Silence still echoed from Erin’s end of the phone. Knowing her past, that scared the Dickens out of him. “Erin. Talk to me. Hand the phone to Debbie. Are you there?”
“Jon?”
Debbie. Whew. “Is she okay? Do I need to come up there?” He’d saved her life once and would commandeer a snowmobile and race to her now if he had to.
“I think she’s in shock. What did you tell her?”
“I was afraid of that. I told her that Corey listed her as guardian, should something happen to him and Lilith.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. No wonder she’s in shock.”
“Giving her custody made sense. She knows Clara better than anyone else.”
“As a babysitter.”
“Yes. Clara’s only babysitter.” With Corey working on his art at home, Clara didn’t have to go to daycare, and Erin had volunteered for infrequent babysitting duties so the sisters would have more time together. With Erin, it had always been about what was best for family. “Besides, Erin’s a great mom, and Mik is Clara’s sister. This is all about what’s best for the child, and Erin is who’s best.”
“Right. But is Clara best for Erin?”
That was the million-dollar question. “I don’t know.” Would custody of her ex-husband’s child, the one who triggered his divorce and remarriage, send Erin over the edge again?
“Stay with her.” Jon bounced Clara, who was calming down again.
“She won’t leave my sight. Mr. Horton has offered us the spare bedroom for the night.”
“Perfect.” Just the assurance he needed. Clara squawked again.
“Sounds like you have your hands full.”
“Guess I do. This child-sitting thing isn’t for sissies.” Give him his child-free, bachelor life any day. As a divorce attorney, working with so many broken families affirmed that decision, in spite of Corey’s last words before heading into surgery.
“No. No it’s not. Let Corey know we’re praying and not to give up. We’ll be down as soon as the roads allow.”
“And I’ll keep you posted if there are any updates.” He hit End Call then stood and bounced Clara on his hip. He was on the same page as Debbie. Corey better not give up. Not when he’d finally learned what living was about. Not when their friendship was back on track. Not when his daughters desperately needed a father.
“You hear that, God?” He looked up and spoke in a whisper, even though Clara’s cries would cover anything said. “You can’t have him yet.”
And then there was Erin.
Oh, he’d hated dropping that bombshell on her, especially when the news could affect her mental health, but the sooner she realized the responsibility that lay ahead of her, the better.
If Corey didn’t make it.
“It’s okay, sweetie.” He kissed the screaming child’s forehead and paced the waiting room. “Uncle Jon has you.”
“Jon?”
He turned to the familiar voice and heaved a sigh. “Mr. and Mrs. Belden. So glad you could make it safely.”
“It’s Joyce to you.” Mrs. Belden relieved him of the girl, thank goodness. “Come to Grandma, sweetie.”
And just like that, Clara hushed. Proof that he should never marry or have kids.
“How’s Corbin doing?” Henry Belden gestured to a pair of open chairs across from where Mik had fallen asleep sitting up. Or she was faking it well. Being a teenager was tough enough, but with the mess her dad left her in, Jon did not envy the job Erin had.
He gladly joined Corey’s dad. “Not good, Mr. B—”
“Henry.”
“Henry.” Jon looked down the hallway from where he expected the surgeon to come. “Not good. He’s got an intracerebral hemorrhage—”
“What’s that in English?”
“It means the brain tissue is bleeding. That on top of other injuries. It’s not good, Henry. It’s a miracle he’s alive.”
“Then we’ll expect another miracle.” Joyce sat beside him, cradling a now-sleeping Clara on her lap. How did she do that? “You get in touch with Erin?”
He nodded. “She said she has a thing or two to tell Corey.”
“I’m sure she does.” Henry picked at some imaginary spot on his jeans. “And I’ll be backing her up. What our boy put her through. What he’s still putting us through.”
What he put Mik through. He better live so he could make it up to all his family. Corey had apologized to nearly everyone he’d hurt over the last years, but apologies didn’t undo the havoc he’d created.
Besides, Jon needed his best friend. Corey was all he had.
Well, except for Erin.
Speaking of righting a wrong, how was Jon going to make it up to Erin for his disappearing act these past three-plus years? He’d find a way. He had to. He’d promised Corey before going into surgery that he’d watch out for—no, those weren’t Corey’s words. He’d said, “Care for Erin, Mik, and Clara.” That Erin needed a man like him, and the girls needed a father. If only he hadn’t promised Corey that he would be that man.
Chapter Three
Erin awoke and sat up in a panic. Where was she?
“You okay?” Debbie’s voice drew her attention to a rocking chair to her left.
Oh, that’s right. They were at Mr. Horton’s. Debbie had slept in the other twin bed in his guestroom.
And Corey was in the hospital.
Sunlight bled through the curtain. Morning? What time was it? Why hadn’t they heard anything more about Corey? If the sun was shining, that meant the roads were likely open, and they had to leave. Now.
She threw off the covers and realized she had no spare clothes with her.
Debbie got up and set something on the bed. Her suitcase. “Mr. Horton and I retrieved all our things last night. You were out cold. I was just going to wake you up.”
“Any news?” Erin threw open the suitcase and grabbed jeans and a sweatshirt.
“He came through surgery but isn’t out of the woods.”
“So, he’s going to live.”
“That’s not what I said, hon. Things aren’t looking good. He lost a lot of blood. His body is banged up. He . . . ” Debbie sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Let’s get you to the hospital. Maybe hearing your voice will make a difference.”
“Or maybe it’ll make him worse.” She drew on her jeans.
“I don’t believe that, and neither do you. He’s not the same person who messed up with you.”
“But I’m still the same person he walked out on.” Erin pulled the sweatshirt over her head then secured her hair in a ponytail. “I’m ready.”
A couple hours later, Debbie pulled up outside the emergency room door of Grace Hospital in St. Paul. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”
Erin nodded and got out. She held onto the vehicle door and looked inside. “But keep your phone close. I have a feeling I’m going to need to vent.”
“I’ll be available.”
Erin turned to go.
“One more thing.”
Erin glanced over her shoulder at her friend leaning across the seat.
“It’s okay to feel.”
Feel? The only thing she felt was numb. No, not true. She was angry at Corey. Again.
“And feelings aren’t bad, it’s what you choose to do with the feelings that matters.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah, she got it. “So, don’t go giving Corey an earful for hurting my daughter and Clara.” Which she’d really love to do.
Debbie shrugged. “Probably not the best idea.”
“But it would make me feel better.”
“Until it made you feel worse.”
Right.
“And it’s okay to share what you’re feeling with others. They’ll get it.”
No, they won’t. That was one lesson she’d learned over the years. No one cared one iota about her feelings, when she understood what they were. No one but Debbie.
“You sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”
“Erin, go find your daughter.”
Her daughter.
“I’m going.” She shut the SUV door and aimed for the hospital. What about her ex-husband’s daughter? Would she be here, too? Corey wouldn’t dare abandon another daughter. And if he did, how could he possibly expect Erin to raise and love the child that he left her and Mik for?
Mik and Clara deserved better, so Corey had better live, the jerk.
She hurried through the revolving doors and navigated a maze of corridors to an elevator. She rode that up a couple of floors, then wound down a few more hallways scented with antiseptic.
There was Corey’s mom.
And Clara.
But where was—
“Mom!”
“Mik!” She spun around and her daughter bowled into her. “Oh, honey, are you okay?” Erin cradled her daughter’s face between her hands and lifted up her chin. A few scrapes and bruises were the only indicators that a tragedy had taken place.
“Daddy.” Mik sniffled and tears streamed down her daughter’s cheeks. Like her father, Mik displayed her emotions for all to see.
“Oh, honey.” Erin drew her daughter tight against her, absorbing her child’s heaving sobs. This girl needed her father.
“Erin?”
Without releasing Mik, Erin looked to her left. And up. And blinked. “Jon?” No glasses. Styled hair. And a fancy suit, minus the jacket. Not at all the Jon she remembered. Somehow, he seemed taller too. This man was a head-turner, and no longer a geek. It had been well over three years since they’d seen each other, but this was a big change even for that.
He shrugged a single shoulder. “Came from a date.”
Erin looked around the waiting room occupied only by her ex-mother-in-law.
And that child.
“She went home.” The dark bags beneath his eyes gave away his lack of sleep. He gestured to a chair.
She ignored it. She’d just sat for two hours in a SUV. Now she needed to stand. Walk. Pace.
Pray.
“I’d offer you a coffee . . . ” He shrugged. This incident might just induce her to drink the nasty stuff.
“I’ll take one.” Mik managed to lift her head, her gaze seeking approval from Erin, as if her never-stand-still daughter needed caffeine.
That wasn’t a battle worth fighting today. “Fine.” If her daughter wanted to drink coffee, she could go right ahead.
Jon headed down a hallway.
“Wait up.” Erin led Mik to a chair, promised to be right back, then caught up to her former best buddy. “How’s he doing? Can I see him?”
He kept walking.
“I need an answer, Jon.”
He finally stopped and leaned against a wall, bracing his forehead on spread fingers as if trying to pull out emotions, or stuff them back in. “It’s not good,” he said, barely above a whisper. Even with his head down, she could see tears staining his cheeks. “He lost too much blood. His organs are shutting down.” Sniffling, he glanced up at her with eyes veined in red. “They’re waiting for family to withdraw care.”
“No.” Erin shook her head and looked back toward the waiting room. “He’s too young. Mik needs him. Clara needs him. He’ll pull through.”
Jon took her hand and looked her in the eye. Then nodded. “You should go tell him that yourself. I believe in miracles.”
And she was claiming one today. “Where is he?”
“I’ll take you. Henry’s with him right now.”
“Then let’s go wake him up so Clara and Mik have a daddy.” Erin strode down the hall then stopped and looked back at Jon. He nodded to the hallway to his right. “Oh.” She hurried back and walked alongside her childhood best buddy, one of the 3 Sixlets. Corey hadn’t liked calling themselves the Three Musketeers. That wasn’t colorful enough for him. The fact that their little group consisted of only three friends, not six, hadn’t mattered. Even after she and Corey had started dating, Jon had hung around. Even in their marriage, Jon remained best friends with both of them. But when Corey abandoned her, Jon had too. That had hurt almost as much as Corey’s actions.
He steered her down another hallway, then stopped by a closed door.
“This is it?” She reached for the knob.
He gripped her hand. “It’s not pretty, Erin. He’s beat up badly, then there’s all these wires and tubes . . . You won’t recognize him.”
Erin clenched her fists and her jaw. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Just wanted you to be prepared.”
She nodded and opened the door.
And couldn’t move. Jon’s warning wasn’t sufficient at all. That man lying in the bed was as pale as the snow outside and had to be twenty-five years older than her ex-husband. “That can’t be Corey. Are you sure?”
Jon didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
She forced her feet to move to the side of the bed and took his hand. It felt cold, lifeless, so she braced it with both her hands, hoping to warm it, let Corey know she was there.
“Hey Red Sixlet, this is one heckuva way to demand attention. You do know I had to cut my retreat short. You owe me, so you better get your behind up out of this bed soon and pay me back.” She rubbed a finger beneath her nose. “And your daughters need you, too. You think I want to handle Mik alone during her teen years? Uh-uh. And Clara. She’s a mini-Lilith with all that blonde curly hair, and a mini-you with her love for art. Who’s going to teach her if you’re not around, huh? You know I can’t even draw a stick figure. So, you need to fight this, Red, got it?”
“She’s right, Red.” Jon had somehow moved to the other side of the bed without her noticing. “With Clara, the Sixlets have almost completed our six-pack, so you’ve gotta stick around. If you don’t, I’ll sue you, man. And if you go, who am I going to pick on?” His gaze lifted to Erin. “Who’ll look out for Pearl?”
Her Sixlet nickname. She hadn’t heard it in years, and hearing it now almost made her want to cry.
But she wasn’t a crier.
She regained her voice. “Exactly. And who’ll keep Purple in line?” She speared Jon with her gaze. “The guy sniffs out trouble faster than snow falls in April.”
“True.” Jon quirked a smile. “Trouble always seems to find me, and I need you to bail me out, Red.”
Silence overtook the room, then Jon was praying out loud, begging for a miracle. Asking for wisdom and guidance, back to begging.
She added a soft “Amen” to his, then just stood there holding Corey’s cold, limp hand.
She’d expected something more. Maybe a twitch of an eye or movement in a finger, something to indicate that her Corey was still in there.
Jon gestured toward the door, but she couldn’t leave yet, not when she had more to say. Debbie had told her not to be afraid to express her feelings, and rare feelings were bubbling to the surface. Now wasn’t the time to hide them.
She leaned over, close to his ear, planning to tell him how angry she was, but other, foreign words spilled from her mouth, and once they started gushing, she couldn’t stop. “I’m so sorry about us, Corey. I’m sorry for not trying harder. I shouldn’t have given up so easily. I . . . ” Forgive? Even now, the word wouldn’t break free from her mouth. Instead, she braced a hand on his cold, paper-like cheek. “You were always my first love.” She kissed his cheek. “And I still do love you.”
She’d never stopped, even though he’d been a Class-A jerk. Yeah, feelings were stupid. No wonder she avoided them.
Then in a fog, she followed Jon out the door. This couldn’t be happening. Corey couldn’t die now, not when so many things were left unsaid. Why hadn’t she taken a moment to listen to what he had to say earlier? Even listening for a few minutes could have changed the timeline of his life.
An arm circled her shoulders, then Jon drew her in close to his chest. A normal person would cry, but she couldn’t
even pretend to summon tears.
“We’re not getting our miracle, are we?” She whispered into his shirt. “We have to say goodbye.”
He stroked her back and mumbled, “I think we do. It’s not fair to him to keep him from going home. You do know, he’s a believer now.”
Erin nodded. Corey had told her as much several months ago, not that she’d cared then, but it mattered now. She stepped back, took Jon’s hand, and led him to the waiting room where Corey’s parents and Mik still awaited. All three looked up at the couple.
“It’s time?” Jon graciously spoke the words for her.
Henry and Joyce nodded their consent. Mik, sitting uncharacteristically still, looked to the wall, maybe hoping to hide more tears. Then Jon informed the medical staff of the family’s decision.
But first they had to say goodbye.
Keeping one hand in Jon’s and the other in Mik’s, they led the small group to Corey’s room. Nothing had changed. Just the beep, beep, beep of some machine that said his heart was still pumping, probably with the help of another machine. Corey hadn’t miraculously opened his eyes. Wasn’t sitting up. Wasn’t talking up a stream or asking for a paintbrush.
He just lay there.
God wasn’t giving them a miracle.
His parents approached him first.
And Henry grasped his son’s hand. “Hey Corbin, looks like Jesus wants you to come home. Who are we to argue with that? Don’t forget to put in a good word for me, okay? I know I don’t always make it to church, but He and I commune up at the cabin a lot. Had a talk or two about you, and He just said to trust Him. Guess I’m still doing that. Love you, son.”
Joyce adjusted the sheets, pulling them up to her son’s chin. “You always were the dramatic one, Corbin. I’m going to miss that. You added so much color to our lives. Everything’s going to seem a bit grayer now.” She sniffled and Erin handed her a tissue. “And Heaven’s going to be that much more colorful. I can see you standing at the easel, Jesus at your side, painting with colors we never imagined. Make certain you save one of those pieces of artwork for your father and me.
“Oh, and your brother’s still out galivanting around the world. He wanted to make it home, but the airport’s been closed. Always an excuse with him, right? He sends his love. I know I didn’t say it enough, but I do love you, Corbin. With all my heart, I love you. Now, go help God paint a sunset.”
A Beautiful Mess Page 3
