Andrew knocked again. No answer. He tried to see in. Nothing.
Eddie’s frown was made of light and shadow, reminding Andrew of old black-and-white movie stills. Andrew got lost, looking at him.
Eddie’s strong jaw was resolute. His nose straight. He had eyelashes so full they made dark half-moons on his cheeks. Andrew had firsthand proof of his soft lips.
Andrew caught his breath at the sheer masculine beauty before him.
“What?” Eddie asked.
Andrew shook his head. “What do we do now?”
“Now we break in.”
“What?”
“Look,” Eddie said patiently. “I can’t imagine your dad ignoring both your calls and a knock at both doors. Can you?”
“Not really.”
“Does he sleep with headphones on or anything? Can you think of any other reason he might not answer the phone or the door for this long?”
“Maybe if he was in the shower.”
“It’s been too long for a simple shower, and he couldn’t be using either of the tubs. They were full of bags and boxes, right?”
“Right,” Andrew said uncertainly.
“Do you believe your dad would willfully ignore you if you came out here to see him?”
“After today? I think he’d come to the door just to tell me to piss off.”
“The way I see it is we either break in and check that he’s okay, or we call the police in to do a welfare check.”
“What does that mean?”
“If they decide there’s a reasonable possibility someone may be in danger, they can perform a warrantless entry.”
“The police? My dad would hate that.”
“Then we break in.” Eddie hesitated. “Does your dad keep firearms?”
“What? No. You think he’d shoot us?”
“I don’t want to find out.”
“He doesn’t keep guns.”
“All right.” Eddie pulled a multitool from his pocket. “Good thing this is an old-school door.”
“Why?”
Eddie jimmied the lock on the door and slid it open. “Can’t break into the new ones for shit.”
“Do I want to know how you know this?”
Eddie turned to smile at him. “My grandmother forgets her keys a lot.”
“Oh.” They glanced at each other before stepping into the kitchen. Andrew had never felt so uncomfortable.
He was breaking into his father’s house, for God’s sake.
“Call his name so he knows you’re here.”
Duh. Yeah. “Dad? It’s me, Andrew.”
“Mr. Daley?”
Nothing. Just the eerie quiet of an empty house. A soft light glowed from the direction of the dining room. Eddie walked toward that, afraid of what he’d see when they turned on the kitchen light. In the penlight’s dancing, darting orb, roaches skittered across the floor.
“Dad?” Andrew called again. He switched on the overhead light. Momentarily dazzled, it took him a few seconds to process Eddie’s sharp intake of breath.
“Call 911!” Eddie shouted from the dining room.
Andrew froze. As if from somewhere far away, he saw his father’s foot on the floor, framed by the doorway to the dining room.
What was he doing there?
“Andrew, now. Call 911. Your dad’s unconscious.”
“Okay.” Snapped out of his momentary trance, Andrew dug his phone from his pocket and made the call while Eddie ripped off his jacket and covered Reese’s chest with it. Andrew told the dispatcher as much as he knew—they’d found his father unconscious on the floor of his home. He gave them the address.
“He’s so pale,” Andrew told the dispatcher as he stood over Reese while Eddie performed the rescue ABCs.
“He’s breathing okay,” Eddie said. Andrew relayed that information. “His skin’s clammy. Pulse seems weak.”
“My friend says his skin is clammy,” Andrew told the operator. He pulled the phone aside and asked Eddie, “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” Eddie shook his head. “Stay with your dad. I’ll go out front and wait for the EMTs.”
Andrew nodded and knelt beside his dad. He took his father’s hand in his. It seemed cool and damp to the touch. Reese’s mouth was open, his breathing shallow and rapid.
There was no sign his dad knew he was there.
While Andrew looked down on Reese’s face, he got his first official flood of panicked adrenaline. If anything happened to his dad… God. He wouldn’t be able to bear it.
For years, it had been the two of them against the world. They’d been close when he was a kid, but after Andrew came out, after he went off to school and his dad had started filling the empty spaces of his life with things, their relationship soured. They’d argued and avoided each other. They’d lived in different worlds, twenty minutes apart.
If only he could have been a little more patient.
Christ. If only I could have all those tense, angry words back.
The dispatcher stayed on the line with him while he waited. He answered her questions as best he could, one ear listening for the sound of sirens and, after a while, approaching footsteps.
It seemed like an eternity, but it probably only took a few minutes before Eddie brought a handful of EMTs into the house through the sliding glass door.
“If you’ll step aside, sir?” One of them helped Andrew stand. “We’ll take it from here.”
Andrew nodded, his arms folded tightly around his body.
He backed into Eddie’s solid bulk. Eddie pulled Andrew into his arms and whispered, “It’s going to be okay.”
Andrew swallowed hard. “We don’t know that.”
“We don’t know anything yet. Don’t borrow trouble.” Eddie stood behind him, solid and certain as the EMTs started an IV line. After that, they loaded Reese onto a cot.
Thank God they’d cleaned out the kitchen that day, or the EMTs would have had a hell of a time getting to Reese to treat him. Bringing him out on a gurney would have been impossible.
Andrew couldn’t help feeling this was all his fault.
“What if this is because we forced him to work so hard today? What if it’s because he didn’t have a good meal, or…what if he had some kind of stroke because we upset him?”
“Think about what might have happened if we hadn’t come today. What if the kitchen and dining room were still impassible? What if you didn’t have that nagging feeling in your gut to check on him? He’d still be lying there, and God knows what could have happened.”
Andrew watched the EMTs wheel his father to the waiting ambulance. “I should call Pam.”
“Let’s find out what we’re looking at first.”
“If something I did hurt my dad—”
“Andrew.” Eddie tilted his chin up and met his gaze squarely. “You and I are working together with a psychologist to help a man who is drowning in problems he can’t fix by himself. Your motives were pure. You acted responsibly. There’s nothing here to blame yourself for.”
Andrew closed his eyes, still consumed by doubt.
“Come on. We’ll know more after the doctors have had a look at him. You should be there.”
“Yes.” Andrew let out a shaky breath.
Eddie took Andrew’s hand and led him out to his car. “Buckle up. I know where we’re going.”
Andrew complied. “Glad one of us does.”
Chapter 25
Andrew’s hands were cold. He couldn’t rid the clammy chill of his father’s skin from his fingertips, or the dread he’d felt when he realized there was something really wrong.
The EMTs had been brusque and efficient. Eddie and Andrew had followed him to the hospital. They’d arrived hoping for news, but his father had been taken directly into the ER for tests, and no one had any information yet.
Eddie sat beside him, solid and reassuring. He’d offered to get coffee or food. He’d offered to go to Andrew’s house to bring him a change of clothes—a
nything to make things comfortable.
Andrew remained numb with grief.
He couldn’t make himself engage. Couldn’t enter into the spirit of eight-month-old magazines and small talk. He sat with his hands clasped, holding himself together, waiting for news.
All the while, every memory he had of his father assailed him, reminding him of lost things and broken ties.
When a nurse finally came to Andrew with news, he gripped Eddie’s hand hard.
“Mr. Daley?” The woman shook his free hand warmly. “Your dad’s conscious. He’s asking for you.”
Andrew let out the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you.”
“You can go have a word with him, and then the doctor would like to talk to you.”
“All right.”
Andrew rose. He pulled Eddie with him as he followed her colorful scrub top down what seemed to be a Byzantine labyrinth of endless hallways. When they came to the room where they’d put Reese, she turned. “He’s in here, Mr. Daley.”
“Thank you.”
He pushed the door open. The room wasn’t private, but curtains screened the second occupant. His father lay, pale and fragile looking, in the first bed. The lighting was so abysmal it made Reese look twenty years older than his fifty-seven years.
“Dad?”
Reese lifted his hand in greeting. “Hey, Boston. This is a hell of a thing, huh?”
“Don’t call me that.” Irritation made Andrew blunt. “I’m Andrew. I go by Andrew.”
Silence stretched out before Reese spoke again. “I passed out?”
“Yes.” Andrew felt Eddie’s hand at the small of his back. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” Reese looked away.
“You didn’t answer your phone. Not even to tell me to quit calling so late.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Reese said gruffly.
“When you didn’t answer the door, we broke in and—” Andrew’s voice stalled out.
Reese cleared his throat. “I’m glad you did, son.”
Andrew took his father’s hand in a tight grip. “Don’t scare me like that ever again.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“Here.” Eddie pushed a visitor chair up next to the bed so Andrew could sit. “Why don’t you guys talk for a bit? I could use some coffee. You want some?”
“Sure.” Andrew nodded. He glanced up at Eddie. “Thank you so much. You’re—”
“It’s fine. I’m glad I could help.” Eddie headed for the door. To Reese he said, “Glad you’re okay, Reese. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“I don’t suppose you could bring me a cup of coffee?” Reese asked.
“Don’t you dare.” Andrew waved Eddie off.
As Eddie left, a man entered the room wearing a lab coat over plain green scrubs. He introduced himself as Dr. Salazar and shook hands with Reese and then Andrew.
“So, Reese,” he said. “Your blood sugar was critically low, and you appear to be very dehydrated. That's a pretty dangerous combination. Can I ask you some questions?”
Reese nodded. “Sure.”
“It says you have no current medical conditions. Is that right? Not taking medication for anything?"
"Nothing except aspirin and the occasional cold remedy, no."
"When was the last time you had a physical?"
Reese avoided Andrew’s gaze. "I don't exactly know. Not for a while."
"Have you lost weight recently?”
“I don’t weigh myself. Maybe.”
Dr. Salazar turned to Andrew. “Does it seem to you he’s losing weight?”
“You seem thinner to me, Dad.” Andrew hadn’t actually seen Reese in months. They’d only talked on the phone. Guilt made him flush deeply. “Your clothes did look a little baggy on you.”
“So.” The doctor nodded and made notes. “Tell me, what was going on today? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“We were working in the yard.” Andrew met his dad’s gaze. “Maybe we overdid it.”
“I can handle a little work," Reese said irritably.
“Have you been excessively thirsty lately?” asked the doctor. “Have you had cuts or bruises that are slow to heal?”
Andrew put all that together. “You think Dad’s diabetic?”
“I’m not diabetic. I’d know, wouldn’t I? Fat people get diabetes. People who eat sugary foods all the time.”
“Anyone can get diabetes,” Dr. Salazar told him. “Did anyone in your immediate family have a history of it?”
“I don’t know. I’m adopted.”
Andrew stared at his father in shock. “You’re kidding.”
“What? You knew I was adopted.”
Andrew shook his head. “Uh, no, I don’t think I did.”
“Whatever.” Reese sidestepped that. “You know you’re not adopted, right?”
Andrew gazed into a face so much like his it could have been an age-progressed photograph. “I got the memo.”
“So it’s not a big deal.”
“Not if it isn’t a big deal to you.” Andrew’s mind reeled. It wasn’t every day a man learned something like the fact his father was adopted. “It isn’t, is it?”
“No.” Reese shrugged. “The people who raised me were my parents, end of story.”
Dr. Salazar spoke into the awkward silence forming between them. “We’re going to keep you overnight and run some tests in the morning. If your blood sugar is fluctuating wildly enough for you to go into a hypoglycemic tailspin like that, it’s significant. Untreated diabetes would be one obvious cause, but there are others. We’ll talk about those if we need to after we run the tests.”
“Crap.” Reese turned his face away.
“Rest now. We’ll get this sorted.” Dr. Salazar shook their hands and then left them alone again.
“I can’t help wondering what would have happened if we hadn’t gotten to you in—”
“But you did. You did get there in time.”
“We found you in the dining room. What if you’d been upstairs? There’s no way the EMTs could have gotten up there with all their gear. What if I hadn’t called? If I hadn’t been worrying about how we left things off.”
“You were worried?” Reese pressed his lips together. They seemed dry, and Andrew got his water and then held the cup so Reese could sip it. He swallowed. “No need to worry, son. I’ll be fine.”
“If you take better care of yourself.”
Reese nodded. “I will.”
“I can’t believe you never told me you were adopted.”
Reese lifted a shoulder. “Never mattered much to me.”
“Still.”
“You know what?” Reese moistened his lips. He looked more tired than Andrew had ever seen him. Older than his years and then some. “My whole life, I never looked like anyone in my family, and then you came along, and it was like…for the first time, I belonged somewhere. Someone belonged to me by blood.”
Andrew’s eyes burned. “Dad…”
“Of course, you look like your mother too. You have her build. But your ugly mug, that’s strictly Daley stuff. Well, my stuff. No one’s ever going to doubt you’re my son. No one can take that away from me.”
“That right.” Andrew took his father’s hand again. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Yet now, you’re ashamed of me.”
The words hit Andrew ten times harder for being even marginally true. “I’m not.” Liar.
“I saw it on your face all day. It was agonizing for you to let your friends see you with me…with the house that way.”
“That’s—”
“I don’t really even know how it got that way, B—Andrew. One day just went by after another.” Reese’s eyes shimmered with tears. “It got easier to tell myself I was holding on to things to sell them. Keeping the plastic recyclables and old electronics to take them to the center all at once…or…I don’t even know anymore.”
“I understand. It�
��s a compulsion, Dad.”
Reese shook his head. “It’s not that I even want all that crap. But when it comes to getting rid of it, I get this awful feeling in my gut like I’m having a heart attack. I get dizzy like if I let go of any of it, something terrible will happen.”
The door opened, and Andrew glanced up to see Eddie return to the room with two coffee cups.
“Here.” He offered one to Andrew.
“Thank you.” Andrew held the hot brew without sipping it.
“Now you’re just torturing me,” Reese joked. “You’re a teacher. Don’t you know you’re supposed to bring enough for everyone?”
“We should go so you can get some rest,” said Andrew. “We can talk more tomorrow.”
“I need to talk to Eddie here for a minute. You think we can have some time alone?”
Andrew shot a questioning glance at Eddie, who nodded. He turned back to his father. “Sure.”
“I’ll see you later.”
“Tomorrow, first thing.” Andrew nodded. “I’ll be here.”
“I’ll see you then.” Reese smiled wanly. “We’ll talk more.”
EDDIE WATCHED ANDREW leave the room. When he turned back to Reese, he didn’t know what to expect.
“I guess I gave you two a scare?”
“Yeah, you did.” Eddie sat on the chair at Reese’s bedside, holding his coffee between his hands.
“I want to thank you for what you did today.” Reese’s eyes—so much like Andrew’s—sought his. “I don’t mean helping with the cleanup, but of course that too. I mean how you said we have something in common. I never really thought about being wired differently.”
Eddie couldn’t help imagining Andrew at Reese’s age. He liked what he saw a lot. “I had a teacher who helped me see that being different wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You work with what you have.”
“I don’t want to fight all the time. I want to get rid of things. I just get…it’s like…I can’t even describe it. It’s like you’re holding a loaded gun to my head, saying, ‘Make a decision, keep or toss,’ and I freeze up.”
“I’m sorry, Reese. I never meant to make you feel that way.”
“I know. And I don’t blame Andrew for wanting it clean. I’ve become his crazy relation.”
Eddie: Grime Doesn’t Pay: The Brothers Grime, book 2 Page 20