“’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
—ALFRED LORD TENNYSON
How do I do this?
We don’t say anything on the ride up the hospital elevator. I have no idea what to expect and no idea what I’ll say or do when I see Brock. So I try to think about Maysie instead. Our first task is to find her.
Kevin follows me down the busy hallway, past empty beds and monitors, nurses walking hurriedly and wandering visitors searching for the right rooms. Kevin has done the legwork for us and we find the waiting room easily enough.
Maysie is curled up on a red faux-leather couch, sound asleep, a brown teddy bear tucked under her arm. A man is sprawled in a chair, hands behind his head, with long denim-clad legs and cowboy boots.
I glance back at Kevin, who’s looking a little uncomfortable, and I wonder if he’s having second thoughts. But we’re here now. I move in and study the sleeping man, hoping he’s Mitch Chandler or I’m going to be sorely embarrassed. “Excuse me?”
He startles, sits forward with a grunt, and settles a pair of familiar blue eyes on me.
It would appear the Chandler brothers have the market completely cornered on the genes for good looks.
“Mr. Chandler? Mitch?”
He rubs his eyes and gives me a skewed look. “Yes?”
“I’m Savannah Barrington. A friend of Brock’s.”
I see Brock in the way he musses his blond hair and scratches the stubble on his jaw. His smile broadens as he gets to his feet. Clearly he knows who I am. “Savannah.” He takes my hands in his. “Did Clarice call you?” He still looks a bit confused.
“No. Actually, Maysie did.” Now the poor man is really confused.
Kevin moves in, clears his throat, and sticks out a hand.
“Kevin Barrington. Savannah’s husband.”
“Um. Okay.” Mitch looks at me in some surprise and I know then exactly how much Brock has told him. But Mitch recovers quickly. “Great. Great to meet you both.” They shake hands and Mitch glances from me to Kevin to Maysie. If the situation wasn’t so stressful I might laugh.
I fill him in on Maysie’s early-morning call. He shifts a little uncomfortably, then flashes a smile. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether to call you, Savannah. Clarice was so upset I didn’t want to ask.” He’s got the same southern drawl. “But I’m glad y’all are here.”
“I’m here for Maysie.” It’s half true, though I know both men in the room see past the pretense.
“Of course.” Mitch nods too seriously. He adjusts a loose-fitting polo shirt and flicks some fluff off his dark jeans.
“How is he?” I can see the stress on Mitch’s face and wonder how bad things really are.
“Not fantastic. According to Clarice, he’s spent the last few weeks holed up in that library of his, writing like the devil was after him. A few days ago he could barely get out of bed, but she couldn’t get him to see a doctor. I flew in yesterday and he looked like hell. Then this morning he was up and making breakfast like always. I thought I was dreaming it. He turned around to say something and just passed out. I was pretty sure”—he shoots Maysie a look—“that this was it. But . . . he is miraculously still with us.”
Suddenly Maysie stirs. She pushes herself up and lets out a shriek. “Miss Savannah!” The next minute she’s thrown herself at me and I pick her up and wrap her up tight. “You’re here!” She buries her face in my neck and I press back tears.
“Has she been here all day?” I train my gaze on Mitch. “Surely there was a better option than bringing her here?”
“I didn’t know what to do with her,” he explains, a little snappy now. “Like I said, Clarice was beside herself. I couldn’t get two words out of her. I don’t know anyone in this town. And the way he looked when he came around, I didn’t know if . . .”
Maysie lifts her head and sticks out her bottom lip. “They won’t let me see Daddy. Miss Savannah, can you make them?”
“Oh, Mays.” I stroke her tangled hair and shoot a furtive glance at Kevin.
He shrugs out of his coat and tosses it onto the couch. Then he produces the take-out bag from McDonald’s. His idea. “Hi, Maysie. Did you eat up all those donuts yet?”
“Forever ago.” She sniffs dramatically and rubs one eye, checking out the bag he’s holding. “Is Zoe here?”
“No.” Kevin smiles. I put Maysie down and she joins him on the couch. “We can call her later if you want. But I’m kind of hungry. How about you?” Maysie nods and the two of them soon have their heads stuck in the bag, deciding what to eat first.
“There you go, Mays. The cavalry has arrived.” Mitch gives a strained grin. “Don’t suppose you stopped at a liquor store?”
Really? I ignore what I assume is some attempt at humor and take off my coat. Just as I’m about to ask what room they have his brother in, Clarice marches through the door.
“Oh my stars!” She rushes me with open arms and I receive her warm hug with a smile. She dabs her cheeks with one of her embroidered handkerchiefs. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, my dear.” She turns her attention to Maysie and Kevin. “Mr. Barrington, how lovely to see you.”
Kevin gets to his feet. “You as well, Mrs. Chandler. How is your nephew?”
“He’s certainly been better.” She proffers a cheek and Kevin leans in to kiss it. He’s got a dab of mustard on his chin. Maysie is wolfing down her burger like she hasn’t seen food in a week. Clarice looks over at her nephew. “He was asking for you. But perhaps since Savannah is here . . .”
“Go ahead.” Mitch nods in my direction and his smile seems genuine. “It’ll make his day.”
I’m tempted to grab Clarice’s walking stick and whack him one. If Kevin doesn’t beat me to it.
“What about me?” Maysie’s mouth is full, ketchup dripping from her chin. Kevin searches for napkins and cleans her up.
“Oh.” Clarice lets out a shaky sigh. She is aging before my eyes. I help her into a chair and she works to catch her breath. “Maysie, dear. Remember what we talked about? Just as soon as the doctors say you can, we will let you see him. I promise.”
“Okay.” She slurps a chocolate milkshake and turns to Kevin with adoring eyes. “Didja know I have a guardian angel?”
“I didn’t,” Kevin replies in all seriousness.
Mitch shakes his head. “Not everyone believes in angels, Mays. Man, I need a drink.”
“Mitchell, that’s enough, dear.” Clarice shakes her head and gives me a despairing look. “All right.” Clarice pushes to her feet. “Come along, Savannah. And you”—she points her stick at Mitch again—“stay right here. Or we will have words.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I’m a little flustered now and I fiddle with my hair. My throat is suddenly dry. What am I doing? Why did I think this was a good idea? I fumble in my purse for I don’t even know what.
“Hey.” Kevin’s quiet voice shakes me from my distracted thoughts. I look his way and he holds out a hand. I grab it, hold tight, and concentrate on his steady eyes. “I love you,” he says, and suddenly I’m calm again.
I sniff and nod because my throat is too tight for speech. I catch a glimpse of Clarice’s triumphant smile and suspect she’s not in the least bit surprised.
“Miss Savannah?” Maysie stares at me through wide, fearful eyes.
I crouch before her and put my hands on her shoulders. “What, sweetie?”
“Will you tell my daddy I love him? And that he needs to get better?” Her little face crumples and Kevin puts an arm around her.
“I will.” God, help me not to lose it. I smile and place a hand on her cheek. “When I get back, we’ll go home. I’ll bet the dogs need to be fed, huh?”
“Yes. Jimmy from church came to let them out. I told him what to do.”
“Okay. That’s good. Why don’t you tell Kevin about the puppies while I’m gone?”
Maysie seems satisfied with that and settles back on the couch. “Well, first of all we had one dog. Named Willow. Then one night this nasty man dog came an’ . . .”
I follow Clarice out of the room, the sound of Maysie’s singsong voice and Kevin’s laughter giving me courage.
Brock is in a private room. The curtains are drawn, the lights dimmed. He looks like he’s sleeping. Even from my vantage point at the door I can see he’s lost weight over the time I’ve been gone. His skin has an unhealthy gray pallor. Clarice hustles over to him, places a hand on his forehead, and leans close to whisper something in his ear.
His eyes flutter open and he turns his head and settles a weary gaze on me. “Well, crap. I guess I really am dying.”
Clarice squeezes his arm, gives me a smile, and lets herself out before I can stop her. I step toward the bed, take a breath, and somehow find a smile. “Amazing what some people will do for attention.”
He wheezes out a chuckle and pulls at the oxygen tube in his nose. “Stupid thing.” He presses a button to raise the top half of his bed, even the slow movement making him groan.
“Put that back on.” I point to the plastic tube, drag a chair toward the bed, and take a seat. “What happened?”
Brock sighs, adjusts the tube again, and rewards me with a grim smile. “You want the doc’s version or the English translation?”
“English.”
“I passed out.”
“Ah. That’s unfortunate.” I lean forward slightly and refill the glass of water on the table beside him for something to do.
“Gave my head a good crack, but other than that, I should be fine until the tumor grows another inch, and then I’ll pass out again. But that time I won’t wake up. Win-win.”
“Right. I think your brother was being kind when I asked him how you were doing and he said not fantastic. I’d put you somewhere around morose and miserable.”
“You met Mitch.”
“I did.”
“He called you?”
“No. Maysie did.” I retell the tale and he laughs a little.
“Your arrival must have surprised him.”
“He did seem a little out of sorts.”
Brock tugs the collar of his hospital gown and scratches his neck. “My brother has an aversion to hospitals. And stress.”
“Didn’t you say he was a lawyer? Perhaps he should consider changing professions.”
Brock laughs again and winces. He reaches for the plastic cup and I help him with the straw. He drinks a bit, then leans back on the pillows with a sigh. “It’s good to see you, Savannah.”
“Shouldn’t you be someplace else? This isn’t exactly a cancer center.”
He waves a hand. “The doc here’s all right. They’ve been talking to my doctors. Nothing to worry about. I can probably go home tomorrow.”
“Nothing to worry about.” I shake my head at the crazy man. “So . . .” I exhale and wonder if this is the right time. I heard about his appointment in New York from Clarice. “The last time Clarice called, she said you still hadn’t decided whether to have the operation. Brock—”
He groans and puts a hand over his eyes. “I’m not discussing it.”
“But what if—”
“How’s Adam?”
Fine. No sense in upsetting him. But at some point I will bring it up again. If there is an operation that could possibly save his life, he needs to have it. And none of us understand his hesitancy.
“Adam’s good. He’s made a lot of progress the past few weeks. We dropped him off at school this morning. It was his idea to go back. He seemed really happy when we left.”
Brock gives a slight nod and a small smile. “How’d you get up here?”
I settle in my chair again and stare at him a moment. “Kevin drove me.”
His mouth forms a thin line and he studies the ceiling like the Holy Grail is hiding somewhere in the tiles. “He’s here?”
“Outside. With Maysie.” I didn’t mean to sound like that was the best thing in the world, but somehow it came out that way.
“Okay.” A sliver of a smile passes across his face as his eyes meet mine again. “You look happy.”
I can’t stop my smile this time. “I am.”
“Well, wouldn’t you know. There goes my reason for living.”
“I was never your reason for living.” My trembling tone tells me this is harder than I thought it would be.
He reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You could have been.” Tears burn my eyes and he croaks out a low chuckle. “Shoot. I’m not gonna lie and say I’m overjoyed, but I am happy for you. Really.”
“I know.” There’s too much I want to say. Too many things I never said and now I can’t because it wouldn’t be right. But I hold tight to his hand and lean on the rail of the hospital bed. “In case I never told you, I’m really glad we met, Brock Chandler.”
“Yeah?”
“You made me laugh again. You made me feel like I was worth something again, like I mattered. And I never thanked you for that.”
“No need, darlin’.” His eyes get a little brighter. “I probably shouldn’t say it, but since I’m dying an’ all . . . I want you to know something too.”
“Brock.” Everything in me knows I need to stop this. Because I’m not so sure my heart can take it. But he’s shaking his head, serious, intent on telling me what he needs to.
“You . . . uh . . . you gave me some mighty sweet dreams.” His wicked grin hints at an underlying meaning. A squeak of horror gets stuck in my throat. His shoulders start to shake and slow laughter tumbles from his lips. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
“If you weren’t in a hospital bed right now I’d probably hit you.” But I can’t help laughing at the smile he’s now wearing. “Jerk.”
“Oh, come on. It’s true. Can’t deny it.”
“Whatever.” I groan and press fingers against my eyes.
He sobers and lets out a breath. “So you really came back up here just to see me, huh?”
“Maysie was so upset. And I didn’t really know what was going on. Kevin made the decision for me.”
Brock gives a low whistle. “Sounds like our Mr. Barrington might be redeeming himself.”
“He’s trying. We’re trying.”
“And so it should be.” It’s the last line from Charity’s Box, one of my favorites of his books. Yet somehow it seems appropriate. He smiles and looks toward the door. “Is Mays doing okay?”
“She’ll be all right. It’s been a long day for her. I’ll take her home and get her cleaned up.”
“Don’t mind the mess. We’ve had a fun few days.”
“She wants to see you.”
“I know. But . . .” He clenches his hands. “I don’t want her to see me like this, Savannah. I don’t want to scare her.”
“She’s already scared. Why won’t the doctor just let her see you?”
He looks away and my heart flounders as the truth settles in.
I close my eyes for a moment, blow out a breath, then focus on his face. “Come on, Brock. You’ve got a little girl out there who depends on you. She needs her daddy. Do you think she cares what you look like? Do you think not telling her what’s going on will make it easier in the end, if things don’t work out? And what makes you think you have the right to simply check out on her, when there’s a chance you could actually be okay?”
“A small chance, Savannah.”
“I don’t care. It’s still a chance worth taking, Brock. You have nothing to lose.”
“Thank you for that succinct reminder.”
“I’m going to get Maysie.” My temper is sizzling now. As I move to stand up, he grabs my hand. I’m forced to face him again, and as soon as I do, my anger fades.
He stares at me through watery eyes, not saying anything for a long moment. And then he smiles. “I’m really glad we met, too, Savannah Barrington. In case I never told you.”