“Has she been here all day?” I train my gaze on Mitch. “Surely there was a better option than bringing her here?”
“I didn’t know what to do with her,” he explains, a little snappy now. “Like I said, Clarice was beside herself. I couldn’t get two words out of her. I don’t know anyone in this town. And the way he looked when he came around, I didn’t know if . . .”
Maysie lifts her head and sticks out her bottom lip. “They won’t let me see Daddy. Miss Savannah, can you make them?”
“Oh, Mays.” I stroke her tangled hair and shoot a furtive glance at Kevin.
He shrugs out of his coat and tosses it onto the couch. Then he produces the take-out bag from McDonald’s. His idea. “Hi, Maysie. Did you eat up all those donuts yet?”
“Forever ago.” She sniffs dramatically and rubs one eye, checking out the bag he’s holding. “Is Zoe here?”
“No.” Kevin smiles. I put Maysie down and she joins him on the couch. “We can call her later if you want. But I’m kind of hungry. How about you?” Maysie nods and the two of them soon have their heads stuck in the bag, deciding what to eat first.
“There you go, Mays. The cavalry has arrived.” Mitch gives a strained grin. “Don’t suppose you stopped at a liquor store?”
Really? I ignore what I assume is some attempt at humor and take off my coat. Just as I’m about to ask what room they have his brother in, Clarice marches through the door.
“Oh my stars!” She rushes me with open arms and I receive her warm hug with a smile. She dabs her cheeks with one of her embroidered handkerchiefs. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, my dear.” She turns her attention to Maysie and Kevin. “Mr. Barrington, how lovely to see you.”
Kevin gets to his feet. “You as well, Mrs. Chandler. How is your nephew?”
“He’s certainly been better.” She proffers a cheek and Kevin leans in to kiss it. He’s got a dab of mustard on his chin. Maysie is wolfing down her burger like she hasn’t seen food in a week. Clarice looks over at her nephew. “He was asking for you. But perhaps since Savannah is here . . .”
“Go ahead.” Mitch nods in my direction and his smile seems genuine. “It’ll make his day.”
I’m tempted to grab Clarice’s walking stick and whack him one. If Kevin doesn’t beat me to it.
“What about me?” Maysie’s mouth is full, ketchup dripping from her chin. Kevin searches for napkins and cleans her up.
“Oh.” Clarice lets out a shaky sigh. She is aging before my eyes. I help her into a chair and she works to catch her breath. “Maysie, dear. Remember what we talked about? Just as soon as the doctors say you can, we will let you see him. I promise.”
“Okay.” She slurps a chocolate milkshake and turns to Kevin with adoring eyes. “Didja know I have a guardian angel?”
“I didn’t,” Kevin replies in all seriousness.
Mitch shakes his head. “Not everyone believes in angels, Mays. Man, I need a drink.”
“Mitchell, that’s enough, dear.” Clarice shakes her head and gives me a despairing look. “All right.” Clarice pushes to her feet. “Come along, Savannah. And you”—she points her stick at Mitch again—“stay right here. Or we will have words.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I’m a little flustered now and I fiddle with my hair. My throat is suddenly dry. What am I doing? Why did I think this was a good idea? I fumble in my purse for I don’t even know what.
“Hey.” Kevin’s quiet voice shakes me from my distracted thoughts. I look his way and he holds out a hand. I grab it, hold tight, and concentrate on his steady eyes. “I love you,” he says, and suddenly I’m calm again.
I sniff and nod because my throat is too tight for speech. I catch a glimpse of Clarice’s triumphant smile and suspect she’s not in the least bit surprised.
“Miss Savannah?” Maysie stares at me through wide, fearful eyes.
I crouch before her and put my hands on her shoulders. “What, sweetie?”
“Will you tell my daddy I love him? And that he needs to get better?” Her little face crumples and Kevin puts an arm around her.
“I will.” God, help me not to lose it. I smile and place a hand on her cheek. “When I get back, we’ll go home. I’ll bet the dogs need to be fed, huh?”
“Yes. Jimmy from church came to let them out. I told him what to do.”
“Okay. That’s good. Why don’t you tell Kevin about the puppies while I’m gone?”
Maysie seems satisfied with that and settles back on the couch. “Well, first of all we had one dog. Named Willow. Then one night this nasty man dog came an’ . . .”
I follow Clarice out of the room, the sound of Maysie’s singsong voice and Kevin’s laughter giving me courage.
Brock is in a private room. The curtains are drawn, the lights dimmed. He looks like he’s sleeping. Even from my vantage point at the door I can see he’s lost weight over the time I’ve been gone. His skin has an unhealthy gray pallor. Clarice hustles over to him, places a hand on his forehead, and leans close to whisper something in his ear.
His eyes flutter open and he turns his head and settles a weary gaze on me. “Well, crap. I guess I really am dying.”
Clarice squeezes his arm, gives me a smile, and lets herself out before I can stop her. I step toward the bed, take a breath, and somehow find a smile. “Amazing what some people will do for attention.”
He wheezes out a chuckle and pulls at the oxygen tube in his nose. “Stupid thing.” He presses a button to raise the top half of his bed, even the slow movement making him groan.
“Put that back on.” I point to the plastic tube, drag a chair toward the bed, and take a seat. “What happened?”
Brock sighs, adjusts the tube again, and rewards me with a grim smile. “You want the doc’s version or the English translation?”
“English.”
“I passed out.”
“Ah. That’s unfortunate.” I lean forward slightly and refill the glass of water on the table beside him for something to do.
“Gave my head a good crack, but other than that, I should be fine until the tumor grows another inch, and then I’ll pass out again. But that time I won’t wake up. Win-win.”
“Right. I think your brother was being kind when I asked him how you were doing and he said not fantastic. I’d put you somewhere around morose and miserable.”
“You met Mitch.”
“I did.”
“He called you?”
“No. Maysie did.” I retell the tale and he laughs a little.
“Your arrival must have surprised him.”
“He did seem a little out of sorts.”
Brock tugs the collar of his hospital gown and scratches his neck. “My brother has an aversion to hospitals. And stress.”
“Didn’t you say he was a lawyer? Perhaps he should consider changing professions.”
Brock laughs again and winces. He reaches for the plastic cup and I help him with the straw. He drinks a bit, then leans back on the pillows with a sigh. “It’s good to see you, Savannah.”
“Shouldn’t you be someplace else? This isn’t exactly a cancer center.”
He waves a hand. “The doc here’s all right. They’ve been talking to my doctors. Nothing to worry about. I can probably go home tomorrow.”
“Nothing to worry about.” I shake my head at the crazy man. “So . . .” I exhale and wonder if this is the right time. I heard about his appointment in New York from Clarice. “The last time Clarice called, she said you still hadn’t decided whether to have the operation. Brock—”
He groans and puts a hand over his eyes. “I’m not discussing it.”
“But what if—”
“How’s Adam?”
Fine. No sense in upsetting him. But at some point I will bring it up again. If there is an operation that could possibly save his life, he needs to have it. And none of us understand his hesitancy.
“Adam’s good. He’s made a lot of progress the past few weeks. We
dropped him off at school this morning. It was his idea to go back. He seemed really happy when we left.”
Brock gives a slight nod and a small smile. “How’d you get up here?”
I settle in my chair again and stare at him a moment. “Kevin drove me.”
His mouth forms a thin line and he studies the ceiling like the Holy Grail is hiding somewhere in the tiles. “He’s here?”
“Outside. With Maysie.” I didn’t mean to sound like that was the best thing in the world, but somehow it came out that way.
“Okay.” A sliver of a smile passes across his face as his eyes meet mine again. “You look happy.”
I can’t stop my smile this time. “I am.”
“Well, wouldn’t you know. There goes my reason for living.”
“I was never your reason for living.” My trembling tone tells me this is harder than I thought it would be.
He reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You could have been.” Tears burn my eyes and he croaks out a low chuckle. “Shoot. I’m not gonna lie and say I’m overjoyed, but I am happy for you. Really.”
“I know.” There’s too much I want to say. Too many things I never said and now I can’t because it wouldn’t be right. But I hold tight to his hand and lean on the rail of the hospital bed. “In case I never told you, I’m really glad we met, Brock Chandler.”
“Yeah?”
“You made me laugh again. You made me feel like I was worth something again, like I mattered. And I never thanked you for that.”
“No need, darlin’.” His eyes get a little brighter. “I probably shouldn’t say it, but since I’m dying an’ all . . . I want you to know something too.”
“Brock.” Everything in me knows I need to stop this. Because I’m not so sure my heart can take it. But he’s shaking his head, serious, intent on telling me what he needs to.
“You . . . uh . . . you gave me some mighty sweet dreams.” His wicked grin hints at an underlying meaning. A squeak of horror gets stuck in my throat. His shoulders start to shake and slow laughter tumbles from his lips. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
“If you weren’t in a hospital bed right now I’d probably hit you.” But I can’t help laughing at the smile he’s now wearing. “Jerk.”
“Oh, come on. It’s true. Can’t deny it.”
“Whatever.” I groan and press fingers against my eyes.
He sobers and lets out a breath. “So you really came back up here just to see me, huh?”
“Maysie was so upset. And I didn’t really know what was going on. Kevin made the decision for me.”
Brock gives a low whistle. “Sounds like our Mr. Barrington might be redeeming himself.”
“He’s trying. We’re trying.”
“And so it should be.” It’s the last line from Charity’s Box, one of my favorites of his books. Yet somehow it seems appropriate. He smiles and looks toward the door. “Is Mays doing okay?”
“She’ll be all right. It’s been a long day for her. I’ll take her home and get her cleaned up.”
“Don’t mind the mess. We’ve had a fun few days.”
“She wants to see you.”
“I know. But . . .” He clenches his hands. “I don’t want her to see me like this, Savannah. I don’t want to scare her.”
“She’s already scared. Why won’t the doctor just let her see you?”
He looks away and my heart flounders as the truth settles in.
I close my eyes for a moment, blow out a breath, then focus on his face. “Come on, Brock. You’ve got a little girl out there who depends on you. She needs her daddy. Do you think she cares what you look like? Do you think not telling her what’s going on will make it easier in the end, if things don’t work out? And what makes you think you have the right to simply check out on her, when there’s a chance you could actually be okay?”
“A small chance, Savannah.”
“I don’t care. It’s still a chance worth taking, Brock. You have nothing to lose.”
“Thank you for that succinct reminder.”
“I’m going to get Maysie.” My temper is sizzling now. As I move to stand up, he grabs my hand. I’m forced to face him again, and as soon as I do, my anger fades.
He stares at me through watery eyes, not saying anything for a long moment. And then he smiles. “I’m really glad we met, too, Savannah Barrington. In case I never told you.”
CHAPTER 30
“Trust your instinct to the end, though you can render no reason.”
—RALPH WALDO EMERSON
I’m floating between leftover elation and strange desperation.
Sometime around 9:00 p.m., I finally slide the key into the lock of the lake house, and Kevin and I walk inside almost in slow motion.
I’m beyond exhausted. Brock hadn’t been kidding about the mess. We left Mitch at the hospital, took Clarice and Maysie home, and I almost fainted when I saw the state of Clarice’s normally pristine house.
We let the dogs out and fed them. I introduced Hope to Kevin and he actually seemed rather delighted with her. Only sneezed about six times. Then I took care of Maysie. Plopped her into a bubble bath, washed and combed and dried her hair, found clean pajamas, and put her to bed. She was tearful, but eventually drifted off to sleep.
Kevin was about halfway through the stack of dirty dishes by the time I went downstairs. He’d made tea for Clarice and forced her into an armchair in the living room. When I went to check on her, she was sound asleep. I picked up a little. Newspapers, magazines, more dirty dishes. Even a few discarded shirts and socks and soda cans. When Mitch arrived he immediately went to work cleaning up. He got bored fast, though, and spent the rest of the time wandering through the house with a drink in one hand, his cell phone in the other.
While I didn’t really want to leave Clarice, I’m awfully glad to be back in my own space.
“That was one unholy mess.” Kevin takes off his coat and runs a hand over his hair. “Is it always like that?”
“Never. I expect Clarice has been too busy with Brock to worry about housekeeping.”
I hang up our coats and glance around the living room. Everything is how I left it. The warm pine scent is welcoming and almost makes me smile. It’s good to be home. Except it’s not really my home. My home is back in Boston. I think. I’m so tired I can’t formulate a proper sentence in my head.
“The brother wasn’t much help.”
“No. He’s probably just under a lot of stress right now.”
“Why are you defending him?”
I sigh and head for the kitchen. “I can take some leftovers out of the freezer. Are you hungry?”
“It’s late. Not sure I could eat.” Kevin wanders around, checking out photographs and fiddling with the magnets on the fridge. “It’s weird not having everyone here, huh? Quiet.”
“I like it. Christmas was crazy.”
“Yeah, just a little.” He grins when I look his way.
How far we’ve come in twenty-four hours.
“Um.” I don’t remember what I was doing. Food. Looking for food.
“How was he?” Kevin shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, serious now. It’s the first time we’ve had time to talk since I saw Brock.
Suddenly I need to sit.
Kevin joins me at the table, arms crossed.
“He didn’t look good.” I pull my fingers through my hair and shake my head. “If he’d just have that stupid operation . . .”
“What operation?”
And then I remember he doesn’t know. Of course he doesn’t.
“It’s a long shot, but there’s a new procedure his doctor in New York wants to try. No guarantees, of course, but . . . there is a chance it could save his life.”
“So why wouldn’t he do it?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, at a loss for words. “Maybe he’s scared. Maybe he doesn’t want to cling to false hope or give anybody else a reason to think he might be okay.”
“What about Maysie? If he doesn’t . . .”
“I know. Honestly, I don’t know what he’s thinking.”
“And if he had it, if it worked? If he was okay?” A pained look creeps across his face. “Would he think the two of you—”
“Stop it, Kevin. Don’t even go there.” I stare at him in disbelief. What is going on here? The conversation has become ridiculous, and I’m so tired and don’t want to continue it. I push my chair back and return to the fridge to see what we can eat.
“I’m not hungry, Savannah.”
When I turn around, Kevin’s on his feet.
“Okay. I’m not either.” Tears burn and I bite them back. “Why do I suddenly feel like we’ve taken ten steps backward? Like everything has changed?”
He walks to where I am and takes me in his arms, burying his face in my hair. “I’m sorry. I’m being a jerk.”
“We’re both tired. It’s been a crazy day.”
“Yeah. We should call Adam, see how he’s doing.” His brow furrows and he reaches for his phone.
I make tea while he punches in numbers, then listen to my son on speakerphone. I find some cookies in a tin and put those on the table. Everything’s good. Not too much to catch up on. Then he says he has to go because they’re about to watch a movie and, like, he just saw us this morning.
“He’s going to be okay.” I say it more for myself, but Kevin nods in agreement.
“Sure. He will. And I’ll pick him up on Saturday morning for the weekend. You’ll be back by then, right?”
“I . . . back?” What? I stare at him and fumble for words. “No. I thought . . .”
Understanding settles into his features and he frowns deep. “You want to stay. You’re going to stay.”
“Kevin, you saw the house. Clarice is overwrought, and Maysie’s just a little girl. And, like you said, Mitch is no help.”
“So now you’re agreeing with me.” He sits back a bit and narrows his eyes.
“Did you think we’d drive all the way up here, say hello, turn around, and go home again?” Did he? Really?
Where Hope Begins Page 27
