Young Lies (Young Series)

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Young Lies (Young Series) Page 34

by Kimble, W. R.


  “I’ll go see where Claire went,” he tells me, patting me on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Matt.”

  I smile tightly, unable to summon anything more genuine at the moment. Once the doctor and I are alone, he launches right into his update. “Samantha is stable,” he begins. “The internal bleeding we were concerned about has been brought under control and stopped. And much to our relief, what we believed was a fractured skull is merely a crack.” He holds up a hand to stop my protest—that doesn’t seem like good news to me. “I know it doesn’t sound like much, Mr. Young, but when we’re discussing fragments of bone lodged into the brain as opposed to something that isn’t broken at all, it means the world. Our concern was that we might have to operate to remove the fragment and in her condition, that’s something we would rather avoid.”

  I nod in understanding, running my hands through my hair. “But she’ll be okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

  The doctor smiles. “Once her body has a chance to adjust and recover, yes, she will make a full recovery.”

  “Thank God,” I breathe, sitting down again as my legs give out. “And Tyler?”

  His smile widens. “Tyler has woken up, which is the real reason I’m here. He’s just fine, though a little nervous and afraid. We were hoping you could calm him down.”

  I match his smile. “Yes, of course,” I agree, reaching down to grab the backpack Marcus brought me and stand again to follow the doctor out the door and down the hall. I enter a tiny pediatric suite where the wallpaper is covered with balloons and teddy bears and the television is programmed with cartoons. There are toys and books on the shelves across from the bed, which is the only thing to remind a visitor that they are indeed still inside a hospital. I find Tyler immediately curled up in the middle of the bed, his little shoulders shaking.

  The doctor excuses himself quietly, telling me to let the nurses’ station know if I need anything and I cross towards the bed, letting the backpack slip to the floor as I reach out to rub my son’s shoulder. He jumps and stiffens, finally turning around to look at me and my heart swells at the expression on his face that suggests he’s more than thrilled to see me. “Hi,” he whispers.

  “Hi,” I whisper back, sitting on the edge of his bed as he rolls onto his back. “How are you feeling?”

  He shrugs. “Tired.”

  I nod understandingly. “Well, you should get some sleep, then.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  The question comes so out of nowhere and so nervously from his mouth that it takes me a moment to actually realize what he’s said. “Why would I be mad at you, Tyler?” I ask, genuinely clueless.

  He sighs shakily, his lip trembling. “I lost my watch,” he says in a wavering voice and I suspect that at any moment he might start crying.

  “You didn’t lose it,” I tell him gently, reaching into my pocket and removing the watch that has been restored to its previous working order. “See? It’s fine.”

  Tyler beams at me and thrusts out his wrist, indicating that he wants me to put the watch back on. I do just that “Thanks,” he says happily.

  I wink at him. “I’ve got something else for you too,” I tell him, reaching down to the backpack and opening it, removing the stuffed penguin I found lying on the floor near his bedroom.

  “Pablo!” he exclaims, his eyes lighting up in a way that makes me chuckle.

  “Pablo?” I ask, handing him the toy and watching him hug it to his chest.

  He nods. “Pablo,” he repeats. “Want to watch cartoons with me?”

  “I’d love to,” I tell him sincerely. “Slide over.” He shifts enough so I can lie down on the bed beside him and put my arm around him. I’m grinning like an idiot when he curls into my side, the hand with the watch wrapped protectively around his penguin. We watch television quietly save the occasional laugh. I’m getting a glimpse into what life would be like with my son. He’s perfectly happy with simple things in life, something I know I can give him with little to no effort. The trust he has for me even though he’s only known me a short time is amazing. Samantha told me Tyler knows what I am to him and more than anything, I want to fulfill that role for him. My number one priority from here on out is to make the most of this time, to build on it, and to never let them out of my sight again.

  Tyler rests his head on my chest and I know he’s moments from drifting off to sleep. Just as he fades, a question comes to his mind. “Where’s my mommy?”

  I wince, hoping he doesn’t see it. “She’s asleep,” I tell him honestly.

  “Is she hurt?”

  Swallowing hard, I know I can’t lie to him. “She is,” I croak. “But she’ll be okay soon. The doctors are helping her.” Thankfully, this seems to placate him for the moment and I relax until he asks one more thing.

  “My mom says you’re my daddy,” he informs me, his voice thick with sleep. “Are you?”

  I smile slightly, looking down at the top of his head. “Yes, I am,” I tell him quietly, tilting my head so I can see his face. “Is that alright?”

  I’m pretty sure he’s smiling. “Yeah,” he whispers. “It’s alright.”

  As my son falls asleep, I’m trying hard to rein in my emotions, especially knowing he approves of me as his dad. For the first time in five years, I’m starting to think my life is actually falling into place and I manage to fall asleep easily.

  -------------o-------------

  Muffled giggling wakes me up in the morning and I blink my eyes open groggily, ready to curse whoever is interrupting the first good night’s sleep I’ve had in weeks. My irritation fades, though, when I find my son at a small table beside the bed with my sister. They seem to be eating breakfast and playing a board game of some sort.

  “Hope you brought enough for me,” I say croakily, sitting up and throwing my legs over the edge of the bed.

  “Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Claire says brightly. “And yes, I brought you breakfast. And coffee. Even the living dead need to eat, right?”

  I glare at her, my eyes darting pointedly at Tyler, but he seems completely oblivious to the exchange and instead of feeling threatened, my sister is merely smirking at me. I have the feeling I’ll be hearing zombie jokes from her for the foreseeable future. Getting out of bed, I shuffle across the room, ruffling Tyler’s hair along the way and earning a toothy grin from him as I pull out a chair to sit down. Claire reaches down to the floor and retrieves a few styrofoam containers and placing them in front of me along with a very large cup of coffee. “Been here long?” I ask, opening the first container, my mouth watering at the sight of bacon, scrambled eggs, and home fries. In another is cinnamon raisin toast. And in the third, more bacon. God, I love my sister...

  “Fifteen minutes maybe,” she tells me. “You looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “And yet,” I say without any conviction. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Claire leans back in her chair, sipping her coffee and watching me closely.

  Sighing, I drop my bacon back into the container and look at her. “What?” I ask quietly. Tyler has since left the table and gone back to his bed to watch cartoons.

  She shrugs. “I tried to get an update on Sam, but of course no one will speak to me since I’m technically not her family,” she informs me. “Which, personally, I think is bullshit.”

  For some reason, I get the impression she blames me for the fact that she and Samantha are no longer considered family. And I suppose it is my fault. “After I eat, I’ll start smashing some heads together,” I promise her. “Where’s everyone else? Mom, Dad, Leo... the evil stepsisters...”

  Claire huffs a laugh at our old nickname for our older sisters. I love them dearly, but they can truly be the biggest bitches I’ve ever met in my life. And the way they treated Claire when she was younger and developed a preference to playing in the mud as opposed to any sort of girly venture left a bad taste in my mouth as well as Claire’s.
“Mom and Dad popped back in after you came to check on Ty. Leo has gone to get an update on whatever else is going on. And our dear sisters have yet to make an appearance.” A dark look passes Claire’s eyes and my brow furrows at her.

  “What?” I demand quietly.

  Claire hesitates, glancing at Tyler briefly before shaking her head. “I’ll tell you later,” she whispers. “It’s something you’re not going to handle very well and it’s probably best Tyler wasn’t present for your reaction.”

  “Fantastic,” I mutter, returning to my breakfast. If this thing that I won’t react well to involves my two older sisters, it can’t be good. I know the two of them never liked Samantha—they never made it a secret—and they spent years spewing vile into my ear with the intent that, at the beginning, was meant for me to break up with Samantha, and later to make me forget about her altogether.

  “Can you keep an eye on Ty?” I ask Claire once I’m done with breakfast. “I want to see if I can get an update on Sam.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Claire agrees immediately.

  I stand and walk around the table, dropping a kiss on my sister’s head. “Thanks.”

  She winks as I tell Tyler I’ll be back shortly and to behave for his Aunt Claire, and head out into the hospital corridors. Luckily it doesn’t take me long to locate Samantha’s doctor, as he was just coming to find me as well. We shake hands and he gestures for me to follow him down the hall out of pediatrics.

  “Samantha is doing better,” he tells me as we walk. “We’ve moved her to a private suite as you requested and she’s settled in. She’s still asleep, though we no longer have to worry about her falling into a coma. The swelling in her brain from the head injury is going down on its own and her other injuries will heal with time.”

  “And what about...” I trail off, unable to even complete the sentence.

  The doctor stops just outside a door and turns to me, smiling gently. “Samantha will make a full recovery, Mr. Young, We’re very pleased with her progress,” he says kindly.

  I nod, relieved, and he pushes open the door, allowing me my first glimpse at Samantha since last night. She’s pale, there are bandages around her head, and one of her arms is in a plaster cast, but she looks peaceful and in no pain. I’m sure this is due to the medication pumping into her IV.

  “She’ll be taken to have an MRI done in the next half hour,” the doctor informs me quietly. “In the meantime, I thought you might like a little privacy.”

  Smiling gratefully, I nod. “I’d like that very much,” I say. “Thank you.”

  The doctor winks and excuses himself. I sit down beside Samantha’s bed and take her uninjured hand in my own, wincing at the coldness of her skin. Having had five years with only time to think about what I want to say to her, right now I can’t seem to think of even one. I’m not even sure there’s much point talking to her; can she even hear me? The doctors said she’s only asleep now while her body recovers, so I almost don’t want to speak in case I wake her.

  The longer I sit her, holding her hand, the words begin flowing from my mouth. “I saw you the day of my memorial service,” I tell her in a low tone. “After everyone left, I mean. I don’t know why you weren’t with the others, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. I heard everything you said about not feeling like you were worthy of me. It’ll probably surprise you to hear I felt the same in regards to you. Such a sweet, innocent, beautiful girl shouldn’t mix herself up with the likes of me. But I couldn’t stay away from you, no matter how hard I tried.

  “The last couple of months have been worse than the last five years; I left thinking that when I got back, I’d take you and Tyler home with me and we’d finally be a family again. I know I’ve hurt you and I know I’ve got a hell of a lot to make up to you, but I’m going to do whatever it takes. I want to take care of you, Samantha. I want you to take care of me. I’m going to keep you safe this time. My track record isn’t really the best, but I’m working on that. Meanwhile, you need to recover and wake up so we can all go home.” I sigh, looking around the room and thinking about what my life will be like with Samantha at my side again. With her, I felt like I could conquer the world. Hell, in a way I did; she encouraged me in a way no one else possibly could and I took on projects that would have overwhelmed me back then. Now those sorts of projects are as simple as breathing. She made me better. Simple as that.

  “You know, this really is unfair,” I tell her, stroking the back of her hand with my thumb. “There aren’t a lot of people I would come back from the dead for. And it hasn’t been easy, so if you love me at all, I’d really appreciate it if you’d do me the courtesy of waking up.” I look at her face expectantly, though I don’t know what it is I’m expecting. “This is the point at which you wake up, give me a withering glare of doom, and tell me it’s really not funny. Any second now, Sam...”

  Nothing. Damn.

  I glance at my watch, realizing I’ve been in here longer than I thought. Standing, I lean over to press a kiss to her pale lips, but freeze as something around her neck catches my eye. It’s the locket I bought for our third anniversary, the one I never got the chance to give her. I left it for her in my jacket with the hope that I would be able to come home and see the expression on her face when she opened it. It saddens me that I wasn’t, but I suppose I can’t fault her for opening it; she believed I was dead. At any rate, I love that she’s wearing it now.

  “I’ll see you soon, Sammy,” I whisper, kissing her. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

  21

  By early afternoon, I’ve had so much coffee the hospital cafeteria has actually cut me off. I’ve been on the phone all day, meeting with the PR team for my company, with lawyers, and the senior management of my company. Apparently it’s not easy bringing back the dead and the people on my payroll have their work cut out for them on this one. And much to my disgust, the hyenas that call themselves mass media have gotten wind that I’m alive and well, and have staked out the hospital. It’s gotten to the point that my parents can’t even walk out the front doors without being harassed. The local police have had to move in to help escort in the emergency vehicles. The hospital staff are very understanding about the whole thing, even granting my family and me access to private staff balconies when we need some fresh air.

  The other aspects of my life have kept me incredibly busy as well. Under different circumstances, I might have enjoyed seeing the reactions of the people who work for me when they walked into a room and saw me sitting there. But between my concern for Samantha and my desperate need to get to the bottom of this whole mess, I’ve never enjoyed anything less. And then of course, there’s the interrogation my parents have put me through anytime we’re alone together. They want to know what happened with the plane, why I didn’t contact them, why Sam and Tyler were involved, what I plan on doing now I’m back. I didn’t give them any detailed answers, partly because I’m too distracted to think and partly because I haven’t decided on some things.

  Now at dinnertime, I’ve got Tyler with me on one of the staff balconies overlooking the back of the hospital at sunset. We’ve had a pizza delivered and my son is playing on some portable videogame system my mom bought to keep him occupied. The look of concentration on his face reminds me of Samantha when her nose is buried in some book, like nothing in the world could distract him from his current task. The doctors are planning on releasing Tyler from the hospital tomorrow morning. He’s fully recovered and no longer needs to be constantly checked on by nurses. I briefly considered keeping him here anyway so I have the comfort of knowing where he is; Claire vetoed that pretty quickly, insisting a hospital is no place for a small boy when he’s not even ill. She’ll be taking Tyler home to her house so he can play with his cousins. Danny has taken time off work to stay home with the kids while Claire has spent most of her time here, and I have to admit, I feel bad for the poor guy. Maybe I’ll send Leo over to keep him company.

  Speaking of Leo...

 
He’s been my best friend for over twenty years; it’s difficult to admit I’m a little wary of him right now. It’s not that I don’t trust him or that I don’t believe his story, but so much just about what he’s said isn’t adding up. His alibi for last night is watertight, though I do have to question his tastes in women recently. Gina Barrett is what one would call a bimbo, if one were being kind about it. She’s nice enough, but she’s a complete airhead that gives the stereotypical blonde a bad name and spends too much time getting her nails and hair done, and has a tan so dark it’s a wonder the tanning beds haven’t melted off all the plastic she’s has inserted into her body over the years.

  The fact that he sent Samantha to work for Frank Marone knowing how I feel about the bastard is odd in and of itself and he still hasn’t explained that to my satisfaction. Then there’s the fact that someone has been tapping into Frank’s surveillance cameras at East Coast Travel, something I know Leo could do without even thinking. I’ve told myself it was because Samantha came home in a panic that she discovered that file in Frank’s office and Leo wanted to see what the hell else was going on there. For now, I can take comfort in that. The second I get back to work, though, heads are going to start rolling and Leo better hope I don’t find reason for his to join them.

  “You’re not thinking of jumping, are you?” asks a voice from behind me. “I mean, I get you probably think you’re all sorts of invincible after surviving a plane crash, but I’m not sure you should risk it.”

  I work to wipe the grin off my face, exchanging it for a playful scowl, though I know Claire won’t be fooled. “Enough with the death jokes,” I tell her sternly. “Don’t we have enough trouble right now?”

  She rolls her eyes and comes to lean against the railing beside me. I glance over to find Tyler has switched his videogame for a portable DVD player and a set of headphones. I raise my eyebrow at her. “Let’s us talk more privately while still assuring he’s in your sights,” she tells me.

 

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