Along the Broken Road (28 page)

“As I said . . . love.”

He sat up in the bed. “She’s bringing Vivi. I . . . I get to meet Vivi.” His legs started moving beneath the covers, body tilting from side to side, and it seemed he might come apart at the seams if Wynona didn’t do something.

She squeezed the lever on the side of the bed and dropped the railing. Without asking or waiting for an invitation, she sat down on the edge of his bed, facing him. One hand rested on her knee, the other propped against the railing on the opposite side.

Arnold took hold of her hand and placed it against his heart. “I’m so sorry. I just . . .”

“It’s okay, Arnold. No explanations necessary.”

But he was lost in the regret, eyes going far away. “I was just so ashamed.”

“We all have skeletons in our closets, Arnold. I’m not proud of everything I did in my younger, wilder days. But that doesn’t mean I’m any less of a person now. I have regrets. I have pain. But today, I choose what kind of life I’m going to live. Today, I can start fresh. The past has no power except what we give it. I refuse to let skeletons rule my life.”

“Life’s too precious to not give it the honor it deserves.”

“That’s right.” She kept a soft touch against his heart. The bandages beneath her fingertips reminded her she’d almost lost him.

He frowned. “And you really think you could love an old bear like me?”

Her free hand cupped his cheek. “I already do.”

He closed his hand over hers and pressed hard, as if imprinting her fingers on his flesh. “I sure don’t deserve it. But I’m sure glad I got it.”

Wynona tossed a look behind them. “Scoot over.”

White, bushy brows shot up on his head, but he did as instructed.

Wynona stretched out beside him, tucking into the crook of his arm. Arnold settled around her, one arm closing over her shoulder where he could caress the long strands of her hair.

“Think we’ll get in trouble
for this?” he said, and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

“I hope so.” She giggled.

“People are gonna talk.”

She tilted back to look at him then shot a glance to the door where Dr. Giles was just entering. “Well,” she said and leaned closer. “Let’s give them something to talk about.” And she dropped a kiss on Arnold’s mouth while she felt his arms close more tightly around her.

CHAPTER 18

There was no possible way to remove Ian from the retreat. His footprint was everywhere, his mem
ory in every direction she looked. Even her favorite spot was now tainted with him. It was horrible torture. Three weeks. Three weeks he’d been gone and she’d been so sure that life would make sense for her and one day she’d awaken and now that ever-important promise could be made. But the war on the outside was nothing compared to the war on the inside. Charlee was having to dig deeply into her being to make sense of the r
easons she ran, the reasons she kept others at arm’s length and the reasons it all had to stop. Deep inside her soul, there was a scared little girl. A child who wasn’t brave enough to walk the road because of the monsters. And Charlee had allowed that part of her to control her actions. But also inside Charlee there was a warrior. A fighter who kept moving forward when the monsters closed in. She just had to learn how to give that part of her control, how to quiet the frightened child who had run unguarded for too long.

Her first opportunity came when she got a message from Wynona to please get to the hospital as quickly as possible. Charlee let the scenarios rummage through her head as she drove to town. Upon arrival, she threw the Jeep into park and practically ran inside.

Charlee found Wynona sitting in the hallway. She rushed over, terrified at what she might learn, but as she neared Wynona, the woman seemed casual, not tense, happy even. “Is everything okay?”

Wynona stood, eyes wide. “Yes, dear. Oh, heavens. I worried you with my message. I didn’t mean to. It’s just that . . .” Wynona motioned into Mr. Gruber’s room. “He’s been asking to see you.”

Charlee reached out and took Wynona’s arm to steady herself. “What?”

Wynona nodded and her scarf of silky white hair fell around her shoulders. “Yes. We had a nice, long chat. And well, he’s choosing to leave the skeletons where they are and just move on.”

Leave the skeletons
. Maybe that’s what she needed to do. Charlee gripped her with both hands now, her focus on Mr. Gruber. “He’s okay? With us? With me?”

“Yes. Everything is okay.” She leaned closer to Charlee and a bright red stain appeared along Wynona’s cheeks. “The doctor caught us kissing.”

Well. What do you say to that? “Oh my. I guess things really are better.” Charlee felt the tinge in her own cheeks as well. “Can I go in?”

Wynona motioned toward the door. “He’s sleeping now. Can you stay awhile? I had the nurse bring out an extra chair.”

“Yes.” They sat, and Charlee’s thoughts turned to Ian. She hadn’t run. Oh, there’d been a temptation, but she’d fought it. And succeeded. Still, she didn’t fully trust herself. Even when she’d gotten the phone message Wynona left and she’d feared the worst, running had flashed into her mind. How could she ever trust herself? Maybe she’d never be free of this.

Charlee watched as the older woman’s hands worked the rhinestones onto a key fob. “It’s beautiful.”

Wynona held it up and the stones caught the light, casting off rainbows. “Special order. The nurses all have bling-y sunglasses now. Guess my business is expanding.”

“When did you start decorating things, Wynona?”

“When my Horace was sick.”

“How did you deal with . . . I mean, how did you handle—?”

“His passing?”

“Yes.”

Wynona dropped another dot of glue and a sparkling stone onto the key fob. “The same way I handled his illness.”

Charlee knew he’d been sick a long time and Wynona had stayed at his bedside much the way she was staying at Mr. Gruber’s now.

She stopped working and angled to face Charlee. “I couldn’t handle it. Not on my own. I was shattered. And each and every day while I watched the man I loved deteriorate, it was like being broken again and again. Held together by sheer human will.”

“How’d you survive?”

“Horace was in St. John’s Catholic Hospital, room 702. Every day the chaplain came. He never spoke, just sat down beside me and held my hand.” Wynona blinked. “Not one word. But, as he held my hand, the atmosphere changed. The room felt brighter, the world better. And when he’d leave, I noticed my heart was a little lighter inside my chest.”

“You’re saying you believe in God. That’s what gave you strength.”

Wynona tilted her head. “No. It’s not a question of if I believe. I simply can’t unbelieve.” And then Wynona reached over and took Charlee’s hand. Maybe Charlee had spent too long letting a scared little girl decide her actions. Maybe she’d spent too many days letting a frightened child run amok inside her psyche, dictating how to handle a crisis. Maybe it was time for that child to die. And as Wynona held her hand, Charlee closed her eyes and said good-bye to the skeletons of her past. When she opened her eyes, the hall was a little brighter.

Within an hour, Mr. Gruber was awake. Charlee entered his room slowly; the memory of his anger at her for calling his daughter flashed through her mind, trying to take root, wanting her to turn and run, but she didn’t. She stopped at his bedside. He looked thin, gaunt against the harshness of the white sheets, but better than when she’d seen him last. His eyes were clear and rimmed with appreciation. “I got a whole bushel of folks that care about me.”

Charlee smiled. “Yes. And I’ll admit you gave us all quite a scare.”

His demeanor became serious, one hand fumbling with the edge of his tray table. “A man doesn’t know the number of his days.”

Charlee’s gaze moved to the spot where an aged hand lifted the corner of a leather-bound Bible. It was trimmed in gold and looked new. “Was that a gift?”

“Wynona. Said I ought to read it if I hadn’t before.”

“And?”

He rubbed a hand over his head. There was a cotton ball taped below his wrist where an IV had been. A brick-red stain darkened the area around the cotton, remnants of the bruising. “It’s easier to read than I remember. She said it was written in today’s language. Easier for a simpleton like me.”

Charlee reached out and took his other hand, careful of the line that snaked from his forearm to a bag dangling overhead. “You’re certainly not a simpleton, Mr. Gruber. You’re one of the most intelligent men I know. You’ve traveled the world, studied in Paris.”

This awarded her with a laugh. He sobered and gave her hand a light squeeze. “I’m sorry about all that stuff after surgery. Said some harsh things.” And the burden of his words still weighed on him; that was plain to see.

“No need to apologize. We’re family.” She meant it.

His eyes lit. “I’m going to get to meet my grandbaby. She’s three now. I talked to Ashley on the phone. She’s forgiven me . . . all those horrible things.”

“That’s great.”

“And I was wondering if it’d be okay for me to let them stay at the retreat for a weekend every now and again. I mean, if they want to. I’m hoping . . .” But then his words ran out. And Charlee could see the hope filling his eyes, a new hope, a light that had all but been extinguished.

He had to blink to keep the tears at bay. “Well, I’m just thinking that if I’m to be left on this earth for a few more years, I ought to make the best of it.”

Charlee wanted to agree, but didn’t trust her voice. She was overcome watching a miracle happen right before her eyes. What was the saying, “old dog, new tricks”? That certainly wasn’t the case here. Mr. Gruber was ready to meet life head-on, with all its beauty and all its tragedy. He was letting go of the past and grabbing hold of the future. A future he could carve. “They’re welcome at the retreat anytime they’d like to come. We’ve got plenty of room.”

His lips pressed together hard enough the lines of his face deepened. He nodded. “Thank you. I feel like I’m getting a second chance.”

Charlee sniffed. “Yes. I’m so happy for you. Now, please hurry up and get out of here so we can all go home.” Of course,
all
was incomplete. Because all could only be all with Ian. And he was gone. Maybe for good.

“I could use a rest,” Mr. Gruber yawned. He was still regaining his strength and deep discussions like this one probably took a lot out of him. They certainly took a lot out of Charlee.

She bent at the waist and kissed him on the forehead.

He grumbled at first, and she chuckled as she turned to walk away. When she cast a look back at him, there was a contented smile on his face.

The entire hospital looked a little brighter as she left. She’d make sure the cabin by Mr. Gruber’s was clean and ready for Ashley and her daughter, Vivi. It was good to keep busy and Charlee felt the best she had since Ian left. She was just getting into the Jeep when she heard someone call her name. Sliding the blinged-out sunglasses off her face, she turned to look behind her. There, slamming the door on a slick black Mercedes, was Wes Giles. She smiled and waved.

He jogged the last couple rows of cars to get to her. There was no smile on his face. “Charlee, I need to talk to you.”

Fear zapped her strength. This wasn’t a friendly conversation or reminiscing. Something was wrong. He came around the opposite side of the Jeep and got into the passenger seat.

Tension flew off him in waves, causing Charlee’s heart to beat all the faster. “Wes, what?”

He pulled a breath, let it out. Pulled another as if the words he needed were somewhere out there in the atmosphere. “I could have my license revoked for this.”

She frowned. The words weren’t specifically to her, more an internal argument he had no hope of winning. “Wes, what’s going on?”

“It’s Mr. Gruber. I was concerned with some of the test results so I did some digging to figure out what was going on. I . . . uncovered something.”

Charlee gripped the steering wheel to maintain her equilibrium. “What?”

“He has a condition. His heart . . . well, essentially, it could give out at any time.”

The world grayed then funneled down to one thin path. It was hard to breathe. “What do you mean?”

“In simplest terms, it’s like a ticking time bomb.”

Pain speared right through her chest. Her grip tightened. “How long does he have?”

Wes shook his head. “That’s just it. There’s no way of knowing. No warning.”

She pulled her glasses off, tossed them on the dash, and pressed her palms to her eyes. It was hard to breathe, stuffy, no oxygen in the car. “Are you saying he could just drop dead at any moment?” And that seemed so unbelievable and wrong when he’d just decided to take life by the horns.

“Yes.”

Everything in her sank into the floorboard. All the hope, all the joy.

“The surgery and heart attacks have put him at even greater risk. He’s already overdone it. It’s almost a miracle he’s—”

She put a flat hand up between them. “Stop. Just stop.” Why didn’t doctors ever know when to shut up? Either continually giving you too much information or not enough. Another thought occurred to her. “Does he know?”

Wes shook his head. “Not yet.”

And her heart sank a little more.

“No one knows but you.”

Complete goo. They’d have to scrape her off the floor mats to get her out of the Jeep. Indignation rushed over her. “Why did you tell me?” She hadn’t meant to sound so mad, but, well, mad she was.

Wes shook his head, eyes scanning her, obviously trying to gauge the reaction. “I just . . . You’re so strong, Charlee. I figured you’d want to know so you can be there for him. He’s going to need you.”

She pointed at the hospital entrance. “Up until a few minutes ago, he wasn’t even seeing me.”

Wes nodded. “I spoke with him this morning after I caught Wynona stretched out on the bed with him. I knew he planned to reconcile with you today.”

There weren’t words. Deep in her heart, she knew her anger and frustration were not directed at Wes. But the things deep in her heart were . . . well . . . deep, and the news and the frustration about it were right on the surface. “Oh, so as a bonus for reconciliation, you decided to tell me he could drop dead at any second. Thanks, Wes.”

He sat quietly, long, manicured fingers threading together on his lap. “Well,” he said, “I’ve taken enough of your time.” She heard the handle of the Jeep click. When the door didn’t open, Wes threw his shoulder into it. “I’m sorry I told you. I really thought it was what you’d want.”

He slammed the door shut. Charlee’s fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard they ached. She loosened her grip, tightened it. Loosened it again. Tightened it again and dropped her head to the steering wheel. Her mind raced, snippets of scenarios running like silent movies in her head. Mr. Gruber, dying. Telling him that his second chance was going to be cut short. Her heart ached. Her head pounded. And then, she saw another scenario. Herself, sitting alone in a hotel with a bottle of Jack.

Charlee swallowed, mouth going dry and thirsty. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to erase the image, but it wouldn’t go. Couldn’t go. It was her answer. It would ease the pain. Her breath came in short gasps and spurts as she started the Jeep, a plan forming in her head as if she were on autopilot. No one would know. No one had to know anything yet and besides, it was none of their business. She could slip away for a few hours. Not days. Just a few hours and no one would know because they didn’t know about Mr. Gruber.