chapter FIFTY
Friday morning, March 18
Curtis had been pacing the halls, his boots clomping on the tiled floor, his head snapping up anytime a person walked by him or a nurse moved behind the nurse’s station desk. He knew he was irritating everyone who worked there, but he truly didn’t give a shit.
He was waiting for his wife.
To get out of surgery. Or procedure, or whatever the hell they wanted to call it.
He absently rubbed his chest as he continued pacing. If they didn’t like it, then they damn well better get over him walking back and forth because he had no intention of stopping until they told him he could go see her.
“Mr. Walker?”
Curtis spun around so fast his seventy-year-old body could hardly keep up with his momentum, but he managed to put a hand on the wall to keep from falling over. “Yes?”
“There’re some people in the waiting room. They’re asking for you.”
Curtis glanced down the hall, then back to the nurse.
“I promise, Mr. Walker. The second I get the word that she’s being moved to recovery, I’ll run right out there and get you.”
He nodded, trusting the young woman’s kind eyes. He did need to go out and talk to the kids, let them know that so far everything seemed to be going fine. It wasn’t a long procedure, but every second that passed was like a decade to him.
Pushing open the doors, Curtis stepped into the brightly lit waiting area, finding Sawyer, Travis, Kaleb, Ethan, Brendon, Braydon, and Zane all staring back at him. All of his boys, standing shoulder to shoulder, watching him intently.
“We told y’all you didn’t need to come,” he said quickly.
Travis frowned, as he’d expected him to. Didn’t matter how simple they’d explained the process to be, his boys still worried.
“How is she?” Sawyer asked.
Curtis planted a smile on his face. “So far, everything’s goin’ as planned. She should be out any minute.”
“You need anything, Pop?” Brendon asked.
Yes, he needed his wife to smile back at him and tell him that she was fine and dandy and all this worrying he’d been doing was a great big waste of time. But he didn’t tell the boys that. “I’m good, son.” Curtis glanced around. “Anyone else here?”
Travis shook his head. “They all wanted to come, but we figured seven of us was enough.” He grimaced. “Since you told us not to come and all.”
Curtis chuckled. “Smartass.”
But yes, seven was probably enough. Especially when those seven were intimidating men all standing at least six foot four inches tall. It wasn’t often that all his boys were out in public together, other than in town, but when they were … it sometimes made people nervous.
Kaleb thrust his hands into his pockets. “Zoey’s over at your house, cleaning up and changing sheets.”
Lord. Sometimes Curtis wasn’t sure what he’d do without his family. The last thing on his mind had been worrying about getting the house in shape for Lorrie to come home. It was a day surgery, they’d told him. Which meant, provided everything went as planned, she would be spending the night at home just as she had last night. Thank God.
“Mr. Walker?”
Curtis turned around again, finding the same kind-eyed nurse holding open the waiting room door. “Yes?”
“They’re bringing her out now. I’ll take you back.”
“Go, Pop,” Ethan ordered. “We’ll be out here. When they say we can go back, we will.”
Curtis nodded, then hurried after the nurse, following her down the long hallway. He tried to ignore the overwhelming smell of antiseptic, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
“She’s still groggy from the anesthesia, but everything went as expected. I’ll let the doctor fill you in.”
When they finally turned the last corner and Curtis saw Lorrie lying on a bed, her eyes closed, her chest softly rising and falling, he released the breath he’d been holding. The one that had lodged in his chest the second they’d wheeled her out of his sight.
Without waiting for permission, Curtis hurried around to the side of the bed and put his hand over Lorrie’s. Her pale skin was a stark contrast to his much darker hand, and her dainty fingers slid beneath his perfectly, just as they always had.
“Hey, honey,” he whispered, leaning over and kissing her forehead.
He wasn’t sure she could hear him, so he didn’t say more, simply content to watch her, knowing she was all right.
Someone cleared their throat, and Curtis looked up to see the doctor standing there.
“How’d she do?” Curtis prompted.
“She did great. We were able to go in and dissolve the stone, extracting the pieces we could. The tiny pieces will wash out of the kidney on their own. We did put a stent in place to help the kidney drain. This is temporary, and we’ll remove it when she comes for her follow-up visit in two weeks. We’ve inserted a Foley catheter to collect the urine.”
“Stent?” Curtis frowned. He recalled hearing something about that, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember.
“Yes. She’ll come back to my office in a couple of weeks to have those removed. Basic procedure, nothing to worry about. She just needs to keep taking the antibiotics and drink a lot of fluids.”
Still holding Lorrie’s hand, he felt her squeeze, and he turned to look at her. She was smiling up at him, and that was when the tight band around his heart released. For a second, he felt a little light-headed.
“Hey, darlin’. Doc says you did great.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Lorrie teased, her soft voice rough. “I’m a strong woman. I’ve put up with you all my life, haven’t I?”
Her joke made him laugh and he suspected that was her intention.
The doctor went on to explain everything again so that Lorrie would understand. A few minutes later, when he finally left them alone, and after a nurse came in to check her vitals, Curtis sat down in the chair and fought the urge to cry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but the relief he felt was so damn overwhelming he could hardly contain it.
“I’m okay,” Lorrie whispered, sliding her hand over the top of his.
“I know, baby. I know.” Using his other hand, he brushed her hair off her face. “I love you.”
That beautiful smile beamed back at him when she said, “I love you, too.” And once again, all was right in his world.
“I’m so tired,” she whispered.
“The anesthesia’s going to keep her groggy for a little while,” the nurse said. “It’ll wear off in a bit.”
Curtis nodded, then looked at Lorrie. “Sleep, honey. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
As though that was what she needed to hear, Lorrie closed her eyes and drifted off while Curtis vigilantly sat by her side for the next couple of hours.
Zoey Walker stood at the stove, stirring the pot of canned stew after she set the glass lid on the pot of instant rice. It wasn’t the greatest dinner in the world, but with two kids, a husband, and a bustling resort to tend to, it would suffice. That or frozen chicken nuggets, and since they’d had those twice this week, stew sounded much better.
The back screen door slammed, and she glanced over to see Kaleb standing there. He hardly had a chance to get his hat off before Mason was running into the room, hollering as he launched himself at his father’s legs.
“What’s up, little man?” Kaleb glanced her way as he swung Mason up into the air. “Smells good. What is it?”
“Dinty Moore,” she said with a grin.
“My favorite.” The man was easy to please when it came to food. For that she was grateful, because, though she could hold her own in the kitchen thanks to years of being taught by Lorrie, they didn’t usually have much time for gourmet meals.
Speaking of… “How’s your mom?” she asked when Kaleb cupped her chin, tilting her head up so he could kiss her lips.
“Good. Pop got her home and she’s all settled in. She said to tell you thank you.”
“No thanks necessary.” Zoey would do anything for Curtis and Lorrie, just as she knew they’d do anything for her and her family.
“So, how was your day?” Kaleb asked, placing Mason on his feet.
“Well, I managed to keep Mason from tearing up your parents’ house. Just barely.”
Kaleb chuckled, watching as Mason tore ass out of the room at full speed and his loudest decibel level.
Flipping off the burner, Zoey stepped out of the way and allowed Kaleb to grab the two pots from the stove and take them to the table. She pulled plates and silverware out of the dishwasher—since she’d forgotten to empty it that morning—before joining him.
“Mason! Dinner!”
“Where’s Kellan?” Kaleb asked.
“Sleeping. I think he’s got another tooth coming in.”
“Aww, hell.” Kaleb helped Mason into his high chair before snapping the tray in place.
“Yep. More sleepless nights,” she said as she scooped food onto each of their plates. “Oh. That reminds me.”
Kaleb’s eyebrows lifted and that mischievous smirk tilted his sexy mouth.
“What in the world could you possibly find dirty in that?” she asked.
“You said sleepless nights. I know a few proven methods to keep you up at night.”
Zoey smacked his arm, then sat down beside him. “Did you know your mother keeps a diary?”
“A diary?” He looked puzzled.
“Yeah. You know, those books people write their personal thoughts in.”
“I thought it was a journal.”
“Same difference. But did you? Know?”
Kaleb settled his elbows on the table, spooning food into his mouth as he shook his head.
“I didn’t mean to, but I stumbled upon them when I was looking for sheets for their bed. She’s got several boxes of them in her closet.”
“Why does she keep sheets in boxes?” he asked, staring back at her blankly.
“Not sheets, dummy. Diaries.”
“You lost me, babe.”
“It looks like your mom’s been writing in a diary for years and years. I don’t know how many there were, but there was one sitting out on one of the boxes, and it had 1962 written on the front.”
“Did you read it?”
“God no.” Zoey chuckled. “That’s an invasion of privacy.”
“I woulda read it.”
“Whatever.” Zoey didn’t believe that for a second. “What if your mom wrote about having sex with your dad? You wanna read about that?”
Kaleb sat up straight. “Hell no.”
“Hell no,” Mason mocked.
“Shit,” Kaleb said, glancing over at Mason.
“Shit,” Mason echoed.
Great. “Not helping,” Zoey told her husband, laughing at the two of them.
“So women write about sex in their diaries?” Kaleb inquired once he got Mason distracted with his green beans.
“Not only women keep diaries,” she told him.
“Yes, they do. We men don’t write down our thoughts.”
Figuring it was easier to appease him than argue, Zoey said, “And yes, women write about everything in their diaries.”
“Wait a minute.” Kaleb turned to her, his face serious. “Do you keep a diary?”
She didn’t, but she said, “Maybe.”
“Do you write about sex? ’Cause if you do, I wanna read it.”
Men.
Shaking her head, Zoey focused on her food.