“Well, first of all—” Devon came to lean against the bench at Danny’s side, “—one kiss doesn’t make a relationship.”
“If you’d been five minutes later I’d probably have been on my knees, blowing him.”
Devon laughed. “There’s that refreshing honesty I love so much.” He sent Danny an amused glance. “And a blow job doesn’t make a relationship, either. So, you like this guy. Pretty clearly, he likes you, too.”
Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “He lives in Seattle.”
“Yeah, he does. So what? Lighten up, man. Can’t you just share a few nice moments with someone without it turning into something complicated? Sam seems like a nice guy.”
“He is,” Danny agreed. “A really nice guy. That’s part of the problem.” He straightened away from Devon. “And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Devon eyed him, his lips pursed. “Whatever you say.”
Danny filled the silence by hanging up his tools, putting away his gloves in a worn drawer in the bench.
“Are you hungry?” Devon asked finally.
“I could eat.”
“Come on.” Devon straightened away from the bench. “We’re ordering pizza.”
“Okay.”
Devon turned toward the door, a wry grin on his face. “The cure for all ills. Pepperoni pizza.”
Danny shut off the lights behind them. They were trudging across the drive, Danny hobbling and trying to keep up, when he glanced toward the street and stopped. The same light-colored car was sitting outside the gates, fog lights on, idling.
“Devon, look,” he said, pointing. “That’s the car.”
Devon paused, his eyes keen as he stared down the drive. “Son of a bitch.” He started resolutely down the driveway, but the moment he stepped into the light the car revved and sped off into the darkness. Devon cursed harshly. “Chickenshit bastard. What the fuck is he looking for?”
Danny shrugged. “It’s like he’s checking to make sure we’re home.”
“Well, I’ve got news for him.” He stormed to the back door and yanked it open. His eyes flashed when he looked back at Danny. “One of us is always going to be here.”
Chapter Eleven
Fueled by the two bottles of Yoo-hoo he’d gulped down, Danny was already in the shed at seven-forty the next morning when he heard the sound of tires on gravel. Heart lifting in anticipation, he looked around the edge of the door and was disappointed when instead of Sam’s gray extended cab, it was Leroy’s beat-up pickup parking by the back door. Leroy and Jose emerged, and Leroy acknowledged him with a jerk of his chin.
“Hey,” he called as he started over. “Sam called me this morning. Told me to tell you something came up, and he’ll get in later if he can.”
Disappointment sharpening, Danny gave him a tight nod. There was no point in asking where Sam was. It wasn’t any of his business, anyway.
Danny instructed them to finish mulching the raised beds, then began trimming the lower branches of the trees he could reach from the ground. He wasn’t willing to try a ladder yet, and his foot still ached. All the while his mind was on Sam, and what might have “come up.”
He had one tree completed when Leroy asked if he wanted a burger. Danny tossed over five bucks, and went back to work. When Leroy and Jose returned he joined them, favoring his foot with each step. It wasn’t as painful as it had been, but it was sore and the idea of taking a load off was appealing. They sprawled on the grass under a tree.
“Here ya go, Boss Boy.” Leroy handed him an enormous wrapped burger and a cup of something clear and bubbly on ice. Danny murmured his thanks. The day was mild, the sun bright and the sky for once clear of clouds. If Sam had been there, he might have been enjoying himself. Nothing made him feel better than the sun on his back and his hands in the soil.
He finished his burger and was examining the new scratches on his hands when he heard a high-pitched bell tone. Leroy dug into his pocket and withdrew a cell phone.
“Hello. Oh, hi, Sam.”
Danny wasn’t even subtle in his eavesdropping. He watched Leroy’s face avidly, saw his brow furrow and his lips purse.
“Oh, man, I’m sorry. Is there anything...no, that’s okay...Sure, I’ll tell them, don’t worry about it. You let us know if...Right...Okay. Give the girls our best, yeah? And Sam—take care of yourself, man. Keep us posted.”
Leroy sighed as he turned his phone off, and then looked at Danny. Jose was watching too, waiting. “That was Sam. His mom was moved to hospice this morning.”
“Well, shit.” Jose picked up a pine cone and tossed it into the tree line.
Danny leaned forward. “What does that mean, she was moved into hospice?”
“It means they can’t keep her comfortable, or she doesn’t want to die at home. That’s where my money is. Sam’s mom is a class act. She wouldn’t want her kids to think about nothing but her death every time they went to the house.”
A hard, clutching sensation filled Danny’s chest. “Does that mean she’s...like, now?”
“Sam said they think it will be today. She’s not fighting. But the body doesn’t stop until it’s ready, man.” Leroy shook his graying head. “It’s going to be hard, you know? Watching his mom go like that.”
Danny stood slowly. “Thanks for the burger, Leroy.” The other man nodded, already engaged in quiet conversation with Jose.
The walk to the house had never felt so long. He pushed through the back door into the kitchen, but for once no one was there. Voices were coming from somewhere else in the house and he followed them. There wasn’t anyone in the dining room, but he could hear Cal, Devon and Will. He found them standing in the foyer.
“There are reproduction carpets,” Will was saying. “Since Audrey’s are falling apart, you could purchase some similar, but they’re pricey.”
Devon was shaking his head. “She hated these carpets. Don’t you remember?” He looked at Cal. “She was always talking about replacing them because she thought they were fussy.”
“She didn’t like them,” Cal agreed.
Danny approached, and Devon spotted him.
“Hey, Danny.” His voice faded when he saw Danny’s face, and his brow furrowed. “What is it?”
“Sam’s mom.” His throat felt thick. “They’ve moved her to hospice. He just called Leroy. It’s bad.”
“Damn.” Devon’s eyes held Danny’s. “What do you want to do?”
He didn’t know. He searched Devon’s face, but he didn’t see the answer there, either. He just knew playing in the yard while Sam was losing his mom seemed all kinds of wrong.
“I know where the hospice is.”
Danny turned to Will. “Where?”
“You know where the old Fairwinds Convalescent Home was?”
“No.”
“Behind the library,” Cal provided. “The building in the back, with all the trees.”
Devon looked at Danny. “You want to go?”
He didn’t pause to consider, to reason. He just nodded.
“Okay, I’ll take you on the bike.”
Danny went back through the dining room as quickly as his foot would allow him, everything but finding Sam forgotten.
It was the first time Danny had ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle, but he scarcely noticed as the scenery flew by. His arms were tight around Devon’s waist, his mind on Sam and the urgency to get to him, wherever he was. The compulsion had him chanting “Faster, faster, faster” in his head. There could be no explaining it, had anyone asked. He just knew it was important he get there, to be moral support if nothing else. Sam needed him. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did.
Horizon Hospice was nestled behind the county library in a stand of trees that cut it off from the highway and gave the illusion of green, wooded isolation. Devon pulled the bike to a halt near the front doors, and Danny hopped off, yanking off the helmet Devon had made him wear and running his hand through his hair.
&nb
sp; “I’ll park the bike and be right behind you.”
Danny nodded and limped toward the doors. He caught a quick glimpse of himself reflected in the glass, a short guy with long dark hair wearing ratty jeans and a worn plaid flannel jacket. He looked like crap but he didn’t care. The pressing need to find Sam propelled him through the door.
The moment he stepped inside a hush fell, and the scent of apples and cinnamon filled the still air. It smelled nothing like a hospital. A sweet-faced elderly woman behind a reception desk looked up with a soft smile, faded blue eyes kind. “Hello, dear. Can I help you?”
“Um, yeah.” Danny approached her, pushing at his hair impatiently. “I’m looking for a...” He had to pause to think. “Oh, Mrs. Ignatius.”
“You aren’t a family member?”
“No. I’m a—friend of her son’s.” He realized how it sounded when something shifted in her friendly eyes, but her smile didn’t waver.
“She’s in 508. But only her family is allowed in with her.”
“I don’t want to go into her room. I really just wanted to see if...” He stopped, wondering what he could possibly say. He wanted to check on Sam? Well, yes, but how would that sound? It wasn’t like they were together. Suddenly feeling very foolish, he lowered his eyes, his fingers shifting nervously on the high counter between them. When one of her hands settled gently over his, stilling the restless movement, he jerked his eyes back to her face.
“If you go down this hallway—” she pointed, “—and make a left, there’s a small waiting room. It’s just across from Mrs. Ignatius’s room. You should be able to see him from there.”
Impulsively, Danny caught her fingers, squeezing them. “Thank you.”
She returned the pressure. “My grandson would want his partner there if his mother was ill. You go on, now.”
He wasn’t Sam’s partner, but Danny didn’t correct her. “Thank you.” He started to turn, and then stopped. “Oh, my brother is going to be coming through here in a minute looking for me...”
Her cheeks dimpled. “I’ll keep him entertained.”
“Thanks.”
She gave him an encouraging smile and he hurried down the hallway, the pain in his foot forgotten in his need to find Sam.
The carpet was thick, which effectively muffled his footsteps. The doors were open on most of the rooms he passed, but after the first one he didn’t look again. There was a man lying in the bed, horribly thin, his skin yellowed and pulled tight over the bony structures beneath. A woman sat at his side gripping his hand so hard her knuckles were white and her face looked strained and careworn.
This was what Audrey had spared them. The slow, sad goodbye that stole as much from the family as it did from the terminally ill patient. He wasn’t sure any of them would have been able to handle it—their interactions had been antagonistic enough without the added pressure of Audrey’s imminent death. She’d been so vibrant, so full of life. He hated that she’d died alone, but a small, selfish part of him wasn’t sorry he hadn’t been forced to watch.
He could only imagine what Sam must be going through, and he hurried his pace.
Once around the corner he found the waiting room. A couch and several chairs faced a flat-screen television on the wall, the sound muted. He hesitated. The family already occupying the space was clearly in mourning, and he didn’t want to interfere. Two women sat clutching one another’s hands and weeping softly while men hovered uncomfortably nearby. Danny glanced at them, then looked at the room across the hall. The number 508 was above the door. All he could see was the foot of a bed covered in pink blankets.
This was a bad idea. Sam was bound to call Leroy eventually if there was news, and Danny felt like an intruder in the hushed space. This was an invasion of the family’s privacy, and he didn’t even know Sam all that well. The urgency that had brought him here faded and he had almost talked himself into leaving when Sam appeared in the doorway.
He looked contained but somehow shattered, and Danny knew. The women in the chairs were Sam’s sisters, and their mom...
Sam lifted his head and saw him, and in his dark eyes Danny saw a flicker of relief before they darkened with loss. Danny didn’t hesitate. He opened his arms, and Sam walked into them.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, holding on tight. Sam dropped his forehead heavily onto Danny’s shoulder, and Danny caressed the back of his head. His hair was soft beneath Danny’s fingers. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”
Sam took a shuddering breath, his arms limp at his sides. Danny could feel him trembling, and he tightened the arm around his ribs.
“It wasn’t really awful. She wasn’t in pain anymore.” Sam’s voice sounded hollow. “It was almost peaceful. She just took a deep breath and—oh, God.”
Danny knew there was nothing he could say, so he just held on tight while Sam leaned on him, willing to be the strong one, willing to hold him up for as long as he needed.
“Sammy?”
Sam straightened. One of the women behind them was holding a handkerchief to her mouth, her dark eyes streaming. She looked like Sam. And when she touched his back, Sam pulled her into his arms, instantly becoming the strong one, murmuring into her ear, stroking her hair. Danny took a step away, but even as he comforted his sister, Sam reached out and caught his arm. Danny saw the entreaty in his eyes and stayed.
Sam hugged both of his sisters in turn. He held a whispered conversation with a woman who had followed him out of his mother’s room, an aunt, perhaps. She gave Danny a searching look, but Danny didn’t care. He wasn’t there for her.
Bernard Ignatius left his wife’s room, and even though Danny disliked the man, he felt sorry for him. He looked diminished and shell-shocked, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Even though his daughters went to him and he pulled them into his arms, he looked hollow-eyed and lost, his body stooped, as though he’d sustained a blow. Danny supposed he had.
Sam turned back to Danny. His eyes were so weary, yet now stubbornly dry, that Danny felt the pressing need to cry for him.
“I’d be happy to help, but I have no idea what that would even be.”
One side of Sam’s lips twitched, but a smile was more than he could manage. “You’re here. You came. It’s enough.”
Danny let his fingers slide down the back of Sam’s arm and skim the side of his hand. “I should probably go—let you be with your family.” He sensed it was only a matter of time before someone questioned his presence. Sam looked at his dad and sisters and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Probably.”
Danny felt a fleeting stab of disappointment, but told himself he was being silly. He and Sam weren’t...whatever he’d have to be to make him welcome here.
“I’ll talk to you later then.” He took a step back.
Sam reached out, catching Danny’s hand, stopping him. “Danny—” He gripped his fingers. “Thank you. You didn’t have to come.”
“Yes, I did.” He gave Sam’s hard, calloused hand a squeeze and released it. One of his sisters approached, and Danny took that as his cue to leave. He walked away but paused to glance back. Sam was watching him over the top of her head. Their eyes met and held, and Danny moved his hand, a small wave. Sam dipped his chin in response.
Devon was waiting at the front desk, leaning against it and chatting amiably with the little gray-haired lady. He straightened as Danny approached, eyes watchful, and Danny shook his head.
Devon grimaced. “Damn it.” He looked over Danny’s shoulder. “Is Sam okay?”
“As well as can be expected, I guess.” He jammed his hands into his front pockets. “I never really knew what that saying meant before now.”
“Yeah. I guess all of those old sayings have a basis in something.” Devon chewed the inside of his lower lip, gazing pensively down the long hallway. “Is there anything we can do?”
“I have no idea what it would be.”
They walked out into the afternoon sunlight. The sound of the bir
ds and the whoosh of traffic on the nearby highway seemed very loud after the silence inside. Devon handed the passenger helmet to Danny before reaching for his own.
Danny put on the helmet and fastened the strap under his chin. “Did you ever think about all the stuff Mom took care of, stuff we never even knew about? Like the doctors and the lawyers and just—everything. I mean, I hate to think she planned her own funeral.”
Devon looked at him, and his eyes were haunted. “God.” His voice was rough. “So do I.”
Chapter Twelve
It was nearly eleven o’clock and the massive house had settled into a restive silence. Danny was lying on the couch in the lounge, absently flipping through the channels on the muted flat-screen TV, unable to relax.
He couldn’t seem to settle anywhere, and he felt jittery. His mind kept returning to Sam. Was he okay? Was he sorry Danny had come to the hospice that afternoon? Ignatius senior had been too broken up to even notice Danny, but the older woman had certainly been transparent enough with her feelings. Danny had been on the receiving end of looks like that for much of his life, and he knew what she was thinking. He hoped he hadn’t made it more difficult for Sam.
There wasn’t much on but local news and infomercials, and Danny flipped unseeing past them all. Between the overly coiffed small-town anchors and the ads for walk-in bathtubs and high-powered blenders, he couldn’t find anything to engage his interest. Finally, he turned off the television, tossed the remote aside, and rose to head up to bed. He’d let Cal look at his foot when they’d gotten back from the hospice, and his job of bandaging was much more comfortable than Danny’s had been. He took the first two steps with little pain when the doorbell echoed through the large house.
He moved quickly to the front entry. Peering through the leaded glass oval in the heavy front door, he immediately recognized Sam standing on the porch, even with the porch light off. His head was lowered, his shoulders were hunched and his hands were in the front pockets of his jeans. He wasn’t wearing a jacket even though it was in the low forties, and Danny quickly threw the bolt and opened the door.
The Growing Season Page 9
