“Did you girls decide a time?” Mama says quietly, and with concern.
“Tonight, he’s ready, we all are. It’s time; I know that.” I shrug my shoulders and walk through the screen door. My home, typically void of any aroma of baking food, smells like a combination of an Italian restaurant and a French bakery. My stomach sets off into a low grumble, clinging to the last bite of a granola bar I had hours ago. Beau, snout on the ground, wanders around the kitchen floor looking for any stray crumb Mama might have dropped.
“You go shower, and then sit with your mama and have some lasagna,” she says, popping the dishtowel at my bottom. “The blackberry cobbler is almost ready, too. Do you want some sweat tea?”
“Yes ma’am, that sounds perfect,” I say, walking into my bedroom. The rumpled sheets and my grandmother’s hand-made quilt are calling to me, but there’s too much to do to succumb to the temptation of sleep, though nothing sounds more appealing than unconsciousness. Grabbing a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt from my closet, I decide to settle on a bubble bath.
Beau follows me from my bedroom into the bathroom, and I rub the hair behind his ears. “I know, buddy, I missed you too,” I say, before closing the door and shutting him out. The bathtub fills to the top with lavender-scented bubbles, and the sounds of an acoustic guitar drift into the steamy room from my phone dock. My eyes feel heavy, and my mind feels worn down.
My entire body sinks to the bottom, face submerged in soapy water, only my toes show while propped on the faucet. I stay under until I feel my lungs burning in my chest, begging for the sweet relief of air. I breech the surface, inhaling warm oxygen, then lean my head back against the cool tiles, breathing slowly through my nose. Today is the day, and though I know with every fiber of my being that it is the right choice, it still doesn’t do much to numb the sense of loss I feel. The only comfort I have is knowing that L.J. will finally be free of the confinements he was left with after the accident. Whatever peace he has been looking for over the past six years, maybe Liza was right, maybe now he’s found it . . . and we can all start to breathe on our own again. I close my eyes, letting my mind grow silent.
Gentle knocking on the bathroom door causes my eyelids to flutter open, and Mama’s voice calls quietly from the other side, “Danni, you’ve been in there for almost an hour? Everything all right?” There’s a hint of concern in her voice. The bath water is several degrees cooler than when I first got in, and chill bumps work their way along the tops of my thighs.
“I think I fell asleep, I’m getting out now,” I say, standing and running my hands over my arms for warmth. The drain sucks down the suds, and I turn on the hot shower water to warm my body and rinse my hair. The nap has given me a fresh burst of energy, and I quickly work to get dried off and clothed, my hunger driving me forward.
“Mama, that smells like heaven,” I say appreciatively, walking into the kitchen and running a brush through my wet hair.
“That nap probably did you some good, now eat. You can’t live off packs of crackers and cups of Jell-O. You need a hot, fresh meal.” She places a plate of lasagna on the table in front of me, the cheese bubbling on top, and a slice of buttery bread beside it. The fork sinks into the dish, cheese stringing behind as I bring it to my mouth, the taste of rosemary and fresh tomatoes enveloping my tongue. I close my eyes, savoring every bite.
“Thank you for this, and for everything you’ve been doing. I don’t just mean this week, with L.J. and Benson, or the past six years. I mean everything. I don’t think I could have asked for anything more in a mother.” I stand, walking over to where she’s sitting, and hug her tightly around the neck. Though she would never admit it, I hear her sniffle into my shoulder.
“Nonsense, you are my daughter. It’s what mamas do; you’ll know that one day when you have a redheaded baby running around,” she says, placing her hand on my face. “Now sit back down and finish that lasagna. I’ll pack Benson a plate, so he doesn’t have to suffer from malnutrition. That hospital food is as bad as roadkill,” she says, standing and walking over to the counter, hiding that she’s wiping away a tear.
“How is Liza holding up?”
“The same, she’s so strong. Seems like she always has been. I’m jealous of that,” I say, admitting it for the first time out loud.
“Well, Liza and L.J. are twins, there’s a bond there that we will never be privileged enough to experience. But I think Liza sensed a long time ago that her brother was no longer there, already moved on from this world and finding his peace in another,” Mama says, back still turned to me.
“Where’s Daddy at today?” I ask, realizing I didn’t see his truck when I pulled in earlier.
“Funny you should ask. Benson called him this morning and asked him to come down to the hospital. Said he and Jess wanted to talk to him about a program he’s been mulling over.”
“A program?” I ask, wondering why Benson wouldn’t have mentioned it to me.
“Mmmhmm. That Jess is something else, huh? I caught him in the elevator yesterday with some poor unsuspecting orderly. He was laying it on thick,” she says, pulling her hand to her mouth and snickering.
“Oh, you have no idea.” With my plate completely cleaned, and the last drop of tomato sauce slopped up with garlic bread, I take my dish to the sink and dunk it in the water. “That was delicious, Mama. I feel like a new woman after a bath and that lunch.”
“Now go dry that hair before it settles into a tangled mess, and stop fiddling with that plate and let me clean it up. Makes my heart happy to take care of my baby girl,” she says, shooing me out of the kitchen with her hands.
Benson was right, I do look like shit. Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, there are dark circles under my eyes, and I cringe to think what they looked like before a hot bath and the moisturizer I slathered on afterward. My skin looks sallow, and my hair is flat. Reaching under my bathroom vanity, I pull out some foundation, a tube of mascara, and my blow dryer. It’ll have to do.
After thirty minutes of trying to bring my appearance back to life, I emerge from the bathroom fresh-faced and feeling marginally better. The kitchen is completely cleaned and straightened, and Beau is lying at my Mama’s feet as she’s reading a book on my couch.
“Ahh, there’s my Danni-Rose,” she says, looking up and taking off her reading glasses. “It’s about that time, huh baby?” She gives me a knowing smile, and I nod my head in response. “I have something for you.” Mama walks into the kitchen to her purse, rummaging around until she comes back with something clenched in her fist.
“What is that?” I ask curiously.
“Six years ago, you asked me to hold on to this for you. I always assumed that it was too painful for you to look at, or it brought back too many memories. But I think it’s time to take this back,” she says, extending her hand and letting the white gold chain dangle from her fingertips. At the center of the chain sits a dainty diamond encased in a circle of smaller ones. It reflects the sunlight coming through the living room windows, casting refractions of amber light onto my face. It’s as beautiful as it was the day L.J. gave it to me up on our special place behind Mama and Daddy’s house. When Tommy pulled L.J. out of the dirty water that day, he still had it clutched in his fingers, holding on to it for dear life even though he was already too far gone.
“Seems like a lifetime ago,” I say, smoothing the chain between my finger and thumb. Turning around, Mama secures the clasp around my neck, and I look down as it rests just above my heart, a place where I will always keep the memory of L.J. alive.
* * * *
The hospital parking lot is thick with cars, and though I try to avoid the area where Benson was shot, it seems as though I have no choice but to park the Jeep there. As per usual with southern weather, the early fall day is still caked in humidity. The people leaving the hospital scurry like ants under a magnifying glass, evading the harsh rays
of the sun. I quicken my pace, making a big circle around the brown-stained cement where Benson laid for what seemed like all of eternity, waiting for a gurney to carry him in. I don’t look down; I keep my eyes forward and aimed at the hospital doors.
“Back so soon?” An older gentleman, gentle-voiced and always pleasant, greets me from the reception desk. Immediately, cool air sweeps across my face, and I fan my shirt out from my damp skin.
“Nowhere else to be,” I say, moving past him and returning his smile.
I can hear voices coming from Benson’s room, and I can pinpoint the exact inflections between each of the people they belong to. As suspected, upon entering the room I see Benson sitting in his hospital bed, Jess to his side on the chair, and my dad sitting on the couch, elbows propped on his knees. His face shifts from deep concentration, to a kind smile as he sees me.
“There’s my girl,” my dad says, walking over to me and pulling me into a hug. “How are you holding up, sugar?”
“Good, Dad. I went home, showered, got fed by Mom.” I hold up the Tupperware, showing my evidence.
“God, I hope that’s for me,” Benson says, waving me over.
“Yep, you and Jess.” I reach down to his level on the bed and give him a small peck on the lips. I might want to feel his mouth working urgently against mine, but my daddy’s in the room. “What are you boys up to?” I ask, looking each one of them in the face.
“Come here and sit down for a minute,” Benson says, making room for me on the bed beside him. He pretends the movement doesn’t hurt, but after days of memorizing every curve of his face while he laid motionless in bed, I can tell when he’s uncomfortable.
“Have they brought you anything for the pain?”
“I don’t like that stuff, Danni, makes my brain feel groggy,” he says, waving away my questioning. My forehead creases, and I make a mental note to bribe him into taking something later.
“Benson and Jess called me over this morning to discuss something the two of them have been cookin’ up. Gotta say, I’m impressed with these two young men,” my dad says, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Even this one?” I ask, jutting my thumb over toward Jess.
“Come on, Red,” he says, folding his arms over his chest defensively. Benson and I chuckle together at Jess’ expense.
“As a game warden, I have a lot of contacts throughout the State Parks in the southeast, and a lot of knowledge these boys thought I could share with them. It seems that L.J.’s impact on this planet isn’t quite over yet,” Dad says, causing seriousness to flood the room.
Benson takes my hand in his, tracing circles just below my thumb. “Since meeting you, my outlook on things has changed quite a bit. L.J.’s story is a powerful one, one that the woman I happen to care for the most in the world experienced herself. I not only want to do something about it, I need to.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, waiting for someone to fill me in on what’s been happening in this room since I left this morning.
“Jess and I want to start an awareness program . . . of sorts. We want to use L.J.’s story, his life and the way it came to an end, to bring awareness to the fishing community. There is a lack of communication about precautions and safety out on the water. I guess we never really understood the full impact of what could happen until we saw it here. All the focus is on bringing the biggest bass into the weigh station at the end of each day. Fishing tournaments start young, at the high-school level, and no one really talks about what can happen out on the lakes, they only talk about what you can win from them. I think with my reputation, and with Jess’ managing skills, we can get in just about any school in the nation to talk to the fishing teams. I think we can set up something with the local towns that the pro circuit frequents, to set up a safety meeting before each tournament begins. The way I figure it, if I can find a way to make L.J.’s death mean something, to honor it in some way, then I’ll be honoring you as well. And I’m just getting started on that.” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses me just below the wrist.
My eyelashes dampen, and I have to swallow back the large knot in my throat. It takes a few minutes of silence before I’m able to speak. “I think L.J. would like that.”
My daddy stands, walking over to Jess and shaking his hand. “I’ll get started on that list of parks in the area that I know will be willing to hear what you boys have to say. I have a feeling you two are going to get real busy with all this.”
“Mr. Howell…” he says, trailing off, looking for the right words. “Thank you, son.” And I swear I see my dad’s eyes watering, but he leaves the room before I can be certain.
Jess stands to follow my dad out of the room, but I stop him by grabbing his elbow. I throw my arms around his neck, silently thanking him.
After Jess closes the door, I wander back to Benson, kissing him the way I’ve been craving since I left this room earlier in the day.
“Mmmm, missed you too,” he says, slapping my rear and biting my neck. I laugh and push away from him, trying not to start something we can’t finish.
“Where did you come from, Angler?” I say, looking at his face in bewilderment. He responds with a crooked grin.
“Have you been to see Liza?” he asks, and I shake my head. “She was here this morning. She said six o’clock?” he asks.
“Yes . . . that’s when the doctor is unhooking the ventilator. I should probably go check on her. Eat this,” I say, placing the container of lasagna in his lap.
“Hey baby,” he says, stopping me before I’m able to leave the room. “I’ve already spoken to Liza about this, but I need you to do something for me.” He places the food on the nightstand beside the hospital bed and attempts to swing his feet over the side.
“Whoa, what are you doing? You’re going to pull your staples out!” I rush over to him, placing my hands on his chest, attempting to make him stop.
“Go get a wheelchair from out in the hallway, there’s something I have to do before six o’clock. And don’t argue with me. I’m going to L.J.’s room even if I have to crawl,” he says. I stand back, watching him push his broken body out of bed, and I can’t find the will to deny him.
I’m searching the hallways, looking for a spare chair when I see her. Liza smiles at me as she exits the elevator, pushing on the handlebars of the empty wheelchair, heading for Benson’s room.
Chapter Seventeen
Benson
Seeing something other than the four walls of my hospital room causes my mood to shift from shitty to less shitty. If I had to look at the framed beach scene, with a sand dollar lying beside an abandoned beach towel, for one more second, I might never make it back down to the gulf for a little sea fishing. Danni has a concerned expression on her face, and I get it. She’s been through a lot this week, and nothing in me wants to make her worry any more than she already has. I reach down beside me, grabbing her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Benson, are you sure about this? You shouldn’t be out of bed until the doctor—” Danni begins.
“Stop fussin’. I’m ok.” I pull her hand up to my lips and kiss the inside of her wrist. She looks at me with a doubtful expression, but she’s just going to have to deal with it. Before I can comfort her any further, a searing pain wraps itself around my side.
Liza whacks the wheelchair into the elevator wall, and a curse seeps out of my mouth through gritted teeth. With every bump in the floor, the tugging of my staples sends a burning sensation across my middle section. I know if we run into one of my doctors, they will send me straight back to my room.
“Woops! Sorry,” Liza says with a cringe. She peeks around my shoulder to see that I’m ok.
“What kind of a doctor are you?” I joke, and she pushes the button that leads to the intensive care unit.
“What’s going on here, anyway?” Danni asks, and Liza and I exchange
a glance.
“Just something I need to say. Stop worrying so much about everything, and take over wheelchair duty before Liza kills me.”
The elevator dings to life and the doors slide open. Nurses, whose attentions seem to be aimed at the wall of screens showing patient vitals, are sitting behind a large, curved reception desk. With a familiar smile and nod toward Danni and Liza, their eyes fall to me. Liza speaks up before anyone can protest.
“He’s here to see L.J., before tonight.”
The nurse hesitates, looking warily at me.
“Is this Mr. Howell? The patient who was shot in the parking lot last week?”
“Yes, it is. He is a friend of L.J.’s that would like to pay his respects before this evening,” Danni says quietly, but with an air of authority. I wonder if I will always be in awe of the way she commands the attention of everyone in the room by just being in it.
The nurse relents, and hits a button causing the doors to click open.
The space is divided down the middle with rooms on either side, the only thing separating some of the patients from the rest of the world is a curtain. Some patients are in rooms with glass doors and walls, that you can see directly into at all times.
Liza stops in front of L.J.’s room and Danni pulls back the curtain as she pushes me inside. L.J., unlike the first time I saw him, is lying in the bed, the ventilator breathing for him, with his eyes closed. There’s an air about the room that feels weighted, and there is an acute sense of death clinging to the space.
She wheels me to the side of the bed, and takes a few steps back. Danni walks over to the couch and takes a seat, crossing her legs. Her foot begins bobbing up and down. She is chewing her bottom lip, and her eyes are nervously looking around the room.
“Hey baby, if you don’t mind, I need a few minutes here.”
“Oh . . . ok,” she says, standing and walking with Liza to the curtain, looking back over her shoulder at the two of us before she steps out into the hallway.
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