Authors: Maggie McGinnis
Ben laughed out loud. “Then you'd be doing
three
jobs all by your lonesome.” He stopped at Ethan's doorway and ushered him through. “Nah. If it's all the same to you, I'll stay on a while longer. It's just getting fun around here again.”
Ethan sank into his desk chair and shook his head, trying to hide a smile. “Get out of here, old man. Go home to your wife.”
Ben saluted as he backed into the hallway. “Yes, boss. You have a good night now. Sweet dreams!” He disappeared around the corner one second before a crumpled paper ball would have smacked him in the forehead.
“I want that lock fixed tomorrow!” Ethan called out.
“I'll put it on the list.” He heard Ben cackle as he started down the stairs. “But it's an awful, awful long list.”
Ethan turned to his monitor, trying to remember what he'd been doing before he'd headed to the storage closet. As he clicked aimlessly on open windows, a chime sounded and a Skype window popped up with his brother's picture in the corner. He sat up straighter and tried to put on his best game-face before he clicked on the connect button.
“Yo, big bro!” David's booming voice came across Ethan's puny computer speakers. It didn't quite match a face that seemed thinner than a month ago when they'd last talked.
“Hey! You're up a little early, aren't you?” It was five
A.M.
in his barracks overseas. Ethan could see a flurry of activity behind him. “Looks busy back there.”
There was a pregnant pause as David looked behind him for a few seconds. “Yeah. One of those days.”
“You guys on the move?”
“Looks like.”
“How long?”
“Don't know.”
Ethan felt his fingers tighten on the mouse. “Fear factor?”
David shrugged, but his mouth was tight. “Sixish, maybe.”
“Damn.” Ethan tried to swallow the golf ball in his throat. David had never rated anything above a three or four on their ten-point scare scale. “You talk to Pops lately?”
If he had, Ethan would know this mission was serious business.
“Called him last night, yeah.”
Dammit.
“He sounded pretty good, though he was convinced Josie was back in town.”
Ethan took a deep breath. Yeah, she was back, all right. “Andy had a stroke on Friday.”
“No way. He gonna be okay?”
“Not sure yet. It's day by day right now.”
“So ⦠how's Josie? What's the story there?”
“No story.”
Besides me going off my frigging head and kissing her ten minutes ago. If you weren't halfway across the globe, I'd have you smack me upside the head right about now.
“Right. We'll see how long
that
lasts.” A uniform appeared behind David's head, clapping him on the shoulder. He nodded, not breaking his gaze with Ethan. “That's my cue. Gotta roll.”
“Be safe, buddy.”
“Always. Take care of Pops, got it?”
“Got it.” Ethan could see the stress in David's posture as he shifted, could see it in his eyes as he pointed at the screen.
“Take care of you, okay?”
“Shit, Dave. Don't talk like that.”
David smirked. “Okay, I'm off to get a massage, then dinner at the club, then a round of eighteen holes. That better?”
“Much. Thanks.” Ethan frowned. “Be careful. Don't go all hero out there, okay?”
“Gotcha.” David saluted, then pasted a smile on his face as he smacked his lips on his hand and blew a kiss toward the screen. “Love to Josie!”
Ethan sat there for five minutes after the Skype window had closed. Here, the sun was just thinking about sinking over the mountains, but halfway across the world, it was just rising. For his brother, that meant another day of danger, another day of fear, another day of possible bloodshed.
For the thousandth time, he wondered what it would have been like if
he'd
been able to take that Norwich scholarship, to head overseas, to be the family hero like he'd always planned. What would life have looked like if his dreams hadn't been shattered once by a linebacker ⦠and again by a runaway fiancée?
Would David be here? Would he be safe?
Would Pops have forgiven Ethan for his career-ending play sometime before the day his
own
doctor's appointment had revised all of their lives once again?
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
“Well, hey there, Josie! Good to see you back!” Gayle adjusted a bag of fluids hanging by Dad's head as she talked over her shoulder later that evening. “Let me just finish here and I'll get right out of your way.”
“Take your time,” Josie said as she perched gingerly at the edge of the chair by Dad's bed.
Gayle smiled as she closed her laptop. “All right. I'm done for now. Be back in a bit.” She patted Josie's shoulder. “Your mom's down getting some coffee, I think. It's just you and your dad for a bit.”
After Gayle left, Josie sat back in her chair and sighed. After she'd fled the park and headed to her parents' house, she'd finally managed to get out of the dress without a crane. Then she'd walked around the familiar rooms feeling completely unmoored.
What was she
thinking
? Getting involved with Ethan again was a one-way ticket to misery. She'd already been on that train, and she knew better.
Not that one kiss was getting involved, necessarily.
She touched her lips, which she swore were still tingling, then pulled her chair a little closer to Dad's bed. His face had more color today, but his skin was still slack, which made him appear way older than he was. It was alarming to see, and Josie found herself wondering how much of it was the stroke, and how much of it was just the aging that had happened since she'd left town.
She watched the steam droplets on his oxygen tube, struck by a memory of the time he'd taken her snorkeling at the lake when she was eight. They'd spent the entire day with the rowboat anchored in Twilight Cove, and she'd inhaled more lake water than oxygen as she'd tried to figure out how to breathe through the snorkel. On the way home, he'd bought aloe for their sunburns and a giant maple creemee for her stomach.
Josie frowned as she looked at his hand, resting on the green hospital blanket beside her. When had everything gone wrong? When had he checked out?
When had the afternoons of snorkeling and hikes up Little Arrowhead and swims in the river stopped? The chicken barbecues? The Disney movies at the drive-in that made the car reek of popcorn and bug spray for a week afterward?
Had it all stopped because Mom had started drinking?
Or had Mom started drinking because it all had stopped?
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
“Ethan, honey, you look like you need a Bellini Special.” Mama Bellini greeted him at the bar that same night with a chilled beer mug foaming with the local pale ale.
“You know me well, Mama B.” He slid onto a barstool and took a grateful swallow, then lifted the mug toward her. “Thank you.”
“Was a hot day out there. Nothing tastes better than a good cold beer at the end of it.”
“Papi would be proud he's finally converted you.”
“Damn right!” a voice called from the kitchen. “No woman of mine's gonna drink that fancy-pants wine.”
Mama turned toward the service window where Ethan could see Molly's dad stirring a bubbling pot. “And you call yourself an Italian? You're just too cheap to spring for a glass, Papi! You want I should just drink water, yeah?”
“Peh. Impossible woman.” Papi made a dismissive motion as he turned to the grill.
Ethan laughed. “You serving alone tonight? Where's Molly?”
Mama raised her eyebrows up and down. “She's got a date. Handsome one.”
“You don't say.” Oh, poor Molly.
“That Italian match web site's pure magic, I tell you. She's going to need a secretary to handle all the messages she's getting.”
“I'm sure she's just thrilled you signed her up.” Ethan tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but Mama heard it.
“Well, she wasn't making too many strides finding her
self
a husband. What's a mother to do?”
“Wait patiently?” Ethan braced for the smack he knew was coming, and one second later, a dry bar rag hit him in the ear. Bellinis talked with their hands, after all.
“Don't sass me, mister. I'm not going to live forever, you know. I need to see that girl married off and happy, preferably before I die.”
“And preferably to an Italian.”
She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “Have you ever seen the profiles on those other sites?” She shivered dramatically. “Can't trust those men. She needs a good Italian man. Italians are good people.”
Ethan decided he'd refrain from any Mafia references until after he had his dinner in hand.
She turned toward the swinging doors and poked one open enough to holler through. “How's that burger coming, Papi? You have to go kill a cow, did you?”
Ethan laughed behind his mug. “I haven't even been here five minutes, Mama.”
“So why don't
you
marry my Molly?”
“
What
?” His beer went down the wrong hole, and he coughed a few times to get his breath.
“Well, think about it. How old are the two of you? Time doesn't keep waiting, you know. By the time either of you settle down, you'll be too old to even have babies.”
“We're not even thirty, Mama. I think there's still time.”
“I don't know. I just don't know.” She wiped her rag across the already spotless bar. “I worry about you two. Just want you happy.” Another swipe. “But here's good news. A date tonight, right?”
“Right. Good news.”
“And here's more good news. Your burger!” A steaming plate slid through the opening to the kitchen, and she set it in front of him. The burger still sizzled, and the hand-cut fries made his stomach growl. “All right.
Mangia
taj!
Shut up and eat! You're skin and bones!”
She turned to blast through the swinging doors, and Ethan gratefully focused on the television over the bar, checking out the Red Sox game. Just as he finished his third bite, though, his phone chimed with an incoming call.
He wiped his fingers on his napkin, not looking to see who was calling. “Ethan Miller.”
“Hi, Ethan. It's Steph.”
“Hey there. Everything okay? Emmy doing all right?”
“Not really, no. We're actually on our way to the hospital.”
His stomach twisted as he pushed away his plate. “What happened?”
Steph sniffed delicately. “I'm not sure. She was talking about her head hurting, and then she started vomiting and was so dizzy she couldn't even sit up.”
“What did Josh say?”
“Well, you know him. He's like Doctor Calm. He said he thinks it might just be a virus, but he'd feel better if we took her in to have the hospital docs take a look.”
“Okay. Are you in your car?”
“I'm following the ambulance.” Another sniff. “I'm scared, Ethan. What if it's not a virus? What if it's another tumor? What if it's in her brain this time?”
“Don't let your head go there, Steph. Josh is an excellent doctor. That's why I hired him to oversee Avery's House. I'm sure he just wants to make sure someone's covering all the angles.”
“Okay. I'm going to go with that.” She sniffed again. “I'll give you a call tomorrow and let you know how she is. I just wanted to let you know where we were in case you came by tonight.”
Ethan pulled out his wallet and left some bills on the bar. “I'm on my way right now. I'll meet you at the hospital.”
“Seriously?” He could hear the relief in her voice.
“Where else would I be?”
“Well, I imagine you have about a million other places to be.”
“Maybe. But Emmy isn't at any of those others. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
As he clicked off the phone and headed out the door, he sent a silent prayer upward. Even though it'd been a long, long time since he'd seen the inside of a church, it couldn't hurt.
Â
“Still here?” Gayle bustled into Dad's room and hung a bag of fluids on the pole by his head.
Josie nodded from her chair. She'd been sitting there for half an hour now trying to work up the courage to talk to Dad, not sure if he could hear her if she did ⦠and further unsure of whether she preferred it that way. Unfortunately, no one had enforced the five-minute rule yet and saved her from the decision.
“How are things at the park? You keeping the place running?”
Right.
“That job's already well under control. I've been practicing my dress-up skills, though. I'm getting pretty good at handing out candy canes.”
“Well, I imagine it's good to be back, whatever you're doing there. My grandkids just love the place.” Gayle paused her hands on her little bedside laptop. “Did I say grandkids? I
meant
nieces. Definitely nieces.”
“You're clearly not old enough for grandkids, Gayle. I'd have never believed you.”
Gayle grinned, pointing her pen at Josie. “Good girl. I knew I was going to like you.”
Josie looked at Dad's face while Gayle continued tip-tapping on her computer. He did look betterâmore human almost. But why hadn't he woken up? The longer he was out, the slimmer the chances of recovery, and she was frightened by all of the possible ways things could go at this point.
She was trying hard to reconcile that worry with the fact that she'd spent the past ten years gratefully
not
worrying about either of her parents.
“Gayle?”
“Hmm?” Gayle tapped, then paused her fingers.
“Why isn't he waking up?” Josie's voice came out in a whisper, and her eyes prickled, to her dismay.