When Dreams Collide (17 page)

*

“May I go back in now, Mrs. Flanagan?” asked Susan when the nurse slipped out of Dusty’s room several minutes after Dr. Carter left.

“He’s asleep, and he shouldn’t be disturbed. Sleep is the best medicine for him right now. It will help the swelling around his spine dissipate, so the doctors can evaluate his condition. Dr. Carter informed Dusty of the possibility that some or all of the damage could be permanent, and as you might expect, he didn’t take the news too well.”

“I heard something crash on the floor awhile ago.” Susan raised one eyebrow.

“A plastic water glass.” The nurse added, “It...fell off his meal tray.”

“Right.” Susan nodded in understanding. “Had a little help with the falling off, I imagine.”

“He’s frustrated and angry and no doubt scared witless right now.”

“We’re all scared. I can’t imagine what it will do to him if he can’t run his ranch.” Susan brushed at the tears that welled in her eyes and spilled onto her beige sweater.

“Give him time to accept the idea that this accident could alter his life significantly. He’s a strong-minded young man, and he’ll overcome whatever lies ahead. Dusty won’t let this situation get the better of him.” The nurse hugged Susan and then headed down the hallway, returning a second later with a fresh jug of ice water.

“I’m going home to shower and change clothes. If Dusty wakes up, tell him I’ll be back later this afternoon.”

“I’ll tell him,” called the nurse as she disappeared back inside Dusty’s room.

****

Susan returned to the hospital at four o’clock and passed Brock in the hallway.

“Is Dusty awake?” she inquired.

“Yep. Dang fool stubborn little sh...” Brock reddened. “Dang fool.”

“What happened?”

“Told me to bring my checkbook that he was selling the ranch back to me. Said he wouldn’t need a horse ranch after all.” Brock paced the hallway. “I told him to take that idea and stuff it up his... Well, I refused to buy it back. He doesn’t know whether or not he can walk yet, so there’s no reason to go thinking the worst.”

“He’s just scared.” Susan touched Brock’s arm.

“I know. I’ve got an idea. I’ll be back in a little while.” Brock headed down the hallway without another word.

“Dusty, can I come in?” whispered Susan, cracking open the door to his room and peeking inside.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” muttered Dusty without opening his eyes.

“Actually, I’m using up vacation time. I’ve still got two months banked. I’ve never taken a vacation in years, so... Of course, I don’t imagine you’ll be in here for another two months. As soon as you recover from the surgery and your ribs are healed and the swelling around the spine goes down, they’ll be happy to send you home.” Susan smiled, set her purse on a nearby chair, and reached for his hand.

He yanked his hand out of her grasp and turned toward the wall. “Just go back to work and forget you ever met me. Find yourself another boyfriend. I’m resigning from the job.”

“Sorry, not accepting resignations today. You’re stuck with me,” teased Susan.

Dusty whipped his head around and glared at her, grimacing slightly. The sudden movement probably hurt like the dickens. Served him right, she thought, for being such a jackass.

“Don’t you get it? I’m not interested in continuing our relationship or even a friendship. I’m breaking up with you. Just go!”

Susan noticed Dusty’s white-knuckled clasp of the blanket on his bed. He was definitely fighting demons. Was he frightened she’d leave him? Did he intend to break her heart before she could break his? Did he believe she wouldn’t love him anymore if he was confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life? Was he just scared of his uncertain future? What might lie ahead?

“Sorry, cowboy. I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together.” Susan stood, arms crossed, glaring right back at him. “Whether you come home walking on two feet or rolling out of here on wheels, I’ll be heading out the door at your side.”

“Forget it. I’m done. You helped with the purchase of the ranch, but I no longer require your expertise or your services.” Dusty waved his hand. “You can go back to your corporate life that you love so much. I never want to lay eyes on you again.”

Susan gasped. He sounded like he actually meant it.

“Go!” he shouted.

Susan grabbed her purse off the visitor’s chair and stumbled out the door. As she stepped into the hallway, she crashed into Dusty’s nurse.

“What on earth happened? Your face is as white as the bed sheets in this place.”

“Dusty never wants to see me again, Mrs. Flanagan,” sobbed Susan, unable to hold back her tears.

“Classic. Breaking off friendships.” The nurse patted Susan’s back and guided her toward a chair in the visitors’ room. “This is just his way of coping. He doesn’t want his friends to see him like this, helpless, without hope. Struggling mentally, trying his best to get by. And it will only get worse once he begins physical therapy. Believe me, he didn’t mean a word of what he said. And I imagine he spouted some pretty hurtful words.”

“I couldn’t believe the things he said.” Susan wiped her tears with her hand.

“Then don’t believe them. Dusty wasn’t saying those things, his fear was.”

Just then, Brock strode down the hallway, heading in their direction. Buster trotted along beside him, his head on a pivot taking in all the exciting sights and new sounds and strange smells surrounding him. When he spotted Susan, the dog wagged his tail furiously and she would swear the dog was smiling.

“Hi, Buster,” whispered Susan, ruffling the dog’s ears. She loved having the big friendly hound staying at her home. But he never crawled up on her bed again, instinctively knew he wasn’t needed since that first night. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured I’d bring the dog in for a visit today. Gave him a bath and a good brushing last night. Maybe old Buster here will cheer up Dusty. He’s being one ornery dude right now.” Brock untangled the dog’s leash from around Susan’s arm.

“Anything is worth a try. He just broke up with me. Thankfully, Jeremy and David returned home, or Lord knows what hurtful things he would have said to them after all they’ve done for him.” Susan glanced over at the nurse.

“Both of you just remember, this behavior is typical. Hopefully, his prognosis will be positive, and you’ll both become part of his world again in no time.” The nurse stood.

“Won’t be too soon for me,” mumbled Brock, tugging on Buster’s leash.

“Let’s take you to meet our patient,” said the nurse, sounding encouraged by the dog’s presence.

*

A minute later, the nurse strode into Dusty’s room with Brock and Buster following on her heels. Dusty lay in bed, facing the wall. “Someone dear to you dropped by for a visit.” The nurse’s cheery voice barely penetrated Dusty’s hearing.

“Tell whoever it is that I’m sleeping.” Dusty remained where he was.

“Well, that would be possible, except he’s standing in the room right now.” The nurse chuckled.

Reluctantly, Dusty turned slightly and noticed Brock standing beside the bed. “Did you bring your checkbook?” Dusty lay back against the pillows and met the older man’s eyes.

“Nope. Brought you something better.” Brock patted the bed and seventy pounds of collie leapt onto it.

“Whoa. What the hell is he doing in here? You’re going to get all of us thrown out.” Dusty grimaced with the sudden pain that shot through his ribs when the dog landed on his bed.

“Dogs are allowed to visit patients. And judging by that tail wagging, he’s happy to see you, Dusty. What’s your name, pretty boy?” the nurse asked.

“That’s Buster.” Brock beamed, proud as a new papa, and then added, “He’s in charge of security at the ranch.”

“I never could resist a fellow in law enforcement. I’ll leave you folks to visit for awhile. No more pain meds for another forty-five minutes.” The nurse chuckled and then petted Buster’s head on her way out the door.

“Why on God’s green earth would you bring a dog to a hospital? Are you nuts?” Dusty couldn’t contain the smile that snuck past his glower.

“When my wife was in here dying from cancer, family members of other patients brought in their dogs for a visit. Gosh, Sue loved seeing those animals. She’d be so excited you’d think she owned them. So, I thought you’d like to visit with Buster for awhile.” Brock headed toward the door. “I’ve got a hankering for a cup of coffee so I’ll leave you two to chat. I’ll be back later. Now, Buster, don’t you monopolize the conversation. Let Dusty get a word in once in awhile.”

Dusty chuckled in spite of himself as Brock disappeared out the door. “So, you’ve become a chatter box, have you? I guess finding yourself in a safe home with a full dog dish at meal time every day will do that for a guy.” Dusty ruffled the dog’s ears, and Buster crept closer on the bed.

Dusty bent down and buried his nose in the dog’s fur. “You smell like lemons or something. You must have had a bath recently.”

Buster nudged Dusty’s hand, indicating a petting or ear scratching was in order.

Dusty complied with the request. “You know. I’ve gotten myself into one hell of a situation here.”

The dog tilted his head, obviously listening attentively.

Dusty chuckled again. “Thanks for coming to see me, Buster. I could be wrong, but I’m a little concerned that you might be the only visitor who doesn’t sit here with pity in your eyes, seeing nothing but a guy with bum legs and no future. To you, I’m just the man who hands out good jerky treats and then scratches your ears.”

The dog laid his head on Dusty’s chest sending a stab of pain through the patient’s upper half. Dusty lifted the dog’s head and settled it more to the side. “That’s better. Yep. Good old Buster. No expectations. No judgment. Haven’t seen Jeremy or David for awhile now, which is good. I couldn’t stand seeing pity in their eyes, although again I could be wrong. No doubt, Brock regrets selling me his ranch. I won’t be boarding horses or giving anybody riding lessons now. Hell, what are we going to do with you? When I sell the place back to Brock, I’ll be putting you out of work, too, if Brock sells again and moves to town. Which I’m certain he’d do. I don’t know if dogs are allowed at that seniors’ apartment he’d planned to move into. Maybe Susan would take you since dogs are allowed where she lives. You’re sure as hell not going back to that animal shelter.”

The dog whined, as if he agreed on that point.

“We’re in a hell of a predicament,” reiterated Dusty. “Sometimes life really sucks. And I wouldn’t admit this to anyone but you, Buster. Right now, I’m scared shitless.”

“I’m back,” called Brock as he swept into the room. “Found Susan out in the hallway. She was heading back to her condo. Visiting hours are almost over so I’d best get this guy out of here, too.”

“Where’s your coffee?” asked Dusty, only slightly annoyed that Susan hadn’t taken him seriously and just left and forgotten about him.

Suddenly, it occurred to Dusty that the old guy left him alone with Buster on purpose. Did Brock hope he’d spill his guts to the dog since he wouldn’t talk to anyone else? Sneaky old coot, decided Dusty. Especially since it had worked. He had to admit he felt better, having talked his problems over with the dog.

“Drank it while I was talking to Susan in the hallway.” Brock threw up his hands. “Young folk just don’t listen.”

“Sorry. I hadn’t realized you were gone that long. Buster and I have had an enjoyable visit. Says you’re not feeding him those jerky treats often enough. Give him one for me when you take him home.”

“Haven’t been going home. Been staying in Susan’s spare room. She even invited Buster to move in, too. Probably be heading back to your ranch soon though, now that you’re awake and doing better.”

“Humph,” Dusty scoffed. For a brief moment after learning about Brock’s new living arrangements, he experienced a pang of jealousy, and then he realized the idiocy in such a thought. The old guy was in his seventies, and he was a true gentleman. “Better is a relative term. I don’t consider laid up in a hospital bed, probably will never walk again, as better.”

“Well, once all the swelling goes down and the healing gets going full steam ahead, you’ll be back at the ranch before you know it. Old Buster and me will be there welcoming you with open arms.” Brock waved off Dusty’s intentions. “I know you’ve got it in your head to sell the ranch back to me. Well forget it. Not interested. The place is your horse ranch now.”

“But...”

“Forget it, son. I’ll see you again in a day or two. Come on, Buster, I’ll race you to the parking lot.” Brock cackled at his joke as he lumbered out the door with the dog on his heels.

Buster woofed.

“Goodbye to you, too, Buster,” called Dusty.

“Doggie!” shouted a little kid in the hallway.

Dusty smiled, wickedly, knowing Brock would probably spend a half hour wending his way through a maze of kids trying to exit the hospital now that the dog had been spotted. “Damn old fool,” he spat. “One way or another, you’re getting your ranch back. I sure as hell won’t need it.”

Chapter 13

When Susan heard Brock voicing his goodbye from behind the door left slightly ajar, she scampered across the hallway and studied an oil painting on the wall with the intensity of an art critic at a gallery on an opening night. For the second time today, she’d almost been caught eavesdropping on a private conversation taking place in Dusty’s room.

Awhile ago, she opened his hospital door just a crack and overheard Dusty talking to Buster. And then Brock hadn’t closed the door, and she’d listened in on his conversation with Dusty. Since the stubborn cowboy refused her admittance to his room and essentially banned her from his life, she needed to keep tabs on him some way. She considered eavesdropping merely thinking outside the box, and she didn’t feel one iota of guilt. Well, maybe one.

Brock stepped into the hallway. “Hi, Susan. Didn’t realize you were still here.” The senior paused for a few moments while a little boy, about three or four years old, hugged Buster. The youngster received a thorough face washing for his affectionate gesture, and then the little guy headed down the hallway with his father.