“Nothing’s going on.”
Harve guffawed. “Yeah, right. I saw you holding each other this morning. That was definitely something.”
“It wasn’t.” Roger stared into the distance, remembering how much fun he’d had teasing Em. He controlled his voice and the smile that played around his lips. “I mean it.”
“Well, think of something or I will. Jodie made a promise to Karen....”
Roger snapped his head toward Harve. “She what?”
“Before Karen died she made Jodie promise to find someone for you.”
Roger sat back. “So that’s why she’s on my case all the time.”
“Right. And if you want her off it, start something up with Em. That doesn’t seem like it’d be any problem.”
Roger eyed him before turning his attention back to the boys. “Yeah, so I like her. But...” He paused, glanced at Harve then looked away. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“Probably.” When Roger didn’t continue, Harve probed, “So, what’s this big dilemma you have?”
Roger blew out his breath loudly before saying, “Guilt.”
“Guilt? You are crazy. You figure Karen’s going to care?”
“Of course not. It’s just...I can’t seem to get past it.”
Harve leaned closer. “You planning to never date again for the rest of your life?”
“No.” Thoughts of Em had destroyed his concentration on numerous occasions. Roger took a deep breath and exhaled before adding, “The timing’s not right. Over the next six months, I’ll be in Seattle most of the time. And then I’ve got no job, no prospects.”
“I didn’t say you had to marry her. Date her once or twice.” Harve gave him a whack on the arm and leaned back in his chair. “Make your sister happy.”
Amusement bubbled as Roger replied, “What did my sister ever see in you?”
“What every woman wants.” Harve grinned and turned to Roger. “Love and commitment.” He sat up and said, “So, should I tell Jodie you’re going to ask Em out?”
Roger made a fist and shook it in front of his brother-in-law’s face. “You do and you’ll be wearing this. Now, come on. Get off your butt. We have to do something with those boys before they destroy the campsite.”
“Okay,” Harve said, as he pushed himself out of the folding chair. “Except next time you get a bright idea to go camping, don’t bother to invite me along. I’ve aged ten years since this morning.”
But before they could call the boys in, a buzz sounded from Roger’s pocket. He took out his cell phone and checked the number. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. It’s Millie. What could she want this time?” he said, debating whether to answer.
“Your mother-in-law?” When Roger didn’t reply, Harve continued. “It could be important.”
“Everything with that woman is important. She makes mountains out of molehills.” Reluctantly, he clicked on the receiver.
“How come you’re in Prescott?” Millie said as soon as Roger greeted her.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Your Spanish woman told me, and I’m really disappointed, Roger. You could have brought the boys here to camp. You know it’s cooler in Flagstaff and not that much farther.”
As usual, the whine in Millie’s voice set him off, but he tried to keep his tone level. “It was a spur-of-the-minute thing, and several friends came along with us. I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
“Well, you certainly could have dropped Samantha off. I would have loved to take her shopping. We have marvelous stores here. I really don’t understand why you don’t include me more in your plans.”
Roger considered the extra hour it would have taken to deliver his daughter to her grandmother. The time wasted as well as the difference in their tastes and ages. Samantha would never have settled for that. Still trying to be diplomatic, Roger said, “I apologize. Maybe next time.”
“And don’t forget about my offer to watch the children. I expect to hear from you on that.”
As soon as Roger disconnected, Harve asked, “Problem?”
“Millie wants to take care of the kids when Sophia leaves.”
Harve laughed. “Millie? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I wish.” Roger replaced the phone in his pocket. “I sure hope I don’t get that desperate,” he mumbled before rounding up the boys.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER they parked in the pine forest beneath Thumb Butte. “Let’s take the steep trail,” Harve’s son said when they stood at a fork in the path.
Roger placed a hand on Timothy’s shoulder and directed him to the gentler, slower course. “We don’t want to tire the younger boys out, sport. We’ll follow the other trail when we come down.”
As the boys raced off ahead of them, Harve caught up. “Right. We don’t want to slow the younger boys down. Ha! If I have a heart attack today, I’m suing you for every dime you own.”
“Stop the lawyer talk and enjoy the clean air.” Roger filled his lungs with the fresh scent of pine. He loved the tall trees and the rough terrain. “This reminds me of the outskirts of Seattle. The boys would really enjoy it there—hiking, sailing, fishing.”
“Maybe you can take them for a vacation, once your life returns to normal,” Harve suggested.
Harve would have to remind him of his problems, just when Roger had finally put them out of his mind. He hurried ahead, adding, “Wait till you see the view. Spectacular.”
While Harve trudged behind, Roger cautioned the boys not to get too far ahead. But he had nothing to worry about. Fatigue had finally gotten to them. Sammy lagged behind and the twins slowed to stay with him. Roger was about to pass them and catch up with his nephew, when the unnatural sound of Sammy’s breathing stopped him.
“You all right?”
When Sammy didn’t answer, Roger dropped to one knee and grabbed the boy’s shoulders. His face had turned pasty. Cold sweat dampened Roger’s brow as Sammy pulled in another ragged breath.
“Your medication! Where is it?”
Panic flashed through Sammy’s eyes. “My backpack,” he wheezed.
One of the twins spoke up. “He left it in the van. Want me to go get it?”
“No, son. You stay here.” Roger swatted his shirt pocket, searching for Em’s note. He’d perused it earlier, and could remember only one of the details: if Sammy didn’t respond to his medication, get him to a hospital. His nephew rejoined them just as Harve came into sight.
“You guys stick together,” Roger said to the group, “while I carry him back to the van.” He hoisted Sammy into his arms and started down the trail.
“Harve, stay with the boys. Follow the trail up and meet me back at the van when you’re done.” Already his mind raced ahead. “If we’re not there...” He paused. “Take my phone, just in case.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got my own,” Harve said, patting his back pocket. He gave Sammy a thumbs-up as he touched him on the shoulder. “Hang in there, kid. You’re in good hands.”
Sammy’s tortured breathing rattled in Roger’s ear, and he tried not to show the terror he felt every time the boy drew a breath. All the way down the slope to the van, Roger chastised himself for not taking Em’s concerns seriously. He’d always considered asthma nothing more than an excuse—something wimps used to get out of doing what they didn’t want to do. But Sammy was no wimp. He horsed around with as much gusto as all the other boys combined.
Once they reached the van, Roger found two inhalers in the boy’s backpack. At least the boy knew exactly what to do and handled the inhalers with ease. Sammy tried one and, when that didn’t provide any relief, Roger handed him the other. He willed the boy to breathe and found his own breath catching in his throat.
Abandoning the inhalers, Roger placed Sammy in
the van and roared off. He stopped a patrol car and asked the police officer where he could find the nearest hospital. Fifteen minutes later he was in the emergency room at the Medical Center in Prescott.
* * *
HARVE’S LAST WORDS stuck in Roger’s mind as he stared at his hands, You’re in good hands. Roger slammed a fist into his palm then dragged both hands through his hair. How could this beautiful day have gone so wrong? How could he jeopardize a boy’s life by being so callous? What was he going to tell Em? That he’d lost her note somewhere in the parking lot? Of all the stupid... Afraid no one would take care of Sammy without Em’s permission note, he’d said the first thing that came to mind...“Please help my son, he can’t breathe.” A nurse approached, and Roger hurried to get an update.
“Your son will be fine, Mr. Holden,” the heavy woman said when he reached her. Roger gripped the back of his neck where the tension had settled.
“You sure?”
“He’s a brave little boy, and he’s responding well to the medication. We do want to keep him overnight, though, just to make sure everything’s all right. We’re taking him to a room now. We’ll put a cot in there for you as well if you’d like to spend the night with him.”
Tension around his neck and shoulders eased. Sammy was going to live. For a while there, Roger thought no one so small with such difficulty breathing could ever pull through. He pulled the stout woman into a bear hug. “Thank you. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Roger raced to the waiting room, where the boys lounged in a semistupor. Fortunately, Harve had been able to call a taxi so they hadn’t been waiting forever at the park.
Harve rose to his feet. “How’s he doing?”
“Fine. Fine. Did you reach Em, yet?”
“I got her mother. She’ll have Em call as soon as she gets home.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No. Said the boy was homesick and wanted to talk to her. Figured I’d keep it vague and let you tell her when you knew more.”
“I better get back to her. She should know what happened. At least now I can give her some good news.”
“Okay if we leave? They’re finally ready for bed. I know I am.”
Harve jingled the keys and the boys responded by slowly getting to their feet and rallying around him. While Timothy stayed with his father, the twins came over and wrapped their arms around Roger’s legs.
One of them looked up. “Will he be all right, Daddy?”
Roger squeezed the twins against his body, thankful that they were healthy. “He’ll be fine.”
Harve tapped him on the arm. “You staying here for the night?”
Roger nodded.
“You got my cell-phone number?”
Roger nodded again.
“Give me a call if anything...”
“You’ll be the first.” With a nod and a wave, Roger turned and headed for a quiet corner where he could call Em.
He sat on his haunches, taking deep breaths, pumping himself up for the call. Finally, he dialed the numbers and waited while the phone rang.
“Hello, Doris. I need to talk to Em. Has she returned yet?”
“No. Is there a problem? Harve called before....”
Roger slumped on the floor and leaned against the wall. “Sammy had an attack....”
“Oh, my God! Is he...?”
“He’s fine. We’re at the hospital, and he’s responding to the medication. I need to contact Em.”
“Well, she hasn’t returned yet. Have you phoned your place? She took Samantha shopping.”
Roger glanced at his watch. They should have finished that chore hours ago. When he’d phoned earlier, no one had answered, and he hadn’t left a message on the machine. Where could they all be?
“I’ll try my place again, but if she comes home, have her call me. And tell her not to worry. Sammy’s fine. They just need to watch him overnight.” He rose to his feet and gave Doris the numbers for the hospital and his cell phone.
A moment later he dialed his home. Sophia answered. Roger closed his eyes in relief. At least someone was there.
“Have you seen Em?”
“Oh, yes,” Sophia said in her thick accent. “She’s here. We’re watching videos. Nice lady. You should have her over for dinner one time before I go. I make enchiladas.”
“Put her on, please,” Roger said, “I need to speak to her.” How could he break it to her gently, the least traumatic way, so she wouldn’t panic? He’d pondered it since he’d witnessed Sammy’s first ragged breath. Nothing he thought of could diminish the fear she’d experience once he explained what happened. When Em came on the line, he searched for words.
“There’s a problem.”
“With Sammy? Tell me.”
“He’s in the hospital,” he blurted and waited for the hysteria.
“Which one?” No crying, no emotion, just a calm voice asking a simple question. When he told her, she said, “I’m driving up.”
“No. It’s two hours away, and there’s no need. I’ll bring him home as soon as he’s released tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll see you in two hours.”
The line went dead. Em might not be showing it now, but by the time she reached Prescott, she’d be a basket case. He’d seen it happen with Karen, who had had difficulty handling every problem from her pregnancy with Samantha to her terminal bout with cancer.
Em would blame him for Sammy’s condition. And he deserved every rotten thing she could spew at him.
* * *
EM DROVE NORTH on I-17, cursing the seventy-five-miles-per-hour speed limit. She accelerated. Roger said Sammy was okay. She’d focus on that. He’s okay. Still, the hospital would cost a fortune, and all she had was a pittance in her checking account. She’d have to use her credit card and return everything she’d bought today so the card wouldn’t max out.
The doctor had warned her that altitude could make normal exertion a problem for Sammy’s lungs. Why hadn’t some warning light gone off in her brain when Roger had mentioned Prescott, the mile-high city? Because, you damn fool, you knew how much Sammy would enjoy such an outing.
When the speed limit on the turnoff to Prescott dropped to sixty-five, she could barely tolerate the snail’s pace. But her having an accident would do Sammy little good, so she stayed within the speed limit. By concentrating on her driving, she kept the panic from creeping into her throat and cutting off her oxygen. Thanks to the GPS in her cell phone, she had no trouble finding the Medical Center, but it was 10:00 p.m. by the time she walked through the door. She found Roger sitting in the waiting room, leaning forward, his hands folded between his knees. He jumped up the moment he saw her.
“Em. He’s doing fine. You shouldn’t have come.”
“Where is he? I need to see him.”
Roger looked worn-out, worse than she felt, his dark-brown hair unkempt as though he’d used his fingers to comb it. Her heart warmed to him for all that he’d gone through for the sake of her son’s health.
“Em, there are things we need to discuss.”
“Later. What room’s he in?” She swept past him.
“I’ll show you,” he said, catching up to her.
They stopped inside the door. Sammy looked so small in the large bed. Her little boy, her joy in life. She ran to his bedside and stood over him, watching for any signs of distress. His breathing was slow and natural.
She turned to Roger, who had come up beside her. “Thanks, for everything,” she whispered. “You probably saved his life.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she pressed her lips together.
When he pulled her into his arms and held her close, she crushed her face against his chest for a moment and drew the mixture of soap and sweat deep into her lungs, taking strength from his embrace. But she mustn�
�t think like that now. She pushed away and leaned over Sammy’s bed.
When she ran her fingers through his blond hair, he stirred. He opened his eyes and smiled. “Oh, Sammy. I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’okay. Don’t call me Sammy, Ma.”
“Sorry,” she said, unable to control her grin. He had to be better if he was correcting her. “I’ll try and remember, J.R.” To see him breathing without a wheeze or hacking cough was wonderful.
“No. Not that name. Call me The Bus.” He accentuated the two words as though they held equal weight.
“The what?”
“The Bus, like this guy on the football team.”
Roger leaned closer. “The Pittsburgh Steelers.” He did a little finger wave at Sammy, who grinned back.
Em looked at Sammy with a confused frown. “Why do you want to be called The Bus?”
“Cause he has asthma, too, and I’m goin’ to be just like him. Right, Dad?”
Em’s spine went rigid. One day away from her and her son had fixated on Roger. Or had Roger instructed him to call him Dad? “Did you tell him to call you that?”
Roger shrugged. “It’s something a sports announcer mentioned last season. I thought...”
“That’s not what I’m referring to. We’ve got to talk.” She moved back to Sammy and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be here all night, and I’ll drive you home tomorrow.”
“Can’t I go home with Dad and my brothers?”
Em seethed, but she kept her face calm. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
She grabbed hold of Roger’s elbow and spun him around. The moment they were safely past the nurses’ station she lit into him. “How could you?”
“So the kid wants to be called The Bus. It got his mind off his problems. Next week he’ll want to be called something else.”
“I don’t care about that!” she said, raising her voice and poking him in the chest. “He called you Dad, and you didn’t blink an eye.”
Roger grabbed her hand and placed a finger over his lips as he glanced from side to side. “I told him to.”
Just Like Em Page 9