by Emily March
“Mackenzie Timberlake!” she snapped.
“That’s me,” he fired back.
She wanted to fight. He did too. This wasn’t the best place, the most opportune time, but this had been a long time coming. He looked around, spied the evergreen hedge that he knew from previous visits enclosed the trauma center’s prayer garden. Considering the increasingly bitter bite to the afternoon air, he thought chances were good that they’d have the place to themselves.
“C’mere.” He took her arm and propelled her toward the garden. “We’re not doing this in public.”
She shook off his grasp and increased her speed, walking ahead of him. Once inside the enclosure, Ali whirled on him, braced her hands on her hips, and declared, “You have to quit saying you’re dying.”
“Why? Because you don’t want to face the truth? Well guess what, Alison? I have to face it. I have to face it and prepare for it and make sure that you and Caitlin especially will be okay once I’m gone.”
“Stop it! Just stop it! You don’t know that you’re dying.”
“I wonder if Lou Gehrig’s wife tried to bury her head this deep in the sand too.”
Ali screeched, balled up her fist, and socked him in the stomach. “I might well kill you before ALS gets the chance!”
Suddenly, Mac’s anger died. With complete sincerity, he said, “I wish you would, Ali-cat. I really wish you would.”
His words and tone were a cloudburst that doused the fire of her anger. Ali buried her face in her hands and began to cry. Mac wrapped her in his arms, and just for a few moments, allowed himself to cry with her.
But his need to comfort his wife rose above everything else. “Hush, honey. It’s okay. I’m sorry I was so blunt.”
She lifted red, tear-swollen eyes that pleaded with him. “I can’t give up hope. You can’t ask that of me. We don’t know for sure that you have ALS. Every doctor we visited said it takes nine to twelve months to get a definitive diagnosis. The soonest we’ll know for sure is when we return to the specialist in March. We still have over two months to hope. Don’t steal that from us.”
“Oh honey.” He leaned down and kissed the tracks of her tears. “I’m not trying to steal anything. I haven’t given up all hope that time will prove the diagnosis wrong, but neither can I deny the truth that is staring me in the face. My symptoms grow worse every day. Look at what happened in church last Sunday. Today, I couldn’t hold my spoon. I broke down and used a cane this morning. My body is beginning to fail me. It would be negligent of me not to get my affairs in order.”
“That sounds so … funereal.”
“Okay. I won’t use that term again.” Mac tenderly pushed Ali’s hair away from her face. “Alison, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“You know that I am a very controlling person.”
“Uh, duh!” She snorted. “Why do you think Chase hid your judge’s gavel?”
He shared a smile with her. “Well, that particular quality of mine just makes this whole situation more difficult to swallow. I can deal with dying, Alison. We’re all going to die sometime. But the idea of losing control of my body bit by bit while my mind remains the same—that scares the living daylights out of me.”
“I know, Mac.”
“Because of my nature and what I’m facing with this disease, I have this fierce need inside of me to take care of my loved ones while I can. I need you to let me do it.”
“Oh Mac. I understand. Honestly, I do. But if our greatest fears come true, if you truly do have ALS, then don’t you see how important it will be for Caitlin to have someone she can lean on?”
“I know. That’s why I want to see her settled.”
“If that’s your motivation, then you need to take off your blinders where Josh Tarkington is concerned. Caitlin loves him. You saw that today. She’s made her choice. You need to trust in her judgment and accept it—accept him. Otherwise, you will both be miserable and it will spoil the time you have left with her, whether that’s one year or fifty years.”
Mac touched his forehead to hers. “You have a point. I accept that. Watching Caitlin worry for the man broke my heart today. I don’t want conflict with my daughter these last months, so I will promise to try where Tarkington is concerned.”
“Good.”
“However, that doesn’t mean I’m calling off my private investigator.”
“You should rethink that decision. You’re risking your daughter’s wrath and possibly her respect.”
“It’s a risk I must take, Alison. Josh Tarkington might be Eternity Springs’ newest hero, but he has his eyes on one of my prizes. I intend to make sure that he is worthy of her.”
Journal Entry
Detox.
The word itself is enough to give me the shakes.
Withdrawal is a bitch with teeth and claws who leaps at me in sneak attacks, one after the other. That’s what I remember about the first time in rehab. Fix one misery, another pounces. The sweats? I can deal with that. Hot. Cold. Shudders.
Craving.
Shoot me up with something else.
Then, my eyes. I’m crying … only I’m not. Tears pour from my eyes and my nose runs and runs and I start to ache. My back. My legs. The worst flu of my life.
Craving.
Shoot me up with something else.
The bugs … the bugs are crawling all over me.
I vomit.
I crave it.
Hell. I am in hell.
I am fourteen years old.
Chapter Fifteen
“Mr. Tarkington? Mr. Tarkington? I’m Jenny. I’ll be taking care of you until we get you into a room.”
Jenny. Penny. Copper Penny. Did I feed her today? “You’re not Penny.”
“Jenny Hill. I’m going to take care of you while you’re with us in recovery. I’m going to raise the bed a little now.”
A motor hummed, and Josh felt himself rising.
“Here’s your water.” She handed him a plastic cup with a bent straw.
“This is your PCA pump, Mr. Tarkington. It allows you to control your pain medication. The anesthetic will be wearing off, Mr. Tarkington. We want to stay on top of your pain. When you begin to hurt, press the button and it will give you a dose of medicine. You don’t need to worry that you will accidentally overdose, because it’s set to prevent that.”
Overdose. Shoot me up. Just shoot me.
“You’re in control.”
Control. Awe … no. No. No. No. No. No.
Push the button. Push it. Push it. I’m lost.
* * *
Josh opened his eyes. Above him loomed a smiling woman wearing green scrubs. Her blue-gloved hand stretched out toward him holding a small cup with two capsules inside. His head swam. Disjointed thoughts fluttered through his mind like tattered ribbons floating on a breeze. There was something … something important. Just beyond reach.
He tried to sit up. Pain sawed through him like the blade of a serrated knife. He gasped.
“No. No.” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Here. “I want you to swallow these. We want you to stay ahead of the pain.”
She tipped the cup and the capsules spilled into his hand. He simply stared at them. “Swallow the capsules, Mr. Tarkington.”
She bumped his hand a little and he instinctively raised it to his mouth. She lifted an insulated cup from a bedside tray and guided a straw to his mouth. She waited until he sipped and swallowed. “Good. That’s good.”
Josh stared up at her, straining to catch the thought that hung like a black cloud just beyond his consciousness.
Jenny. Penny. Copper Penny. Money Penny. Crap. What the hell is wrong with me?
He didn’t care. He closed his eyes, drifted away. I’ll care later.
* * *
Pain. Fire. God help me. Make it stop. Make it stop.
Pain. Fire. God help me. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this. Not again. Not aga
in. I can’t go through this again. Please, God, make it stop.
* * *
“Stand up, Mr. Tarkington. There you go. We have you. Want you to take a few steps.”
Mother lovin’ son of a ball bustin’ bitch. It hurts.
“Great job. You did great. Here is your next dose of Percocet.” God help me, I’m down the rabbit hole again.
I’ll never climb out.
* * *
Josh’s eyes flickered open and he gazed up at an unfamiliar ceiling. He blinked. What the…? Where am I?
“Josh?”
He turned his head toward the voice. “Caitlin.”
She smiled like an angel. “Hey there, handsome. Are you back with us?”
He took stock. His chest hurt. His gut was on fire. He had an IV tube stuck in his arm and … aw hell … a catheter up his dick. Hospital. I’m in a hospital. He closed his eyes and gave his head a little shake. “What happened?”
She spoke in a soothing tone. “There was an accident. You were hit by a car, but you are going to be fine, Josh. Don’t worry. You’re going to be just fine.”
He studied her face and read the truth in her expression. Something gave him the impression that this wasn’t the first time she’d said those words to him.
An accident. He frowned. He felt weak as a sick kitten and his mind was mush. “I was hit by a car.”
“Yes.” Caitlin stepped closer to the bed, took his hand, and explained what had happened. Josh struggled to make sense of it. The baby. Oh hell. He remembered the stroller. “Is she all right? Jax’s little girl?”
“She’s fine. She’s wonderful. You saved her, Josh. You’re a hero.”
Him? A hero? He’d snort except he thought doing so would hurt.
Caitlin continued her explanation of events since the accident, but Josh had a difficult time concentrating on what she was saying. He hurt all over. Breathing was a bitch. And his belly … he felt like somebody had reached inside him and ripped out his guts. He lifted his hand to his chest. Big bandage there. “What … um…?”
“The doctor was in this morning and he said you’re healing well,” she continued, then gave him a summation of his injuries.
Bruised lung. Spleen. Huh. Josh tried to recall the purpose of the spleen. He couldn’t. No wonder he felt so sore inside. His guts had been ripped apart. “You said how many broken ribs?”
“Three. I have to tell you, Josh, when I saw you dive in front of that car, saw you bounce off the grill and hit the windshield, those were the longest seconds of my life. The worst.”
He couldn’t remember anything after seeing the stroller roll. “How long have I been here?”
“This is the morning of the third day.”
Three days. He’d lost three days? The last time he’d lost three days he’d been strung out on junk. At the thought, Josh’s heart began to thud. “Did I hit my head?”
Caitlin’s smile turned sympathetic. “Yes. You have a knot on your left side, a little above and behind your ear. But it’s just a bump, not a brain injury. You don’t need to worry about that.”
Josh didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. “I can’t remember any of this.”
“I imagine it’s because of the pain meds you’re on.”
He went totally still. Pain meds. Of course they’d given him pain meds. Oh, holy hell.
His voice emerged with a croak. “What were they, do you know?” Aspirin? Ibuprofen?
He knew long before she flashed a grin and said, “You’ve been on the good stuff. Dilaudid first. Percocet the last couple of days. We had a couple of interesting conversations. The first time I didn’t realize that you weren’t aware.”
Sickness spread through Josh. Bile rose in his throat and he reached for the plastic kidney-shaped bowl on the bedside cabinet because he feared he would vomit.
Josh closed his eyes, willing his stomach to settle. He needed to think. He needed to assess. He needed to plan. “I need to be alone.”
“Excuse me?”
The hurt in her voice was unmistakable, but he didn’t have the patience or energy to pick and choose his words. He needed action. He searched the bedclothes for a call button for a nurse and pushed it. “I need a nurse. I want to use the john.”
“Oh. Of course.” She gave his leg a pat before moving toward the door. “I’ll tell her you’re awake and with us this time.”
Josh stopped her at the doorway. “Caitlin? Thanks for being here.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
Yeah. That’s what Josh was afraid of. One of many things he feared. He looked at the IV bag hanging beside his bed as fear like he’d seldom known before overwhelmed him.
He ripped the line from his arm. He shoved the IV pole and sent it crashing to the floor.
A nurse rushed into the room, Caitlin on her heels.
“What happened here? Oh, Mr. Tarkington, you shouldn’t try to get up by yourself. You must wait until someone is here to help you.”
She righted the IV pole, then reached for Josh’s arm to inspect it. Using his opposite hand, he grabbed her arm and stopped her. “Nothing else. Nothing else until I speak to the doctor.”
“Mr. Tarkington, you need to cooperate with me. You must—”
“No!” he snapped. “Not another fluid or drug or line goes into my body until I’ve spoken to a doctor or I’ll sue this hospital and everyone in it!”
The nurse was taken aback. Josh released her arm and she stepped away from the bed. Caitlin stepped forward. “Josh—”
He cut her off. “Cait, I’ve got this. I’m sure things at home need your attention.”
“But—”
“I’ve asked for privacy. Nurse, please. Surely I have some rights as a patient.”
He might as well have hit her. Caitlin’s face drained of color. Her eyes shone with pain. Without another word, she turned and fled.
Josh knew he was being an ass, but he had bigger problems than that right now. He hurt like a sonofabitch from head to toe, but that was nothing compared to the dread—the fear—that had settled in the marrow of his bones.
He shut his eyes and dropped his head back onto his pillow. Oh God. I can’t. I can’t do this again. All I’ve built. This great new life. And Caitlin. Caitlin. I’ll lose it all. Poof. Gone. Better the damn car had squashed me like a bug.
Josh would rather be dead than fight this fight again.
He heard the sound of his door opening and footsteps clicking against the tile floor. The nurse said, “Doctor Davis. Mr. Tarkington is awake and … well … we seem to have a problem.”
Josh opened his eyes to see a fifty-something brunette wearing a white coat and a frown approach the computer that he assumed registered his medical records. Records that had one vital piece of information missing.
He should tell the doctor about his past. He knew he should. It was stupid to keep that part of his medical history from his caretakers.
But … hell … he couldn’t. He was so afraid. Hurting like hell. And dammit, ashamed. So ashamed. Shamed to the marrow of his bones.
The shame and the pain churned in his gut, creating a sour bile that bordered on panic. Screw it. Screw this. Doctors might be great in emergencies, but when had they ever helped him with this particular problem? How many doctors had he seen? Dozens? How many had helped him? Zero!
He’d had to fight this fight, battle this monster, alone.
The doctors hadn’t helped. His mother damn sure hadn’t helped. Hell, even the Christophers hadn’t helped, though they’d tried.
He had to do this alone. Again.
He cleared his throat. “I’m not a prisoner. You can’t keep me here. I’m checking myself out. I’m going home today.”
* * *
“He can’t stay by himself,” Caitlin told Brick and Lili Callahan later that afternoon in the hallway outside Josh’s room. “It wouldn’t be safe.”
“He can stay with us,” Brick and Lili said simultaneously.
Caitlin shook her head. “You’re still newlyweds. He wouldn’t want to invade your privacy. Believe me, he’s big on privacy today.”
“Paul and Cindy are seriously upset that they can’t be here to help,” Brick said.
Caitlin asked. “How are they feeling today?”
“Not much better, I’m afraid. It’s apparently a wicked strain of flu. Paul is worried that Cindy might end up in the hospital herself. If that happens, I’m heading to Oklahoma no matter how hard they argue against it.”
“Please send them my get-well-soon wishes,” Caitlin said. “As far a Josh goes, I could take him to my place, but I think instead I’ll stay with him at his house. He’ll be more comfortable there.”
“Are you sure you want to do that, Caitlin?” Lili asked. “I’ve been around bad patients in the past, but after our visit today, I have to say that he takes the prize.”
“He says it’s the hospital, that hospitals give him the heebie-jeebies. I think he’ll be better when we get him home.” She paused a moment before adding, “I hope.”
Brick showed her a crooked grin. “Well, if you need any help, don’t hesitate to call. I know the Lancasters would like to help in any and every way possible.”
“I predict you’ll get so much food delivered that you won’t need to cook until Valentine’s Day,” Lili said.
“Easter, I imagine,” Caitlin agreed. “There is something you could do to help, Brick. If you’ll drive him home, I could go on ahead and get things ready for him. Change the sheets and turn up the heat. Pick Penny up from Lori’s so that she’ll be there to welcome him when he gets home.”
“That would be good. It’s always nice to come home to a dog ecstatic to see you.”
Moments later, Caitlin slipped back into Josh’s room in order to explain the arrangements, but he was sleeping. Later on the drive back to Eternity Springs, she reflected on the day and silently admitted that playing nurse to a healing Josh might take every bit of patience she possessed.
He’d been a jerk to her that morning. After his shower, he’d asked her to return to his room, and he’d offered a perfectly acceptable apology and explanation for his rudeness.
A hospital phobia might be part of it, she thought, but she’d bet pain also contributed to his aggressive mood. He roared like the lion with a thorn in his paw. Caitlin had never been much of a mouse, but she guessed there was a first time for everything. In the wake of this trauma, he needed time to heal. She’d seen the same thing with Chase. He’d been a five-star grouch. He’d needed time and space and a dog and Lori to heal. He’d needed Eternity Springs.