by Fox, Sutton
Chapter 17
Visiting hours were long over. Morgan strode quickly down the hospital corridor, rubber-soled sneakers carrying her silently along the battered linoleum floor. It shone brightly back at her, a stark testament to infirmity.
The sweet smell of sickness, blanketed with antiseptic cleanser, assaulted her senses, made her tired eyes burn. If she never had to smell that odor again it would be fine with her.
She’d traveled all night. Even now, the waking sun would be lifting its sleepy head over the horizon, wrapping the black of night with the soft, gray colors of dawn.
Empty doorways stood as white, wall-like sentinels, waiting for her to pass. The nurse’s station was empty. She noticed a couple of gossip rags open as she passed. Must be a slow night. A yellow line down the hallway led her to the oncology unit, reminding her of Dorothy and the yellow brick road. If she followed it to the end and found the wizard, could he give her father his health back? Doctors sure the hell couldn’t. So much for modern medicine.
The door opened with a soft whoosh as she pushed inward. A few quiet steps led her past the first bed and by the curtained partition. The pale, gray light of dawn from the nearby window revealed her mother asleep in the chair next to the bed.
“Mom?” She leaned close and touched her mother’s shoulder gently, careful not to wake her sleeping father. The machines whirred softly, alternately beeping and clicking.
Startled, her mom bolted up in her chair, cracking Morgan on the chin with her head. “What? Carter?”
“Ouch! Mom! It’s me, Morgan.” She tried to whisper and rub her chin at the same time. Damn, that hurt.
“Morgan. Oh, honey.” Her mom stood, and wrapped her in a fierce hug, smelling of the powdery fragrance she always wore. “I’m so glad you’re here. Let’s go down to the lounge so we can talk. I don’t want to wake your dad.”
Mom’s arms felt so good. Like home. She held on tight.
A plaintive voice issued a protest. “No, don’t go. I’m awake.”
“Daddy?” Morgan let go of her mom and moved to her father’s bedside. “How are you feeling?” Dumb question. If he felt good, he wouldn’t be here.
Unable to stop herself she reached for his hand, brushing the tape that held his intravenous fluid tube in place, another reminder of just how sick he was. She clenched her hand instead and willed the tears not to fall.
“How’s my best girl?” he whispered, his voice soft and tired. “Come here.” He ignored her question and motioned with his free hand. Morgan moved to the other side of the bed.
Gently, she leaned her head close to his, needing the contact. She kissed his cheek and stroked his arm. “Oh, Daddy, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, little girl.”
“It’s not the same without you there. I won in South Carolina. Did you see it?” She whispered, trying to keep her voice low enough not to disturb the patient in the next bed. Mom stood on the other side of the bed. Her solemn eyes watched both of them, her shoulders slumped in resignation.
“I did. Your momma and I watched you and the boys dancing around in victory lane.”
“You’ll both be there to celebrate with us next time, won’t you?”
Firm footfalls announced the arrival of a nurse. “Excuse me. I need to have a moment with Mr. Blade.” Eyes questioning, she looked at Morgan and then looked again. “Visiting hours won’t start for another few hours, Miss…?”
Her mother answered, voice full of pride. “This is our daughter, Morgan. She’s just arrived from Tennessee.”
Accepting the answer, the nurse went about the business of taking Dad’s temperature. “It’s nice to meet you, Morgan. I thought I’d seen you before. You’re on Race for the Ride aren’t you? My husband hasn’t missed an episode.” She glanced at the thermometer as it beeped, her movements slick and practiced. “If you ladies wouldn’t mind waiting in the lounge, I’ll let you know when you can come back in.”
“Sure, no problem. We’ll be right back, Daddy.”
They made their way down the hall to the lounge. It was an end room, with a wall of windows facing the mountains. Always timeless, they stood proudly greeting the daylight. Life or death, they remained the same.
Morgan sat down next to her mother on a green, vinyl-covered sofa, and nervously clasped her hands together. She smoothed her tongue over her lips in a wasted effort to moisten them. Dehydration already claimed her. There was nothing left to give. “It’s a wonder the nurse didn’t kick me out, since it’s so early.”
In a somber voice her mother confirmed her worst fears.
“She wouldn’t kick you out, not today. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Morgan watched her mother’s hands take flight. They touched her hair, straightened her collar, fussed with a tissue.
Oh no, not this. Please. Not this. Anything but this. Her empty stomach rolled over on itself in denial. Her nerves beat a silent tattoo against her skin as she looked wildly around the room. Feeling like a caged animal, she started to sweat. If she could put it off, it wouldn’t be real.
“Where’s Damon? Why isn’t he here?”
“He’ll be here shortly. Kristi took him home so he could change his clothes. Morgan, I need to tell you—”
“Dad’s going to be okay. Isn’t he?” She interrupted, getting up to pace the length of the room and back. Morgan tried to read the truth in her mother’s eyes, but failed.
Her mom just kept staring blindly out the window. Anxious fingers threaded themselves through her hair.
“The treatments are working right?” Deep inside herself, she knew they wouldn’t have sent for her if the treatments were working. Admitting it was another thing altogether.
“There are no more treatments. Lynn got everything set up with a home hospice nurse the day before yesterday. They’re sending him home tomorrow.” Tears fell unchecked down her mother’s face. Crumpled tissue forgotten in her hand, Morgan watched as her mother covered her eyes and sobbed.
“Mom. Oh, Mom. Don’t cry.” Across the room in a flash, Morgan gathered her mother into her arms and held her close. Smoothing her mother’s hair in a gesture of comfort, tears flowed silently from her own eyes.
In the distance a phone rang. It reminded Morgan that life went on, no matter how bad it hurt. Her mother sat back, dug for another tissue in her pocket.
The salt of tears stung Morgan’s eyes as she wiped them. They wouldn’t help her now. If they could have, they would’ve brought Lily back to her years ago. She took a deep breath, and cleared her mind.
“I’ll be here. I just have to call the series. I can drop out. They’ll understand. I need to be here with you and Dad.”
The nurse stepped into the lounge wearing a sympathetic smile. She made no comment about the tears. Narrowed green eyes under a short fringe of bleached hair gave Morgan a speculative glance. “I’m finished with Mr. Blade if you’d like to go back in now.”
Holding hands, they walked back to the room. Reaching the doorway, Morgan let go of her mother’s hand. “Mom, give me a minute. I need to call and tell them I won’t be back.” She rifled around in her backpack and tried to find her cell phone.
“Wait, Morgan. Don’t call. We need to talk first.” Her mother’s weary voice held both sadness and resignation.
Puzzled, Morgan followed her mom, coming to a halt at the foot of her father’s bed. “What is there to talk about? I’m staying here with you. End of story.”
Unable to relinquish the contrary expression she knew she was wearing, Morgan stared at her mom. Momentarily meeting her eyes, Mom glanced at Dad, clearly expecting him to say something. Morgan read the look which passed between them and knew they’d already united against her.
In the opposite corner of the room a television hung near the ceiling blared to life. Morgan stepped back to glare at the older man in the other bed. Nurse Ratchet must have woken him up, too.
“No, Morgan. It’s not the end of the story. We want yo
u to go back.” Her father’s weary voice came out in such a whisper she couldn’t have heard him right.
“What did you say?” She moved up to stand beside him on the opposite side of her mother. “Did you say ‘go back,’ and if you did, go back where?” They couldn’t mean for her to finish the show. That was crazy. She needed to be here. They needed her here.
Slowly, Dad reached for her hand and covered it with his own large one as he looked into her eyes. “Forgive your old man for being selfish. I just wanted to see my best girl one more time.”
Something in his eyes, some message. She didn’t get it. Resignation, relief, what? “What do you mean one more time? I’m not going anywhere.” Frowning, she folded her arms and looked at them. She could be mule-headed stubborn and they both knew it.
“Morgan, don’t give us that look.” Mom rose up to her full height of five feet. “Your father and I have talked this through. Believe me. We’ve had plenty of time. It’s best for everyone if you go back and finish the show.”
“Best for everyone? Who’s everyone?” Morgan tried and failed to keep the frustration out of her voice. “Tell me then, Mom. Who’s everyone? You? Dad? Damon? It’s sure as hell not best for me.” She let go of her father’s hand to motion at the ceiling. “Why did you get me all the way here, just to send me back? I don’t get it!” Rising an octave higher, her voice broke. Emotional and physical exhaustion struck her at the same time. Out of patience, she dropped into the chair next to the bed. “Explain.”
“Honey, I know it’s difficult for you. We want you to be here, but you can’t miss out on this. It’s only another two weeks, right?”
Morgan watched her mom straighten her shoulders the way she always did when bracing for an argument. The cajoling tone of voice told Morgan she’d already made up her mind. Damn. If anyone was more stubborn than her, it was her mom. The familiarity of a good argument eased her a bit.
Dad started to cough. And cough. His face turned red as he leaned forward with the effort. Her mom grabbed the call box and frantically pressed the button.
“I’ll get someone.” Unable to wait, Morgan ran for the door.
Running steps carried her halfway down the hall to the nurse’s station. Another nurse, not her father’s, sat at the station reading. “My dad. Help. My dad needs help. Room four-oh-five.”
Morgan skidded to a halt as the nurse got up and made a dash for the room. Inhaling deep to calm herself, she glanced down to see what the woman had been reading, when a headline caught her eye. Shock made her gasp. She felt as though someone had punched her in the chest.
REALITY STAR HAS NERVOUS BREAKDOWN
There she was, big as life, on the front page of a popular rag sheet. The picture showed her sitting against her hauler and crying. It was the day she’d saved Annie from getting run-over.
Who could have done this? And why? Another nurse dashed around the corner, headed down the hall toward her father’s room. She’d deal with it later. Pushing off the counter she’d been leaning on, Morgan hurried back to the room.
Her mother was just coming out, pulling the door shut behind her. “They asked me to leave.”
Exhaustion laid waste to her mother’s face. The lines around her mouth and on her forehead were much deeper than Morgan remembered. Had it really only been two months? The burden had to be heavy. With Lily it had been over before anyone could think. This was worse in its way. Watching someone you’d spent your life with go...bit by bit. And still not be ready for it.
Compassion engulfed her as she stood in the hallway and held on to her mom. Arms wrapped around her, Morgan understood now where her strength came from. These two people, who loved her so much, would do anything they could for her. How could she do less? Resting her head against her mother’s she sighed deeply. “Mom, I don’t want to leave.” Surely her mom would understand. Family came first. It’s what they’d taught her. “I want to be here. I belong here.”
“You can come back in now. He’s settled down.” The woman Morgan thought of as Nurse Ratchet set the door open with a slight smile and motioned them inside. Both nurses left the room, going in opposite directions.
Her father sat in bed propped upright by pillows. Face no longer red, his breathing slowed. Intense brown eyes, so like her own, watched as she approached the bed. Before she could say anything, Damon, with Kristi in tow, strolled hand in hand into the room.
“Morgan, hey.” Damon came forward, the awkward shyness of an eighteen-year-old mixing with the unabashed glee of a child at seeing someone he loves. Morgan watched a whirlwind of emotion cross his face just before they hugged. He leaned back and picked her up off the ground in stellar male fashion.
“Ugh, put me down, dorf.” He felt so strong, his muscles rippling, barely strained by lifting her. In the way of siblings, she planted a big wet one on his cheek. “I missed you, kid.” The faint scent of cigarettes tickled her nose. “You smell funny.”
Dropping her back on her feet, he stepped near Kristi, away from the bed. Just as she thought, the little twit smoked. Morgan moved forward to hug Kristi, and wondered what other things the girl would lead him into before they were through with each other.
Morgan raised her glance to the ceiling. How about one thing at a time, here? She worked at smoothing the anger and frustration out of her mind and voice. It would be of no use to anyone right now. She’d save up the good mad for the butthead who wrote the article, whoever it was. They deserved to feel her wrath. Her family didn’t.
In the hallway she could hear the sound of breakfast being served, room by room, to those who could eat it.
“Mom, have you eaten?” How long had her mom been by her father’s bedside without a break?
“I’m not really hungry. Thanks anyway.”
“Would you like to take a break? Go home, catch a nap or a shower? I can sit with Dad while you do that. Spend some time on yourself, and then come back. I’ll be here.”
Three hours later Mom headed home with Damon and Kristi as chauffeurs. An hour after that, the patient in the next bed checked out. Morgan sat quietly in the empty room, watching her father sleep.
This wasn’t the man she’d grown up with. The man she remembered was vibrant and full of life. She missed his laugh the most. Big and booming, always ready, like his smile.
The first time she’d rolled her sprint car, she must have been about sixteen. He’d been right there. Lowered the window net, made sure she was all right, then hauled her out and danced a jig with her in his arms, laughing with relief the whole time. Smiling, he’d kept her close to his side the rest of the night.
Not this pale, weak replacement. Body ravaged by disease and the drugs that tried to cure it, no, not this emaciated shell. Dammit, she wanted her father back!
“Morgan?” his soft voice queried, while his hand reached out for her.
“Here, Dad. I’m right here.” She grabbed his hand with her own, squeezing gently. This too, was familiar. How often he’d held her hand as they strolled around the pits at one racetrack or another, sizing up the competition.
“I’m sorry I had them bring you back. Night before last, I felt awful, I thought...” He picked at the sheet with his free hand and gazed out the window. “I thought, well, it doesn’t matter a helluva lot what I thought. You’re here and I’m glad.”
Morgan didn’t want to voice what he’d thought, so they both danced around it. “I’m glad too, Dad. Don’t worry. I’ll be here for you.”
“It’s the damndest thing though, I feel better.”
“What?”
“I feel better today than I have in weeks.”
Morgan couldn’t believe her ears. “But, earlier, the coughing? You don’t look better, you look like hell.” She tried to banish the hope that bloomed viciously in her heart.
“I just swallowed wrong, that’s all.” He waved his hand in the air. “You women hover, hover, hover. Damn near smother a man.”
She couldn’t help it, she laughed. It wa
s either do that or run screaming. Just like her dad to change the subject and the direction of blame.
“Morgan, you can’t afford to miss this opportunity. You’re in second place.”
“Yeah, so what? It’s not important right now.” Respect kept her mouth shut. She couldn’t believe they were having this asinine conversation, not when he was so sick.
“Yes. It is. It may not seem important. In the long run, it’s very important. Think, my girl, think. How many people tried out for this? Almost two thousand? How many are left? Three. And you’re one of them.”
Could she get away with stomping her feet? Damn fool just wouldn’t listen to her. “But, Dad—” She let go of his hand and gripped the silver bed rail until her knuckles were white with the strain.
“No, more buts, young lady.” He tried to be stern, but lay back against the pillows with a tired smile instead. “It’s two weeks, Morgan. Let’s cut the crap. They told me I could go home, but if I keep feeling like I feel today, I’ll be around quite a while.”
“Well...” Even though he smiled at her, Morgan could see through the act to his exhaustion. There was no way she believed him. It just didn’t occur to her to disobey him openly. He was her dad.
“Think about it. If you pass this up now, you may not get another chance. This could change your life.” Eyes earnest, brown matching brown, he stared directly into hers. “For the better for once, Morgan. Let it be for the better. Promise me you’ll go and finish this. Promise you’ll give it your best shot.”
He squeezed her hand, willing her to feel how important this opportunity would be to her future. He did his best to convince her to believe in herself as he believed in her.
In a voice rife with indecision, she answered. “Okay, Dad. I promise. For you, and all the hours you’ve spent our whole lives, I’ll give it my best shot.” Gripping his hand in return, she leaned over to kiss him tenderly on the cheek.
