More Than Friends (5 page)

Chase exited on the second floor and headed for the Cardiac Care unit. Swinging double doors separated that section from the rest of the ward. There was an intercom on one side, with instructions to press the red button and speak to a nurse. He stared at the wall and thought about returning to his truck and driving until Harrisville was a lifetime away.

No. That was the easy way, the coward’s way. What was it his father had always told him? A man faces the consequences of his actions. He pressed the button.

“Yes?” a disembodied voice asked.

“I’m here to see my father. William Jackson.”

There was a pause, then, “Come in.”

The doors pushed open easily. A half-dozen rooms stretched in a semicircle around a long nurses’ station. He stood close to the exit, unsure which cubicle contained his father.

A petite nurse stepped from behind the counter. Her pale blue uniform confused him at first, but then he recognized the smile and flashing humor in her brown eyes. “Terry?”

She nodded. “It’s been a long time, Chase. I was wondering if you’d come back.”

There were probably only three people in the whole town who would be happy to see him. If Jenny was the first, then Terry counted as the second. He started to hold out his hand in greeting, but then he hesitated. The gesture was too formal. Before he and Jenny had realized they were more than friends, he and Terry had been an item. Jenny had been his first kiss—they’d taught each other that particular pleasure—but Terry had been his first girlfriend.

She solved his dilemma by stepping close and offering a hug. “How have you been? We missed you at the reunion last year. No one knew where to send the invitation.”

He moved back and smiled when she pushed up her glasses in a familiar gesture. “It’s a long way from here to Arizona,” he said quietly. “I live outside of Phoenix.”

She nodded. “I always knew you’d leave Harrisville behind. That’s all you and Jenny talked about.” She stopped talking suddenly and glanced up at him. Her mouth pulled into a straight line. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“Hey.” He touched her chin. “It’s okay. I’ve seen her at the mill. She’s the one who sent for me.”

Terry tucked her hands into the center pocket of her smock and nodded toward the second room from the end. “Your dad’s in there. He’s pretty sedated. There were some tests earlier and the medication helps him sleep. That’s what he needs most, now. Rest and time.”

Chase studied her. “How bad is it?”

She shrugged, careful to keep her eyes averted. “Hard to say, exactly. The second heart attack… Gosh!” She swallowed and risked a glance. “You knew about that, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Go on.”

“The second heart attack was much worse. We weren’t sure he’d… But don’t worry, Chase. Your father’s a tough and determined man. There’s every chance he’ll pull through.” Her voice was strong, but lacking conviction.

“Can I go in?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He walked toward the room, stopping when she touched his arm. “What?”

Her brown eyes studied him. “There’s a lot of tubes and machines. It looks worse than it is. He probably won’t wake up until tomorrow.”

“I want to see him.”

She nodded.

Chase walked past her and entered the room. Machines hovered over the bed, electronic guardians making sure his father remained in this world. He’d expected the array, but it was still shocking. To the left a metal stand supported an IV drip. A heart monitor screen showed the fragile beat with a fluctuating red line. To the right, a large beige machine, about half the size of a washer, fed tubes leading to his father’s mouth.

“What is that?” he asked softly, pointing to the rectangular piece of equipment.

“The ventilator. It helps him breath. We should be able to take it out in a couple of days.”

Chase nodded, then frowned. “There’s no sound.”

“I know. The new machines are very quiet. You can see his chest moving, though.” She patted his shoulder. “I’ll be at the station. Push the call button if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

He wanted to ask her to stay with him, but knew there were other patients requiring her care. Besides, he had to face his father sooner or later. Ignoring the tightening in his chest, he forced himself to study the draped body on the bed.

Once-thick graying hair seemed to have thinned over the years. Individual strands lay limply over his scalp. His father’s strong face retained the planes and hollows he saw in his own mirror every morning, but the skin itself was ashen. His eyes were closed, but Chase knew the irises would still be the color of steel. It was the only thing that had set them apart. His eyes were brown, like his mother’s.

Lowering his gaze, he saw his father had lost weight. Arms, once strong and tan, had withered until the outline of the bones was clearly visible. Powerful hands had shrunk to claws, the tips of the fingers appeared faintly blue.

Despite his reading about heart attacks during his trip across country, despite Jenny’s comments and Terry’s warning, he felt as if the man on the bed was a stranger. It couldn’t be
his
father. William Jackson wouldn’t let his own body get away with this. He’d fight any illness, conquer it, stomp it into the ground.

Chase looked around and caught sight of a plastic chair in the corner. He carried it next to the bed and sat down.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “It’s Chase. Your son.”

There was no response.

“Dad?”

Again silence.

Chase stared at the hand closest to him. He should touch his father—offer tangible comfort. They were family.

Sure, he thought bitterly. Warm and loving relatives. That was why his father had never bothered to write back, had never called. Who was he kidding? He was here out of obligation and when the obligation had been fulfilled, he’d leave.

Chase remembered the first couple of years on his own. Working summers at the mill hadn’t prepared him for being eighteen and alone in a strange place. In his brief letters, he’d hinted at the fear and difficulty, hoping his father would unbend enough to call him home. The silence had hurt more than the accusations. In the end, he’d stopped caring and Harrisville had ceased to be home.

He leaned forward and picked up his father’s hand. The skin felt clammy, like a wet fish. He held on loosely. “I came back,” he said quietly. “I came back as soon as I heard.”

The fingers he held moved slightly, as if in acknowledgment. “Yes,” he said, a little louder. “You’re going to get well. The mill needs you. You don’t want the union running things, do you?” The hand went limp in his grasp, then slipped back to the bed.

“Dad?”

Chase wasn’t sure how long he sat listening to the silence, watching the slow rise and fall of his father’s chest. No doubt visits were limited, but Terry never asked him to leave. A few times, she tiptoed into the room to check the machines, then made notations on a chart. Minutes, or maybe hours later, she handed him a cup of coffee. He smiled his thanks.

He continued to watch over his father. Half-remembered times from the past crowded in on one another. He and the old man had never been close. Strangers living in the same house, sharing the same blood, the same name. Chase had wanted to be friends, but they were too alike to back down and give in and too different to see eye-to-eye. He’d wanted a regular dad—one he could play ball with, one who would teach him things: William Jackson had wanted a CEO-in-training. All that remained of the battles were empty memories and a sense of duty. Still, he’d never thought it would come to this. He’d always thought his father was made of steel, not flesh and blood. Steel didn’t die.

After a while, the muscles in his neck and back stiffened. He rose to stretch. When he stepped out of the room, an attractive woman in a white coat walked toward him.

“You must be Chase Jackson,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Barbara Martin, your father’s cardiologist.”

Chase shook her hand, impressed by her firm grip and competent smile. He glanced over at the clock above the nurses’ station. It was after ten-thirty. “Pleased to meet you, Doctor. But isn’t it a little late to be making rounds?”

She smiled. “I like to check on my patients before I head home. Usually I get here before this, but there were a couple of emergencies to take care of.”

He studied her, taking in the sensible short hair and friendly expression. She wasn’t from around here, and he relaxed slightly.

“Uh-oh,” she said. “You’re not going to make some statement about my being a woman, are you?”

“No.” Chase felt his spirits lift. “I was going to say how young you look.”

“In that case I won’t stop you. And I certainly won’t mention that I have a daughter who just graduated from high school. Let’s have a seat.”

She led him down the hall to an alcove off the nurses’ station. A small desk filled the space, with a second chair on one side. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” she said, sitting down and motioning for him to do the same. “Let me bring you up to date on his condition and then you can ask me what you’d like.”

Quickly, she outlined his father’s medical history and the severity of the heart attacks. “The second was what we would consider major. At this point, our main concern is to have him rest and regain his strength.”

She paused expectantly. Chase wasn’t sure what he was supposed to ask. Finally he blurted out the only question he could think of. “Is he going to die?”

Dr. Martin set her pen on the desk and laced her fingers together. “That really depends on your father. The fact that he’s survived as long as he has is good news. Now we wait.”

“For what?”

“For the chest pains to stop. For him to start breathing on his own.”

“When do we know he’s going to be okay?”

The question hung in the air. The doctor glanced at Chase, then away. “Let’s just take it one day at a time. We’re doing all we can.” She offered a tight, sympathetic smile. “I wish I could say more.”

“I understand.” He rose with her and shook her hand. “You’ll be back in the morning?”

“Yes. I make my rounds about eight thirty.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Mr. Jackson—”

“Chase.”

“Chase, you look tired. Why don’t you get some rest? If you make it into the hospital for my rounds, great.” She handed him her card. “If you don’t, call my office and I’ll give you the latest report. He’s hung on this long, it’s unlikely there will be any change in the next twenty-four hours.”

He tucked the card into his wallet. “Thanks, Doc. I really appreciate your help.”

“My pleasure. Hang in there.” She walked over to the desk at the nurses’ station and spoke briefly to Terry, then handed her the chart and left.

Terry joined him in the doorway of his father’s room. “Are you staying?” she asked.

“I think I’ll go home for a while, then come back in the morning.”

“Okay. I’ve got the number at the house.” Terry looked down. “If there’s any change, I mean.”

“Sure.” He headed toward the double doors.

“Chase?”

He paused. “Yeah?”

“Are you going to be in town long?”

He tilted his head toward the private room. He wasn’t here for old times’ sake; he was here fulfilling his duty. “That all depends on him.”

“I just wanted to say that Tom and I would love to see you, if you have time. Just for dinner or to talk.” Her brown eyes filled with compassion.

He used his index finger to push up her glasses. “Tom? So you
did
marry the high school football captain.”

“Of course,” she said and smiled. “He was the second best-looking guy in school. And by senior year, the best-looking one only had eyes for Jenny Davidson. Oh!” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“No problem. Jenny and I have made our peace.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, wondering if she could see through the lie. “I’ll be back here tomorrow. Are you working then?”

“The night shift. Then I’m off for a couple of days, but I’ll keep in touch.”

“I’d like that. Bye.” Chase glanced back at his father’s room, then pushed through the double doors and out into the corridor.

Once outside, he stood breathing in the night air. The smells of the hospital seemed to linger on his clothes and he wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a clean bed. The keys to the house were tucked in the envelope Jenny had given him. At this hour, he could make the trip in less than ten minutes.

But it was fifteen minutes before he started the truck, and another fifteen of driving around aimlessly before he headed toward the big three-story structure at the end of Harrisville’s small but elegant upperside. The ivy-covered gates stood open, but the dark house looked as unwelcoming as a haunted mansion.

He sat in his truck and looked around. Nothing had changed. The shrubs and hedges rose to the exact height he remembered. His father had always seen to it that an army of gardeners clipped away any signs of growth. Even the rosebushes flanking the path to the front door maintained their precise shape.

Pulling the envelope out of his jacket pocket, he fingered the keys inside, but didn’t leave the truck. In his mind’s eye, he could see the foyer, all black-and-white tiles and crystal chandelier, bigger than most houses on the other side of town. Upstairs, three doors down, was his bedroom. If he knew his father, it would have been left undisturbed. Cleaned regularly, of course, by the staff, but not converted to a den or study. Chase laughed, the harsh bark cutting through the still night. The house already had a den and a study and a library. What did one unused bedroom matter?

The country station on the truck’s radio eased into another song about lost love and misspent youth. Chase stared at the dark windows and swore. He could handle being alone; it was the ghosts that made him uncomfortable.

Without considering the consequences, he shifted into reverse and backed out onto the street. Two miles later, he parked in front of Jenny’s single-story red house. Light blazed out onto the lawn. The welcoming glow warmed the ice around his soul. He had no business being here. But the pull was stronger than the anger. It was as if the emotion had been washed away, leaving behind only the memory of what should have been.