by Amy Knupp
She shook her head, which made everything swim. “Not good with blood.”
He eased her lower, so her chin was between her knees. “No passing out. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
He gently gripped her injured hand, and Savannah felt more pain as he pressed a towel to it, but she didn’t care. She was focused on not falling out of the chair or humiliating herself any more.
“It’s all right, Allie.” Jake’s voice sounded muffled now, but on some level Savannah appreciated that he was making an effort to comfort her daughter. “Is Zach here?” he asked.
“He went home,” Savannah said. “We can call him….”
“Shh. Let me check.”
She started to sit up, but Jake gently pushed her back down.
“No. Let me.” He held her hand tightly and she understood he was surveying the damage. “Oh boy,” he muttered in a low voice.
“What?” She shifted again, but he restrained her.
“The bone in your index finger is visible. You’ll need stitches.”
The spinning increased and she put all her effort into sucking in deep gasps of air and letting them out slowly.
“Get your brother to pack up,” Jake told Allie, and Savannah was aware of her going into the conference room and doing as she was told. “We’re driving you to the E.R.”
“What about Noah?”
“Who’s Noah?”
“Doctor. Brother-in-law to be. Dr. Fletcher’s office.”
“Know the number?”
She didn’t, and told him where to find a phone book.
While he was dialing, Savannah lifted her hand toward her face, which was still buried between her legs, and moved the paper towel aside. She wanted to see her injury….
No, she didn’t.
“Out of luck,” Jake said. “They’ve gone for the day. E.R. it is.”
Allie and Logan were hovering close by now. Savannah could feel their concern. “I’m all right,” she told them, trying to sound brave.
“She just needs stitches, guys,” Jake said.
“Why is she acting like that?” Logan, a veteran of many stitches, inquired.
Savannah didn’t hear an answer. Instead, Jake appeared at her side. “Ready to stand?”
She drew in a few more slow breaths and nodded. The key was to not look at her hand. She could do this as long as she didn’t glimpse the red stuff.
“Where are you parked?”
“Out front, down the street.”
After asking for her purse, which Logan fetched, Savannah directed Jake to lock up for her. All this she did without a glance toward her throbbing fingers.
JAKE THOUGHT NOTHING OF going after the van down the street and picking up Savannah and the kids where she’d stopped and sat on the sidewalk. Caring for Savannah’s family came naturally. Which would scare the crap out of him if he stopped to analyze it.
Savannah let him do everything. Drive to Layton to the emergency room, answer the questions and fill out the forms at the check-in, dig through her purse for her insurance card, guide her into the little examining room.
The doctor gave her a painkiller and numbed her fingers, and Jake knew the exact minute the drugs kicked in.
“You can go now. I’m fine,” she told him.
He ignored her.
“Mom, it’s my first art class tonight,” Allie said. “Am I going to miss it?”
“Darn it.” Savannah motioned for her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed and waited, but obviously got no answer. “Where are those people tonight?”
“Who?” Allie asked.
“Katie. Noah. They’ve disappeared.”
“I’ll take Allie to her class,” Jake said. “Logan can come with me, and then he and I will drive back to get you. Unless you need us here.”
“No. And no.”
Jake noticed both kids looking at their mother strangely, curiously.
“Savannah, it’s a ten-minute drive back to town.”
“We have to pay for class whether I go or not,” Allie stated, and he wondered if she was parroting something Savannah had said earlier.
Savannah dialed another number, ignoring all of them. Allie seemed close to tears and Jake reassured her that she’d get to her art class.
Savannah clicked her phone off and swore.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Logan asked.
“Lindsey can’t come.”
“Kids,” Jake said, his frustration mounting, “hang out in the hall for a minute, please. I have to talk to your mother.”
Savannah started to object, but he sent her a look that shut her up for once. Logan and Allie went out the door and shut it gently behind them.
“What’s that all about?” Jake asked, his patience gone.
“I don’t want you to have to chauffeur my kids around….”
“She’s mine, too.” He drew closer. “I thought we were over this.”
“Over what?”
“You not trusting me.”
“Of course I don’t trust you. You want to rock her whole world by telling her the truth.”
“It’ll happen soon—make no mistake about it. But I hadn’t planned on springing it on her tonight on the way to art class.”
Savannah cracked one knuckle on her uninjured hand, but didn’t say anything.
“Savannah, this is stupid. You’ve paid for the class. She wants to go and you can’t take her. I’m offering.”
She dialed again.
“Who now?” he asked.
“Michael,” she said into the phone, and explained where she was and that Allie had a class tonight. She hung up within thirty seconds. “He’s on his way.”
Jake shook his head and chuckled humorlessly. Once again, she’d chosen Michael over him. Her ex. She trusted the man she’d divorced more than she trusted him.
He sat back in the horribly uncomfortable chair and stretched his arms behind his head, watching her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Staying with you.”
ANY OTHER TIME, Savannah would have protested, but her energy was sapped and her fight just about gone. “It won’t be pretty,” she warned him—futilely, she knew.
“I’ll hold your hand.” Jake grinned when he said it, and Savannah embarrassingly thought that might not be so bad. She was such a baby when doctors and needles were concerned. “Where’s Michael going to meet the kids?”
“Here. I don’t want them waiting in the lobby by themselves.”
Jake leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, appearing ill at ease.
“Are you worried about seeing Michael?” she inquired.
He met her eyes, pausing a moment to absorb what she’d said, then laughed. “No. I’m not worried about Michael. Just don’t like hospitals much.”
“Who does?” Especially when they were planning to drag a needle in and out of your skin.
“My mom died here. My sister and I waited by ourselves out in the lobby. Talking about whether to let your kids wait out there brought it back.”
“Jeez, Jake. I’m sorry.” Images of what it must’ve been like for him and his sister ran through her mind and made her shudder.
She climbed down from the examining table to open the door and let the kids back in the room. On her way, she stopped next to him and put her uninjured hand on his shoulder.
“Go get your kids,” was all he said.
They waited in the way-too-small room until Michael arrived. That took forever, but the doctor still hadn’t showed.
Savannah hovered at the door, because she in fact was nervous about having Michael and Jake together. If she knew her ex, he’d have an opinion about Jake being with the kids. Specifically Allie.
But she spotted him approaching, and sent the kids to him before he got to the room. They would probably tell him who was with her, but at least there wouldn’t be any awkward Lone Oak High reunion moments to suffer through.
Then she turned around and realized
she was trapped in that small space with Jake. She gave serious consideration to running after the kids and begging at least Logan to stay.
Her eyes met Jake’s and she glanced away. A nervous energy hung in the air between them, and she didn’t want to think about what that meant.
“Nice,” Jake said.
Savannah climbed back up on the table. “What?”
“The way you orchestrated that so Michael and I didn’t come into contact. Which one of us are you protecting?”
“Neither. I’m protecting my own sanity. I don’t want you two digging at each other.”
Finally, a short, fifty-something doctor strode in and greeted them. “How are you folks this evening?” he asked.
“I’ll be better once I’m out of here,” Savannah told him. “Not a big fan of needles.”
“You won’t feel anything but a slight tug.”
That didn’t ease her fears much.
She must’ve looked as green as she felt, because Jake stood and walked to her side. “Okay if I hold her other hand, Doc?”
“Of course.”
He gently took Savannah’s hand in his work-roughened one and ran his thumb over her fingers. She was too nervous about getting stitches to appreciate the tenderness of the gesture, though. She faced away from the doctor and his needle, toward Jake. “You’ll never let me live this down, will you?”
“Not a chance, Chicken Little.”
She clenched his hand in response to the “slight tug” on her injured fingers, then clamped her eyes shut and broke into a sweat.
By the time the procedure was over, Jake was even closer and her head was resting against his chest. In coping mode now, she breathed in the scent of him, over and over. Listened to his heart beat. Steadily. Quickly?
The thought disappeared when Jake tightened his grip on her good hand. “Savannah. All done.”
She sprang upright faster than a teenager caught making out in a car. But Jake didn’t release her. She tried to pay attention as the doctor provided care instructions, but caught very little of his advice. The urge to get out of this tiny room before the walls closed in on her was growing….
She shut her eyes again until Jake pulled her off the table to her feet. The doctor was gone.
“You okay?”
She didn’t reply, just headed for the door. Once out in the hallway, she leaned against the wall for a few seconds, willing the dizziness away. Then she finally straightened, starting to feel better.
“You’re really a mess, aren’t you?” Jake noted, falling into step next to her.
“I’m fine.”
“Ma’am! You forgot your papers.” A nurse jogged down the hall toward them. “Just sign them and you can go.”
Savannah stopped at the nurses’ counter, signed, and waited for her copy.
“So fine you forgot to get your discharge papers,” Jake said.
“I told you I hate needles—and blood. But I’m much better now.” She began walking again. “Isn’t this where your father is?”
It was a guess, but his hesitation confirmed she was correct.
They went through the double doors to the lobby and she stopped. “Do you want to visit him before we leave?”
“No.” The response was immediate.
“Don’t you think you should, while we’re here?”
“Should should be a dirty word.”
“That wouldn’t prevent you from using it.”
Jake looked down at her, considering. “You want to get home and rest. I can do it another day.”
“All right, Chicken Little.” She started toward the exit.
“Wait,” he said. “Let’s go.” He indicated the hall that led to the main elevators, and Savannah followed him.
“I’ll stay in the hall,” she murmured as Jake slowed outside a room on the second floor.
“You wanted me to visit him so bad you can come in with me and suffer the awkwardness.” He was trying for offhandedness, she could tell, but didn’t quite pull it off. He suddenly wouldn’t meet her eyes, kept glancing at the closed door of room 204.
She figured she owed him one and clasped his elbow. “Party on.”
That got half a smile out of him. He opened the door and they went in.
JAKE WISHED HE HAD WARNED Savannah about his father’s sickly appearance. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and she gripped Jake’s arm.
The old man was sleeping. Because he was facing them, it was easy to tell how hollowed out his cheeks and eyes were.
Savannah regarded Jake and he struggled not to let his reaction show.
“Maybe we should go,” he said quietly.
His dad’s eyelids lifted and he focused on them groggily. “Jacob? Are you back?”
Jake stepped forward. “It’s me.”
Dean squinted at Savannah. “That’s not Emily.”
“It’s Savannah. A…friend of mine.”
His dad slowly nodded at her. “I’m sorry. They’ve got me pumped full of morphine. Brain’s a little fuzzy. Mind helping me sit up?”
Jake grasped his shoulders and repositioned him, then pushed the button to raise the head of the bed. His dad’s arms were alarmingly bony, lacking any muscle.
“Thank you,” Dean said once the bed’s motor stopped and he was resting at a forty-five-degree angle. “I’m glad you came.”
Jake couldn’t quite say the same, although maintaining a grudge when his dad was so clearly close to dying was hard. “It’s Savannah’s fault. She tried to chop off her fingers.” He gestured toward her bandaged hand. “Had to bring her in for stitches.”
Savannah smiled and waved her injured hand. “Good times,” she said.
His dad stared at her for several seconds and then smiled. He gazed at her a little longer, then turned his attention to Jake.
“Jacob, I’d like to talk to you.”
Jake tensed. He knew this wasn’t going to be about the weather or any cute things he’d said when he was a toddler. He glanced at Savannah, thinking she was probably sorry she’d come. “What’s going on?” he asked his dad.
“Well…I’m dying.”
His father’s humor had never been tongue-in-cheek, so surely he realized he’d stated the obvious. Jake had no idea what to say to that so he just stood there.
“Pull up a chair. You, too, if you want,” he said to Savannah, “although this could bore you to tears.”
Jake drew over a chair with wooden arms. He offered it to Savannah, who shook her head and mouthed that she was fine. Once Jake sat, though, she lowered herself to one arm of the chair.
They perched there, waiting for his dad to speak. The old man didn’t rush. He moistened his lips, and Savannah inquired whether she could get him a drink. He nodded and she walked around to the tall table by the window, to the mustard-colored, plastic pitcher.
After she’d poured him some water and held the cup for him, he thanked her, and she settled back down on the chair arm.
“I believe I owe you an apology, Jacob. I’ve not been the best father to you kids.”
A rock-hard lump filled Jake’s throat.
“I…didn’t have the first clue how to be a dad.”
“None of us do.” It was something he’d thought of constantly since learning about Allie.
“But most men figure it out. Just not me.” His dad swallowed, looking pained. He struggled to find the next words. “Work was my refuge. I spent all my waking hours there. Told myself that was what my family needed the most—someone to bring home a paycheck.”
An uncomfortable silence stole over the room. Jake decided it best to let the man get it all out.
“Do you guys want me to leave?” Savannah asked.
Strangely, Jake didn’t. He would’ve expected having her here would be the most awkward thing in the world, but the idea of her leaving him alone with his father, with this conversation, made him sweat. He shook his head and touched her arm.
“You’re fine,” his dad said. “When you g
et this close to dying, you don’t worry so much about the small stuff. Only the big stuff.”
Savannah relaxed a couple of degrees.
“I’m sorry I ever told you to leave home,” Dean said, his attention fastened back on Jake. “Sorry about so many damn things….” His voice cracked.
Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, long-buried sadness making his head feel very heavy. He’d always thought that in the extremely unlikely case his father apologized, he’d feel somewhat righteous, but otherwise unaffected. He’d been wrong.
Savannah put her hand on his back. Her touch seemed the most normal thing in the world in this very abnormal moment.
“The fight that night,” his dad began again, “wasn’t so much about you staying out all hours. Oh, sure, I was ticked off you weren’t there when Emily got in trouble. Mad as hell I had to truck back from the conference in Kansas City to handle things. But you were nineteen. I knew we were lucky you were still hanging around. I was lucky you were still taking care of Emily when she was younger. You always did. Always knew what to do for her and for yourself.”
He stared out the window toward the lights in the parking lot. When he turned to Jake again, Dean’s eyes were moist. “You were more of a father to that girl when you were a teenager than I’ve ever been.”
“I just did what it seemed I needed to do. I didn’t know the first thing about it, either.” Jake’s throat felt thick with myriad emotions—sorrow, regret. Maybe even empathy.
His dad smiled sadly. “You got the dad instinct that I’ve never had. You’ll do just fine when you have kids of your own.”
Jake straightened and met Savannah’s gaze. They were both thinking that he did have a kid. Her eyes widened and she nodded subtly, as if to encourage him to tell his father.
He wasn’t ready to do that.
Jake couldn’t wait to tell the world that Allie was his daughter, but…not his dad.
He appreciated the old man’s apology. It was a start, never mind that it was darn near too late. Saying he was sorry didn’t come easily for Dean Barnes. Yet the father-son closeness that would have been nice his whole life was still missing.
Savannah continued to eye him expectantly, but he directed his attention back to his dad.
