He would've given anything to have been able to just have seen his father's face once more.
But at least Bryce would have that. And if Lucas couldn't have been there for his father, he was here for Joe.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ONCE AGAIN, COLLEEN was indulging in a little Clorox therapy, this time in the ladies' room of O'Rourke's.
Things hadn't been right between her and Lucas since two weeks ago, when Ellen the Perfect had swept into town in all her pregnant radiance.
They weren't fighting. It was more like there was a tremor in the Force.
Because a judge had apparently been a member of the same secret society at Yale as Frank Forbes, Joe Campbell was now quietly divorced. Lucas had thanked her for the idea...but still, it couldn't have been done without perfect Ellen. Not that Colleen was insecure or jealous (cough). No, Ellen was completely nice and classy and engaged and preggers, and why the hell did she bother Colleen so much, anyway? Ellen was back in Chicago now, as were Lucas's sister and nieces. They'd come into the bar to say hello and stayed for dinner, and Colleen had had to go into the office and cry for a second--the girls were so big! Once upon a time, she and Lucas had babysat Mercedes and the infant twins. She'd never even met the fourth one.
Didi had gone off to visit a friend in Boca and would stay for the duration. It had only cost Lucas about four grand, he'd told her, and it was money very well spent. Joe could now die in peace.
The loo was now spotless. With a sigh, Colleen returned to the bustle. But all through the evening, she obsessed. Worried, fretted, mulled and, ironically, tried not to think about Lucas.
Their time together was drawing to a close. They were still sleeping together, but it was almost too much--the intensity, the meaning, the poignance. Soon, one of these times would be their last. Or not. Or they'd try a long-distance thing.
But without saying the actual words, Lucas had made it clear: Manningsport was not his home. Chicago was. Manningsport was where he had lived for a short time and no more. A place that meant nothing to him, and everything to her.
She wasn't going to leave.
Not that he had asked, mind you.
At the end of her shift, she called the nursing home to check on her grandfather.
"Hey, Coll," said Joanie. "He's a little restless right now."
"I'll pop over, then," Colleen said.
A half hour later, she was sitting at Gramp's bedside, holding his hand, talking about her day, the specials Connor had whipped up, how she'd taken Savannah for a swim in Keuka and how cold and clear the water had been. "I remember how you told me about you and Gran, taking a row in the moonlight on your honeymoon," she said. "You said she looked like an angel, and you could hear a whip-poor-will calling." Gramp didn't respond, but she hoped he could picture it, those long-ago days with the love of his life.
But then, she ran out of things to say. Rufus, whom she'd brought in for company, was lying on the floor, twitching in sleep. Aside from his sighs (it sounded like a pretty good dream), the place was quiet.
Gramp made a whimpering sound, and Colleen kissed his hand. Rufus's tail thumped the floor as if to reassure the old man. "I'm still here, Gramp. Don't worry."
Connor came to visit about once a week, more than anyone else except Colleen herself. The other O'Rourke cousins felt--perhaps legitimately--that their visits did nothing more than confuse Gramp, because the staff did report he'd be agitated afterward.
Dad never came. Once, Colleen had brought Savannah, but Gail and Dad had both had fits over it...exposing their innocent flower to the ravages of time, etc., etc. So it was just Colleen. She sometimes thought that if she could, she'd move in to Rushing Creek because she and Gramp had always had a special bond.
Her grandfather pulled his hand away and rubbed his forehead, his classic move when he was agitated.
"So I'm in love again, Gramp," she said, more so he could hear her voice than anything else. Well. Except it was good to say out loud. "Same guy as last time. Dumb, huh? No live and learn here. He'll be leaving pretty soon. We try not to talk about it. I think he wants me to live in Chicago, and I want him to stay here, and neither one of us is going to get our way."
No answer.
She adjusted her grandfather's blanket. "You're right. Live life for the moment. Eat dessert first. I brought you some cookies, by the way. Peanut butter. Your favorite."
"Hey."
She jumped. Lucas stood in the doorway. Hopefully, he hadn't heard her. "Hi. What are you doing here so late?"
"I'm on my way out, actually." He paused. "They just admitted Joe to Hospice. He took a turn for the worse this afternoon."
"Oh, Lucas. I'm so sorry."
"He's sleeping now. Pretty doped up. He had a bad coughing fit and brought up some blood, so he discontinued dialysis and..." He ran a hand through his hair. "It won't be long."
"I'll look in on him."
He gave a ghost of a smile. "He always liked you." Another pause. "How's your grandfather?" he asked.
"The same as ever."
Lucas went over and took Gramp's hand. "Hi, Mr. O'Rourke," he said. "It's Lucas Campbell. Good to see you again, sir."
"Liar," Colleen said, though her eyes were full.
Gramp turned away and closed his eyes. Pulled his hand free and rolled onto his side. "He'll sleep for a while now," she said. "That's my cue to leave."
She roused her dog, and she and Lucas walked down the silent hallway.
"Is that your bike?" Lucas asked.
"Yep."
"Can I drive you home?"
"I have a headlight and stuff. A reflective vest." It was a mile to her house, and Rufus could use the run (though he was even now flopping down on the floor once again). And at this hour, she'd be there almost as fast as she would if she took Lucas up on his offer.
"What I meant was," he said, his voice scraping her with sweet, dark yearning, "can I drive you to the opera house, and will you stay over, Colleen, in my bed, and let me make love to you?"
He wasn't smiling, which made it all the more devastating.
"Okay," she whispered, and he kissed her then, a gentle, long, tender kiss, and it was all she could do not to cry because she knew the clock had almost run out.
*
A FEW NIGHTS LATER, Lucas stood outside O'Rourke's, hoping to grab a quick dinner and a glimpse of Colleen before returning to Rushing Creek to sit with Joe, who was winding down. Mostly, his uncle slept, but if he was awake, he liked the company...and Bryce had been avoiding him, which Lucas just couldn't understand.
What the future held for him and Colleen, he didn't know.
She was trying to be her normal self, cheerful and flirty and wry, but there was something in her eyes that didn't bode well, and when he asked her about it the other night, she just put on a smile and kissed him, and no amount of coaxing could get her to open up.
That was a problem because he needed to get back to Chicago, finish the Cambria building and leave Forbes Properties behind for good. Not Mr. and Mrs. Forbes, not Ellen, not completely. But he didn't want to be attached to them in any way other than the occasional visit. He'd been a part of their family once, and he knew that Frank especially would want to keep up with the dinners, the sails on Lake Michigan. They'd invite him for the holidays, same as always, but things were changing. He didn't belong there anymore.
Steph and the girls had a different relationship with Frank and Grace (and Ellen, for that matter; the two women had become best friends, however unlikely a pairing--Steph the single mom with her tattoos and piercings, Ellen with her WASPy good looks and quiet money). But an ex-husband, an ex-son-in-law...no.
Ellen would be married soon. There'd be another son-in-law, and two babies, and while Lucas knew he'd failed Ellen on some deep, emotional level despite his best efforts, and he couldn't resent the divorce in any way, there was still a feeling that he was once again on the outside looking in.
Time to do his own thing, with the woma
n he'd fallen for in one glance. Time to set things right.
But her idea of right and his were very different, and it was becoming apparent just how big a problem this was going to be.
He went inside, and she looked up right away as she made a martini, expertly pouring the vodka, adding a squeeze of lime. A quick smile, the same kind she gave him lately whenever she'd been quiet too long, flashed across her lips. "Hello, Spaniard," she said as he sat down. "What can I get you?"
He didn't answer right away, and a faint blush crept into her cheeks. "Whatever the house special is, and a beer."
"I'm the house special," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Then I'll have you," he said.
"I want the house special, then, too," said the guy sitting one stool down.
"She's taken," Lucas said, not looking away from Colleen.
"Cajun crab cake sandwich with Hungarian cucumber salad, coming up," she said. "And, Greg, I appreciate the sentiment." She pulled two glasses from the overhead rack and filled them both with beer. "Since you didn't specify, Spaniard, I gave you what he's having. The Ithaca Flower Power IPA."
She went into the kitchen, stopping to admire a baby. Probably one of the Colleens or Colins named for her.
"You guys together?" the guy, Greg, asked.
Lucas gave him a slow look. "Yes."
He pursed his lips. "Well, good luck. Hope you don't catch anything."
Lucas was dragging him across the floor by his shirt before he was even aware that he'd moved. The noise of the bar barely wavered, though Tom Barlow, back from his honeymoon, did hold the door.
"Jesus, man!" Greg yelped. "What the hell are you doing?"
Lucas let him fall on the sidewalk, and Greg scrabbled up, his hands in front of him. "Just calm down, okay? Christ. I figured I'd give you a warning. She's slept with half the guys in this town. Myself included."
"Don't come back here."
"Who's gonna stop me?" he asked.
Lucas took a step closer, and the little asshole hesitated, then turned and fled.
He went back inside, his heart thudding. "Well done, mate," Tom said. "Whatever it was he did, I'm sure he deserved that." Lucas nodded, then went back to the bar and drained his beer.
Colleen came back out. "Where's Greg?" she said, frowning.
"He had to leave," Lucas muttered.
Now granted, he knew that Colleen hadn't been celibate for the past ten years (no matter how nice that would've been to imagine). But it didn't mean he felt good, hearing that kind of shit.
"Lucas threw his ass out," Gerard offered.
"Why?" Colleen asked.
"Because he was rude," Lucas answered.
"I see. So he told you I slept with him?"
"I'd rather not discuss this in a bar."
She sighed. "I own this bar, Spaniard. Try not to be too retro, okay? Sorry I wasn't sitting home alone, knitting bandages for injured soldiers as I waited for you to come back to me."
He gave her a hot look. She returned it, then went to the end of the bar to get someone a drink.
"Hi, Lucas." Faith wriggled onto the stool next to him, Levi at her side. Probably a good thing Levi hadn't been here five minutes ago, or Lucas might be on his way to the new holding cell at the police station. He took a breath and unclenched his jaw.
"The public safety building looks incredible," Levi said. "Went up fast."
Lucas nodded. The job had been easy compared to a fifty-seven-story skyscraper, and had gone without significant hiccups. As soon as the painters were done, the three emergency departments could start moving in.
"Hi, gorgeous!" Colleen said, leaning over the bar to kiss Faith. "How's my godchild percolating in there?"
"So far, so good," she said happily, and Levi touched her cheek.
Lucas remembered that feeling. The awe of having a baby on the way, the protectiveness over your woman.
The broken feeling in his chest when he saw Ellen, white and sobbing in the hospital.
He said a quick prayer that Faith and Levi wouldn't know that sorrow. No one deserved that. And while he was at it, that Ellen and Steve's twins would be healthy and hearty.
Colleen plopped his plate in front of him with a clatter, deliberate, he was sure. Probably another hearty dose of whatever evil hot sauce she'd used on his burger that time.
Then she reached over and messed up his hair. "Faith, have you ever seen hair as beautiful as this?" she asked, and just like that, she was done being mad.
"I'm partial to blonds myself," Faith said. "But no, I haven't. Unless it's yours."
"I'd ask you to stop sulking, Spaniard," Colleen said, leaning down so he could get the full power of the view down her shirt, "but I think it's kind of hot."
He took a bite of the sandwich. It was excellent. No burning esophagus anywhere.
"Hey, bro!" Bryce stood in front of him, beaming. "Guess what! I got a job!" He offered his fist for a bump.
Lucas obliged. "Doing what?"
"Hi, Bryce," Colleen said. "You want a beer?"
"Yeah! I'm celebrating! I'm employed."
"That's great," she said, glancing down the busy bar as she pulled him an IPA. "What will you be doing?"
Bryce sat down and accepted his beer. "Menopause Boot Camp," he announced proudly.
Lucas choked. "Wow. What does that entail, exactly?"
"Coll, it was your mom who gave me the idea," Bryce said. "You know? All these old chicks starting to fall apart, complaining about their creaky knees and hot flashes, and I'm like, 'Girls, you need to get out there a little more, get the blood flowing, right?' and your mom says, 'Bryce, if the instructor looked like you, I'd do it.' So I'm like, 'Dude, what an awesome idea!' And she got all those other chicks to sign up. Isn't that great?"
"I think my grandmother just joined that class," Faith said.
"She did!" Bryce said. "What do you think, Lucas?"
As ever, his cousin wanted his approval. "Sounds good, buddy. You'll be great at it." He paused. "You need insurance and waivers and a place and all that."
"I know," he said. "Carlos Mendez said if I started working on getting certified as a personal trainer, he'd let me work out of the gym, so long as my clients joined." He paused. "I'm not good at that much, but I know how to work out, and I like women." He smiled and shrugged.
"Good for you, Bryce," Lucas said.
"I think it's genius," Colleen said. "You could also call it Women Who Love Looking at Bryce. Half the town would join."
"You could be grandfathered in," Bryce said with a wink, and Lucas wasn't sure, but for a second, Colleen looked almost...stricken.
But a moment later, she was laughing at something Faith said and flirting with an old guy in a flannel shirt.
Hannah O'Rourke came out of the kitchen. "Collie, Connor wants you."
"Roger," she said. She went into the kitchen, attracting a good amount of male attention, Lucas's included.
At that moment, his phone buzzed. Rushing Creek.
"You'd better get here as soon as you can, Mr. Campbell," said the nurse. "It looks like it's time."
*
"WE SHOULD TELL my mom," Bryce objected as Lucas towed him down the hallway toward the hospice wing. "I'll call her now."
"There's no time," Lucas said. Didi and Joe had kept the divorce from Bryce as if he was a fragile eight-year-old. "Come on, buddy."
For the past eleven days, Lucas had spent a lot of time in this room. He'd brought in photo albums, meticulously kept since Bryce's birth onward, and listened as Joe told him who was who in the pictures, or described where they'd been--here's the one from the Cascades...this was in Zion National Park. Oh, the river walk in San Antonio! And here's when we were in France.
The room felt different now, heavy with the sound of Joe's labored breathing. His uncle's face was puffy, and he appeared to be sleeping.
Bryce hesitated in the doorway.
"Joe? We're here," Lucas said. He went to his uncle's bedside and to
ok his hand, gesturing for Bryce to come closer. Bryce stayed put.
"Hi," Joe whispered. He opened his eyes with effort, and saw Bryce. "Hi, honey-boy," he said.
Bryce took a shuddering breath. "Hey, Dad."
"Come on over here," Joe said, and Bryce obeyed, tears sliding down his face.
"Oh, Dad. Please don't die." There was a note of panic in his voice, poor kid. Bryce sat down in the bedside chair and took his father's hand.
"I'm sorry about this, son," Joe whispered. There was a rattle in his breathing now.
Lucas moved to Joe's other side and put a hand on his shoulder. "What can we do for you, Joe?" he asked.
He hadn't been able to say goodbye to his own father, but he was here now.
His uncle looked up. "Lucas..." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Would you mind...leaving Bryce and me alone?"
Lucas blinked. He glanced at his cousin, who was sobbing softly, his head on his father's arm. "Um...sure. Of course." He paused, leaned down and kissed his uncle's forehead. "Thank you, Joe," he whispered. "For taking me in."
But Joe's eyes were on his son, and so Lucas had nothing left to do but obey, the door wheezing shut behind him.
The hallway was dark and quiet. A nurse went by, her eyes kind.
He could call Colleen. She'd wait with him.
He had no one else, after all.
Instead, he just stood there. After a while, he sat, looking at the closed door, and it was hard to breathe because of the pain in his chest, like a cold, thick spike had been driven through it.
He'd call Steph after it was over. Didi, too, and Ellen. He'd do what needed to be done, what Joe had asked him to do, and then he wanted to leave this little town and not come back, because all he'd ever been here was an outsider, an impostor.
Except with Colleen.
The door opened, and Lucas lurched to his feet.
"He's gone," Bryce said. "He's really gone."
He burst into racking sobs, and Lucas opened his arms and hugged his cousin.
He could see Joe in the bed, undeniably still.
"I got to tell him about my job," Bryce wept, "and he said he was proud of me, and I was an entrepreneur, like him, and I'd do great."
"Good. I'm glad."
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