“How… How’d it go?” Who’d set fire to Lucky’s throat?
“You did great, and now your liver is hard at work regenerating.”
“My d… The other guy?”
“He’s still in surgery. Doing fine last I heard.”
Not “the patient will make a full recovery”, but good enough for now.
Another smiling face. “Hi, Mr. Harrison we’re going to ICU. Ready?”
Ready to get out of recovery, yes, but not bouncing over every bump along the way. Holy Mother of God! He grabbed his midsection.
“Sorry. We’ll give you something more for pain once we settle you in your room.” The orderly jostled him a few more times getting him on and off the elevator.
Finally the gurney ride from hell ended.
No windows to the outside, but the windows to the hallway offered a fine view of Bo, with his nose practically pressed against the glass.
So close her shoulder touched Bo’s, Charlotte dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and gave Lucky the happiest cry face in history. Yeah. He still had family. And for unknown reasons, they loved him, and he survived surgery.
But Daddy wasn’t out of the woods yet.
***
Lucky and Charlotte lay on their backs on the hilltop overlooking the farm, sun warming their cheeks. How many times had they lain there, telling each other their dreams?
His sister’s voice. Why had he missed it? She’d been here the whole time, hadn’t she? But instead of talking about being a nurse one day like she normally did, she rambled on and on about other things.
“Todd’s been accepted at Clemson and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Remember how I used to want to go there? Anyways, I wanted him to stay in Spokane, but you know how kids are. Spend half their lives trying to get away from home and the other half trying to get back. Do you ever miss the farm?”
Why would Lucky miss the farm? They were still here, right?
“Anyway, at UNC he’ll be closer to Mama and Daddy. Clemson would put him closer to you. Either way he can go help them out when he doesn’t have classes.” She paused, staring up at puffy clouds. “Don’t be mad, Richie, but I told the boys about you. They were upset at first that we didn’t trust them, but now they’re happy to have Uncle Richie back. Which explains why Todd applied to Clemson. He wants to get to know you again. Says you’re the closest thing to a father he’s ever had.”
What Todd? Oh. An image came to mind of Charlotte, a few years older, holding a squirming, crying bundle, and the bundle wrapping Uncle Richie around its little finger.
She turned and put her lips to his forehead. “I love you, big brother. And I’m so proud of you. You’ve turned out to be one helluva man.”
Strange. Who in their right mind would consider Lucky a father figure? He shifted into a more comfortable position and faded back to sleep.
***
A hand. Holding his. Quiet humming. The comforting scent of Bo’s cologne. Bo’s thumb stroking the back of Lucky’s hand.
Gentle kisses across this forehead. A soft, “Told you you’d be all right and wouldn’t die.”
Not dying. A good thing. The man holding Lucky’s hand made life worth living.
He lived. No more making decisions under the gun. “Have you changed your mind yet about marrying me, since I’m still alive and all?” Sleep dragged him down without an answer.
***
Sleep, wake up, feel like shit, get meds, go back to sleep. At times Lucky awoke to Bo’s face, sometimes to a nurse’s. Several times to Charlotte’s. They talked, smiled, whatever, but Lucky faded out without really hearing.
He woke to a darkened room and froze. Every instinct pinged of danger. The lights from the monitors cast a faint glow over the face of a man who couldn’t possibly be there.
This better be a dream brought on by mighty good drugs.
