Emmett Carter woke up at 7 a.m. the next morning.
Brodie, Noah and Logan all slept in hospital chairs. Brodie had his head propped up against the window ledge, his neck cricked, his back aching, but he had never been happier to hear his dad’s voice.
“Where the heck am I?”
“Jackson General,” Logan said.
Emmett made a disgruntled face then closed his eyes again.
They’d sent their mom home to rest but when Emmett woke up she came straight back, bustling in and taking over—making the boys go home and sleep.
Brodie went back to the hospital after Emmett had had his dinner. He was sitting up in bed, wearing his gown, looking pale and fragile but like he wanted to be anywhere but that hospital room.
“How’s the food?” Brodie asked.
“Passable.”
Brodie nodded. He felt weirdly nervous going into the room and sitting down now the bulk of the fear had receded. Martha had brought in magazines and books that sat in a pile on the bedside cabinet. Brodie picked up a tractor catalogue, turned it over and put it back down again.
The machine Emmett was hooked up to, the one charting the steady beat of his heart, Brodie remembered being hooked up to himself after jumping in the river. “This is a better room than I got,” he said, just for something to say, nerves making him edgy.
Emmett looked at the machine and then at Brodie and said, “That’s two lives you’ve saved now.”
Brodie smiled, he hadn’t thought about it like that. “I guess so.” Then he said, “You’re going to have to thank Rocky, too, he was a regular Lassie, led me right to you.”
Emmett snorted affectionately. “I’ll bet he did. I always knew that dog was special.”
There was a moment of silence. Brodie focused on his dad’s hand, thought how he’d held it, would never dare hold it now he was awake.
“I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for you,” Emmett said.
Brodie, lost for words, could only nod. He felt like a little boy.
“I appreciate it.”
To his horror, Brodie felt his cheeks color. “Thanks,” he said, embarrassed and awkward, “but it could have been anyone who found you.”
“But it was you,” Emmett said frankly, looking him in the eye.
Brodie swallowed under the hard gaze. “Yeah.”
Emmett nodded.
Brodie had to look away, back at his dad’s work-worn hand again, the fingernails familiar in their shortness, the blisters, the deep mahogany tan.
Outside the room was a constant flurry of hospital activity. Inside, it felt like their own small world, all white, neutral.
“I heard you, Brodie,” his dad’s voice cut into the quiet.
Brodie’s head shot up. “When?”
“All the time,” he said, his turn to look away, awkward. “I heard you when you found me, and I heard you in here.”
Brodie felt his heart skyrocket, was thankful he wasn’t hooked up to that machine. “I was just talking,” he said, cringing now at his outpouring, “saying anything, so you knew someone was there.”
Emmett nodded. “I was grateful for what you said about you all taking care of the ranch and your mom.”
Brodie found he’d lost his voice.
