For Mac (34 page)

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Authors: Brynn Stein

BOOK: For Mac
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“You’re sure,
mo chroí
?”

Branson couldn’t believe Liam was asking him this again. It should be obvious he was sure. He was a quivering mass of goo just waiting for Liam to get on with it already.

“Oh for God’s sake, Liam, if you don’t just—”

Liam chuckled and Branson melted even more as Liam slowly—oh so slowly—
finally
slid into Branson for the first time.

Branson sighed. It felt like Liam belonged there. Liam must have thought the same thing because he stayed still far longer than Branson would have wanted.

“You know, Liam,” Branson said with a grin, “I might be new to this, but I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be moving around a little back there.”

Liam chuckled and pulled out a little. “If you don’t like the way I’m doing things, I can just….” And he pulled out a little more.

Branson clamped down, and Liam groaned. “Don’t you dare,” Branson growled.

They chuckled, and Liam went back to where he belonged, but this time he did move.

It seemed like forever and only seconds later that Liam and Branson cried out together, finishing at the same time. Branson was almost asleep when he felt Liam slide off to the side and pull Branson close to him.

“I love you,
mo chroí
.”

Branson wasn’t sure he was still awake enough to actually answer aloud, but he certainly returned the sentiment. He loved Liam with all his heart and soul.

He burrowed back into the warmth of Liam’s body, and he didn’t remember anything else until the next morning.

 

 

B
RANSON
HAD
agonized for quite a while over what to do with Mac’s estate. He’d accepted that the house was fully his now, but Mac still had a fair amount of money in his account from the sale of the business, as well as the money the employees were contributing before then. Branson had used a good bit of it to pay for the medical expenses not covered by the insurance, but it still left too much money for Branson to feel comfortable accepting as his inheritance.

He had talked to Liam, to Amy and Andy, and even to Dr. Luxton about what he might do with it that would honor Mac’s memory. He finally came up with an idea.

Silver Linings had been a godsend for Mac and for Branson himself. The staff was caring and attentive and treated the patients and their families as family of their own. But each time the patients needed scans or tests, they needed to transport them back to the hospital. And while that was only fifteen minutes away, it was still a hassle. Branson had always hated it when Mac had to be transported for tests. It was one thing when he became sick enough to need the more intensive care the hospital could provide, or when he needed surgery to tend to damage done by the trach or something, but for routine tests? Branson didn’t want patients to have to leave Silver Linings unless they wanted to.

So he decided, after talking to the board of directors, that he would like to donate a wing to the facility to house an MRI, a CT scanner, X-ray machines, and anything else they felt they needed. By the time they came up with a projected figure of money they would need, Mac’s inheritance fell quite short. Branson thought he’d be back at square one, trying to figure out what to do with the money, but Ma Sullivan had an excellent idea.

“We’ll raise the rest of the funds,” she calmly pronounced, like it was a done deal simply because she said it was. “Our church will help, I feel sure. And we can get other churches involved, other organizations. We can make this happen.”

She spearheaded the whole thing, but Mama White, Amy, and Andy quickly got involved as well. When Tom and the rest of Branson’s coworkers heard about it, they jumped in too. Tom told Branson to come up with a campaign to advertise the effort, and Tom would purchase the media time.

One of the parishioners at Mama White’s church had ties to the local Brain Trauma Foundation and that organization jumped in with both feet, offering their considerable reach to advertise the campaign.

Meanwhile, since they wouldn’t need the equipment full time, the Silver Linings board had originally thought to give the task of performing the scans to existing staff, some of whom were trained in running the machines but hadn’t been able to find jobs doing so. With the widespread publicity the fundraising campaign had garnered however, they came up with alternate plans. Various doctors, clinics, and other long-term care facilities in the surrounding area made it known that they would love to have access to the machines as well. Their patients would still have to travel, but not for as long, and the money Silver Linings would get from their increased use could pay for full-time staff to run them.

The board jumped through all the appropriate legal hoops to get approved for all of that while Branson and Ma Sullivan organized the increasingly monstrous fundraising campaign. Before long they had more than enough to start building the wing and purchase the equipment.

 

 

I
T
TOOK
just over a year to actually build the wing. The Mac Farrell Diagnostic Unit. And when the day came for the dedication ceremony, Branson was there, at the board’s request, to say a few words.

When Branson agreed to do the honors, he thought he would be speaking to the staff of Silver Linings and maybe his friends and family, but since the fundraiser had been so widely publicized, there was standing room only on the vast back lawn at the facility. There were camera crews from several different TV stations and numerous newspaper and Internet news reporters. Branson was terrified.

“You’ll be fine, Branny.” Liam hugged him.

“I had a speech prepared, and I can’t remember a word of it.” Branson clung to Liam like a lifeline.

“Say what you meant in the speech. Forget about what the words were. It’ll come to you.” Branson still wasn’t sure, and Liam must have seen that because he went on. “Who has all this been for, Bran?”

“For Mac.” Branson could reply to that quickly. There had never been any doubt of that. It was for all the future patients and their families, so they wouldn’t have to be transported to the hospital for tests, but it was mainly for Mac.

Liam gave him a little push. “Go tell them that.”

Branson smiled. He could do that. He pulled himself up straight, infused with new confidence. He walked the short distance to the podium through the crowd, cleared his throat, and waited for the crowd to silence.

“I can’t thank all of you enough for being here today to dedicate this new wing. I’m sure it will benefit a great number of people. Even more than I had anticipated. When I started this whole thing, I was just trying to find a good way to invest Mac’s inheritance. When Mac was living here, he had to go to the hospital often―for procedures or new medical regimens that couldn’t be done here, and still won’t be able to―but also for routine tests and scans. It was always such a big hassle to move him. He was hooked up to so many machines and had… it was just really hard to move him.

“There have been other patients here, too, who had to go to the hospital simply for scans. If I can make that easier for the patients in the future, then my greatest wish is that any time people use this equipment, they remember my brother. Not the man who lay in a bed here for over a year, but the man I grew up with. The real Mac.” Branson looked around at the people in the audience, to see if he thought they were getting bored or if he could go on for a bit. He really wanted people to know the Mac he knew, and thought this could be his best chance to reach the most people. They seemed interested in hearing more. This was one last thing Branson could do… for Mac.

So Branson took a breath. “Let me tell you about my brother.”

A
BOUT
THE
A
UTHOR

B
RYNN
S
TEIN
has always loved to write. Fan fiction, original fiction, whatever. While Brynn wrote in numerous genres—everything from mystery, to contemporary, to supernatural—she had always tended toward strong male characters. And then she discovered “slash,” male/male romance, and all those strong male characters were finally allowed to express their love for one another. It seems that there are always at least two characters clamoring to tell Brynn their story.

Brynn lives in Virginia near her two grown daughters who encourage her writing and provide a sounding board for fledgling stories. When she isn’t writing, Brynn teaches children with special needs. In free time, when such a thing exists, she reads anything she can get her hands on, and haunts bookstores. She draws and paints, and enjoys the outdoors—especially if she can get to the beach—and is always thinking about her next story.

Please feel free to contact Brynn at any of the following:

http://brynnstein2.wordpress.com

https://www.facebook.com/brynn.stein

[email protected]

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