Heart of a Cowboy

by Kristin Vayden

  “So tired.” Jack opened his eyes. “And my chest—it’s—think my heart’s tired too, son.”

  “Is there anything you need? Should I get Laken?” Cyler stood and reached for the door.

  “No.” Jack breathed. “She’ll just give me some more morphine, and I’m tired enough as it is. The pain…it isn’t so bad….” Jack finished, his words trailing off.

  Cyler nodded once then slipped out the door and went to look for Laken.

  She met him in the hallway, her smile fading to concern as she took in his expression.

  “Jack,” she stated simply.

  “He doesn’t look good. He had a lot more energy this morning and—” Cyler rubbed the back of his neck. “Does it usually happen this quick? I mean, I know he’s dying, but I guess I thought…the process would be slower.”

  Laken closed the distance between them, reaching out then lacing her fingers through his. “Everyone is different. Sometimes it happens slowly, inch by inch. Sometimes they are perfectly normal one day and gone the next. Some experience a rally of sorts, while others simply fade.”

  Cyler nodded. “So, what now?”

  “I’m going to check his blood pressure again. There’s been a marked decline in his oxygen levels, which is why I gave him the nose tube. If it’s still declining…” She lifted a shoulder slowly, her face etched in pain.

  “I see.” Cyler shifted on his feet, glancing to Jack’s door.

  “I’ll be right back.” Laken slid her fingers from his and brushed by. She opened the door softly.

  Cyler followed and leaned against the doorjamb, watching.

  Laken studied the heart monitor, comparing it with her iPad notes. Her brow furrowed as she held a stethoscope to his heart, but she soon removed it from her ears and wrapped it around her neck. Jack moaned in his sleep, and Laken adjusted the morphine drip. Placing a hand on Jack’s, she nodded once then turned to meet Cyler’s gaze.

  She tilted her head toward the hall, and Cyler stepped outside then waited for her.

  Sighing, she confirmed his suspicions. “His body is starting to shut down. It can be days or hours, but based on the rate of decline from this morning, I’d say we have hours. The pain will increase, and I’ll be managing it with the morphine drip, but that will also make him sleep longer.”

  Cyler glanced to the Jack’s room. “So, he’ll just”—he took a breath—“fade in his sleep?”

  “Possibly. Sometimes they wake. We can pray it’s a very peaceful passing,” Laken replied softly.

  “Is it…not peaceful…at times?” Cyler asked, not wanting to know the answer, yet needing to be prepared.

  “The pain can make them agitated, but I’m going to do my best to see that it doesn’t come to that,” Laken answered honestly.

  Cyler took a deep breath. “I need to make a call so they know I won’t be in tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be here.” Laken briefly placed a warm hand on his forearm then went back into Jack’s room.

  Cyler grabbed his phone from his pocket and ducked out the door. After a quick call, he explained the situation and cleared his week. Then he sat on the cement steps, rubbing his hands through his hair.

  Life.

  Within twenty-four hours, he’d become engaged to the woman he loved more than life, and probably would say the final goodbye to his dad. It didn’t even sting anymore to call him Dad. What a turnaround. It was shocking, yet he’d never been so thankful for a change of heart—for both of them. Cyler struggled, comparing the joy of his future with Laken and contrasting it with the deep pain that came from saying goodbye to his only parent left. The man might be a stubborn ass, but he was still his father.

  With a reluctant sigh, he stood and walked back into the house.

  Laken was sitting in a chair by Jack’s bed, updating her notes. He nodded to her, and she stood up.

  “I’m going to give you a little privacy, Cyler. Jack might not respond, but there’s a good chance he’ll hear you if you want to talk with him.” She squeezed his arm then left, closing the door behind her.

  Cyler gently sat on the bed beside Jack, sighing. What did he say to someone leaving this life? How did he even start a conversation? He worked his jaw against the onslaught of emotion, against the feeling of helplessness that washed over him. “Hey, old man,” he whispered, forcing a smile Jack couldn’t see.

  Jack didn’t respond, but Cyler continued anyway.

  “I’m glad I came back. Even if I didn’t have the best of intentions at the start,” he confessed. “And I don’t even hold it against you that you took a swing at me.” He sighed a laugh. “And just so you know, I will be having that bonfire later this week with that coffee table. It’s long overdue. And I know you’d agree.” Cyler glanced down to his hands. “I remember when you broke your toe on that stupid thing. Of course, you were pissed as hell at me for taking Margaret out, but the coffee table won that fight when you kicked it. Honestly, I thought you’d get rid of it then.”

  “Mom—” Jack whispered, and Cyler’s gaze shot over to meet Jack’s.

  “Mom?” Cyler questioned.

  “—liked it,” Jack finished, closing his eyes once more.

  “Ah, that makes more sense.”

  Cyler glanced back to Jack, weighing his words. “So, this is kinda it…isn’t it?” He clenched his jaw, keeping himself together.

  Jack took a breath then opened his eyes. “Yeah. Reckon so.”

  Cyler nodded, glancing away. “Figured.”

  “Have a bonfire,” Jack replied then gave a tight cough, contorting his face in pain.

  “Dad?”

  Jack lifted a hand dismissively. “Bonfire.”

  “Promise,” Cyler assured him.

  Jack nodded. “Son?”

  Cyler leaned toward Jack, waiting. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For? I don’t think being a pain in the ass deserves much gratitude.” Cyler replied, trying to keep his tone light.

  “No. For giving me a chance. It was all I wanted. All I prayed for. I—” Jack took another breath slowly. “I’m…at peace.”

  Cyler nodded again, needing to respond to Jack, but at a loss for his own words.

  “Love her,” Jack whispered so softly Cyler almost missed it.

  “With all my heart,” Cyler replied solemnly.

  Jack swallowed. “Good.” He drifted back to sleep, each breath making a slight crackle.

  Cyler reached over and placed his hand over Jack’s, startled by the cold temperature of his dad’s skin.

  If his body was shutting down, it made sense, but it was entirely different to feel it, rather than just know about it. Life was slowly sifting away, leaving a chill in its wake. Cyler closed his eyes, breathing deep, waiting.

  Because that’s all they had left.

  Chapter 22

  Laken leaned against the kitchen wall. It had been a half hour since she’d left Jack and Cyler alone to have some privacy. She needed to monitor him again, but she didn’t want to disturb their private moments either. It was always a struggle. Being present to give care, yet giving families privacy when they needed it was a delicate balance. Often the two were in constant war with each other, so she tried to be as invisible as possible. Reluctantly, she walked down the hall and knocked softly on Jack’s door before opening it.

  Cyler’s blue eyes met hers, pain furrowing his brow as he sat on the bed beside Jack.

  The crackling noise in the air gave Laken a sign that Jack’s lungs were compromised. A quick glance to the heart monitor confirmed that his pulse was abnormally high. If his blood pressure was still low…

  Laken walked around the bed, carefully pulling out the blood pressure cuff and setting it around Jack’s arm. After a few moments, it filled then gave her the reading she was expecting.

 
Low.

  Laken leaned forward, studying the veins in Jack’s neck, noticing how they stood out more defined than usual. Then his heartbeat took off a quick pace, causing Jack to arch his back with a groan.

  “Laken?” Cyler glanced to her, his eyes wide with alarm.

  “His heart has fluid around it, building the pressure so that it can’t beat correctly.” Tears fell down her face, watching as Jack relaxed and his heartbeat slowed.

  “What’s happening now?” Cyler asked, his gaze fixed on the monitor.

  Laken swallowed. “It’s time.” She took in a deep breath through her nose, watching as the heart monitor slowly decreased its cadence, and she started to count each beat, knowing that it was a countdown to the last one.

  We started life at zero, each heartbeat adding to another.

  And we ended life with a countdown.

  Cyler shifted, and she turned her gaze to him.

  Jack’s breathing stilled, the absence of the crackling noise far louder than a cannon in the small room.

  Laken closed her eyes. She counted the monitor beats. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…twenty-one, twenty—

  The monitor flatlined.

  A sob broke through her body as she looked to Jack. His face had relaxed, his hands opened slightly as if he was letting go. Peaceful, his expression was utterly peaceful, and Laken thanked heaven that he’d left this world in such a way, that the pain hadn’t been too much, that he hadn’t fought for each breath, but that he’d given it up softly, letting go rather than being torn away from this life.

  With tears streaming down her face, she lifted an old ticking clock from the shelf and stopped the progress of the hands. With a click, the ticking stopped, stilling the time, forever displaying the minute that Jack’s heart went just as silent.

  After setting it back on the shelf, she turned off the silent monitor. The stillness in the room was thick.

  “Goodbye,” Cyler whispered softly, resting a hand over Jack’s open palm.

  Placing her hand in Jack’s other one, Laken closed her eyes. “Rest in peace, Jack.” She whispered a prayer then blinked through her tears as she moved over to Cyler.

  Laken swallowed the lump in her throat, breathing deeply through her nose as she wrapped her arms around him, inhaling the familiar and comforting scent of his button-down shirt.

  “It’s not fair,” he whispered brokenly, his chest taking a shaky breath.

  Laken turned her face to burrow deeper in his chest before pulling away slightly. “Well, they always say life isn’t fair. But you know what? The most beautiful things in life aren’t fair either.” Laken turned her gaze upward. “I mean, think about it. Life isn’t fair, but that is exactly what makes it so astoundingly powerful. Even love isn’t fair. The best love comes from a person giving, loving unconditionally, often loving when it wasn’t earned or deserved. And death—” She sucked in a broken breath, closing her eyes as the tears continued to spill warm paths down her cheeks. “Death is the least fair. But I’ve never seen anything less powerful draw a family together, mend broken fences, and heal wounds that were impossible to repair. The beautiful part about death is that most times, it leaves life in its wake.”

  “Damn it all, why do you have to make everything sound so much better than it feels?” Cyler murmured, his tone half-frustrated, half-grateful.

  “It’s my job.” Laken gave a slow shrug. “It’s not because I don’t feel it deeply. It’s just perspective. Each goodbye that breaks my heart is only me searching desperately for the hope that can be possible afterward. That’s how I survive, Cyler. Hope is my survival. And when I say goodbye to someone I’ve loved, someone I’ve come to care for as deeply as Jack, I realize that there’s still blessing, there’s still something amazing that is living and breathing—alive—because of him.”

  She took a breath and reached up to trace his jawline tenderly. “And right now, what I’m seeing is you.”

  Cyler smiled softly then kissed her on the nose before leaning his forehead against hers. “I see you too. And damn it all, he gets to take credit for that as well.”

  Laken pulled back, watching him.

  Cyler sniffed, a wry grin teasing his full lips. “You know, it kinda pisses me off that he won. You know?”

  “How so?” she asked, curious.

  “I was so bent on revenge, on just hating his guts, and in the end, he did the impossible. I’m here mourning the man who redeemed himself so much in the past weeks, proving that it’s never too late.”

  “It never is.”

  “As long as you have breath.” Cyler nodded.

  “And even sometimes long after, because a legacy? That never dies. And while the one Jack started wasn’t perfect, he outdid himself in the long run.” Laken glanced to where Jack’s body rested.

  “Yeah, yeah he did,” Cyler agreed, his lips twisting in a sad smile. “I’m going to miss him.”

  “Me too.” Laken closed her eyes against the fresh onslaught of tears.

  She laid her head against Cyler’s shirt once more, listening to the strong beat of his heart, savoring its strength, its power.

  “Thank you,” Cyler whispered into her hair.

  “For?” she asked.

  “For sharing your hope.” He rested his chin on her head. “Because I didn’t have the faith to believe that it could end like this, that there’d be a time I’d actually miss the son of a bitch.” He chuckled. “But you did. And you pushed us both, and now I can look back on these last weeks with Jack and…be at rest.”

  “I didn’t do much. You both just needed time.”

  “Time,” Cyler murmured. “It’s precious, isn’t it?”

  Laken sighed. “More and more each day.”

  “Laken?” Cyler leaned back, regarding her with his startlingly blue gaze.

  “Yes?” Laken breathed.

  “I’m thankful my time—however long it may be—gets to be spent with you.” Cyler bent down and kissed her softly.

  Laken pulled away from his lips ever so slightly. “Me too.”

  Me too.

  Epilogue

  Cyler watched as the man who had always been larger than life, seemed so small in the steel-gray casket. It had been a hard week, with lots of tears, but it was also a week full of hope, of promise. While they had planned Jack’s funeral, they also had a wedding on the horizon. With each reminder of death, they had a reminder of life.

  Laken squeezed his hand as the pastor read a passage from Ecclesiastes.

  There is a time for everything,

  and a season for every activity under the heavens:

  a time to be born and a time to die,

  a time to plant and a time to uproot,

  a time to kill and a time to heal,

  a time to tear down and a time to build,

  a time to weep and a time to laugh,

  a time to mourn and a time to dance,

  a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

  a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

  a time to search and a time to give up,

  a time to keep and a time to throw away,

  a time to tear and a time to mend,

  a time to be silent and a time to speak,

  a time to love and a time to hate,

  a time for war and a time for peace.

  What do workers gain from their toil?

  I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race.

  He has made everything beautiful in its time.

  Cyler smiled softly. How appropriate.

  A beautiful red sun was setting over the horizon, a signal that a life had set as well while they waited in Ellensburg Cemetery. Jack’s casket was slowly lowered into the ground as the pastor signaled for Cyler to approach the front. He reached down
and grabbed a handful of dirt then sprinkled it over the top, closing his eyes as he prayed a final goodbye to the man who had proven that there was always hope.

  Laken’s hand wound through his as he opened his eyes, and she sprinkled dirt over Jack’s casket as well. Cyler turned to regard the others that had joined in the graveside service.

  Jack had indicated in his will that he didn’t want a full-on funeral, just a quiet one in the cemetery. “Let the sunshine bury me,” he’d told Bo.

  Cyler stood to the side with Laken as people walked by, giving their last respects to Jack and to him.

  And as the sun hid behind Manastash Ridge, Cyler thanked the pastor and took Laken’s hand.

  It was time to go home.

  It was time to start over.

  It was time to build a new legacy.

  A legacy built on hope, rather than revenge.

  About the Author

  Photo: Joyful Hearts Photography

  Kristin Vayden is the author of twenty books and anthologies. She is an acquisitions editor for a boutique publishing house, and helps mentor new authors. Her passion for writing started young, but only after her sister encouraged her to write did she fully realize the joy and exhilaration of writing a book. Her books have been featured in many places, including the Hallmark Channel’s Home and Family show. You can find Kristin at her website, www.kristinvayden.com, at www.facebook.com/kristinvaydenauthor or on Twitter: @KristinVayden.