by Jamie Beck
“You know he hasn’t been right for a while. He really felt sick yesterday evening and through the night—groggy, headache, feverish—so he stayed home today thinking he had the flu. By the time Jenna came home from work, he was sprawled out on the sofa totally out of it.”
Hunter shook that image away. “So we don’t really know how long he was in that state?”
“Not exactly, no. Look, the nurse is coming back. Just get home. We’ll be at the hospital until they kick us out.”
“Okay. Take notes.” He hit “End,” closed his eyes, and pinched the inside corners with his fingers to stop the burning.
An image of his dad prostrate on his sofa, mouth open, eyes wide and dazed, returned. His proud father had been alone and probably afraid—had recognized oncoming danger yet been unable to call anyone. Helpless. Nothing was more terrifying than helplessness.
“Hunter?” Sara crouched in front of him, placing her hands on his thighs. “Stay strong, honey. Your dad will be okay. The doctors are on it now.”
His swollen throat choked off any response. Stay strong, she said. How many times did he tell himself those very words, and how often had his strength failed to affect the outcome of things like this?
“Honey, hand me the keys.” She stood and rolled the suitcase toward him. “I’ll drive so you can make calls or research stuff on the ride home.”
He nodded toward the table, where he’d tossed the keys after they’d returned to the room. Mutely, he followed her to the lobby, dragging their suitcase along. No matter the ups and downs in his relationship with his father, he’d never stopped to consider life without him. They were both too young to have those thoughts, weren’t they? How did they end up here, with his dad getting this sick right under his nose?
“Go load the car.” She kissed his cheek and handed him the keys. “I’ll check us out and catch up in a minute.”
Her soft, confident tone settled him, although he didn’t register much else going on. Everything seemed darker now than it had twenty minutes earlier. Were people nearby, listening and watching? Had the weather changed?
He kept his head down during the first thirty minutes of the drive. He’d read at least six websites, including the Mayo Clinic’s page, to learn more about encephalitis. At this point, he still understood little to nothing, especially because he had no idea what had brought it on in his dad.
His dad had struggled with a series of colds this past spring and summer. Colby had raised bigger concerns about his health—the lethargy and aches—for months, but everyone, including their dad, had ignored her. Blamed it on stress and age. Not only had Hunter dismissed the warning signs, but he’d increased that stress by playing spiteful games at work.
Anger had clouded his observations and judgment, causing him to miss the truth. Regret bunched up in his chest as he watched the road signs blur as they passed, the low hum of the tires on the pavement playing like an ominous soundtrack.
“Is this my fault?” His voice—raw and cracked—sprang from a sore spot in his chest.
“No.” Sara firmly shook her head. “You’re not responsible for this.”
“We’ve been arguing.” He bent over in the seat, head in his hands. “There’s been so much tension at the office. That can’t have helped matters.”
She reached across the console and tugged on his forearm, forcing him upright. “Honey, you just read all about encephalitis. You know it’s not caused by workplace tension. He’s been lethargic for weeks and rubbing that knee all the time. He must’ve picked up a virus somewhere.”
“I feel sick.” He rocked forward, rubbing his pecs, but it didn’t help. It seemed as if the vents were sucking all the air out of the car. “My chest hurts.”
“Should I pull over? Do you need some fresh air?”
“No, keep going. I won’t throw up. No more delays.” Delays. His sisters had been calling for two hours. Guilt squeezed his chest, turning him hot with fear and bitterness. He played with the air vents. Were the fuckers even working? “If I’d had my phone with me at the restaurant, we’d be home already.”
Sara stared at the road in silence, possibly holding her breath. He knew this wasn’t her fault any more than it was his, but his anger needed a target, and she was the only one available at the moment.
His body betrayed him more with each minute, queasiness and heat spreading like a rash. Sara remained quiet, allowing his anger to consume the car without telling him how to feel or asking for an apology. Her stoicism enraged him. He wanted to scream or hit something to release the anxiety that had hijacked his sympathetic nervous system.
Miles later, Sara finally uttered, “I’m sorry. About the phone.”
Her dejected voice flooded his overwrought system with shame. Something inside snapped. He rolled down the window and puked over the side of the car.
Chapter Fourteen
The funky odor of industrial cleaning products mingling with alarm pheromones gave Hunter a headache whenever he entered a hospital. Tonight was no different, nor did it help settle his queasy stomach. He strode through the hallway, dodging anxious strangers who strolled aimlessly, with their overly caffeinated eyes and down-turned mouths, while awaiting news of their own loved ones.
Harried nurses bustled around, managing sick patients, worried family members, and exhausted doctors. Machines beeped. Carts creaked as they wheeled past. Hospital workers shouted instructions at one another to be heard above the din.
Chaos.
He hated chaos, and no amount of plate glass windows and new construction made it any better. He wanted to oil those creaky wheels, tell people to sit and wait calmly, invent some sound for those machines to replace that sterile beep, and open all those windows to make the whole place feel less claustrophobic.
His sisters and stepmother sat clustered together in the corner of a waiting room. Colby saw him first and jumped from her chair, hugging him so hard he could barely breathe.
“Where’s Alec?”
“At the restaurant. Friday nights are busy, so I told him to stay because I knew I’d have everyone else here.” She eased away, wiping her eyes and then acknowledging Sara. “I’m glad you made it back.”
“We’re sorry we missed your calls earlier.” Sara’s bright eyes glistened, her smile faltered.
“Don’t apologize. You were celebrating. I’m really sorry that got cut short, but I’m also glad we’re all together now.” Colby hugged her.
Hunter kissed Gentry hello before addressing Jenna. Their habitual antagonism didn’t make stressful family times easier for anyone. Tonight, neither her emerald-green designer dress nor those sparkling diamond earrings could disguise her uncommonly pasty complexion.
Setting aside his animosity, he attempted the world’s most awkward embrace. “Any news?”
She quickly broke free and shook her head. “Not really. They’re testing for a bunch of stuff that can cause encephalitis.”
“Like what? Meningitis?”
“A lot of things, Hunter. I’m not a nurse.” Her blistering attitude didn’t shock him, but the deep worry lines on her face helped him remain polite. “I couldn’t understand half the names, except for simple ones like Lyme.”
“Lyme?” A rare affliction in Oregon.
“When we visited my sister in April, we spent time helping her with yard work and mulching.”
“Doesn’t Lyme have a distinctive rash?”
“Twenty percent of the time there isn’t a rash. If he got it, maybe it was on his scalp, and we missed it under all that thick Cabot hair.” Her strident voice broke apart. Although he disliked her, he knew she did love his father, and in that, they were united.
“That trip was months ago,” he mused. “Wouldn’t we have seen other signs sooner?”
“Most of the other symptoms present like a mild flu. How would we tell the difference? And, anyway, they haven’t confirmed the Lyme. It could be something else.” Her eyes, ordinarily filled with self-assurance, conveyed
a sort of vulnerability that underscored the gravity of the situation. “Nothing they rattled off sounded good, so I don’t know what to pray for.”
“Whatever it is, we’ll fight it.” Hunter patted her shoulder, unsure that his attempt at comfort was welcomed, or that he’d been able to fake the confidence he did not feel. He turned back to Colby. “Did the doctor mention next steps if it is Lyme? Catching it this late . . . what’s the treatment?”
“I’ve no idea. We’re just waiting, waiting, waiting.” Colby raked both hands through her hair. “The tests are being rushed, but we won’t know anything tonight.”
“Is he awake?” He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “Can I see him?”
Colby shot a quick glance toward Jenna, then replied, “They don’t want too many in his room at one time. We were kicked out a while ago so they could take him for more tests. I’m not sure if they’ve brought him back yet.”
Hunter closed his eyes before forcing himself to ask Jenna for a favor. “Can I go see if he’s awake?”
He doubted he’d respect her wishes if she said no, but this situation called for diplomacy he seldom extended to her.
She hesitated before nodding. “Don’t stay long.”
Sara had quietly greeted Gentry and Jenna while he’d been speaking with Colby. Now she stood uncertainly off to the side, worrying her lip and staring at the floor. The tense drive back from Cannon Beach hadn’t exactly brought them closer.
“Babe.” He reached for her hand. She clasped it, and together they searched the hall for his room.
Sara’s concern showed in the creases in her forehead. She’d loved his father right from the start, nearly fourteen years ago. Her silence proved she doubted Hunter would welcome her support. His fault, of course. Fear had turned him into an ass in the car. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”
“I know.” She kept her eyes downcast.
He stopped and lifted her chin so she had to look at him. “I mean it. I’m sorry I took out my fear on you. We were having a nice evening, and then this happened. Every time we take a step forward, something yanks us back six steps.”
“Hunter, let’s focus on your dad. Everything else can wait, okay? His well-being is the priority.”
“We’re okay, though, right?”
“Yes.”
He clutched her to his chest and kissed her head. “I can’t lose my dad or you, Sara.”
She rubbed his back. “How about we stop talking about losing everything. Let’s stay positive and keep our thoughts on healing.”
“Okay.” They found his father’s room, then stopped outside the door. Hunter inhaled deeply and said, “Let’s go.”
Through the window, the city lights below twinkled in the distance. It would have been peaceful if not for the incessant beeping from the heart monitor. The machinery cast a sickly greenish light across the dim room, which enhanced the sallowness of his dad’s skin. An IV line ran along his dad’s arm as he lay there, eyes closed, in the hospital bed.
“We should come back later,” Sara whispered.
His father stirred and opened his eyes. The man’s drawn, distorted face crinkled slightly as he tried to talk, but no sound came out. At least he was awake. Hunter couldn’t tell if his dad recognized him or his surroundings.
“Don’t talk, Dad. Just rest.” He sat on the edge of the bed, wanting to collapse against his dad’s chest like a child and beg him to get better. Yet grown-ups couldn’t fall apart, so he gently settled one hand over his father’s heart.
Sara went around to the other side, smiling reassuringly. “You gave us a scare, Jed. Now you need to listen to the doctors and get well so you can have fun with your grandchild.”
His father’s facial muscles twitched like he was trying again to communicate, but nothing comprehensible came out.
“We’re all here, and everything will be okay.” Hunter fought the stinging in his eyes. He wouldn’t let his father see his fear or hear his doubt. “Once we know what’s going on, I’ll get the best experts involved. Count on me, Dad. Okay? I won’t let you down.”
His father’s hand flexed, so Hunter clasped it and squeezed. More time. They needed more time. Hunter’s throat had grown sore from emotion and bile. “I love you. I’m sorry I’ve been so preoccupied . . . I’m just sorry.”
Something that sounded like “all right” finally emerged from his father’s lips. Then his dad’s eyes closed. Hunter’s heart banged against his ribs, but a quick check of the monitors indicated that his father’s heart hadn’t changed its pace. None of the other lines on the screen zigged or zagged or set off any kind of alarms, either.
He looked down at their clasped hands. When he’d been about eight, his dad had taken him to a Seahawks game after announcing that Jenna was pregnant. Hunter had been so mesmerized by the crowds and the vendors that he’d forgotten to stick close to his dad. He’d been lost for only a few minutes, but for the rest of that day, his father had held his hand. Hunter remembered the security instilled by that firm grip. The absolute trust he’d had in his father’s ability to take care of him. To do anything, really.
Now he compared their hands. Although roughly the same size, his father’s veins were more pronounced, his skin thinner and marked with a few dark spots. Now it was Hunter who had to provide that secure, assured grip to pull his dad through.
Hunter had never been a caretaker. How would he manage that, the company, and revive his marriage? His body tensed when he remembered to add a baby to his list of future responsibilities.
“He’s exhausted. We should let him rest.” Sara waved him away from the bedside.
“We’ll be down the hall, Dad.” He kissed his father’s temple and tucked the thin covers up around him.
Reluctantly, he followed Sara out of the room, at which point she wrapped her arms around him and stroked his hair. “It’s okay if you need to cry.”
He did need to cry, but not here, surrounded by strangers. “I’m not prepared for this, babe. I can’t stand seeing him so frail.”
Everything inside loosened and weakened, making it a feat to remain upright. Honestly, if she weren’t holding him up, he might collapse.
“Just be you. Strong. Steady. Calm. Rational.” Her soft hand cupped his jaw. “You do what you do best—stay in control now, okay. Your sisters and Jenna will be looking to you for guidance.”
He nodded, clinging to her like a baby. His family might depend upon him, but he’d fall apart without Sara—a humbling realization. He should confess so many things to her, but all that came out was “Thank you.”
When they returned to the waiting room, he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Mom? Why are you here?”
“Your sister called to tell me what happened.” She rushed forward to hug him. Her petite frame scarcely came up to his chest.
He patted her back, still shocked. “I don’t think she expected you to drive up here for Dad.”
“I didn’t do it for him. I’m here for you and your sister.” She smoothed her hair, keeping her back to Gentry and Jenna. “But I was married to the man. He gave me you two, so I owe him at least a little concern, don’t I?”
The hint of mist in her blue eyes betrayed her otherwise-cool demeanor. Despite the hurt and pain of their divorce and the many, many digs she’d taken at him throughout the years, a part of her still loved her ex. That left Hunter thunderstruck.
He’d spent years misjudging his mother as flighty and untethered to anything normal. He’d even blamed her, in some ways, for the breakup of the family because she’d nagged at his dad so often in the early days of CTC.
Now he understood how much inner strength it took to overcome that loss with dignity. To hold her head high in the face of the man who broke her heart, especially after he started a new family with another woman in the same small town where their friends lived. Hunter doubted he could gracefully accept Sara leaving him, especially if she quickly took up with someone new, as his father had done.
He shuddered.
“It’s okay, honey. Your father’s a tough old bull. No little virus will be his undoing,” she teased, as she often did to break up tension. He absorbed the comfort of her nurturing smile like a paper towel sopping up water.
“I hope you’re right.”
She patted his cheek. “Contrary to your opinion, you’re not the only one in the family who knows things.”
He chuckled, which eased some of the tightness in his chest. “I don’t tell you this near enough, but I love you, Mom.”
Her eyes grew dewy, and she touched his face. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
He didn’t share near enough tender moments with his mom, so he hugged her again before glancing at the others. Sara had suggested he needed to take charge. Because that role always made him feel better, he dug in. “It doesn’t make sense for all of us to sit here all night. Gentry, you probably need rest, anyway. Why don’t we take shifts? I’ll stay tonight.”
“He’s my husband, Hunter.” Jenna stared at him, carefully avoiding his mother’s gaze. “I’ll stay the night. You can come back in the morning.”
He was debating whether to challenge Jenna when Sara cleared her throat.
“Of course, Jenna,” his wife conceded. “We’ll take Gentry home with us.”
“Actually, I think I’ll stay at home this week with my mom.” Gentry’s gaze flitted away from Sara.
“Oh, okay.” Sara covered her disappointment. “That makes sense. We’ll drop you there, then.”
He didn’t like giving in, but he supposed Jenna had the right to stay, and she’d probably be whom his dad preferred to see when he woke up. “You’ll call us if anything changes or if you learn anything new?”
“Naturally,” Jenna said.
“Fine. I’ll be back at eight in the morning to spell you.”
“Actually,” Colby interrupted, “I’d like to come in the morning. That way I can also go to the restaurant by the time we open in the afternoon.”