His forehead furrowed as if he were trying his best to comprehend her words.
“Can you understand me? Squeeze my hand if you understand me.”
His fingers tightened—and held.
Not a reflex. Not a coincidence.
Megs’ throat grew tight. She squeezed back. “You’re the strongest man I know. You will get through this. I’ll be here the whole time.”
She would have picked up the journal to read to him again, but he didn’t let go of her hand, holding on as if he didn’t want her to leave his side. She spoke softly to him for an hour at least, telling him about the headlines, the weather, the results of his latest X-rays when she had them.
“Your lungs are clearing up. You’ll be able to get this damned vent out soon if you keep that up. Do you know how much I miss the sound of your voice?”
Jackie came with his next dose of sedative. “Say goodnight.”
“Sweet dreams, love.”
Soon, his eyes drifted shut.
She picked up the journal and the recorder and scanned the pages. “Oh, God. The day your father and uncle showed up and demanded you come home. I didn’t make it any easier on you, did I? In my defense, Iwasa teenager.”
She turned on the recorder and began reading.
Two daysafter their successful free ascent of Half Dome, Mitch was lying on the boulder at the tarn, Megs beside him, the two of them holding hands and watching the clouds drift across the sky. He pointed. “That one’s a chicken.”
“Ahearn, man!” Gridwall ran out of the trees. “Some square with glasses and a crew cut who claims he’s your old man is waiting for you in camp with some dorky-looking guy he says is your uncle. He’s come to take you home, man.”
Mitch sat up. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Gridwall looked dead serious. “He saw the news coverage of you on Half Dome and says your mother wants you to spend the rest of the summer before classes start at home. I guess you freaked her out.”
Megs sat up, too, her eyes wide. “You don’t have to go, do you? You’re twenty-one. You’re a legal adult. He can’t tell you what to do.”
“He can when he pays my tuition.” Mitch laced up his boots.
“But the war is mostly over, right? They’ve stopped calling guys up.” She reached for her socks and boots. “You don’t need college, so you don’t need his money.”
Mitch helped Megs to her feet. “I didn’t go to college to escape the draft, Megs. I went because I wanted an education. If I drop out, I’ll dishonor every man who fought—and my father would probably disown me.”
Megs looked both frightened—and furious. “You’re going to let him drag you away? You’re going to leave me?”
Mitch drew her into his arms. “I don’t want to go. It’s just until next June. Then we’ll both be in the Valley again—and you’ll be a few months away from turning eighteen. When you do—”
“Next June is ten months from now!”
“You’re going to be okay without me. You were okay before, remember?”
“I wasn’t nearly as happy. I’m going to miss you, Mitch.”
“You can write me letters.”
“Will you write back?”
“You bet.” Then Mitch turned to Gridwall. “I’ve got a message for you and the rest of the dirtbags. Can you deliver it for me?”
Gridwall nodded, seeming happy to be trusted with something. “Yeah, man.”
“If any of you disrespect Megs, touch her in any sexual way, offer her alcohol or drugs, or get her into any trouble, I will hunt you down and kill you. There won’t be anything left but blood and hair. You dig me?”
