Crossing Hathaway

Home > Other > Crossing Hathaway > Page 18
Crossing Hathaway Page 18

by Adams, Jocelyn


  “I’ve told you all I know, and I swear I’ll never keep anything from you again.” She pressed her lips to my forehead and wiped the spot with her fingers to remove her pink lipstick as she always did. “Your father tells me you might be in some kind of trouble. Is that why the man who brought you here is still in his car out front?”

  My smile vanished. Mom was more observant than I’d given her credit for. I opened my mouth while my brain floundered for words I could say without lying. The ringing of her phone saved me the hassle.

  Mom picked up the cordless handset from the table beside the sofa. “Hello—yes, this is she—what?” The pink in her cheeks faded to white. A moment passed before the phone dropped out of her hand and crashed on the hardwood, the battery pack breaking free and skidding across the floor.

  “Mom?” I lunged forward and caught her just as her knees gave out.

  Chapter 20

  I held Mom’s trembling hand as we sat in the hospital waiting room. The scent of alcohol and sickness wrinkled my nose and made bile rise up my throat. The incoherent babbling of an old woman echoed down the hallway, punctuated by another’s shouted obscenities that would make a porn star blush. I really hated hospitals.

  Bill, who’d driven us, stood in the corner talking to Ben on my iPhone. I wouldn’t be going back there later, and he’d just have to get over it. An errant thought caught in the back of my mind: if it were me lying in the hospital bed, would Ben come? I shook it off and put my focus back on Mom. He couldn’t help it, and I needed to understand that.

  “Are you sure that’s all Randy said, that he thought Dad had a heart attack?” Randy was Dad’s right-hand man at the garage, had been his best friend for years too. I handed her a tissue from the box beside me. I pushed my own fear and panic down and held it at bay—one of us had to keep a clear head.

  Mom blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “He called me right after 9-1-1. Randy said he’d do CPR on him until…” Her chin quivered a second before a sob burst out. I wrapped my arms around her, rubbed my hand along her cardigan-covered arm.

  “I’m sure someone will tell us something soon.” I held her for a long time and hummed “Hush Little Baby” the way she used to for me when I was sick or upset. Eventually she calmed and relaxed against me.

  An hour later, Gran hobbled through the door, her hair pulled back into a tight, white bun. Her face, almost as white as her hair, appeared more wrinkled than normal. “Where is he? What’s happened to my son?”

  Gramps wandered in after her in his worn brown cords and tweed old-man hat. He sat in a chair and picked up a magazine without looking at any of us. My mental exhaustion from the previous two weeks, along with his calm demeanor, weakened my self-control and ripped the lid off my anger. It rushed through my veins like fire through dry tinder.

  I set my focus on Gran and unlocked my jaw. “We think Dad had a heart attack, but we haven’t been able to talk to the doctor yet and none of the nurses will tell me anything. Can you please sit here with Mom? I need to talk to Gramps.”

  Her faded, gray eyes passed between Gramps and me, a shadow of fear behind them. She opened her mouth but closed it again, nodded. I wondered what look I wore and whether or not that had anything to do with her swallowing her protest.

  I strode over to Gramps and leaned down to his ear. “Come out in the hall with me, old man. I need to talk to you.”

  His cold blue eyes looked up at me. “I’m busy.”

  I ripped the magazine from his hand and threw it on the pile in the basket beside his chair. “Now you’re not. Don’t make me drag your wrinkled ass into the hallway. Don’t think I won’t.”

  A glance over my shoulder revealed Mom and Gran leaned forward in their chairs, watching the two of us with wide eyes. They sat back and stared at one another. My reasonable half told me a hospital wasn’t the place for the conversation I needed to have, but my other half didn’t give a flying monkey shit.

  Aided by a series of grunts, Gramps pushed himself up and followed me into the hallway, grumbling to himself. I walked along, peering into doors. When I found a room with no occupants, I slipped inside, waited for Gramps to come in after me, and shut the door.

  “What do you want?” Gramps stared toward the window, his arms held straight at his sides.

  “How dare you waltz in here while your son is lying in the hospital and pick up a magazine as if you don’t give a fuck whether he lives or dies?”

  He harrumphed and shook his head.

  “God, really?” I raised my palms to the ceiling. “You want to be a prick, fine, but you’re going to tell me what I want to know. Dad won’t tell me the truth about what happened the night he told you about my adoption so spill it and make it fast—I need to get back to Mom.”

  The bold defiance faded from his glassy gaze as it landed on me.

  “Yeah, I thought that might wipe the smug look off your face. Whatever you said or did to Dad changed him in every way according to Mom. He made my life miserable, and hers, and probably his own, and I think you’re at least half to blame for that. I want to know why.”

  The haggard old man glanced at the door, poised to take a step toward it, but I walked past him and pressed my back against it.

  “I’m not taking blame for nothing.” He jabbed a stubby, cracked nailed finger toward me. “The only one responsible for your shit life is the teenage whore mother who got knocked up and tossed you away like garbage.”

  Stunned, I gaped at him for a long time before the tornado in my mind quieted long enough for me to find words. “I guess that explains why I didn’t see much of you when I was growing up. Why you never came for Sunday dinner, and why you were never around when we came over to your house. Gran always said you were working, but now I see the truth. You’re just a bastard.”

  His gaze fell to the floor, a scowl twisting his features into a wrinkled mess.

  “What do you have against adopted children, Gramps?” A mutinous tear leaked out against my will and I hurried to wipe it away with my sleeve. I would not let him see me cry. “What is so horrible about me that you’d cut your whole family out of your life?”

  “Your dad is not my son, and you’re not family.” The words came out low with a pause between each one.

  I scratched my head, the knot in my stomach tightening until it hurt. “Come again? Are you saying Dad’s adopted?”

  Gramps upper lip curled up in a snarl, and he went to the window, stared into the night shade falling over the city beyond. “I didn’t say he was adopted.”

  An idea struck me dumb for a span of a few breaths. I took a step closer to Gramps. “Gran had an affair.”

  He uttered a sound of disgust and rubbed his hair beneath his hat. “He was a daily reminder of my failure as a man.” Gramps turned, his lifeless eyes boring into my skull. “I couldn’t give her a baby so she took up with a neighborhood man.” His stare drifted back to the window, and hatred seeped into his voice, tainting the words that came like poison to my ears. “Didn’t find out he was a bastard until the boy was damn near ten years old.”

  “Dad never knew, did he? Not until that night when everything changed.”

  Gramps nodded. “Told him he wasn’t no man, neither, because he couldn’t spawn one of you. He couldn’t be mad at me ’cause he wasn’t my son and I was glad of it. Can’t love another man’s kid. Just the way it is.”

  “You bitter, selfish old man! Drowning in your own self-pity is one thing, but to destroy your son after he found happiness again is downright heinous. So that’s why he hates me, because I reminded him he couldn’t give Mom a baby and because you made him believe bastards are worthless?” I roared wordlessly. “Shame on you for saying it, and shame on him for believing it! If you’d gotten over yourself, we could all be a family together, and Dad—”

  A nurse popped her head through the door. “What’s going on in here?”

  I hadn’t realized my voice had risen to a shout. Without another look at Gramps, I sped
past the nurse and muttered, “Sorry.”

  Bill paced in the hall and stopped when he caught sight of me.

  I plodded into the waiting room in zombie fashion with Ben’s driver following behind. My mind couldn’t handle any more shocks, so it idled, functioning only well enough to move one foot in front of the other. A red-haired woman in green scrubs sat across from Mom, speaking in a low voice, a clipboard resting on her knees. Mom looked up and held out her hand when she saw me.

  It took a moment for me to climb back into my head from the dark place I’d gone. Unable to read Mom’s expression, I ran forward and crouched beside her chair. “What’s going on?” The lump forming in my throat choked off my air. “He isn’t—”

  “He’s stable,” the woman said, the doctor I presumed, brushing a few strands of hair away from her pale, freckled face. “He’s drifting in and out of consciousness, and he keeps insisting to talk to someone named Eva.” She stood, tucked her clipboard under her arm, and stared down at me. “Is that you?”

  I let out a huge breath and squeezed Mom’s hand. It didn’t seem to matter how badly Dad treated me, my heart still knew he was my dad. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  Mom and Gran held each other, laughing and crying at the same time.

  “Can we all go?” I asked the doctor.

  “I’d rather not have too many people in there at once. Don’t upset him, no matter what he says to you. He needs to rest and we’ll probably be looking at bypass surgery in the next few days.”

  “Okay.” I kissed Mom on the forehead. “I’ll talk to him and hopefully you can see him after. Then I’ll take you home and spend the night, okay?”

  Her usual vibrancy shone out from her eyes again. She nodded, patted my face. “I love you.”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  I followed the doctor down the hall, past doors where moaning and sounds of retching grew in volume, past the woman shouting curses at nobody in particular and another wailing and jabbering words I couldn’t understand. The stale vomit odor and senile chorus grated on my last nerve. My eye twitched. I rubbed my temples, my pulse galloping as we neared the end.

  The doctor stopped and gestured to the last room. I stared at her, my feet unwilling to take me any farther. Why was I so afraid? I already knew why he hated me, that I was just another man’s child and reminded him of his sterility. Would it be so bad to hear it from his own mouth?

  “Everything all right, Eva?” The doctor cocked her head and shifted her clipboard to hold it with both hands in front of her hips.

  I waved her off. “Fine, just … hospitals freak me out a little bit, and I’ve had a stressful week.” After a few deep breaths, I entered the room. Dad lay on the bed with his eyes closed, a clear tube encircling his face just under his nose. IV drips connected to needles in the back of his hand and monitors next to his bed blipped along with his heartbeats. After everything he’d put me through, it still tore my heart out to see him that way.

  I pulled up a chair to the side of the bed and sat. Away from Mom and with nobody to witness, Gramp’s words and the insanity my life had become crashed in on me. I pressed my palms against my eyes and gave in. A steady stream of tears washed down my hands and grief weaved around my chest and squeezed so hard I thought my lungs would collapse. I drew up the memory of Ben’s arms around me, let it fill me until I calmed.

  “You came.”

  Dad’s voice, though low and hoarse, made me jump. I dropped my hands and shifted forward on my chair. “Of course I came, stupid. Just because you have your head up your ass doesn’t mean you’re not still my dad.”

  He chuckled but it turned into a hacking cough. “I don’t deserve your tears.”

  “No, you don’t, but you’ll get them anyway because family still means something to me.” I sighed and contemplated how much to tell him. In case something terrible happened during the night, we needed to talk about it for both our sakes. “I talked to Gramps. I know what he said to you that night and it makes me sick.”

  Dad nodded, stared at me with eyes that held more life than I’d ever seen in him along with sorrow he wore like a scar. “Can you ever forgive this stubborn old man?” He shook his head, his chin quivering. “Why did it take me almost dying to see how stupid I’ve been?”

  I reached out and grasped his fingers, squeezed, and tried not to jiggle the IV. I’d never seen him cry before and it threw me off-kilter for a while. “We all look up to our dads, no matter how cruel they are to us. You were still upset about not being able to have children so what he told you had to have a profound effect. I just don’t understand why when you saw me as a baby you didn’t come around.”

  “Once I got used to looking down on you as my own failure, my damned old-fashioned pride kept me from admitting my mistake.” With a grunt and groan, he rolled toward me as much as he could. “Just in case I don’t come out of here, I need you to know—I’m sorry, and even though I could never say it before, I’m proud of you.”

  We stared at one another for a long time. I had no words to express the flood of emotion coursing through me. For the first time in my life, I understood my dad and recognized parallels in our lives. He’d pushed everyone away because of his own father’s cruel treatment, and I’d been doing the same for my entire adult life. If I ever had children, the cycle of horrible parenting would end with Dad. I smiled, imagining showing up at my parents’ door for dinner with Ben on my arm and being able to hug my dad, something I’d always wanted to do.

  The doctor leaned through the door. “Your mother has asked to stay for a while so you’ll need to go. Visiting hours start at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  I turned back to Dad with a lighter heart. “Do you think you can keep your stubborn ass alive until tomorrow?”

  He gave a sleepy grin, one that changed his usually solemn face into one I wanted to kiss. His face in that moment would be a memory I’d cherish forever, burned onto my mind’s eye like a child’s dream. “If I don’t, make sure your mother doesn’t buy one of those expensive coffins with the frilly satin inside.”

  I laughed with him, wiped away a few remaining tears. “Fine, I’ll give you a true man’s send-off. I’ll dump you off in the nearest cornfield so you can fertilize the crops and take the family out for a night of drinking in your honor.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Dad settled down farther against his pillow, the worry lines around his mouth softening. “Don’t you go missing any work over me. Keep that boss of yours happy.”

  I saluted and went to find Mom, practically skipping down the hallway.

  After ensuring Gran would take Mom home later, Bill escorted me to the stretch Porsche despite my preference to call a cab. Thankfully, we drove in silence to my apartment. I needed to pick up a few items if Ben wanted me to stay there until Friday.

  The instant the car rolled to a stop in front of my building, I jumped out. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Ignoring me, he exited and sped around the front of the car. “I have to come up with you, ma’am. Mr. H. said you aren’t to go into your apartment until I make sure it’s clear.”

  A growl trickled up my throat. “You can’t come up with me.” You give me the sonic creeps.

  “I have to follow orders, unless you want to take it up with the boss yourself.”

  I don’t have time for this!

  By the time I argued with Ben about it, I could be at his place. “Fine, come up and check it out. But make it quick.”

  Bill raised an eyebrow. “Um, okay.”

  Great. Now he thinks I’m an escaped loony.

  We rode the elevator up in silence. The door opened on the third floor. I moved to leave first, but Bill put his arm out to stop me. “Can I please have your keys, ma’am.”

  Biting out a few choice curses, I fished the keys out of my coat pocket and handed them to Bill. “I’m in three twelve.”

  He nodded. “I know.”
/>
  I rolled my eyes. “Of course you do.”

  While Bill searched my apartment for signs of Richard, I waited in the hall and picked at a strip of the peeling, flowered wallpaper to avoid thinking about Ben. How could I get him to agree to screw over his brother? I thought about using my newfound sexual wiles against him, but didn’t like what that would make me in to. Not that it stopped him from using his against me, but that didn’t mean I needed to stoop to his level.

  A glance at my watch revealed that five minutes had passed. What the blue blazes was he doing in there?

  The guard emerged as I went for the door. “Can I borrow your phone?” he asked. “I need to call in before I can let you go inside.”

  I didn’t have a landline, so I handed him my BlackBerry with a frown. My worn out brain had nothing left to fight the word of Ben Hathaway.

  Bill punched in a number. “Yes, sir, this is Bill. She’s been delivered safe to her apartment—yes, sir—no, sir—absolutely.” He nodded and mmm-hmmmed a few times. “My pleasure, Mr. Hathaway.” The guard handed my phone back to me.

  “I just need a few minutes,” I said, tucking the phone into its clip. “You can wait for me by the elevator.”

  Bill sped down the hall, shooting glances over his shoulder.

  Weirdo. Grumbling to myself, I strode into my apartment and shut the door. Vibrations against my hip preceded a digitized version of Pink’s “Trouble.” Yeah, you’re in trouble all right, buddy. I wrenched open the bag beside me, whipped out the iPhone and answered. “What?”

  “Why haven’t you answered your phone?” The wobble in Ben’s voice betrayed his worry.

  “I’m just fine, thanks for asking. Dad too. I’ve been kind of busy at the hospital.”

  “Hospital?” Silence for a moment. “Why are you angry? I thought you agreed to let my driver take you to your mother’s house. I’ve been worried.”

  Ice grew in my veins. “What do you mean? Bill, your head of night security, brought me home in a stretch Porsche. He said you insisted he check out my apartment for signs of Richard and then he called you from my BlackBerry.”

 

‹ Prev