Home To Wickham Falls. Rochelle Alers

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       Chapter Four

      Sawyer retrieved a visitor’s pass from the front desk at the county hospital and took the elevator to the second floor. The numbers on the wall indicated his father’s room was down the hallway on his right. He walked in and stopped when he saw a nurse at his father’s bedside.

      She glanced up and flashed a polite smile. “Could you please step outside, sir? I’ll be finished in a few minutes.”

      He retreated, leaning against a wall in the immaculate wing dedicated to cardiac patients. Mara had returned to the house in good spirits because Henry had been moved out of ICU and into a semiprivate room. He’d barely had time to ask her about Henry’s condition because Dylan and Colin regaled her excitedly with what they had eaten at Ruthie’s.

      The nurse stuck her head out the door. “Sir, you can come in now. I had to change his IV and check his vitals.”

      “How is he? I’m his son,” Sawyer explained when she gave him a questioning look.

      “He’s progressing well. You can get the name of his doctor from the nurse’s station and he’ll tell you everything.”

      “Thank you.”

      Sawyer entered the sun-filled room, his gaze fixed on the figure in the bed closest to the window. Sawyer didn’t know what to expect when he glanced down at his father but it wasn’t the man he hardly recognized. Henry Middleton was only sixty-seven yet appeared at least ten years older. As a former merchant seaman the elements had not been kind to his complexion. Streaks of silver were threaded between fading strawberry blonde curls.

      Reaching for a chair, Sawyer pulled it closer to the bed and stared at Henry, who appeared to be sleeping. His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. Sawyer ran his forefinger down the limp right hand resting on the snowy-white sheet, finding the skin cool to the touch. Then, without warning, Henry opened his eyes.

      “You came.” His voice was barely a whisper.

      “Yes, Dad, I came.”

      Tears filled his red-rimmed blue eyes. “I prayed you’d come.”

      Sawyer felt a lump forming in his throat as he watched his father cry. Rachel said Henry had changed, but he never could have imagined the dictatorial man shedding even a single tear. He patted Henry’s hand. “And your prayers are answered.” Rising slightly, Sawyer reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table. He gently blotted Henry’s cheeks. How was he to comfort a man who’d never shown him a modicum of gentleness, a man who preferred ridicule to compliments?

      “How...long...long are you sta...ying?” Henry’s eyelids fluttered.

      “I’ll be here until the end of summer.” Sawyer wasn’t certain if his father heard him, because he suspected the nurse had given him a sedative.

      A hint of a smile parted the older man’s lips. “I feel like an elephant’s sitting on my chest.” His smile faded as he closed his eyes again. “I guess I’m going to feel some pain for a while. Do you know they put stents in my arteries?”

      “Yes, Dad, and you’ll feel a lot better once you’re out of here.”

      “When did you get here?”

      “Yesterday.”

      “Who called you?”

      “Rachel.”

      Henry chuckled softly. “I knew she would. It’s good they brought me to her hospital so she can make certain they don’t give me the wrong medication.”

      Sawyer shook his head. This was the Henry he knew. He hoped his father’s brush with death had made him less negative. “They’re not going to give you the wrong medication. And if you were going to die, then it would’ve happened before they got you to the hospital.”

      “I guess you’re right.”

      “I know I’m right.”

      Henry breathed out a lingering sigh. “I remember you telling me that I’m too mean to die.”

      Sawyer nodded. “I seem to remember saying that more than once.”

      “Do you realize you’re right? That I’m too mean to die? At least, not yet.” Henry sighed again. “I think I’m going to sleep now. Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

      Leaning over, Sawyer pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Yes.” Seconds later soft snoring filled the room. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and saw Rachel in the doorway. Smiling, she motioned him closer. He stood and approached her.

      “Did you get the chance to talk to Dad?” she whispered.

      “Yes.”

      “Did he growl at you?”

      “He’s in no condition to growl at anyone. How long do you think he’s going to be here?”

      “Probably another two days, barring complications. He almost coded in the ambulance. I spoke to his cardiologist earlier this morning and he says they’re going to get him out of bed tomorrow because they want him ambulatory.”

      “Will he be able to walk stairs?”

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