It’d happened twice before, actually. And it definitely wasn’t a fun experience.
I’d tried doing it my way only to find out that my way didn’t work.
Which had been partially why I moved out of the house that had been close to Jubilee.
Not only had her stalker wired my place as well, but I’d also had an over-zealous fan of my father’s break in to steal something of his. Despite my father not actually living with me and all.
But after that incident paired with Jubilee’s crazy guy, I just couldn’t stay in that place anymore. I had to get away.
“Your dad has a lot of crazies?” he asked, pulling out a set of keys and completely dismissing me.
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved by that or offended.
I was feeling a lot of emotions right then, and a lot of them were centered in my vagina.
I wanted him. Badly.
So badly, in fact, had he acted like he wanted me even a little bit, I would’ve let him have me.
Honest to God, I was beginning to find out that a lot of things when they came to Castiel, I had no control over. My body’s reaction being one of those things.
“Yes,” I said as I followed him up the porch steps and into his dark, cold house.
I instantly shivered and wrapped my arms around my belly to try to retain some of my heat.
Since I’d lost weight, I’d turned into a big weenie. I couldn’t go outside during sixty-degree weather without needing a freakin’ coat.
Before, sixty degrees would be what I was comfortable in wearing shorts and a tank top.
“And they follow you around or something trying to get to him?” he asked.
I didn’t really want to get into this. It was bad enough that I got into it with my father. Getting into it with a cop who already disliked me? Yeah, no.
Searching for something to change the subject, I started to gaze around the small cabin that Castiel was busy moving around turning on lights.
My eyes hit a guitar that was leaning up against the wall next to the door.
“You play?” I asked before I could stop myself.
I loved playing guitar.
Loved. It.
“Sometimes,” he muttered, sounding reluctant to answer.
A man of many words.
He disappeared into what I assumed was the bedroom and came back out moments later with a pillow and blanket. One that looked like it came straight off his bed.
He threw them down onto the couch and then pointed to another door that I hadn’t seen before. “Bathroom is through there. There’s a pair of sweats and a t-shirt on the counter that I had on earlier if you want to change.”
“Do you mind if I stay up a bit?” I asked curiously.
Then, before I could explain why, he was heading away again.
“Knock yourself out,” he muttered.
Then the door to the bedroom slammed, and that was the last thing I heard the rest of the night.
With nothing else left to do, I started texting my mother.
I hadn’t heard from her in the last couple of hours, and that was odd for us.
She answered immediately.
Turner: I met a guy.
Mom: Is he ugly?
Turner: Burn. No, but I met one. And he isn’t ugly, but he has no interest in me. Do you think they make a magic love potion that’ll make someone love you?
Mom: No. Sorry. You have to find a person that loves you for you. Like your mother.
I smiled at my mother’s words. She was definitely a no-nonsense kind of woman.
Turner: This one probably will never happen. He thinks I’m a spoiled rich kid.
Mom: You are a spoiled rich kid.
I snickered and tapped out my next reply.
Turner: What time will you be here for Thanksgiving? I don’t know what you want me to make, either.
Mom: Ice.
Turner: I read a meme the other day. It said ‘if they tell you to bring ice, you can’t cook.’
Mom: Still ice.
Turner: Mom! I can cook like the dickens!
Mom: I don’t even know what ‘cook like the dickens’ means, but I don’t want to know. Plus, I can cook better than you. I’ll need you to sample everything, though.
I rolled my eyes.
My mother had just had her gastric bypass a few weeks before at my encouragement and was doing wonderfully. However, the downside of her having the surgery so close to Thanksgiving meant that she couldn’t sample any of her wonderful food.
Then again, I wouldn’t be able to, either.
Turner: Better call Bud in for support.
Mom: Already done, baby. He can’t come for the holiday, but I called him. Now, go to bed. I’ll talk to you in the morning.
I smiled at my mom’s words, then texted the words that I always ended our conversations with.
Turner: I love you.
Mom: Love you small. Love you big. Love you like a little pig.
Chapter 8
Fun parenting game: take a shot every time your child whines.
Disclaimer-Don’t do this. You’ll die.
-Coffee Cup
Turner
The loud blaring of my phone woke me from a dead sleep, and I jolted upright, confused and heart pounding.
It took me a long time to figure out what, exactly, was making the sound. But when I did, I reached for my phone and had it placed to my ear moments later.
Peripherally, I was aware of the bedroom door opening, and a large figure filling the near blackness, but my heart was pounding so hard that I couldn’t make sense of much else.
God, my cell phone was loud and scary when it went off in the middle of the night.
“Hello?” I answered, sounding sleepy and confused.
“Turner,” my father’s deep voice filled the phone. He sounded worried. “Something happened to your mom.”
My heart started pounding and I moved until my feet were hanging off the side of the couch.
“What happened? Is she okay?” I asked as I reached blindly for my glasses that I’d had to put on the night before.
I kept an emergency stash of stuff in my purse in case I needed it.
My contacts case. An extra pair of underwear. My glasses. Even a couple of baby wipes.
“She was having shortness of breath,” he said.
I rubbed my hand over my face to try to control the urge to pound my head against the table that was in front of me.
“And how is she now?” I pushed.
My dad, when it came to my mom, was a lovesick fool.
He was cool, calm and collected as long as it didn’t come to Patty Hooch.
When Patty Hooch came into the picture, however, all bets were off. My father was well and truly gone for her.
“I…I don’t know,” he admitted, sounding lost and confused. “I’m at the hospital in this little room, and they won’t let me back to see her.” He paused. “They said her heart stopped on the way here.”
That had me shooting to my feet.
Before, all he’d told me was that she had shortness of breath, which, unfortunately, was normal for my mother. She was overweight, and unfortunately, not as good at walking as she used to be when she was smaller.
Which was why I’d encouraged her to have the surgery. I wanted her to experience life. I wanted her to meet her grandbabies. I wanted her to watch them, and love on them, and tell them that they were her whole heart exactly like she did with me.
“What hospital, Daddy?” I said, reaching for my purse and shoes at the same time.
“The one in Kilgore,” he said. “We were on our way to see you. Coming down early.”
I moaned a little bit in the back of my throat and said, “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t freak out. I love you.”
He hung up without saying it back.
“Everything okay?” I heard from the doorway.
/> I shook my head and started for the door, only to realize that I’d been brought here by Castiel.
“I n-need a ride,” I stuttered out. “My mom…no, everything is not okay.”
He didn’t ask why. He didn’t complain. He only turned around and went back into his room, flicking the lights on as he did.
I realized then that I really had to go to the bathroom, and there was no reason that I couldn’t go while I was waiting for him.
So I did, trying not to think about my mom or my dad, or anything really.
I tried to think about other things. Like what work I had to do tomorrow, and when I would have to be at the funeral home to help with decorating for the next funeral. Or being in my best friend’s wedding.
By the time I got out of the bathroom, I’d managed to calm my racing heart minutely, and Castiel was already waiting for me.
I swallowed hard and followed him out the door.
He didn’t take me to his bike, though.
No, he took me to an old car that looked beautiful.
“Nice car,” I said. “Is it a Nova?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed, opening the passenger side door for me to get in. “It is. Thank you.”
I slid into the seat and then fell to pieces.
He shut the car door and rounded it. By the time he was getting in, too, I was already well into a minor panic attack.
I was hyperventilating, crying hard, and I could hardly think.
“What hospital?” he asked as he started to back out of his spot.
“Kilgore,” I whispered through the tears.
He shifted through the gears, and only when he was in the one he needed did he reach for my hand.
“It’ll be okay,” he promised.
I swallowed hard.
“What if she dies?” I asked bluntly.
“Unfortunately, it’ll still be okay,” he replied.
“All right,” I whispered brokenly.
“Good,” he said. “Now get yourself under control. You don’t know anything yet.”
Instead of asking him how he knew what happened—I knew, my dad talked really loud—I decided to take his advice.
I closed my eyes and tried to control my tears. It wouldn’t do to go walking into that emergency room with my heart already torn into pieces. Castiel was right. I didn’t know what happened just yet. She could be just fine.
But she wasn’t just fine. Which I found out twenty minutes later when I was led back to a little room.
“Mr. Hooch?” the doctor said as she came to the little room. “Will you come with me?”
I saw my father unfold his tall frame out of the uncomfortable looking leather seat and stand to his full height. He looked so lost and confused that I couldn’t help rushing to him and wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Come on, baby. Let’s go,” Dad said.
I swallowed hard and decided to do as told, turning around and starting out of the room with my hand in my father’s.
I was stunned to see Castiel leaning against the wall talking to the doctor.
I felt a shiver run through me at the expression on his face.
“Y’all, please follow me,” she said.
So we did, and I looked at Castiel again for any indication as to what we were about to walk in to. However, his face was no longer what it was before. It was now blank. His cop face. The same one that had given me a ticket what felt like forever ago.
I felt a shiver of fear roll down my spine.
“I just want you to know that we’re about to go into the trauma room,” the doctor said, drawing my attention once again to her. “When the ambulance arrived at your RV, Mr. Hooch, it was in response to her shortness of breath, correct?”
“Yes,” Dad said.
“Well, when she got into the ambulance, her heart stopped three times on the way to the hospital,” the doctor explained. “Each time it stopped, they were able to get it started again. But as she was arriving, it stopped again. When she got here, we were able to get it started.” She opened the door and that was when I saw my mother with a sheet covering her. She had a man at the head of the bed that was blowing oxygen into her lungs through a mask that was covering my beautiful mother’s face. “However, every time we get it started and working again, it stops.”
I swallowed hard and felt nausea roll through my belly.
There was a man at her side with a metal instrument holding it to her side.
“That’s a doppler. We’re searching for her heartbeat,” the doctor explained when she saw my attention was focused elsewhere.
I nodded once in understanding.
“We believe that your wife has suffered a pulmonary embolism,” the doctor said. “But unfortunately, we’re not able to…”
“No more heartbeat,” the man said with the metal instrument.
Then right in front of our eyes, he started to do chest compressions on my mother.
Her body flopped around uselessly, and the man at her head tried in vain to get her head to stay still as he continued to breathe for her.
“We’ve maxed out every medication that modern medicine has to offer that’ll help in this situation,” the doctor said, seemingly unfazed by my mother receiving CPR right next to her.
I closed my eyes and shook my head, unable to think.
“Can we take this outside?” Castiel asked from behind us.
Dad nodded, and I felt relief pour through me.
I didn’t want to be here anymore.
I could see things now that a daughter should never see. My mother’s sheet had slipped off of her, and there was quite a bit of her exposed to the air.
“Yes, yes,” the doctor said. “We can go back to the room.”
We made it into the hall before I could no longer help it anymore.
“You’re saying that you want to stop chest compressions?” I blurted.
The doctor turned, as did Castiel.
My dad froze beside me.
The doctor didn’t beat around the bush as she replied.
“I can keep her alive through machines, most likely.” She looked me straight into the eye.
“What about her quality of life?” I asked. “What are her chances of getting better?”
The doctor looked sad as she said, “Slim to none. She probably would never be the same woman that you once knew.”
I looked down at my feet.
“Stop compressions.”
I felt my heart stop.
My breathing stalled in my lungs, too.
My dad’s voice had sounded like it was being strangled on the way out of him.
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “She wouldn’t want to be kept alive by machines,” I confirmed.
Castiel’s hand swallowed mine, and I felt the tears start up anew.
“I’ll go stop them,” the doctor said.
“You can all follow me back to the room,” another woman said, startling me.
“Pru,” I heard Castiel say.
Pru. Why was that name so familiar?
I looked up through watery eyes to see a beautiful blonde woman staring at me with sympathy. But the why or how I knew her wasn’t computing at that point in time.
I turned and watched as the doctor walked back into the room. Then I watched further as she spoke with each and every person that was working on my mother. As one, each of them stopped what they were doing.
One grabbed the sheet that had slipped during their race to save her and repositioned it over her body, covering everything vital.
Another turned and put down the paddles that were in his hands.
As one they all turned and watched as the final man started back up with the doppler. When he shook his head, I knew.
She was gone.
Just like that.
It didn’t matter that hours before she’d been talking to me like normal.
It didn’t matter that in two m
onths, we were going to Disney World.
It didn’t matter that in a week, it was Thanksgiving, or in four more weeks, it was Christmas.
My whole entire world shattered.
The tears that had been threatening spilled over once again, and I blindly turned and started away, set on going somewhere to cry this out.
But then Castiel was there, wrapping his strong arms around me.
He smelled good. Like spice, wood, and leather. And for once I felt small in a man’s arms.
I cried even harder then, because my mom would’ve had that one day. She would’ve lost a ton of weight. She would’ve been mobile, and able to do things that she hadn’t been able to do since I was a kid.
And my dad would’ve loved her just the same.
Because my mother was his girl. His one and only. The NASCAR to his track.
“Do you mind if I go and sit with her?” my dad asked, startling me out of my contemplation.
“The house supervisor will go get her cleaned up, and then you can go in there with her however long you want,” Pru said. “Do you want us to move her to a smaller room? One that allows you more privacy?”
I swallowed hard when my father didn’t reply, and I looked over to find him looking alone, lost and devastated.
“If you don’t mind,” I said, pulling away only slightly so that my face was no longer buried in Castiel’s chest. “I’d like it if she was moved. Is it okay if we go back to that little room? I have to call my family, and I don’t really want to do that in your hallway.”
Pru nodded quickly. “Yes, that’s perfectly fine. You use that room as long as you need it.”
I hated that room and never wanted to see it again.
I now understood exactly what it was.
A grieving room.
A room that they put you into when they know that whoever you’re there to see has died—or is about to die.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
Castiel pulled away then, but not far. Only far enough that he could wrap his arm around my shoulder and guide me to where I wanted to go.
When we passed my father, I grabbed his hand and pulled him along with me. He came willingly, shuffling along like his entire world had just stopped. Had died right along with my mother.
Keep It Classy Page 6