Morning Light (34 page)

Frank nodded. “My son's a fine young man. He'll do nothin' that isn't in the child's best interests. If that means a few months of visitation before he takes custody, I'm sure he'll agree to it without a quarrel.”

Sharon sighed with relief. “I'm so glad to meet all of you. It soothes my heart to know Trevor will have such a wonderful new family. Now I have only one more concern.”

“What's that?” Frank asked.

“Where is our precious Nana? Was she with Trevor? Did she drown? I know it sounds silly, but she's a member of our family, too. We love her very much.”

“Nana is fine,” Loni said with a laugh. “She deserves the Most Wonderful Dog of the Year award.” She quickly related to the Michaelses how Nana had saved Trevor's life, not once but many times over the last several days. “If you'd like to see her she's out in Clint's truck.”

Sharon leaped up from her chair. “I'd
love
to see her. And if you don't mind, we'll take her to our motel. They allow pets, and she'll be more comfortable there.”

L
oni stayed at the hospital until nearly midnight to be there when Clint was finally released. Because he was in the ER receiving an infusion, he was considered to be an outpatient and would be able to go as soon as his treatment was completed. Samantha's husband, Tucker, had joined her, and they stayed until almost ten, but after visiting Clint several times and peeking in on a sleeping Trevor in the pediatric wing, the handsome veterinarian and his pretty wife finally yawned good nights at Loni and went home. Clint's father and brothers had left hours before to go into the wilderness after the abandoned horses. In the end it was only Loni in the waiting area when Clint emerged from the ER.

“I've been given permission to go up and look in on Trevor,” he told her after a brief embrace. “You want to come up with me?”

“Can I?”

“Now that all these idiots finally believe I'm his dad, I guess I can take his future mama up to see him. If they say anything, I'll tell them to go get stuffed.”

Loni smiled. “You're feeling better.”

“Of course I'm feeling better. All I needed was a lube job.”

Once in the elevator he gathered her into his arms and kissed her until they were both breathless. “I love you. I don't remember if I mentioned that today.”

Loni trailed her gaze over his face, glad to see a healthy glow under his dark skin. “If you told me a dozen times, it never hurts to say it again.”

“I love you, lady. Thanks for looking out for me this afternoon. I wasn't thinking very clearly when that security guard was crawling up my back. Lack of oxygen to the brain, I guess. If I'd had the strength, I would have pretended he was a mud hole and stomped him dry.”

“Fortunately that didn't happen. You'd be banging a tin cup on cell bars right now, asking to call your lawyer.”

He chuckled. “Possibly so.”

When the elevator doors opened and they stepped out on the third floor, Clint reeled to a halt. “I'm so scared I couldn't spit if you yelled, ‘Fire.' I can't tell him I'm his daddy. What excuse will I give him for being there if he happens to wake up? He was pretty out of it when we found him. He may not remember my face.”

Loni plucked at his stained shirt. “He'll remember.” She took his hand. “Come on, old man. This won't be the last time he'll scare you spitless. Just wait until you teach him to drive.”

Trevor appeared to be asleep when they entered his room. Sharon Michaels sat beside the child's bed. When she saw them, she smiled tearfully and stepped around the foot to hug Clint's neck. “Thank you,” she whispered. “If it weren't for you I would be without
both
my babies.”

Clint acted as if he weren't quite sure what to do with his hands. Then he enfolded the older woman in his arms. “I loved your Sandra. Only as a friend, but she was a really
good
friend. I'm sorrier than I can say for your loss.”

Sharon drew back and wiped her cheeks. “I'll leave you for a bit to sit with him. I could use a break.” She patted Loni's arm. “I'll be back in about thirty minutes.”

Loni and Clint commandeered the two chairs in the small room. Clint sat forward on his seat, arms braced on his spread knees, gaze fixed on Trevor's small face. “Isn't he something?” he whispered.

“He's perfect,” Loni agreed, her voice barely a murmur. And she meant it with all her heart. If she was fortunate enough to become Clint's wife, she would love his son as if he were her own. “I can't believe how much he looks like you.”

“He does, doesn't he?”

Trevor stirred just then. Clint placed a finger over his lips, signaling Loni that they needed to stop whispering back and forth. But it was too late. Trevor's thick black lashes fluttered open, his big, liquid brown eyes focused on Clint, and his sweet mouth tipped into a replica of his father's crooked grin.

“I remember you,” he said sleepily. “You're the friend who found me.”

Clint nodded, his larynx riding high in his throat, then bottoming out. “That's me, partner. You had us worried there for a while.”

“You told me I'd be okay,” Trevor replied. “So I wasn't scared.”

The child tried to shift on his pillow and winced. Clint shot to his feet and helped him to get more comfortable. “That better?”

Trevor nodded. He gazed solemnly up at Clint. “My grandma said God sent you to me.”

“She did?” A ruddy flush crept up Clint's neck.

“Yep. She says when really sad things happen, God always sends us something to make us feel happy again. My mom and dad drowned, you know. I almost did, but Nana saved me.”

“I know, partner.” Clint smoothed the child's black hair. “Your mother was a good friend of mine. I'm so sorry you lost her.”

Trevor's eyes went bright with tears. He plucked at the hospital sheet. “Me, too. But Grandma says she's happy in heaven now with Daddy. Did you know there's angel music up there twenty-four hours a day, and the streets are paved in gold?”

“I've heard that.” Clint pulled his chair closer, sat back down, and took the boy's hand in his. “It's the place where wonderful people go when they leave here. Your mommy and daddy will be really happy up there.”

Tears burned Loni's eyes, for she could only guess what it cost Clint to pretend that Robert Stiles had been Trevor's father. But that was her dream cowboy. When he loved, he loved with everything he had, even if it meant setting his own feelings and needs aside.

“They'll miss you, though,” Clint hurried to add. “A whole lot. But there's another neat thing about heaven besides the angel music and golden streets.”

“There is?”

“Oh, yeah. Time goes by really fast up there. To them it'll seem like they are away from you only for a few minutes, and soon you'll be an old man, and then there you'll be, up in heaven with them.”

Loni knew by the look in Clint's eyes that he'd been told that same comforting story when he'd been a child, mourning for his mother.

“I'm glad,” Trevor said tremulously. “My mom didn't like to be away from me. She always cried when she had to go on trips, and she called me a gazillion times a day so she could talk to me and cry some more.”

“Well, she's not crying now,” Clint assured him. “You'll miss her a lot longer than she'll miss you, because time is different up there.”

Trevor yawned. Clint pushed to his feet and drew the sheet up under the child's chin. “We need to stop talking, partner. You're getting tired.”

With his good hand Trevor grabbed Clint's wrist, his tiny brown fingers barely curling over one side of his father's forearm. “My grandma says all my blood drained out, and you filled me back up again with all of yours.”

Clint swallowed hard. “Not all, and they gave me some more. You don't need to worry.”

“I'm not worried.” Trevor fixed him with a wondering, dark gaze. “It's just that Grandma says that makes you kind of like my new daddy, 'cause now all my blood is your blood.”

Clint sank back down on the chair as if a blow had been dealt to the back of his legs. “She did, did she?”

“She says maybe God sent you because he knows how sad I am right now.” Trevor's bottom lip quivered. “I don't have a mom or dad anymore, and Grandma says, as much as they love me, they're getting too old to do lots of fun things with a little boy. Grandpa's back hurts, and he's got a bad knee. He can still play with me right now, but in a couple more years he might be too old to do all the things I like.”

“Bummer,” Clint said tautly. “What kind of things do you like?”

“I like camping. My dad taught me how to do lots. He said no man should ever go into the woods without knowing how to take care of himself.”

“Your dad was absolutely right,” Clint agreed. “He must have spent a lot of time teaching you camping stuff. You did a great job of taking care of yourself out there.”

“Until I cut myself. Daddy always told me not to hold the ax halfway up the handle 'cause it might jump back, but I forgot.”

“One little mistake. You did a grand job of surviving out there otherwise, Trevor. I'm sure your daddy was up there watching and felt very proud of you.”

“Nana helped. She's got real thick fur that kept me warm, and she's a real good hunter. I tried to catch fish in the creek.”

“Any luck?”

“Nope. I made a spear, just like my dad showed me, but the fish weren't where I thought they were, and I always missed.”

“It takes lots of practice to spear fish. The water acts like a magnifying glass and distorts your vision.”

Trevor gave Clint a startled look. “That's what Daddy said. He was real good at spearing fish. Are you good at camping stuff, just like him?”

“Fair to middlin'. I've speared a couple of fish in my day, though.”

“My dad speared
lots
.” Tears filled Trevor's eyes again. “Mommy used to cook 'em in a skillet over the fire. She made them taste real good.”

“I'll bet she did.”

“Lots better than rabbit without salt.” Trevor brushed at his cheeks. “We had lots of fun.”

“It'll take a while for you to stop missing them and start feeling better, Trevor. When you lose your folks when you're only eight, it's a very hard thing.”

Trevor's gaze clung to his father's. “Did you lose your mom and dad?”

“Only my mom. I was about your age. It took a long time before I started to feel better.”

“How long before it stops hurting like I swallowed an ice cube?”

Clint's face reflected the pain he felt for his child. “That part goes away after a couple of weeks, but you still feel like crying sometimes. When you do, you just need to do it. That helps a lot. My dad used to tell me that God gave us tears to wash away the pain. So don't feel embarrassed. It's okay to cry, even if you're a guy. He told me that one time when he found me hiding in the closet, ashamed for anybody to see me bawling. Afterward I still hid in the closet sometimes when I needed to cry, but I wish now that I hadn't.”

“How come?”

“Because there's no shame in loving people and feeling really sad when you lose them. Every tear tells the world how much you cared. Your mom and dad were the best. Right?”

“Yep.”

“Well, then, they deserve all your tears, and crying will make the ice cube feeling in your chest go away.”

“It will?”

“Guaranteed.”

Trevor's eyes welled up. “Do you still cry?”

Clint wiped under one eye. “Oh, yeah.”

“You're crying now. How come?”

“Because.” Clint shrugged. “Like I said, your mama was really special to me, and you're her little boy, so seeing you hurt makes me hurt.”

“Do you like to play soccer?”

Clint chuckled. “I haven't done that for a few years, but I used to be pretty good at it.”

“I'm real good at soccer and baseball. Grandpa says I've got such a great pitching arm on me I could be the next Cy Young.”

“Wow. That's a high recommendation.”

“Yep. The doctor says it's a good thing I cut my left shoulder, 'cause I pitch with my right arm.”

“Definitely a plus. It'd be a shame for the next Cy Young to hurt his pitching arm.”

“Yep.” Trevor began fiddling with the sheet again. “Grandma says I'm going to need a new dad before I get much older, somebody closer to my real daddy's age, somebody who isn't too old to play ball with me.”

“I can see the problem,” Clint agreed. “Every boy needs to practice his soccer and pitching.”

“Grandma thinks, since you gave me all new blood from out of you, maybe you'd like to be my new dad someday.”

Clint said nothing for several long seconds, and before he collected himself, Trevor added, “If you think it'd be a bunch of trouble, I won't be mad at you or anything,” Trevor added. “My dad used to say I was more trouble than two cats fighting in a gunnysack.”

Clint chuckled. “All dads say things like that, son. They're only joking.”

Trevor smiled sleepily. “Yep. My dad told lots of jokes.” His lashes fluttered back up. “Do you like jokes?”

“Oh, yeah,” Clint replied in a thick voice. “Especially when they're on me.” He glanced at Loni. Then he looked at Trevor again. “I don't have a little boy. I've always wanted one. Now that we've got the same blood, maybe we should work out some kind of an agreement. Do you want to be my little boy?”

“I don't know.”

Clint's dark face fell. “Oh. Well. That's okay. It's pretty soon after losing your dad to be thinking about getting a new one.”

“Nope,” Trevor replied. “My daddy talked to me once. He said if anything ever happened to him and Mommy, they'd already picked me out another dad who'd take care of me and love me just like they did. Grandma says you're the dad they picked.”