For Mac (5 page)

Branson

A
COUPLE
of days later, Branson sat by Mac’s bedside, as always, and was about to start reading when another man, about Bran’s age or a few years older, came in. He was about Mac’s height—six foot two or three—and his muscles filled out his white uniform in all the right spots. He had short, tousled, dark auburn hair that made him look like he had just gotten out of bed and gorgeous pale blue eyes with sleepy, drooped lids to complete that picture. Branson found himself appreciating the view before he remembered the argument that had led them here in the first place.

He put the thoughts of attraction out of his mind and was turning his gaze back toward his brother when the man spoke, and Branson was lost again.
He would have to have an Irish lilt
,
wouldn’t he?
Bran asked himself.

“Hey there. I’m Liam. I was off last week, so I haven’t gotten to meet our newest patient yet. But the nurses filled me in a wee bit. You’re Branson, right? I’m the weekday CNA assigned to your brother here.”

“Hi.” Branson wasn’t usually so abrupt, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk to new people. Hadn’t been since the accident. And he was trying hard
not
to want to talk to
this
man.

Liam didn’t seem to take offense, however, and continued on. “This is MacKenzie?” He stepped up to the bed and took Mac’s hand as if to shake it. “A good Irish name, it is.”

Branson did smile at that. “Mac, please,” he stated. “He’d slug you if he heard you calling him MacKenzie.”

Liam chuckled. “Doesn’t like his name, does he?”

Branson halfheartedly returned the snicker. “No, he always thought it sounded gay.” He was abruptly pulled from any revelry he might have been enjoying. Wasn’t it that attitude that brought them to this place? He suddenly didn’t want to talk at all.

Liam seemed to notice the change in mood. “Well, I’m going to let you visit in peace.” He started toward the door. “Just press the call button if you need anything, and I’ll be right in.”

Branson nodded but didn’t respond, and Liam found his way out of the room with no further interaction. Bran couldn’t help but think he had been unnecessarily rude, and that bothered him more than he would have thought. He never liked to be impolite to anyone, but something about being ill-mannered to that Adonis who called himself Liam was even worse.
And I met him on Valentine’s Day
, he thought, but then immediately—and viciously—buried those kinds of thoughts deep inside himself where he wouldn’t have to acknowledge them.

Mac’s younger brother wasn’t gay. He couldn’t be. He
wouldn’t
be.

A
BOUT
TWO
weeks later, Branson was sitting by Mac’s bed, recounting a childhood story to pass the time.

“So then you picked me up, just left the bike and the car right there, and carried me all the way home, running all the way. You remember?” Branson asked his brother. Mac’s eyes were open at the moment, and his head lolled to one side, toward Bran, so Branson tried to pretend that Mac was looking at him. He could tell he wasn’t, though. For the first little while, after Mac started opening his eyes, Branson would go through the same ritual that the nurses had undertaken that first time. He’d try to get Mac to look at him, or track him as he moved, or track a finger, anything. But now, Bran didn’t bother. He merely pretended his brother could see him, that he was listening to him, though at times he almost gave up hope of that as well.

But he continued his story, just the same. “So Mom took one look at me and screamed her head off.” Branson chuckled at the memory. He had been eight, and Mac was sixteen. Mac was taking the car out for the first time by himself after having gotten his license that morning. Branson had been so angry that Mac wasn’t going to take him too, he’d grabbed his bike and tried to chase the car. He didn’t know it at the time, but Mac was going slow and watching him in the mirror. They weren’t more than a block away from home when Mac must have realized the kid wasn’t going to give up. He started to pull over so he could pick him up, but Branson lost control of his bike and ran down over an embankment. It wasn’t especially steep, but it was made up almost exclusively of shale, so Bran was pretty bloody when Mac found him. “She was no help at all. You carried me into the bathroom and cleaned me up and tried to calm her down. Amy’s mom showed up later with the keys to your car. She said the door was left open, and the car was still running.” Branson squeezed Mac’s hand. “Guess it was a good thing no one else passed the car first, huh? Dad would’ve been pissed if you lost the car the first time you took it out.”

Branson looked toward the door when he felt someone standing there.

“Ah, I’m sorry, man,” Liam said in that beautiful brogue of his. “I need to change his IV, but I heard you talking, and I didn’t want to interrupt. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“No, that’s not a problem,” Bran answered. “His medical care comes first. I only talk to him to have something to do.” Branson turned toward his brother, whose eyes were still open. “It’s more for me than for him at this point.”

“Hey,” Liam spoke as he stepped toward the IV pole. “Don’t discount his ability to hear you.”

Bran looked up. “You think he can hear me?”

“Well,” Liam said truthfully. “I can’t prove he
doesn’t
.”

The smile on his face had Branson looking away in a hurry. Liam didn’t notice since his back was turned by then.

Liam continued talking while hanging the new IV bag and straightening the tubing. “I’ve seen people come out of comas and pick up a conversation their family had started with them.”

“Like they heard them all along?” Branson found that hopeful.

“Could be,” Liam answered. “Or maybe they heard it because they were already waking up. But it costs nothing to talk to the patient and hope, right?”

“I guess not,” Branson responded. “That’s what I’ve been doing. That’s why I read to him or tell him stories. But it’s already been so long.”

“From your story, it sounds like the two of you have a very special bond.”

“He practically raised me,” Branson answered, trying not to enjoy conversation with this man to whom he had an almost unignorable attraction. “Did raise me after our parents died.”

Liam leaned back on the bedside table, seemingly able to sense that Branson wanted to talk for a while. “When was that?”

“About ten years ago,” he answered. “Right after my thirteenth birthday.”

“So let me do the math, then.” Liam smiled. “That makes you twenty-three.”

Branson allowed himself a smile. “Yeah. And you did that in your head. Didn’t even have to use your fingers!”

Liam beamed in response. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve seen you truly smile in the whole two weeks you’ve been here. It suits you.” Liam obviously didn’t understand the reason for the sudden discomfort he must have seen in Branson’s face, but he seemed to notice it right away and apparently decided it was time to leave. He squeezed Branson’s shoulder on the way back to the door but jerked his hand away when Branson flinched. “Hang in there. I’d like to think that, on some level, he knows you are here.”

Branson looked at him. “Thanks. I’d like to think so too.”

Liam

L
IAM
S
ULLIVAN
still wasn’t sure what to make of young Mr. Farrell. He seemed to want to talk sometimes but usually didn’t. And when he did, he cut off at the oddest times. And, apparently, he hated being touched. Liam was naturally tactile, and he never meant anything by it, but usually, even if people didn’t especially want to be touched, they didn’t react like
that
.

Maybe he’s having a bad day today
, Liam thought.
For all I know, maybe he injured his shoulder or something too. I know he was hurt in the same accident Mac was in. I’ll just have to be careful.

Liam went about his work and tried to forget about Branson’s reaction—indeed, struggled to put the man in general out of his mind. He had been finding that harder and harder to do over the couple of weeks Branson and his brother had been here. There was something about Branson that drew Liam in. He wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone what it was exactly. He knew he had been instantly attracted to the man. Branson was nice looking, so who wouldn’t be? But Liam was used to being attracted to unavailable men. He was out and proud but didn’t necessarily advertise that he was gay, and he knew that Branson was straight. But still, the man was easy on the eyes, and Liam couldn’t help but react to that, if only in the privacy of his thoughts.

But Branson seemed so sad. Liam knew he certainly had reason to be. Liam had heard about the accident that had led the older brother here. Branson had been injured too, and maybe he was still recovering from that, as well as trying to come to terms with having his brother lie there in that bed, so still and quiet. But Liam couldn’t stand the idea of Branson being sad and withdrawn, and he wouldn’t be if Liam could have any say in it. So he had found himself trying to talk to him any time they were both in the same room. Sometimes Branson responded, and sometimes he seemed to be acting polite and secretly hoping Liam would leave him alone. Liam knew Mac was actually the patient, and he would continue to give him the best care possible, but somewhere along the line, Liam took responsibility for looking after Branson, as well. He wasn’t sure what he could do, but he knew he was going to try.

T
HE
NEXT
several days gave him an opportunity to know Branson better. Liam entered Mac’s room and was talking to both brothers for a while, but then Branson asked, “What was the commotion in the hall earlier?”

Liam had meant to come in and apologize for the noise, but he had gotten busy.

“Oh, we got a new patient.” He addressed the next part to Mac, whose seemingly sightless eyes were open and staring at the far wall, “You’ve got a new neighbor.” He turned back to Branson and could tell he wanted to know more, so he went on. “Mr. Johnson had a stroke, and his son decided he couldn’t take care of him at home. So the elderly gentleman will be with us for as long as he needs us, so he will.”

That seemed to be that, and Liam went about caring for Mac while he and Branson talked about a variety of other things.

Liam had pretty much forgotten the entire conversation, but about a week later, Branson brought it up again.

“I haven’t heard Mr. Johnson’s son coming to visit him.” Branson’s face was screwed up in a confused expression. “Am I just missing him somehow?” He apparently thought of something else. “For that matter, why didn’t I notice friends or family during the ruckus made when you all brought Mr. Johnson in?”

Liam frowned. “The son didn’t come with him. There’s only the one boy, as far as I can tell. He came in to fill out the papers in the office, but on the day the hospital transferred Mr. J. here, he came alone.”

“Mr. J.?” Branson smiled.

Liam chuckled and explained. “When he tried to introduce himself to me, all he could get out was the
j
sound. So I decided to try humor to smooth everything over and just called him Mr. J. He seems to like it.”

Branson’s eyes widened in surprise. “He’s awake?”

It hadn’t occurred to Liam that he hadn’t mentioned that earlier. “Oh yeah. His speech is slurred pretty badly, and he can’t move his left side, but he’s awake and cogent otherwise.”

“And no one is visiting him?” Branson was incredulous.

“No,” Liam agreed with the sentiment but was professional enough not to show it… much. “Only me and the nurses. But we try to go in often or get him out to the lounge or sunroom as often as he’ll go. He usually sits in his room by himself, though.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Branson stood up, took Mac’s hand, and leaned in close. “I’ll be back in a bit, Mac. I’m not letting anyone sit in their room all day without having some company, even if it’s someone they don’t know.” He turned to Liam. “You want to introduce me or should I just drop in?”

It didn’t look like Branson was going to take “neither” for an answer, even if Liam was inclined to have a problem with him visiting Mr. J., which, of course, he wasn’t. Liam decided that he was now even more disappointed that Branson wasn’t gay.
How great is this guy
, he asked himself,
to visit someone he doesn’t know
,
just so the man won’t be alone
?

T
HEY
WALKED
into the room next door, and the man in the bed looked up warily. Liam walked over to him.

“Hi, Mr. J.” Liam waited until the man was looking at him. “This is Branson Farrell. His brother is next door, and when he found out they had a new neighbor, he had to come over and say hi.”

Mr. J. smiled a lopsided smile that could only come through stroke, but his eyes twinkled. “Hello.” He slurred, and it looked like it took a great deal of effort to say that one word.

“Hi.” Branson reached out his hand automatically, and fortunately Mr. J. could actually still use his right side, because he reached out and shook Branson’s hand weakly.

Liam had never seen anything so beautiful. Mr. J.’s eyes lit up as he shook Branson’s hand, and Branson looked like he was going to burst. Liam was glad that Branson could finally feel like he was doing some good here. He knew that it must be depressing sitting beside Mac’s bedside without Mac responding much at all.

T
HEY
SPENT
about fifteen minutes with Mr. J., Branson doing most of the talking, but Mr. J. trying his best. Liam’s hat was off to Branson. He seemed to understand Mr. J. better than Liam himself did by the end of the visit.

Branson didn’t want to stay away from Mac long, but he promised Mr. J. that he’d be back, and Liam was sure Branson was a man of his word.