Another Chance for Daddy

She was reaching for his hand when something in his gaze seemed to click into place. All expression faded. His eyes swept the room and came back to her.

“Becca,” he said in a voice that cracked. He tried to clear his throat. “Can I have some water?”

“Of course.” She hurried to get him a glass of water, then eased his head up so he could sip it from a straw.

Satisfied, he turned his lips from the drink and said, “What are we doing here?”

She opened her mouth to answer him, but unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes again. Her lips trembled and the tears poured out. “I’m...I’m sorry, Clay....” She didn’t know if she was apologizing for crying or for being responsible for his injuries.

“Are those tears for me?” he asked in a faint voice. “I haven’t seen you cry since you....”

Becca’s eyes snapped to his, unexpected grief washing them. There was no need for him to go on. Either of them could have finished the thought.... “Since your last miscarriage.” Becca took a breath and looked away. This wasn’t the time to think about that.

Besides, the truth was, she had also cried plenty over Clay in the past couple of years, but she’d never let him see her at it. Even now, she willed her tears away.

Becca fought to control the tremble in her voice and lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been run over,” he said dryly, looking at her from beneath the edge of his bandage.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah, I was backing out,” he answered in a grim tone. “And I got hit. Did you get the number of the truck that hit me?”

She gave him a rueful look. “It wasn’t a truck. It was my neighbor’s teenage son in his Monte Carlo.”

“That settles it. We’re never letting Jimmy....” With a groan of shock, he tried to struggle up onto his elbow. “Jimmy! Where...?”

Her hands sprang out to keep him from climbing from the bed. Even with the huge cast on his leg and the supporting sling suspended above, he would have tried it. “He’s all right,” she insisted, urging him back. Quickly, she told him what Dr. Kress had said about Jimmy. “He wants to see you, though,” she concluded. “I told him he could if you felt up to it.”

Clay gave her a fierce glance. “Of course I’m up to it. He needs to be reassured.”

“I’ll go see if I can bring him here.”

It took her a while to find Dr. Kress and get him to agree to let her take Jimmy in a wheelchair to see his dad. Finally, the doctor approved the idea saying it would do Jimmy good and he might continue to rest if he wasn’t worried about his dad.

“In fact,” he suggested, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Now that I think about it, I don’t see any reason the two of them can’t share a room until Jimmy is released.”

“Share a room?” Becca asked, eyeing him warily.

“Sure. This is a small hospital, not many patients right now, we can accommodate a boy and his dad. Besides,” he added gruffly. “It’ll be easier on you than running back and forth between the two rooms.”

Becca didn’t point out that she hadn’t really intended to run back and forth. Since she was no longer Clay’s wife, she didn’t feel responsible to watch out for him. He was an independent man—boy, was he independent—and he didn’t like being coddled. She didn’t say it, though, because she knew it wouldn’t quite ring true. She had to focus on Jimmy, though. In spite of her own reluctance to move her son, she knew it would be the best thing for him.

She nodded her agreement and within a few minutes, Jimmy was being wheeled through the corridors to Clay’s room with her and her family trailing along behind. -

Mary Jane, Shannon, and Brittnie each said a few words to Clay, kissed Jimmy good-night and slipped away, leaving. Becca to settle into a chair and ponder exactly how this had come about.

“When’s Dad gonna wake up?”

Becca tried to ignore the whining tone in her son’s voice though it was beginning to annoy her greatly.

“He’ll wake up when he’s ready,” she answered for at least the tenth time.

“When can we go home?”

Dr. Kress wanted to check Jimmy once more before releasing him, but as the doctor on call at Tarrant General, he’d been summoned to deliver a baby. She didn’t feel like explaining all that to Jimmy, though, so she just said, “When your dad wakes up.”

“Mom, I need a drink,” Jimmy went on, not even pausing for breath between one demand and the next.

Becca looked at her son with a growing mixture of frustration, amusement, and despair. She knew he was playing his injuries, minor though they were, for all they were worth. She was delighted that his twenty-four hours in the hospital were almost over so she could take him home. Her only hope was that she wouldn’t be tempted to lock him in his room when she got him there and throw away the key. He had been demanding and petulant all morning, exactly the opposite of his usually sunny nature.

“You just had a drink,” she said, moving to stand beside his bed. She was exhausted, having slept very little the night before. Her family had insisted she go home and rest and Brittnie had stayed with her, but she hadn’t fallen asleep until far past midnight.

“I need another one,” Jimmy said.

She picked up the small plastic pitcher and started to pour water into a glass.

“I want orange soda.”

“No.”

Jimmy stiffened in his bed and his bottom lip popped out. “But my head hurts.”

“James Harold,” Clay spoke up from the other bed. “Stop annoying your mother. You don’t need another drink. Now be quiet.”

Becca glanced up and Jimmy subsided as he, too, looked at his father in surprise. She had thought Clay was still sleeping, as he had been most of the day—though she didn’t know how he had slept through Jimmy’s demanding bouts of whining.

She turned to him, noting the improved color of his skin and the brightness in his eyes. “Well, good afternoon,” she said, cautiously.

One corner of Clay’s mouth eased up. “I haven’t slept this late since the last time I had a hang....” He glanced at Jimmy. “...nail,” he finished, and Becca laughed at the unexpected silliness of his remark.

Jimmy scooted out of his bed and hurried over to get as close as possible to Clay and pepper him with questions. “How come you didn’t wake up, huh, Dad? You been sleepin’ all day.”

“Not all day, son. They keep waking me to make sure this bump on my head didn’t really hurt my thick skull. Looks like you’ve got a bump, too.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy grinned suddenly. “We’re twins.”

Clay chuckled and the sound seemed to calm Jimmy. He asked his father more questions and though Becca knew his head must be pounding with pain, Clay answered, reassuring him that they would go skiing another time. Becca wondered uncomfortably how much he remembered of their argument yesterday just before he’d been struck by Joey’s car. She didn’t relish the thought of opening that discussion again, but she knew Clay well enough to know that once he felt better, he would pursue it like a bloodhound.

Right now, though, her greatest problem was the one she’d been wrestling with since the day before. Where was Clay going to go to recover once he was ready to leave the hospital?

She walked over to the bed and gently urged Jimmy away. “Honey, Dad needs to rest. His head hurts, too, just like yours has been hurting.”

Clay looked up at her and she felt a tingle of surprise when she noted how the bandage that slanted across his brow gave him a rakish appearance. And somehow, the expression in his green eyes seemed more...relaxed.

“I actually feel pretty good,” he said, then lifted himself onto his elbow. “Ah, maybe a little weak, though.” He lay back down.

Becca stared. She’d never heard him admit to a weakness before.