though. Probably because they could see his crush wasn’t getting any smaller.

  The better he got to know Wade, the more time they spent together and talked about their lives, the harder it was to smother that flare of attraction. He knew it couldn’t go anywhere, but it was hard to convince his body, which fairly crackled with want, hairs rising and goosebumps breaking out anytime Wade was within a foot of him.

  “You ever play that poor guitar?” Wade asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  Wade used his sleeve to dust off the acoustic guitar Beau had begged for and received for his sixteenth birthday. He’d figured if he couldn’t get a car, a guitar was the next-best thing. Maybe he should have opted for drums because he’d never managed to learn how to play.

  He couldn’t afford lessons, but he’d tried to learn on his own using guitar lesson apps. It’d been a painstakingly slow process and he’d lost patience with it.

  “Um, I want to learn,” Beau said. “I haven’t gotten lessons or anything.”

  “I can play a little.”

  “Yeah?”

  Wade sat on the edge of the bed and positioned the guitar in his lap. He strummed the strings, moving the fingers of his left hand to change the chords. He didn’t play anything complex, just a scale by the sound of it, but he held the guitar with competence.

  “I knew you used to be in band, but I thought it was to play tuba or something lame like that.”

  Wade smiled, and Beau’s stomach flipped. It was a small smile, just the corner of his lips tipped up, but it was a sexy kind of smile Beau had never seen before.

  “I played the snare drum, asshole. And a bit of keyboard and trumpet. But yeah, I took a few guitar lessons. I love music. I even used to compose for fun, but I couldn't write lyrics for shit. Big surprise, considering how crappy I am at writing.”

  “Stop,” Beau ordered. “Your writing is fine, once you slow down and think it through.”

  Wade stood up, holding out the guitar, and Beau took it. He planned to return it to its permanent place of honor, leaning against the wall in the corner, but Wade gestured to the bed. “Hold up, wise guy. Sit down and let me see what you got.”

  Beau scrunched up his face. “I don’t got much.”

  Wade snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I figured. Humor me.”

  Heaving a belabored sigh, Beau sat down and positioned the guitar in his lap. It felt too large for his slender body, but he eventually got it settled and managed to get his hands in the appropriate positions. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself more in front of his crush, but Wade watched him expectantly, so he halfheartedly strummed the strings.

  “Okay, stop,” Wade said.

  Beau lifted his hands. “I haven’t taken lessons—”

  “So you said.”

  Wade climbed on the bed, moving behind Beau. When his arms came around Beau’s body, he nearly choked on his own saliva. What was Wade doing, and more importantly, could the guy hear his heart trying to beat out of his chest?

  “Uh, what’s happening now?” he asked, his voice too high.

  “Relax, and let me teach you something for a change,” Wade said. His voice was teasing, but Beau sensed that Wade genuinely wanted to do it, so he nodded.

  “You shouldn’t rest the guitar on your lap like that. It’s too flat.”

  Wade set it more vertical, with only a slight tilt so Beau could still reach. He grasped Beau’s right hand, placing it over the strings. His touch was light but sure as he guided Beau’s hands. He placed Beau’s left hand on the neck of the guitar, taking the time to position each fingertip where it belonged. Each touch of his fingers was electric, and Beau realized with some embarrassment that his own fingers were trembling.

  “You were pressing on the fret. This is better, unless you want crappy noise instead of music.”

  Wade’s breath brushed over the nape of his neck as he spoke, and Beau tried to concentrate on his words over the whooshing of his own pulse in his ears. “Okay.”

  Wade used his left hand to walk Beau through the different chord positions, repositioning his fingers on each one. All the while, Beau felt the heat of Wade at his back as he was cradled by his arms.

  “Beau?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Um. No,” he said, unable to even pretend he’d heard the last piece of advice. “Sorry, guess I zoned out for a second.”

  Wade didn’t question him, but sadly he released Beau and moved away. Desperate not to lose the small connection they’d had, Beau blurted the first thing that came to mind.

  “You should teach me guitar.” When Wade didn’t respond, he added, “I’ll listen better, I swear.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t really played music since my dad died.”

  Beau felt his heart clench. How sad was that? Wade still grieved so hard for his father. Beau could see the sadness and the anger in Wade, but he didn’t know how to soothe it. If he felt so strongly four years after his father’s death, maybe nothing could change it.

  “I don’t want to pressure you,” Beau said carefully, “but maybe it would be good for you? Cathartic, maybe?”

  “Using the big words now, huh?” Wade said.

  “I just mean—”

  “I know what you mean, and maybe you’re right. I don’t want to go back to being the band geek straight-A kid. I can’t,” he said, looking thoughtful. “But maybe it’s time to work on moving on. I guess I could show you a few things.”

  If only you’d show me more of your things.

  “Plus, you’re grounded anyway, right?” Beau said, playing it cool. “It’s that or study.”

  “Good point.”

  Chapter 12

  Beau stepped off the elevator, a large bouquet of flowers in his hands to be delivered to the maternity ward. He had to stop outside two wide doors that would only open with an employee keycard and wave to the nurse’s desk. Even as a regul
ar volunteer, he wasn’t given the right to come and go as he pleased. They took security seriously on the maternity ward.

  He waved an arm, and a moment later the doors whooshed open.

  “Thanks,” he said as he passed by the nurse’s desk. The woman on duty waved a hand at him, but she didn’t look up from her work.

  “Hey, Beau,” a familiar voice called.

  He slowed his steps, not surprised to run into Uncle Xavier. After his nursing training was complete, he’d accepted a full-time position in the maternity ward. He said he preferred focusing on new life over the life-and-death chaos of the emergency room. His true passion was health care outreach, which was why he volunteered at the urgent care clinic and took at least one volunteer trip a year with Trent to offer more health services to rural Kansas patients who didn’t have the means to travel or pay for regular health screenings.

  “Hi,” he said, adjusting his grip on the flowers. “I’m on delivery duty tonight.”

  “I see that,” Xavier said, then frowned. “Do me a favor and come by and see me after you deliver those. I want to talk to you for a minute.”

  “Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good,” Beau joked.

  To his surprise, Xavier didn’t laugh. With a feeling of unease, Beau excused himself and hurried down the hall to the delivery room for Lia Roberts. He tapped at the door, waiting patiently for someone to respond. He’d learned long ago not to rush into a delivery room, or you might see things best unseen. He didn’t want to violate anyone’s privacy, and he also didn’t want to bleach his brain of embarrassing images. As it turned out, modesty tended to go out the window with patients, especially women who just gave birth.

  A voice called for him to enter, and he walked in with a smile. The new mother was in bed, looking frazzled but happy. An older woman stood in the corner of the room rocking a newborn. He pegged her as the grandma. No sign of the father.

  “Flower delivery,” he said cheerfully as he approached the bed and sat them on a side table.

  The grandma snorted. “Least he could do.”

  “Mom.”

  “He missed his own child’s birth!”

  Lia Roberts smiled, looking embarrassed. “Thank you for bringing those in.” Then, even though she didn’t need to explain, she did. “My husband was out of town on business. He’s on his way back, but he couldn’t make it in time.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Beau said.

  The grandmother scoffed. “He shouldn’t have taken the trip. He knew how close you were to the delivery date.”

  “Mom, not now, okay?”

  Beau walked over to peek down at the new baby. He made time to check out the new faces each time he ventured into maternity.

  “Adorable,” he said, stroking the baby’s full head of dark hair with one finger. He glanced over his shoulder at the new mother. “You did good.”

  She beamed. “Yeah, I did. Didn’t I?” She laughed a little, getting teary-eyed. “Thank you.”

  Beau nodded and said his goodbyes, not wanting to intrude any further. He was happy to see the two women were both focused on the baby once more and not the missing father.

  When he returned the nurse’s station, he had to wait a few minutes for Xavier to reappear from wherever he’d gone. He stood against the high counter, scrolling through his phone to kill time.

  Nate sent him a video clip to a new game he wanted to try. He’d sent a short text with it: Let’s do this next time we go to Geek Out!

  Big surprise. Gaming was such a passion for Nate that he’d decided to pursue computer programming in college in the hopes he could eventually develop his own games or work for a gaming company. Even if he fell short of those dreams, he’d be able to program software. Beau envied him his certainty over what he wanted in life. Ker was just as confident about her future, heading to pre-law and then law school. After her years in debate and her natural affinity for arguing, it wasn’t surprising, but Beau’s own future after high school seemed much more fuzzy and indistinct.

  Everyone thought he was some overachiever for volunteering at the hospital, but it really hadn’t solidified his vision for his future. Delivering cards and flowers wasn’t much like practicing medicine, either as a nurse or doctor. And he still had the unsettling feeling that he was going to disappoint his family by not pursuing medical school.

  Xavier arrived, setting down a clipboard on the desk before herding Beau toward a small waiting area with chairs. “Have a seat.”

  “You’re freaking me out.”

  Xavier grimaced. “Sorry. Trent told me you’d asked about a patient who went in for surgery. An Amos Jacobs?”

  “Oh, yeah. I visited a lot with him when he was waiting on his surgery. It got pushed back a few times. He was a really sweet old guy, and he didn’t have any family here.”

  Xavier rolled his lips in, looking grim. “We’re not supposed to talk about patients, even to volunteers, about their care.”

  “I know that,” he said defensively. “I wasn’t asking for details about his health or anything.”

  Xavier sighed. “What I’m trying to say is, to answer your question about how he is …” Xavier trailed off with a shake of his head. He pursed his lips and seemed to come to a decision. When he spoke, it was more confidently. “Off the record, I need to tell you that he might not be released.”

  Beau blinked. “You mean he’s still here?” Then Xavier’s meaning hit home. He gasped. “You don’t mean—”

  “He’s alive,” Xavier said quickly. “But if you were to call the hospital and ask for his status, we’d tell you it was critical.”

  Sadness swamped him, and Beau had to blink a few times. “So, he’s dying.”

  Xavier squeezed his hand, but Beau hardly felt it. “There’s still hope.”

  Beau nodded, feeling numb. “He just seemed so full of life.” A thought occurred to him, making him suck in a sharp breath. “This isn’t because his surgery got pushed back so many times, is it? If he’s suffering because the hospital failed him—”

  “No, Beau. Sometimes things happen that are out of our control. Even surgeons like Trent can’t save everyone. Some people can’t handle the strain surgery puts on their bodies. Others get infections they can’t fight off. Mr. Jacobs is alive, and he’s fighting.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  Beau stood up, filled with an angry tension. He wanted to blame somebody. He wanted to yell at somebody for failing Amos. “Why?”

  “He’s in intensive care. Visiting is restricted to immediate family.”

  “He doesn’t have family!” Beau cried. “At least no one who cares. That’s why I visited with him so much.”

  “I’m sorry. You can’t visit, not while he’s in ICU. If he improves and is transferred out, then maybe.”

  It could be too late by then, though. If Amos didn’t improve, if he was going to die, he’d die alone. “This sucks.”

  “It does,” Xavier agreed.

  Beau ran his hands through his hair, heard his phone beep with a text and checked the time. “I have to go.”

  “Okay,” Xavier said, standing and giving him a quick hug. “Don’t lose hope. It could still work out for him.”

  “Okay,” Beau said, without much enthusiasm. Xavier was feeding him platitudes, but he didn’t know any more than Beau did whether Amos Jacobs would survive.

  “This is the part of working at a hospital that’s hard,” Xavier said as they walked toward the maternity ward exit.

  “Nurse James, we need you in Delivery Room 3,” someone called.

  Xavier met his eyes, looking worried. Beau forced a smile. “Go do your job. Help bring a new life into the world.”

  Beau walked out the maternity ward doors in a daze, nearly running smack dab into a doctor with a preoccupied expression on his face.

  “Sorry,” Beau murmured.

  Dr. Casper Rollins, according to the name on his badge, flashed him a smile and winked. “My
fault. I was thinking about the baby waiting for me to play catch.”

  It was a nice smile, and Beau noted in a detached way that Dr. Rollins was gorgeous. He could almost imagine Wade looking like this sophisticated man in a decade, but Wade would never choose to become a doctor.

  His mind was still preoccupied with Amos Jacobs’ condition, so it took him a beat too long to register Dr. Rollins’ words.

  He was on his way to deliver a baby and Beau was in his way. He jumped to the side, gesturing for the doctor to pass. “Good luck!”

  Dr. Rollins walked past, confident and sure of himself, as he strolled into the maternity ward, and Beau turned his attention to his phone when it vibrated again. Wade had texted a few times.

  Wade: I’m here.

  Wade: Is this the wrong time?

  Wade: Okay, I’m coming in.

  Shit. Beau lifted his fingers to dash out a text as he walked. He’d made it through half the message when the elevator doors opened, and he saw Wade standing inside. His heart fluttered, and he wondered how he could have possibly compared Wade to that doctor. No one ever made him feel like Wade did. Which was a major bummer considering Wade would never see him that way.

  Thoughts about Amos rushed in, and he felt incredibly shallow for worrying about his non-existent love life when a man was probably dying alone.

  “You okay?” Wade asked, as Beau stepped inside.

  Beau wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the need to hold himself together physically as well as emotionally. “Bad day.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Beau shook his head, not wanting to talk about it, but Wade crowded him into the corner of the elevator. Standing too close, he looked into Beau’s face. “What? Did someone hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “Did you have a fight with a supervisor or something?”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  “Well, what then? Did someone die? You look miserable.”