Wishes at First Light

by Joanne Rock

  “I’m okay. Clay will be here soon. You don’t need to stay.”

  No sooner had she said it than her half brother strode into the room, his long hair a little rumpled. Clay was actually sort of cool, and in the moments when Mia wasn’t miserable this week, she’d been happy for Gabriella that Clay seemed totally into her. Mia wouldn’t have pictured the head of her support group with someone kinda rock n’ roll like Clay. Between his motorcycle and his guitar playing—not to mention his PI job that had let him travel all over the US—Mia’s brother was definitely not your average joe.

  “How are you doing?” Clay asked her, glancing toward the bed before returning his focus to her. “Rough night?” He clapped Davis on the shoulder, seemingly okay with Mia’s sort-of boyfriend after a quick exchange in the driveway before school one morning.

  In fact, Clay seemed more at ease around Davis than with their father, making no move to stand next to their dad.

  It did not take a psych degree to see the tension there.

  “I’m okay. It just kind of spooked me when he suddenly sat up and started asking for you.” She scooted out of Clay’s way. “He really wanted to talk to you.”

  And she tried not to let that sting. While she and Pete didn’t have some great father-daughter thing, she had tried hard to show him how much she appreciated having a home with him by cooking and cleaning and just helping him out with stuff. But Pete didn’t seem to have any need for a bedside heart-to-heart with her.

  Her brother ground his teeth, his jaw flexing a few times.

  “And here I am.” Clay shrugged and headed toward the bed with as much enthusiasm as a kid walking into the principal’s office. “Davis, I can take Mia home after I finish up. No need to stick around.”

  Davis tugged an earbud out of his ear and looked up from the game. “I’d like to keep Mia company, if you don’t mind.”

  “That’s cool. Just didn’t want you stuck at the hospital if you needed to get home.”

  “My mom knows I’m here. She’s fine with it,” Davis assured him just as the hospital bed behind them squeaked.

  “Clay?” her father called in that weak but cranky voice that made Mia sad. “That you?”

  Mia glanced around Clay to see Pete struggling to sit up. She wanted to help, but knew that would only make him crankier. Her chest hurt from worrying about him. And herself.

  “Come on.” Davis dropped an arm around her shoulder, and that helped ease some of the ache. “Let’s go to the waiting room and see if they made new coffee or if the old pot exploded from sitting empty on the hot plate.”

  Of course, she didn’t care about coffee or hot plates. But she liked that Davis wanted to distract her. Wanted to stay with her. If she hadn’t been scared her dad wasn’t going to make it through the night, she would have been the happiest girl ever.

  Even with no cell phone. She stared down at the device she shouldn’t turn on. Not even for a minute.

  As long as Connor couldn’t track her down, she’d be fine.

  * * *

  “HAVE A SEAT, BOY. Your pacing makes an old man dizzy,” Pete complained while the heavy hospital room door closed behind Mia and her boyfriend.

  Clayton slowed his step near the antibacterial soap dispenser, taking an extra second to wash his hands. He hadn’t realized he’d been stalking around the small room like a tiger ready for a meal, but he definitely needed to relax. Get this over with.

  No matter what his father wanted now, would it really do anything to mitigate the fact that he’d beaten his kids, lost custody and refused to give them a shred of guidance in a world that left them with no bearings? No home?

  It damn well couldn’t bring back the baby who didn’t make it past infancy. And it could never ease the pain of losing Eddy.

  Still, Clay strode toward the hospital bed and dragged a big chair closer. Gabriella had urged him to hear his father out. To make what peace he could with the past before it was too late.

  For her sake, and for Mia’s, Clay planned to at least listen.

  “Took you long enough,” Pete groused, stabbing at the remote attached to a cord that raised and lowered his bed. His head lifted so he was sitting up, staring at Clay over a rolling table that held a water pitcher and some extra cups.

  “You had a seizure the last time we tried to talk,” Clay reminded him, scuffing his boot across the terrazzo floor. “I wasn’t sure I should try a second time.”

  “So it’s your fault I’m stuck in here?” Pete reached for the water pitcher, grabbing it with a shaky grip before spilling a little out into a cup. “I was trying to stay ’round home long as I could for the girl’s sake. She’s scared to go back to foster care. Damned if I know why, though.” Pete cackled drily between sips of water. “For you, that foster care was like a lottery ticket! You couldn’t run out fast enough. But Mia...” He swiped an impatient hand through his hair. “Something bad musta happened. Different for the girls.”

  It was more than his father had ever spoken to him at one time. Well, unless you counted screaming rants. But since those were rarely coherent, Clay didn’t include them.

  He tapped his thumb against his knee, wishing Gabriella was here to hear this. It confirmed her fears about Mia.

  Maybe Clay needed to take them more seriously.

  “I’m looking into her social worker.” Clay hadn’t forgotten the woman’s name. He had plenty of friends in child protective services given his line of work. “I’ll make sure she lands somewhere she’s happy.”

  “That’d be with you.” His old man pointed a thin finger at him, his skin a frightening shade of greenish-gray. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you. The girl’s mother is an addict, but before Amanda got out of control, she gave me some money toward Mia’s future.”

  That surprised Clay. The door opened and a gray-haired nurse in turquoise scrubs peeked into the room.

  “Damn it, woman, I’ve been waiting all week for this one to show.” Pete raised his voice, but it trembled as he grew agitated. “Can I have five minutes’ peace?”

  The nurse winked at Clay. Maybe she could see how mortified he was.

  “I’ll give you ten, Mr. Yancy,” she called across the room, her stethoscope gently banging against the door as she leaned in. “But I’m hoping for a sweeter disposition when I return to swap out your IV bag.” She closed the door again.

  “Fricking zoo in here. Like some IV bag matters when I’m gonna kick off soon anyway,” Pete grumbled, his eyes closing for a long moment.

  “So does Mia know about the money set aside for her?” Clay asked, hoping to get back on track so they could sew this conversation up soon.

  “No. It’s in a trust for you.”

  “For me?” Clay straightened. What the hell?

  “Don’t act so surprised. You were always trying to save the family even when I didn’t give a rat’s ass.” Pete’s voice cracked a bit.

  For a moment Clay thought he might recognize regret in his eyes. Not that it mattered now.

  “So when did you want me to give this money to Mia? When she’s eighteen?”

  “It’s a good bit of cash, actually. That Amanda got herself a sugar daddy for a few years before she started to really hit the pipe.” Pete shrugged, but he looked to be in pain. Uncomfortable. “It’s meant to help take care of Mia. Maybe send her to college. Whatever you think.”

  Clay wondered if he should call the nurse back to ask about some pain meds. He rose out of the chair. He couldn’t argue with Pete about the money right now when his father seemed to be going grayer.

  “I’m going to call a nurse.” He reached for the call button by Pete’s bed. “You don’t look so good.”

  “No.” Pete lifted a hand and clapped onto Clay with surprising strength, restraining him. “Wait.” The hand fell awa
y again. “I just wanted to say...” He took a long breath. “I know you blame me. About Eddy.”

  Clay went very still. The sounds around him intensified. His father’s ragged breathing. The steady beep of the monitor. The rattle of a food cart out in the hallway.

  He hadn’t expected a discussion about this. Pete’s eyes had closed again.

  “I just want you to know,” Pete continued, dragging open his eyes with an effort. “He didn’t die for nothing, you know.”

  Anger surged through Clay, swift and fierce.

  He clenched his fists at his sides.

  “No? I can’t imagine a better example of dying in vain. He bled out in a prison knife fight after stealing a car to make his loser father proud.” Clay had argued with Eddy about the rough crowd he was running with. Hated that Eddy had tried renewing a relationship with their drunk-all-the-time old man. “He should have never been in there, and you know it.”

  His voice had risen more than he intended. He heard it over the loud hum of an electronic blood pressure cuff squeezing Pete’s arm. His own blood pressure was probably through the roof.

  “I know.” A lone tear slid down Pete’s gray-green cheek. “All I meant was, his death made me sober up. I was able to get Mia—help her—because of that. If it hadn’t been for Eddy, you wouldn’t even know about that girl, and she’d...who knows what would have happened to her.”

  If his father expected forgiveness... Clay damned well couldn’t find any to give. He paced away from the bed. Tense. Angry. So full of old grief that hadn’t gotten any easier to deal with over the years.

  Dragging in long breaths, he was glad Pete was quiet for a minute so he could think. It was good that he’d pulled Mia out of the foster system if she really did have problems in her old home. And yeah, it was good he’d tried to put away some funds from her mother to benefit Mia down the road. It was a hell of a lot more than Pete Yancy had done for any of his other kids.

  As Clay stared up at the clock ticking down time, he could almost hear Gabriella reminding him that he didn’t have forever to make what amends he could with his father. To make peace with his ghosts.

  Thinking of her calmed the angry fire inside. Made him want to be a better man. He needed to settle things with his father before Mia and her boyfriend returned.

  Turning on his heel, he moved toward the bed, hoping he could find the right words. Pete’s eyes were closed. Vaguely, Clay became aware that the constant beeping sound he’d heard throughout their visit had slowed. A lot.

  He was about to grab a nurse when an alarm went off and two hospital staffers ran in the room.

  “Is he okay?” Clay asked, wondering where Mia had gone. “Where is his daughter?” he shouted into the hallway toward the nurses’ station. “Can someone find Pete’s daughter?”

  A man pushing a janitor cart gave him a nod and jogged down the hall.

  “Cardiac alert,” an electronic voice announced calmly over the loudspeaker.

  Four other staff members in scrubs poured into the room, one pushing a crash cart with paddles, another moving things away from Pete’s bed at a lightning pace.

  “Clear the room, sir!” someone shouted.

  Clay backed out, almost running into Mia as she burst through the door. One look in her anguished eyes was a kick in the chest. He’d been so busy avoiding his family—his father—that he’d failed her unforgivably by overlooking her. He was a PI, and he’d made it his mission to find his siblings and yet he’d missed her. Robbing her of family for years.

  And now she stood to lose the father she loved.

  Grabbing her in his arms, Clay hugged her tight before she could rush to Pete’s bedside.

  “We need to give them room to help him.” Leading her just outside the door, he watched in a daze while the staff crowded the bed in a controlled frenzy of movement.

  Clay could hardly breathe. He hadn’t expected this hollowed-out feeling in his chest. He’d been about to make peace with his father. Finally. Forever.

  And now?

  The chest paddles were out.

  Mia shook and sobbed against Clay, her cries noisy and gasping. She clutched her cell phone in a death grip in one hand, her knuckles white from squeezing the device.

  “Wait.” A female voice barked from the bedside, her command making the room go still. “I have a pulse.”

  Mia lifted her head from Clay’s chest. She watched the freeze-frame moment in the hospital room with him, her body as motionless as everyone else’s in that breathless instant.

  A machine at Pete’s bedside beeped once. And then again.

  Every gaze went to that machine, where a tiny digital heart flashed on and off the screen. The number twenty-three popped onto the display beside it. Climbed a few digits in the slowest moments of Clay’s life.

  “Cancel code,” one of the attendants announced, the words putting everyone back into motion again.

  The team with the paddles and crash cart retreated, the apparatus wheeling past Clay and Mia in a blur of red and silver. Doctors and nurses filtered out of Pete’s room until just one nurse remained. All the while, Clay kept his attention on the bed where his father was still breathing.

  There was time to make peace. Put the past behind them. For the first time Clay truly understood how big a burden it would be to carry the guilt of a hardened heart with him all his life. Gabriella had tried to warn him, but it had taken this hellish night to make him recognize it.

  “Can we see him?” Mia straightened from his side, swiping the back of her hand under both eyes and sniffling, still holding tight to her phone.

  Seeing how much she cared for Pete—how deeply affected she would be by his passing—shifted Clay’s perspective even more. Pete had done something good with his sobriety by reaching out to his daughter. He’d changed Mia’s life. Won the affection of a prickly, seen-it-all teen.

  Wasn’t that the same thing Gabriella hoped Clay would do once his father was gone? Be a positive influence for his sister. What a sorry wake-up call to realize that, despite all the times he’d denounced his father, Clay might not be able to live up to Pete’s success in that area. Clay seemed to have a wrecking ball effect on his relationships.

  “We can ask.” He led the way into Pete’s room, Mia close behind. Her boyfriend was a quiet shadow a few paces back. He gave the kid a lot of credit for sticking around.

  The boy seemed genuinely worried about Mia. As if he could protect her.

  Too bad nothing in the world would slow down the deterioration of Pete’s health.

  “Can we sit with him?” Clay asked the nurse.

  “Of course.” The woman smiled at Mia and waved her closer before speaking more quietly to Clay. “May I have a moment with you privately first?”

  Clay nodded, watching Mia fold their father’s hand in hers as she lowered herself to sit on the bed near him. She handed her cell phone to Davis to hold.

  Was it Clay’s imagination, or did the kid stare at it like she’d just handed him a grenade?

  Clay shook his head to ward off the odd image. He was just emotionally wasted and that was why he was seeing trouble wherever he looked.

  The nurse stopped a few feet from the bedside, her voice low and her back turned to Mia as she spoke to Clay. “Your father has told all of his nurses that he plans to sign a DNR—an order for Do Not Resuscitate—just as soon as he speaks to you. I had no legal choice but to call for the cardiac code just now because he hasn’t signed that order yet. But he’s been very vocal about it and I wanted you to be aware of his plans.” She bit her lip and peered back over her shoulder where Mia leaned down, resting her dark head on their father’s thin shoulder. “Mia has called to check on him hourly over the last two days.”

  “She has?” Clay’s gaze went back to the phone in Davis’s hand. Mia’s p
hone. “Did you tell her the hospital will notify her if there’s any change?”

  “She told the day nurse yesterday that she has to keep her phone off.” The woman—Marianne, according to the plastic name tag—shrugged. “I just wanted you to know about the DNR in case your father hasn’t mentioned it.”

  “Thank you.” Clay couldn’t identify the strange mix of feelings in his gut right now. Worry for his father. Worry for Mia. And the deep sense something was wrong in that girl’s life. Why in the hell was she keeping her phone off when her father was in critical health?

  He would contact Gabriella. Right after he made peace with his father.

  As the nurse left the room, Clay strode back to his father’s bedside. Carefully he picked up his dad’s hand, the skin weathered and yellowed before its time. Clay didn’t worry about what Mia might overhear. He needed to make peace now. Before it was too late.

  Leaning over the face that had haunted too many of his childhood dreams, he took a deep breath and let it all go. All the fear. All the resentment. All the burning anger that hid the hurt.

  Pete hadn’t been capable of being a father to him.

  “I forgive you, Dad,” he told the limp form. “You and I, we’re okay.”

  He watched his father’s face for any sign of recognition. Any hint that he’d heard. Clay could feel Mia’s curious gaze on him from across the bed, but he kept his focus on Pete’s sunken face.

  And felt a soft squeeze of his hand.

  His father’s fingers flexed around his. The subtle pressure wasn’t much of a response, but it told Clay all he needed to know. His father heard.

  The weight of a lifetime seemed to slide from Clay’s shoulders. Gabriella had urged him to do this, and this moment was because of her. He felt at peace for the first time in a long time. Fully at peace. Except now that he’d accepted his father’s shortcomings and forgiven him for all the ways their relationship had burned holes inside him, Clay knew Pete had no more reason to cling to life.

  Next time he came to with enough energy to speak, he’d be asking to sign the Do Not Resuscitate order. He would give up on life and Mia would be left alone.