by Lucy Francis
Her breath caught when she spotted Travis. He sat on a chair in the waiting room, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. She walked over to him, stood before him.
“Travis.” When he didn’t respond, she knelt before him and reached between his arms, laying a hand on either side of his face. He jumped when she touched him and jerked his head up. Her heart slammed to a halt at the deep agony in his eyes, and she wondered for a split second how he could still function with all that bottled up inside him. How much more can you stuff behind that wall, Travis?
Thought fled, the need to hold him overwhelming her. She slid between his legs and folded her arms across his hard, muscled back. He crushed the air from her lungs when he pulled her to him with one arm, his other hand clutching her hair, his face buried against her neck.
She held him until her knees complained about the hard floor beneath them. She gently disengaged herself from his hold and stood up, her joints, and her heart, protesting every inch of the way. She whispered, “How’s he doing, Travis?”
“He’s in surgery. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” The cold detachment in his voice shook her. Travis put his hands on her hips and shifted her away from him, then stood up. “How did you find out about this?”
“Rachel called me after she got the news from the office.”
He nodded and pulled his cell phone from his belt and scrolled through contact numbers. “I should call the rest of the relatives. Uncle Mac and Aunt Sarah are over in the emergency room with Mother. She had a full-blown panic attack after Dad went into surgery.”
Travis looked around, apparently registering the presence of other people in the waiting room. He looked down at Andri with a long, hard look she couldn’t decipher, then twined his fingers through hers and led her back to the elevator. Outside the hospital, Andri sat on a bench and alternated between watching the clouds roll across the sky above the Salt Lake valley, gathering for a storm, and watching Travis pace.
He called several relatives, his calm, collected business voice taking him through the repetition of basic details on each call. His dad had gone to pick up Danny in Wendover. Only to Andri did Travis mention his dad’s decision to retrieve his son rather than send him the money he’d wanted. He’d taken Danny home, returned to his own home, and had a bad few hours trying to sleep. Sophia had found him in the morning, on his office floor.
After a while, Travis stood staring at the phone in his hand. A hint of panic flickered across his face before he crammed it back again. “That takes care of family,” he said softly. He dialed again, this time carrying on a conversation with one of his construction supervisors about the status on certain projects. By the time he made his third business call, Andri’s frustration hummed under her skin. How could the man work at a time like this?
As he scanned through his contact list yet again, Andri stood and grabbed his hand. “What are you doing, Travis? I’m sure everyone will understand if work comes to a screeching halt for a while.”
His walled gaze met hers. “It’s business, Andri. I’m the head of the company while Dad’s out of commission, and I have responsibilities of my own, in addition to taking on his. I can’t just walk away because I feel damned miserable at the moment.”
Andri shook her head, frustration building. “Travis, you have to stop. Seriously.”
“I don’t need—”
She stopped him with a finger on his lips, not attempting to bank the anger in her voice. “Don’t even say it. Don’t tell me you don’t need my help. I know, you’re a freaking machine. You can handle everything all alone and remain stoic through it all. But, Travis, I love you. You’re holding the weight of the world, you’re stressed and afraid, and watching you refuse to acknowledge it is killing me. I’m going to help whether you like it or not.”
She didn’t mean to say she loved him, but it had come out in such a rush, perhaps he didn’t notice. He stared at her, the storm brewing in his eyes a reflection of the storm gathering over their heads. “Andri, I—” He broke off, his voice rough. He cleared his throat. “I appreciate you for coming, I really do. But I have to work right now.”
“No, you don’t.” Andri took the cell phone out of his hand and clipped it onto his belt. She grasped both his hands in hers, giving him a good squeeze. “No more work today, Travis. Everyone will understand.”
Something slipped a little behind his gaze. Work, Travis’s favorite escape mechanism. She’d removed it, and she knew he recognized that he wasn’t getting it back. Travis shook his head and pulled her close to him. Round one, Andri. She walked by his side back to Intensive Care.
Sophia Holt stood in the middle of the waiting room when they arrived. Travis went to his mother, cradling her shoulders in his arm, steadying her. Sophia let him support her for a moment, until her gaze landed on Andri. Sophia stiffened and laid a slim hand on Travis’s chest, pushing him away. She hoped with every fiber of her being that Sophia wasn’t angry with Travis because she was there. It would be just her luck to cause a greater strain on Travis’s relationship with his mother.
Sophia turned and walked away from her son, settling into a chair beside another woman who closely resembled her. Her sister, perhaps. The anger and hurt raking across Travis’s hard features cut Andri to the quick. She took his hand, and he led her to a chair.
One hour eased into two. The tension cranked up with each tick of the waiting room clock. Andri curled up on the chair, observing the way Travis’s family interacted. She learned a great deal, most of which saddened her. Terrence’s sister, Sarah, stayed by Sophia’s side, along with Sophia’s sister, Francesca. The women held her hands. Francesca spoke quietly. “Let’s go to the cafeteria, Sophie. You need to eat something, honey, to keep up your strength.”
Sarah nodded. “At least come with us for coffee.”
Sophia shook her head, eyes red but dry. “I can’t,” she said, her voice thin.
Francesca looked over at Travis, pleading in her eyes, and Andri felt him tense up and scoot to the edge of his seat, ready to serve his mother in any way she’d allow him.
“How about I send Travis for something,” his aunt said. “Even a croissant or an apple would help.”
Sophia glanced in her son’s direction and shook her head again. “No. Maybe some coffee. Would you mind getting some, Sarah?”
Andri watched Travis as his mother shut down the invitation for him to help. His expression darkened for a split second before clearing. How much practice must he have had to be able to show so little reaction to being dismissed by his own mother? His aunts doted on his mother, shored her up, doing all those things Andri knew Travis would do, if only Sophia let him. Instead, the woman shut her son out. It bewildered her.
Terrence’s brother Mac, and his wife, Deanna, brought a jigsaw puzzle to the hospital, and slowly assembled a photograph of the Manhattan skyline on a table in the waiting room. Mac spoke to Travis briefly, and Deanna hugged him and patted him on the cheek, telling him everything would be fine, people survived worse things every day. Travis, calm as ever, thanked them, asked them if they needed anything. Finally, Travis cut himself away from everyone and stood at the window.
Andri went to him when it became clear he intended to stay where he was. She stood beside him, watching the heavy storm clouds release their loads of rain. She ran her hand down Travis’s arm, reading his stress in his taut muscles.
She kept her voice quiet for the sake of what little privacy the big room offered. “Travis, are you hungry? Do you want something to drink?”
He matched her soft volume, not returning her gaze. “No.”
Lifting a hand, she started rubbing the muscles at the back of his neck. He winced before he shrugged her hand away. “Don’t,” he said.
“You have a headache.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you are. And I’m also sure you have a headache that could knock over a horse.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him to follow her, which he reluctan
tly did. He dropped onto a sofa, and she settled in behind him, her legs to either side of his. She leaned up close to his ear. “I know it sounds ridiculous, under the circumstances, but try to relax.”
He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled as she put her hands to work on his neck and shoulders. She kneaded his muscles, not quite easing the tension from him before he tightened up again. She spoke quietly to him while she worked his shoulders. “Travis, don’t fight me. Concentrate on my touch, don’t think about anything else.”
After a few minutes, he let his head drop slightly, then her efforts started working. She blocked out all thought, concentrating on his steel shoulders. She massaged the width of his shoulders, down his back between his shoulder blades, up the sides of his neck to the base of his skull.
When his muscles felt sufficiently relaxed, Andri slid her hands down past his collarbone and pressed against his chest. He shifted forward in the sofa and leaned back against her. She laid her fingers against his temples, rubbing in gentle circles. “Close your eyes, Travis.”
He obeyed, and she studied his thick brown lashes for a moment before returning to her self-appointed task. She massaged across his scalp, along his jaw, behind his ears. He suddenly felt heavier against her, as if the tension had vanished, and she smiled, triumphant. She’d put him to sleep. She leaned her head against the back of the sofa, stroking his hair. His weight settled against her felt so comfortable, so right. She draped her arms across his chest and just before Andri closed her eyes, she caught a glance from Travis’s uncle. Mac smiled at her, relief in his expression, then returned his attention to the puzzle.
Andri drifted in the netherworld between sleep and full consciousness, not knowing or caring how much time passed. All that mattered was her awareness of Travis’s body covering hers, the intimacy of him sleeping in her arms. He stirred, jogging her back to alertness when he sat up slightly and turned to look at her. She opened her eyes, finding a hint of peace in Travis’s gaze. A peace that vanished when someone appeared in the doorway. Travis shifted away from her as Rachel walked in. Danny followed, his hair damp from the storm and plastered against his face and neck.
Emotions warred within Andri as she observed Danny. He was unshaven, eyes bloodshot, but his clothes were clean. Maybe Rachel made him shower before coming over, to make him more presentable for the family. Sometimes her dad had done that with Ma. More often than not, he took Andri and Dmitri to whatever event had arrived and made excuses for her mother’s absence.
Other than a few glances at the rest of the family, Danny kept his eyes on the ground. His shoulders slumped forward and remorse radiated from him. She didn’t know him well at all, yet Andri wasn’t sure which emotion carved deeper into her heart: anger at what he put Travis through, or sorrow for Danny’s continued war with his demons.
Danny walked over to his mother. She patted his hand before returning her attention to her sister. His shoulders rounded in further and he shuffled over and dropped into a chair beside the sofa. Rachel took the next chair.
Travis grabbed Andri’s hand, weaving his fingers between hers, his grip hard, as if he were holding on for dear life. “Thanks for bringing him, Rachel.”
Rachel nodded and Danny looked up at Travis. The stark anguish in his expression startled Andri. His throat worked for a moment. “How is he, Trav?”
“We don’t know yet. He’s—” Travis abruptly stopped and surged to his feet, pulling Andri up with him, as a doctor entered the waiting room.
Sophia rose, a white-knuckled grip on her sister and sister-in-law. “Dr. Stone,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “How is my husband?”
“Mrs. Holt. He’s back in the ICU. The damage was extensive. I’m afraid I can’t make any promises.”
Andri released Travis when Danny’s eyes squeezed closed, his face contorted in pain. Travis put an arm around his brother, whispering comfort. She rose to stand by Rachel, whose red eyes and hitching breath betrayed her fears. “Hey, you okay, Rach?”
She nodded, reaching for a tissue on a nearby table and wiping her nose. “Yeah. Terry’s like a second dad,” Rachel whispered. “I love him so much, and I’m scared.”
Andri hugged her dear friend close. What could she say? It will be okay? No. Because every person in the room who cared about Terrence Holt knew it very well might not be okay, ever again.
The rest of the day passed with unbearable sluggishness. Travis tried to care for his family, especially his mother, throughout the day. Sophia was polite, but completely withdrawn from her sons. Danny didn’t bother to try engaging her. Travis never gave up trying. He attempted to reach her, bringing whatever she might need. He reached for her in more subtle ways, too. A touch on her shoulder, a gentle squeeze of her hand, but she pushed him away, sometimes literally.
When Andri looked in Travis’s eyes, she saw the wall, higher and thicker than ever, blocking his emotions. She sighed, her heart heavy at the exposure of so much of Travis’s baggage. She watched him cater to everyone’s needs while she turned the situation over in her head, putting the pieces into place. She’d bet money that there was a correlation between his mother and his ex. Had Travis married a woman too much like his mother, still seeking approval, and finding more of the same? That would explain why he retreated sometimes, closing himself off from her. It would also go a long way toward explaining why Travis believed he was such a failure in his relationships and other areas of his life.
What a mess. How would he ever fully trust her and give her his heart when this is what he knew?
****
It took Travis all damned day, but he finally managed to shut his emotions down completely. He had to, if he wanted to function at all. And function he must. His mother needed so much more than what he had to offer, but he could still make sure she had comfort, even if his part of providing it meant ensuring she was surrounded by people whose help she would accept. To facilitate that, he took care of his aunts and uncles who came and went as the hours passed. He fetched coffee, water, snacks, anything he could do to be helpful.
Danny had shut down too. He hadn’t stayed long. After the doctor’s report, he took time to see Dad. When his brother walked out, the anxiety emblazoned on his face made Travis embrace him. Yeah, his little brother was a mess, but he read him well enough to know he felt responsible for Dad. The litany in Travis’s head had already added his father to his personal failure list, so he knew too well how Danny felt. Neither he nor Danny, apparently, could find words to fill the space between them. He was grateful when Rachel took his brother home.
When the day had given way to night and most of the local relatives had drifted back home to wait for further developments, Travis entered his father’s room. The sight of his vibrant, larger than life figure lying helpless in the hospital bed nearly drove him to his knees.
A respirator helped his dad breathe, and Travis stared at the readings on the monitors for a long time, finding comfort in the steady blips and stable numbers on the display. Finally, he reached out and closed his hand around his father’s. When had his hand grown larger than Dad’s? So many memories as a child, placing their palms together, wondering if his little fingers would ever be the same size. Now it had happened and he didn’t remember when.
“Dad,” he whispered, tears threatening to choke his ability to speak entirely. “Please fight. You have to get better.”
He touched his father’s face, stroked his hair. “I’m not…I don’t know if I’ll ever be the man you are. You’re so damned strong. I try to emulate you, but an imitation is the best I can do, and it’s a pale one. Please get better. Please, Daddy.”
He swiped his sleeve across his eyes, wiping up the tears he couldn’t control. He leaned down and pressed his lips to his father’s pale forehead. “I don’t know how to carry everything by myself, but I will do it. I’ll find a way. I’ll take care of Mother and Danny. The company. I’ll hold it all until you’re better, I promise. You don’t have to worry abo
ut anything but healing.”
A knock at the door preceded a nurse stepping in to check his father. He nodded at her, squeezed his father’s hand one more time, then left the room.
When he returned to the waiting room, Andri, concern emanating from her frame, wrapped her arms around him. He let her embrace him until her gentle comfort threatened to shatter his ability to hold everything together. He stepped back, grabbing her hands and kissing them, trying to let her know he appreciated her without losing it.
“You should get some sleep,” she said, trailing her fingers down his cheek, her touch cracking his heart around the edges. “Let me take you home.”
He shook his head. “I need to stay with my mother. Please understand.”
Her smile seemed sad. “I do, kardia mou.”
He kissed her. He wanted her to stay with everything he had, but he had nothing to offer her in return. Not right now. And that was hardly fair. “Go home, sweetheart. Sleep. Give Fluffball some attention.”
She looked at him for a long moment, clearly sifting and weighing her options. Finally, she nodded. “If you need anything, I don’t care what time it is, you call. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
Chapter Thirteen
Travis left the hospital at two in the morning, because his mother demanded it. Additional aunts, uncles, and cousins would be arriving over the next few hours, and someone had to be at his parents’ house to let them in and get them settled. At least she’d finally asked something of him. That was a step in the right direction.
He caught sleep in patches, in between those moments when he jerked awake and had to re-orient himself, remembering where he was, and those when the doorbell rang and more of the family arrived.
The phone woke him again at seven in the morning. “Travis.” It was Uncle Mac, and the tremor in his voice sent an answering quake through his gut. “I’m bringing your mother home.”
