Unbelievable: The Port Fare Series Book Two

by Sherry Gammon

  “What are you doing here? I thought you left to go fishing.” I stood, smoothing my hair into place.

  “We just got back. Seth and Cole stopped to pick up some food for dinner. But you and I need to talk,” Booker said in a tone that resembled a demand more than a suggestion. I ignored him and turned for the kitchen. “Delilah, I want to talk,” he repeated.

  “Talk. No one’s stopping you. I’m thirsty.” I smiled, imagining him turning red with anger, if the stomping of his feet behind me were any indication.

  “I want to call a truce,” Booker said as we entered the beautiful kitchen he’d built.

  “Why the change of heart, Gatto?” I poured myself a glass of ice water, noting the three bandages on his right hand that weren’t there when he left. I grinned into my cup, knowing who put them there. Good job, honey.

  “No change of heart, Delilah. I’m tired of being at odds with my friends so I’ll make you a little deal.” He stepped around to the opposite side of the island. “I’ll treat you with respect in front of Cole, Maggie, and Seth, and you do the same to me.”

  “You think I’m going to help you save face with your friends? Give me one good reason why I should,” I sneered.

  “The contention that exists between us—”

  “That you cause,” I bit out.

  “The tension between us,” he continued as if I’d said nothing, “is wearing on Cole, especially now with the tumor. If you care about him as much as you claim, you’ll want this, too.”

  I let the rude comment go. “You want to pretend we’re friends?” I asked incredulously.

  “No. They’d never believe that. But we can pretend that we have a truce,” Booker explained.

  “In front of them only?”

  “Yes. When they’re not around we can . . .” He trailed off, appearing to search for the correct wording.

  “Be just as mean and nasty as we want to be?” I supplied.

  He smiled slyly. “Yes, be as mean and nasty as we want to be.”

  I thought about it for a minute. He had a point. Our mutual hatred bothered Cole. Their friendship needed to stay intact. They were a family, and I was temporary. Once I was gone, what we had really wouldn’t matter anymore.

  “Fine. But I have a condition.” I didn’t let him protest; I kept talking this time. “When you find out you’re wrong, you’ll apologize to everyone, and you’ll hand wax my car . . . wearing a dress.”

  He laughed. “Deal. That’s the easiest promise I’ve ever had to make.” His eyes narrowed, leeching all humor from them. He leaned forward and added, “Because I’m not wrong.”

  Chapter 32

  Thursday evening I drove Cole to the hospital. I sat stoically as Dr. Maxwell described what would happen tomorrow.

  “You probably know all this already, Cole, but it’s standard procedure to go over this with each patient,” she said. Cole nodded as the lanky doctor drew a sketch of a head on a piece of paper. “We’ll shave a thin pathway on the right side of your head, circling the ear and coming up to about the temple. We’ll then drill nickel-size holes into the skull—”

  “I’m going to get a Diet Pepsi. I’ll be right back.” I darted out. Rubbing my twisted gut, I walked to the soda machine and stood staring blankly at it. The last thing I wanted was a soda. My cell rang, jolting me out of my stupor. I looked down. Restricted. I shut the phone completely off, not caring what Booker would say.

  “Is the machine broken?” one of the Tweedles from the ER asked. It seemed like a lifetime ago since I’d decorated Cole’s office.

  “No.” I stepped away. “I can’t decide what I want.”

  She slid her dollar bill into the money slot and pressed the Sprite button. The machine clanged and bumped before depositing the soda in a little door at the bottom. She removed her can and turned to leave. “So, I heard about Cole.” She passed her can from hand to hand. “I’m really sorry. He was a great guy.”

  “He’s not dead,” I spit out. “It’s not even cancer.”

  “Oh, I thought . . . Okay. Well, give him my best,” she said, scurrying away. I kicked the stupid machine and stomped back to Cole’s room. The surgeon was still there, so I sat outside the room and waited. She nodded to me as she left twenty minutes later.

  “Okay, girlfriend. Time to put on your game face,” I muttered to myself. I walked in and found Cole doodling on the paper Dr. Maxwell left, adding details to the skull. He immediately tucked it into the bedside table as I approached.

  “Would you like to test my Shakespeare? I see you brought the book,” Cole offered, pointing to his nightstand.

  “No, not now. What I’d really like to do is hold you,” I said softly.

  He signaled for me to get in bed next to him.

  “Is that allowed here?” I asked, not waiting for an answer as I crawled into the tiny hospital bed and nestled onto his chest.

  “What are they going to do, fire me?” I bounced as he chuckled. “I think it will be fine. And if not, I really don’t care.” He kissed the top of my head. “Should we watch some TV?” He pressed the remote and scanned the channels. As luck would have it, an infomercial for the Best of Andy Griffith was playing. We watched a few minutes of it, laughing at the bumbling deputy sheriff’s antics.

  “I should order this collection,” Cole joked. “If I lose my memory, maybe Opie can give me a few pointers on how to behave.”

  And the water works began. I tried not to cry, I really did, but like with everything else in my life lately, I failed. Cole held me tight. It took me forever to pull it together.

  “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be comforting you. You’re the one having surgery tomorrow.” I took a tissue from the bedside table and dried my face.

  “We’re a team, Lilah. We comfort each other. Personally, I’m glad you’re upset.” My eyes narrowed, and he laughed. “I just meant it’s nice to know how much you care. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.” He grinned, but in his eyes I could see that his fear equaled mine. I kissed his cheek and nuzzled back down in his arms. Time to pretend I was a brave girl and not a spoiled princess.

  “‘Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears,’” I began.

  “Oh please, Lilah, challenge me a little. Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene 2.”

  **

  “Good morning.” Cole greeted me with one of his breathtaking smiles as I woke. I’d fallen asleep next to him. I don’t think either of us budged all night.

  “What time is it?” I asked, stretching my neck around for the clock.

  “Six. The surgery’s at seven,” he said, shifting in the tight bed. “I hope you select a better bed for my house. This thing is miserable.”

  “Agreed.” I got up and twisted the kinks out of my back, bending over to touch my toes as the door opened. His Port Fare family entered quietly.

  “Hi, Lilah,” Maggie said, giving me a hug. “You must have gotten here early.”

  Booker rolled his eyes. He knew exactly where I was all night. “How are you feeling?” he asked Cole.

  “Good. Nervous, maybe,” Cole shrugged.

  Seth gave Cole a hug. “Everything will be fine,” he assured him.

  Within minutes the room filled with nurses and other medical personnel prepping him for the surgery. Seven o’clock came way too quickly for me. After a nurse gave Cole something that made him drowsy, he hugged everyone, saving me for last. He held me next to the bed, tracing my face with his fingers. Memorizing. “Keep my phone. All the videos are on it. I don’t want to lose them.” I nodded, picking up the phone from the bedside table and slipping it in my purse. “See you in about three hours,” he said, kissing me softly. “I love you.”

  “I love you more.”

  “Impossible.” He pulled me in, kissing me as if it were the last kiss we’d ever share. When I moved back, I watched a single tear tumble down his face and onto the bed before his body gave way to the pre-op meds.

  For the next four hours, we sat in the waiting are
a on ugly green couches making small talk, none of us broaching the subject of Cole. Maggie and Seth held hands and exchanged loving glances between worried looks. Booker stalked the room like a caged lion.

  “Booker, come sit down. It will be over soon,” Maggie said, patting the chair next to her.

  “It should have been over an hour ago.” He turned and left the room.

  I’d had enough, too. “I need to stretch my legs. Call my cell if he comes out before I get back.”

  I went out the door and turned in the opposite direction from Booker. I wandered the halls aimlessly for the next forty-five minutes, not paying any attention to where I was. My thoughts were on Cole’s surgery. Did they get the tumor? Were there surprises once they got inside? Did he survive?

  I tried not to think negative thoughts, but the surgery should have ended almost two hours ago now. I turned the corner, spotting the hospital’s chapel. Pushing the doors open, I found two people there, deep in prayer. I sat on a vacant, blue velvet bench and stared at flickering lights. Within five minutes I was alone.

  “Please, please spare his life,” I begged. “Please don’t take him. He’s a good man and he deserves to live.” My legs shook as I pleaded. “I know that lots of good people die young, which, by the way, I really don’t understand either, but I’ll argue that point another day. Just not him, not Cole. Let him live. I’m begging. Please. Help him become strong and healthy again. Help him find the perfect woman that actually deserves him, because we both know I don’t.”

  I shook my head, swallowing the bile that’d been creeping up. “He deserves so much more. He’s kind and giving. He’s patient and honest. He deserves someone who’ll stand up to their father, not a spineless . . .” I closed my eyes tight.

  “I’ll do anything you ask if you’ll just let him live. I’ll leave Port Fare and never come back. I’ll become a nun.” I doubt He believed that promise since I wasn’t even Catholic. But I was desperate. “Please, please.”

  As an elderly couple came in, my pleas turned silent for several more minutes as I waited for them to leave. I promised anything and everything if He’d just spare Cole’s life and make him whole again. Finally, I turned for the door. Only I couldn’t leave. Not yet. I spun back and dropped to my knees, this time begging and promising all over again out loud now that I was alone again. My breath came hard as I begged and the tears kept coming until I had nothing left. Exhausted, I laid on a pew and curled onto my side, watching the candle’s shadows dancing on the wall . . . waiting for my phone to ring.

  Needing to hear his voice, I took out Cole’s phone and played through the videos we’d made together, laughing at the faces we pulled eating the bizarre foods, and smiling at his joy as we rode the motorcycle.

  I watched him fishing with Seth and Booker, and smothered my belly laugh as he snagged Booker’s fingers with a hook, not once, but three times. My heart warmed as Maggie instructed him how to make his favorite lemon chicken, promising him she’d make it for him as soon as he felt better. “If you do forget it’s your favorite, don’t worry. We’ll find what your new favorite is. Seth and I want you to stay with us until you’re healed. You’re our family, Cole.” She disappeared from the video for a moment as she hugged him. “And if you only have half a brain left, I hope you’re smart enough to marry Lilah,” she added sternly before the video ended.

  The last video was titled Why I love Lilah. I hesitated for a moment, knowing I shouldn’t play it. After an internal debate lasting all of five seconds, I pressed play.

  Cole sat at Seth’s kitchen table with a sheet of paper in front of him, and a pencil in his hand. He looked directly into the camera that was across from him. He reached out, adjusting the angle of it twice. Then he began.

  “Okay, Cole. If things go badly, I’ve made this video in hopes of reminding you about Lilah. First of all you…I…we…dang. I didn’t think about what pronoun to use.” He scratched his head. “Okay, I’m just going to say why I love Lilah. Lilah is a breath of fresh air. She comes into a room and the place is suddenly on fire with energy and excitement. She’s brave, braver than she gives herself credit for. She’s working with Booker to stop her dad. Oh, and by the way, do not listen to anything Booker has to say about her. He has no objectivity when it comes to Lilah. Trust this video, and Maggie and Seth.

  “Okay, where was I?” He picked up the notebook. “Lilah’s fun to be around. She’s adventurous. She’s also very talented. She does interior design that is out of this world. Maggie and she have been working together decorating my house.

  “Lilah’s wonderful with Maggie. She encourages her as they work together, tries to build her confidence. I’ve seen a huge difference in Maggie since Lilah came to town.” Cole smiled proudly.

  “Lilah’s great with people, too. When she visits me in the ER, she’ll talk to patients as they’re waiting to see a doctor. She has a way of calming them down. It’s genuine. She really wants to help.” He smiled and added, “I’m madly, crazy in love with her.” He fidgeted with the chair and continued.

  “I wrote a list of things that I love about Lilah. They’re in my desk drawer in the file marked ‘unique.’ Study it and remember. I’ve also added a column titled ‘things about Lilah that bother me a little’. I didn’t want it to sound like she’s a perfect Stepford wife . . . ah, girlfriend, whatever. So far I only have two things.” He smiled his sweet Opie smile again. “Yes, she’s that amazing.

  “First, she can be a little reckless. Her spontaneity is a double edged sword. If she tells you that I let her ride on my motorcycle without a helmet, it’s not true. And under no circumstances are you to take her riding bikes on the trails in town, only along the canal path.” He shivered and shook his head.

  “And the other thing about Lilah I’m not crazy about is . . . well, it’s kind of stupid really, but she loves the color orange. I mean, really? Orange? I hate the color orange.” He sighed. I laughed.

  “I decided to look it up and see what the experts have to say about people who like orange.” He picked up the notepad and began reading. “Okay, the adjectives for an orange lover are passionate, energy, happiness, enthusiasm, fascination, creativity, determination, attraction, and success. Those are perfect words to describe Lilah. So, as you can see, you need to do whatever it takes to fall in love all over again if you have to; she’s that awesome.” He stopped for a moment, blinking back tears. “She fills my heart . . . no. She fills my soul. Never has anyone made me this happy. Never in a million years would I have thought a girl like her would be a good fit for a guy like me. But I was wrong. Read the list. Fall in love with her again. Remember, it’s filed under ‘unique,’ just like Lilah.” He reached for the phone and the video ended.

  I pressed the phone to my chest, my heart so full of love for Cole I feared it’d burst. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. How did this amazing klutz man with a heart of gold fall in love with me?

  I sat up, knowing I needed to get back to the waiting area, but not wanting to break the beautiful euphoria that filled my heart.

  “Delilah, it’s over.” I bolted off the pew at Booker’s words.

  “No! I begged. I made promises.” I grabbed the front of his shirt as I spoke, shaking Booker, as if it were entirely his fault. The bliss I’d just experienced vanished that quickly.

  He placed his hands on my shoulder. “I meant the surgery’s over,” Booker said kindly. “Cole’s in recovery.” Then, as if he realized who he was comforting, his hands shot off me like water droplets on a hot pan. His momentary compassion evaporated.

  “Why didn’t anyone call me? I told Maggie to call when she heard something.” I pulled my phone out. I’d turned it off when my father called, never turning it back on.

  “Your father called three times. He let a pretty nasty voice mail. Patient he is not,” Booker informed me unnecessarily.

  I shoved past Booker and ran to the waiting room. Maggie and Seth were speaking to the doctor. “The nurse will b
ring you back in about ten minutes.”

  “How’s Cole? What did she say?” I asked as the doctor walked away.

  “Not much. She said the surgery went well, Cole’s resting comfortable and we can go back to see him in about ten minutes.” Maggie gave me a hug. “You look terrible.” She brushed hair from my face.

  “That’s it? Nothing else?” I spun away, rubbing the ache in my head.

  “The doctor can’t say much without Cole’s permission, thanks to the HIPAA laws.” Maggie took my elbow and led me over to the chairs.

  After what seemed like forever, a nurse came out to us. “I can take you back to see Cole now,” she said to Maggie and Seth.

  “Come on, Lilah, Booker.” Seth waved us over.

  “I’m sorry, only two at a time. I’ll take you two back,” she pointed to Maggie and Seth, “Then you two.”

  “No.” No way was I going back with Booker. If Cole didn’t recognize me, he’d probably break out in a dance. “You three go, take your turns. I’ll wait.” I slumped into the nearest chair, telling myself that all was well. If not, they wouldn’t be letting us see him.

  Maggie stepped over and took my hand. “Come. You and I will go first.”

  “No. That’s not right either. You all are family. I’ll wait my turn.”

  “Lilah, we want you to go first. Come on,” Seth assured me.

  I shook my head, but before I could protest, Booker spoke. “Delilah, unless you want me to arrest you for obstructing visitation in a hospital zone, go see Cole.” He even offered me a half-smile.

  Maggie looped her arm with mine and pulled me through the doors behind the nurse. We approached the second bed on the left. Cole lay there with a large bandage wrapped around his head and two different IV lines going into his arms. I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands to keep from crying.

  Cautiously, I approached. “You’ll need to stay five feet back from the bed.” The nurse instructed us, to which we both nodded.

  Cole’s eyes fluttered open as Maggie called his name. “Hey, Magpie.” His voiced carried a scratchy tone.