Chapter 28
“Robbie.”
The sound seemed to come from far away, and he paid it no attention. Wrinkling his brow, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter.
“Robbie.” An insistent push to his shoulder. “Rob!”
“What?” he barked, his eyes popping open as he pushed himself upright. He blinked, trying to get his bearings. Oh yeah. The waiting room. The couch, which he wanted to set fire to, along with that damn Christmas tree and the soda machine whose cooling apparatus had an insistent whine that couldn’t quit. These four walls that had stopped closing in on him three days ago, when his world couldn’t possibly get any smaller. And his baby sister. Marla. Her dark brown hair falling in a mass of unruly curls around her shoulders.
“Mom wants to talk to you.” Marla reached a hand out to him, and Rob took it, gaining his feet. He walked with her past the double doors and past the nurses’ station.
“Is everything okay?”
Marla glanced at him, her dark brown eyes serious. “No change. I think she wants to tell you to go home.”
He was already shaking his head before the sentence was completely out of her mouth. “Not happening.”
With a sigh, Marla stopped in front of room 824, a set of digits he was afraid would always be burned into his memory. “Just listen to her. It’s been almost two weeks now, and you’ve barely left the hospital. It’s not good for you, Robbie.”
“It’s not good for her, either, and she hasn’t left,” Rob countered.
“Save your arguments for Mom. I’m going to head home for the night.” Marla shouldered her purse strap and patted him on the arm. “Your life doesn’t stop just because of this, Robbie. At some point you’re going to have to decide what to do.”
Rob didn’t answer, just watched his little sister walk away.
She was right. At some point, he would have to leave this hospital, with or without knowing what his father’s fate would be. It had been the longest eleven days of his life. There hadn’t been a great amount of change. At one point they thought he was improving enough to attempt the surgery, but then his test results had regressed again, and so they were still stuck in the never-ending hell of waiting. Waiting for him to pull through, or waiting for him to die.
Rob took a deep breath, staring down the closed door in front of him.
How was he supposed to keep doing this? He’d been as stalwart as he could be. He’d shoved his mother out of the hospital room for showers and meals. He’d kicked Greta out of the waiting room, so she could be at home with her kids. Even the normally impervious Marla had been force-fed breakfast for the entire week. But his steam was running out. His heart was broken, and shattered, then crushed again. With every improvement, he gained a tiny shard of hope, and with every disappointment, that hope shoved another crack into his soul. He hadn’t even allowed himself the comfort of Stacey.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Stacey. At first she had texted him constantly. Encouraging messages, notes of love, things to try to make him laugh. But he couldn’t respond. Didn’t know how. He was angry, disappointed, and so, so sad. The texts had grown less frequent. She’d only texted him once the day before yesterday. Then yesterday, not at all. He might have finally succeeded in driving her away.
Not sure how he could ever face Stacey again, he had called Brandi and told her to take over training Stacey if she came back to the gym. He hadn’t gone into details, but he had let her know that things had gotten personal between them. Eventually he’d have to sort it out, but for now? He’d let Brandi handle it.
With a sigh, Rob grabbed the latch on the hospital room door. Knocking softly, he pushed it open.
“It’s me,” he said, easing his way into the room.
The rhythmic beeps of the cardiac monitor greeted him, and the sight that lay spread out before him was no less painful for its familiarity.
His father lay motionless, tubes and wires running from his body to the bags and machines at his bedside. His face was covered by a ventilator mask, and his steel-sharp eyes were closed. His skin looked pale, pasty, so unlike the vivacious and ornery man whom Rob loved.
His mother sat in the armchair at the bedside, her normally perfect hair in slight disarray. Her clothing, always pressed and neat, was wrinkled and askew. She looked dazed, like someone who’d just been through a horrific event with no idea where to turn.
And, in a way, she was.
“Mom,” he said, and she turned to face him with a small smile.
“Robbie.” She held her hand out to him and he grasped it. “I want you to go home.”
“I can’t do that,” he said, easing down into the small chair beside her without letting go of her hand.
“You have to. He could stay this way for months.” She delivered the line matter-of-factly. It was something they’d heard days ago from the medical staff, and as time had worn on, it had proven true. “I don’t want your business to suffer any more from your absence. It’s important to you.”
“And so are you.”
“Robbie, I’ve never doubted that.” His mother sighed, and released his hand. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to fill his shoes.”
Damn, she was sharp. Rob looked down at the toes of his athletic shoes. He supposed, in a way, he had been. Dad was the strong one, the one who held everything together when it was falling apart. And since Dad was now the one falling apart, Rob had done his best to keep things in order.
But nothing was in order, because he couldn’t fix this.
“You aren’t your father. I know we were hard on you for not going to medical school. And I know how you want your gym to be a success so your father will see that you made the right decision. But, honey, I want you to know, despite how he acted?” She sniffed, and Rob felt his chest tighten. “He has always been so incredibly proud of you.”
She cried softly then, and he put his arm around her shaking shoulders. They had spent so much of the last week crying, praying, begging whatever deity would listen to heal him. But there had been no answer. Rob just held her, wishing that the purgatory would end. Of course, he wanted his father to be better, but the uncertainty was stretching them all too thin, and his returning home would leave his mother to deal with this all on her own.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, dabbing at her cheeks with a tissue. “But it’s true. We are both so very proud of you, and all we want is for you to be successful. So, please. Go home for now. I promise, if there’s a change—”
“But what if I miss it?” For a moment, he wasn’t strong. He was a little kid again, sad, uncertain, and needing comfort. “What if he gets worse, and I don’t make it back in time?”
His mother smiled. “He would be happy to know that you were off chasing your dream. That always made him smile, how single-minded you were about your goals. How you wouldn’t take no for an answer. He roared, he complained, he needled you, but he never stopped telling people about your successful business.”
The news rocked Rob on his moorings, and he sat back, staring at the still and silent man on the hospital bed.
His dad was . . . proud of him?
* * *
“No, no, no.” Stacey slammed the white mouse down on top of her desk. Her fingers curled tight around the white plastic in disbelief. “That isn’t even close to correct. How do they get away with printing this crap?”
“I told you, you need to stay off the Internet.” Hannah set down a large mocha with extra whipped cream on top of Stacey’s desk. “They’re having a field day with this. It’s best just to let them have their fun, and not get upset about it.”
“How am I supposed to stay calm about this? They’re acting like this department practically set fire to those apartments ourselves. We’re the ones trying to fight to upgrade them, and—”
“I know that. And you know that. But the truth doesn’t grab anywhere near as many page views.” Hannah sighed and took a sip of her own coffee. Hitching one hip on top of Stacey’s desk, she continued, “It’s all about sensationalism. Don’t worry, something else will happen soon, and all this will be just a memory.”
Stacey pushed back from her desk, staring at the ugly headline once more. CITY PLANNING DEPARTMENT FAILURES MOUNT AS HOUSING PROJECT BURNS. It was so ugly, and so untrue. Just because her project had died in its infancy didn’t mean the whole department had failed. It hurt, and she was fucking sick of it.
“It’s been almost two weeks now. Why hasn’t someone printed the truth? I’ve given tons of interviews, there are a million sound bites they could use. I just . . . I don’t know. Just really freaking tired.” Stacey propped her chin on her hand.
Hannah gave her a knowing look. “This isn’t just about the housing project, is it? You still haven’t heard from him?”
Stacey shook her head sadly. If not for Hannah and Bree, she probably would have gone insane with worry over the past few days. At first, she had clung to Rob like an anchor. Texting him, checking on him, thinking about him kept her distracted from the maelstrom of her career problems. But his responses had been few and far between. She began to second-guess herself, and decided maybe she was just bothering him. So, she slowed down her texting. When he hadn’t responded after two days, she’d given up altogether.
When he came back—if he came back—then they could reevaluate whatever they were to one another. For now? She didn’t know what else to do but cling to her last threads of sanity.
“I haven’t heard anything from him. Last he said, his dad was still on the ventilator. No idea when he’s coming home, or if he will ever forgive me.” She barked a bitter laugh. “And I’m so stupid I still want to text him.”
Hannah pulled her cell from her pocket. “Well, if you feel the need to text someone, you can always text me. I’m not guaranteeing that my four-year-old won’t try to text you back, but at least you have somebody.”
Stacey smiled. “Thanks, Hannah. You’re the best.”
“Now, you’d asked for my help. What was it that you wanted me to help with? The police project?”
With the Lawson Meadows project obliterated, and the media fallout hopefully slowing down, Stacey had decided to throw all of her energy into the impromptu small business–police training project. With everything that was going on, the city planning department definitely needed the good publicity. If she could hit all the right notes with this project, maybe things would even out for them.
The feelers she’d put out in the community were positive, so far. She just had to compile the data, iron out a few bugs that were cropping up with the force, and then hopefully be able to present the project to the city council in the next couple of weeks.
She and Hannah were poring through her project spreadsheet when a sudden knock on the door jerked Stacey’s gaze upward. Ed stood there, his brow furrowed.
“Hannah, Walter said he needs your help with something in the copy room.”
Hannah rolled her eyes where Ed couldn’t see, and gathered up her coffee. “Yeah, okay. I’m on the way. Stace, you let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help with this, okay?”
Feeling more and more grateful for her friend, and really reluctant to let her leave, Stacey nodded. “You bet. Talk to you soon.”
Ed stood in the doorway as Hannah passed him and exited through the hall. Stacey stared, unsure of what to say.
She knew that Ed had had a meeting yesterday with his superiors. It had gone late, and she hadn’t been able to find out what had been discussed. But she was afraid she might have an inkling of what had gone on.
“Stacey, do you have a minute? We need to talk.”
Oh boy. She gulped. “I guess if I said no, it really wouldn’t change anything, would it?”
Ed shook his head. Was she imagining the sadness that painted his features? “Let’s go to my office.”
Stacey followed him down the hall to the corner office, her sense of foreboding growing with every step. It wasn’t fair. It was not her fault that this had happened. But, as was so often the case in a large machine like the government, when something got screwed up, someone had to pay. And though she had no proof, at this moment, she was pretty sure that the head on the chopping block was hers.
“Have a seat.” Ed rounded his desk, an old, beaten-up wooden affair. He sank down into his scuffed leather chair and looked at her.
She crossed her feet at the ankles, unsure of what else to do. The clock that hung on his wall ticked loudly, a sound that reminded her of a bomb about to go off.
“Stacey, you know that I think you are a wonderful employee. Your work on the Lawson project was beyond what I could’ve asked of you. But, with the way the media is howling over this, I wasn’t able to sway the decision.”
“You have to fire me.”
Even though she hadn’t phrased it as a question, Ed nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
She closed her eyes, and wished with all her heart that this was a bad dream. But even though she pinched her arm as hard as she could, she just couldn’t wake up.