by Nan Dixon
“Will do,” Quint said.
Daniel started to call Nathan, but tossed his cell phone back in the truck’s cup holder. He was meeting Pop and Nathan at the Wexler Heights project in twenty minutes. Let Nathan explain his screwup to their dad.
At the job site, Daniel walked past the soaked pile of plasterboard. What a waste. The only truck on-site was Nathan’s. The crew must still be getting the rock.
He opened the door to an argument.
“We don’t have insurance for piddling losses,” Pop shouted. “This comes right out of our profit. Don’t you even think about billing the homeowner for this mess.”
“They wouldn’t notice if the cost was in the next invoice,” Nathan barked.
“We don’t rip off customers,” Pop growled. “Our name means something. It may be the way you handled things in Atlanta, but not here. Not on my watch.”
Daniel came around the corner. Pop and Nathan faced off in the unfinished family room.
“Thank goodness the family is gone. I heard you arguing from the driveway.” Daniel didn’t like the unhealthy bright red color of his dad’s face. He pulled an empty bucket over and tried to force his dad to sit.
“Let go.” Samuel waved Daniel away.
“I’m not suggesting ripping off the client, but this is partly their fault.” Nathan shrugged. “If they’d been home, the drywall wouldn’t have gotten wet.”
“It’s not their responsibility to take deliveries. It’s yours.” Daniel swore. “All you had to do was make sure someone from the crew was here. It’s been sitting outside for two days. Didn’t you check on the supplies?”
“Sorry, I’m not perfect.” His brother snarled the word.
Daniel stalked over to his brother. “I thought we were beyond that crap.”
“I made a mistake.”
“A mistake you’ll pay for,” Pop said.
“Grow up, Nathan.” Daniel stepped closer. A month of frustration had him getting close enough to feel his brother’s breath heaving in and out. “For once, can’t you take your responsibilities seriously?”
“I do!” Nathan threw out his chest, bumping Daniel’s. Hot fury filled Nathan’s eyes.
“If you did—” Daniel’s chest bumped Nathan’s back “—we would not have twenty sheets of wet rock.”
“Stop,” Pop yelled. “Just—”
There was a thump.
Horror filled Nathan’s face. “Pop!”
Daniel jerked around. “Pop?”
His father lay crumpled on the floor. Blood trickled from his head.
They dropped next to Samuel’s prone body. His face had gone from bright red to white.
“He’s breathing,” Nathan murmured. “But he cracked his head on the windowsill.”
“Jesus. Look at the blood.” Daniel froze. His heart pounded in his chest.
“We need to stop the bleeding.” Nathan pressed his hands to the gash on Pop’s head. “Find something.”
Daniel stood, his head swiveling around. “There’s only rags.”
“Call 911.” Nathan’s voice was icy calm. “Then find paper towels.”
Daniel’s hand shook as he called and relayed the problem and address.
What next? Paper towels. Right. He ran into the kitchen. Nothing. He headed for the bathroom and ripped the toilet paper off the spindle.
Daniel unrolled a wad of toilet paper and shoved it at Nathan.
“I don’t want to remove my hand.” Nathan said.
Daniel worked the toilet paper between Nathan’s hand and the gash on Pop’s head. The blood soaked through the paper and their hands.
“More,” Nathan demanded.
He unrolled the rest of it and Nathan applied pressure.
“Wake up, Pop, wake up,” Daniel chanted.
Daniel counted the seconds until he heard the faint shrill whistle of the siren. “Open the door,” Nathan directed.
He held the door as the paramedics came up the walk. “In here. He’s bleeding and unconscious.”
By the time Daniel rushed back into the room, Nathan was reciting Pop’s health history.
Gloves snapped on; a roll of gauze ripped open. “You can take your hand away, sir.” The young medic took Nathan’s place at Pop’s head. The man applied a pad of gauze and secured it by wrapping more around Samuel’s head.
The paramedics worked in tandem, hooking up an IV and getting ready to move him.
“Which hospital are you taking him to?” Nathan asked.
“Memorial University. On Waters Street.”
“What about his oncologist? Dr. Lageson.” Daniel stared at the blood on his hands. His breath rasped in and out.
Nathan touched his arm. “I’ll call his clinic and let them know Pop’s heading to the ER.”
“What about Mom?” Daniel’s brain moved in slow motion, frozen from watching Pop bleed.
“One of us should go to the hospital and one of us should pick up Mom at the Fitzgeralds’.”
“Fitzgeralds’?”
“She’s having tea with Mamie.”
“Right. Right. I’ll pick up Mom.” Nathan, normally so incompetent, was in control. Daniel couldn’t even think.
“Call Bess or Abby and have her talk to Mom,” Nathan said. “They can have her ready by the time you get to the B and B.”
Daniel dashed to his truck.
“I’ll see you at the hospital.” Nathan ran. “Get Mom.”
Instead of Bess, he called Gray. His friend had returned to Savannah last night. “Are you at Fitzgerald House?”
“Yes. What’s up?” his friend asked.
“Pop collapsed. He’s heading to the hospital. Can you—can you tell my mom I’ll pick her up?”
“Absolutely. What else can I do?”
“Keep her calm. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Collapsing’s not so bad. There could be lots of reasons for that.”
“He hit his head. The bleeding was bad. He’s unconscious.”
This was his fault. He’d been so angry at Bess two nights ago, he hadn’t checked any of the jobs. Instead of waiting for her, he should have secured the plasterboard delivery.
If he’d stayed on top of Nathan, his dad wouldn’t have screamed at his brother. If Daniel had done his job, Pop wouldn’t be speeding to the hospital.
He’d never screwed up this bad.
* * *
BESS TOPPED OFF everyone’s tea. The Fitzgerald women plus Debbie Forester were enjoying the autumn sun in the morning parlor. The discussions hadn’t been any heavier than food, gossip and Abby’s wedding plans.
“We could forget the tea and go right to wine,” Mamma suggested.
“Absolutely!” Deb said.
“I’m game,” Bess added.
“I have just the thing.” Abby dashed from the room.
Bess figured Abby could use another set of hands. She pulled out a tray. “What kind of glasses?”
“Flutes. I want to try this new Cava the wine rep suggested.”
Bess loaded glasses while Abby filled an ice bucket and nestled in two bottles.
“Oh, how lovely.” Debbie’s eyes twinkled. “Mamie, you sure raised wonderful daughters.”
“You didn’t have to endure the teenage years,” Mamma said. “Three of them. Fighting and spitting. Borrowing clothes.”
“We were angels,” Dolley insisted.
Deb’s smile faded. “Nathan and Daniel blacked each other’s eyes too many times.” She held up her flute. “To our children.”
The two mothers’ glasses chimed as they toasted each other.
Bess lifted her glass, forcing a smile on her face. It was hard to hear Daniel’s name. He’d hurt her. She wan
ted to lick her wounds and heal.
“Since we can’t participate in your toast,” Dolley said. “I think we can toast mothers.”
“Hear, hear.” Bess held up her flute.
“How about to fiancés?” Abby suggested.
Gray rushed into the room.
“Men are banned from this afternoon tea.” Bess waved him away, almost spilling her wine.
He took in the champagne glasses and open bottles. “Afternoon tea?”
Abby shook her finger. “No men.”
Gray knelt in front of Debbie, setting her glass aside. “Samuel collapsed and hit his head.” He took her hands. “Daniel’s on his way to take you to the hospital.”
“Oh, my...” Debbie burst into tears.
Mamma enveloped her in a hug.
Bess ran to get Deb’s coat and met everyone in the entry.
“Do you know anything else?” Bess asked as they waited.
Gray had his arm around Deb’s shoulder. “Daniel said he hasn’t recovered consciousness.”
“He’s so weak.” Deb wrung her hands.
Through the open entry door, Bess watched Daniel take the driveway much too fast. Gray had the truck door open almost before Daniel came to a complete stop.
“Which hospital?” Bess helped Deb into the truck.
“Memorial University.” Daniel’s eyes were bleak.
She set aside her hurt to help the Foresters. “We’re right behind you.”
* * *
DANIEL DROPPED HIS mother off at the ER entrance and parked the car. Finding Nathan and Mom in the waiting room wasn’t hard. They held hands in adjacent chairs.
“Any news?” he asked. Pop had to be okay. Daniel would make any sacrifice to ensure his father never worried again.
“Nothing yet.” Nathan peered around the corner of the waiting room at the reception desk. “I’ve asked a couple of times.”
“I’ll try.” Daniel got no additional information. When he walked back to the chairs, he shook his head.
“What happened?” Mom asked.
Daniel didn’t speak.
“We were at Wexler Heights,” Nathan said. “I saw him go down and hit his head. There was a lot of blood.”
“He fainted?” Mom asked.
Nathan shrugged.
“Mom needs the truth.” Daniel lowered his voice. “When I got to the site, Pop was screaming at Nathan. I tried to get him to sit, but he wasn’t having any of it.
“Nathan and I argued.” Daniel dropped his head into his hands. He couldn’t look her in the eye.
No one said anything for a long moment. It was like waiting for a guillotine to fall.
“I love you both.” Mom took their hands. “But I will not tolerate this behavior around your father. Positive energy only. No more animosity. Promise me.”
She joined their hands so they were all connected.
“I promise.” Nathan nodded, one curt bob.
“Me, too,” Daniel responded. If he’d spent his time minding the company, none of this would have happened.
They sat in silence. Waiting. The woman next to them held a red-faced infant on her lap. A man coughed incessantly, a dry hacking sound. Above their heads, a television played, but no one watched.
“Foresters?” a young man in pale blue scrubs called.
They stood. He directed them to an alcove. Mom and Nathan sat while Daniel stood.
“I’m David.” He checked his paperwork. “Are you Mrs. Forester?”
“Yes.”
“Your husband is still unconscious. The gash on his head needs sutures.” He looked at Daniel and Nathan. “Admissions would like to get the health insurance information.”
“I’ll go,” Nathan volunteered.
Mom dug out her card and handed it to him. “Has my husband’s oncologist been called?”
“He’s being kept apprised, but our first priority is to stabilize your husband and then deal with his head.” The young man carried an aura of authority and calm. “I can let one person back. But if you can’t handle the stitches, you’ll have to stay out here.”
“I have twin boys.” She stood. “I’ve seen more stitches placed than I can remember.”
Daniel brushed a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be waiting.”
He should have gone to admissions. Then he would have had something to do. He picked up a magazine and threw it down without opening it. Settling on a chair, he relived the words he and Nathan had snarled at each other.
If he hadn’t spent so much time with Bess, he’d have handled the workload. If he’d checked on the supply deliveries, none of this would have happened. Pop would not be in the hospital.
As if he’d conjured her, Bess touched his shoulder. “Any word?”
“When he collapsed, he cut his head. Mom’s in with him while they stitch him up.”
She covered his hand with hers. He let her warmth soak in for just for a minute.
“You didn’t have to come,” he told her.
“Of course I did. Dolley’s here, too. Abby and Mamma are putting together sandwiches.”
“Abby’s answer to any crisis,” Daniel said.
Nathan sat next to Bess.
“How are you holding up?” she asked.
“Worried.” His brother sighed. “When they loaded him in the ambulance, he didn’t look good.”
Daniel saw the nurse first. He and Nathan met him halfway across the room.
“Anything new?” Nathan asked.
“Dr. Naples finished his sutures. One more person can go back. Five minutes at a time. You can rotate.”
Daniel followed the man back into the bowels of the ER. Mom sat at Pop’s side, holding his hand. The smell of disinfectant didn’t mask the underlying stench of sickness burning the back of his throat.
Dried black blood streaked his dad’s neck. “How many stitches did he have?”
“Six. The gash was deep.” Mom stroked a shock of white hair off Pop’s forehead. “They did a CAT scan. Thank goodness he has such a hard head.”
Daniel crossed to the opposite side of the hospital bed, gingerly touching Pop’s hand. “Do they know when he’ll wake?”
“When they put in the stitches, he moved.” Mom had looked fragile in the waiting room. Now she was calm and confident. “I’m sure it won’t be long.”
Pop lay there slack jawed. Even during his now numerous naps, he’d never looked this lifeless.
“Pop, we’re sorry about the drywall, but fainting—that’s not the Forester way,” Daniel tried to joke.
“My turn,” Nathan called from outside the room.
“Love you.” He brushed a kiss on his father’s forehead. “You won’t have to worry. From now on, I’ll do better. I’ll stay focused.”
All the Fitzgerald women and Gray filled the waiting area. His chest tightened. He couldn’t deal with this right now.
He reluctantly took the empty seat next to Bess. He didn’t say anything when she touched his arm. He didn’t have words.
“When’s the last time you ate, Daniel?” Abby asked.
“Breakfast, I guess.”
Abby’s mouth dropped open. “Ham and cheese coming right up.”
He accepted the sandwich, not sure his stomach could tolerate it.
The cheese was soft and mild, and he tasted bacon. His appetite roared to life. Bess handed him a bottle of water and Abby gave him another sandwich.
“Any change?” Dolley asked when Nathan joined them.
“Mom thinks he squeezed her hand. She told him there wouldn’t be any female nurses until he woke up.”
The sisters laughed.
Daniel handed his uneaten sandwich to Bess. “I’m heading back.”
Bess nodded.
“I hear you’re withholding female nurses now, Mom.” He took a chair and touched Pop’s hand again.
“Anything to get a rise out of him.”
“Have they decided what happens next?” he asked.
“Patience,” his mom said. “When you get to an ER, time stops.”
“It’s a lot harder sitting on this side of the hospital bed.”
“So says a son who made his mother sit through a broken arm and three trips for stitches.”
“I apologize for everything.”
“Accepted.” She brushed the hair back from Pop’s face. “I need the ladies’ room. Stay with your father.”
Nathan entered and took the other chair. “Daniel, I’m sorry that I didn’t take delivery of the supplies.”
“It’s a little late now.”
“Everything will be different.” Nathan shook his head. “I’ll be different.”
It would be different. Daniel wouldn’t let the company his dad built falter. “Sure.”
“It took two of us to argue,” Nathan whispered.
His brother was right. It took two to argue, but it only took Daniel a month and a half to jeopardize Pop’s successful company.
* * *
BESS HATED THE grim look on Daniel’s face. Their fight didn’t matter anymore; he needed comfort. He needed her. “Anyone want coffee or tea?”
After she got the orders, she asked, “Can you help me, Daniel?”
“I’m going back to be with Pop.” Daniel didn’t even look at her.
“I’ll help.” Nathan followed her.
Daniel glanced at his brother, the tension between them shimmering in the air like summer heat off tarmac.
Daniel was such an amazing man, so dedicated to his father and mother. If he could just have some compassion for his brother, he would be happier. Maybe good could come out of this tragedy. Maybe the brothers would find their balance and grow closer.
“Is everything okay between you and Daniel?” she asked in the hallway. Her heart ached for them.
Nathan blew out a deep breath. “We were arguing when Pop collapsed.”
“Not again.” She gripped his elbow. “Can’t you and Daniel work things out?”
“I apologized. Who knows what Daniel’s thinking?”
