Page 45 of Reaching Hearts

I cut my eyes to the phone. Brendan’s alive? Well, that answers that question.

“Well, this is a surprise,” I say to Brendan.

My dad kicks my leg and I bite down on my tongue. Shit. I didn’t think.

“Tommy?” a female voice asks.

I pause, thrown off. “Who’s this?”

Her voice sounds urgent and unrecognizable as she says, “Rebecca. Can I come see you?”

“Rebecca? Why are you calling me from Brendan’s phone?”

My dad’s eyes stay glued to me. “Is he dead?” he whispers.

Rebecca sounds like she’s almost panting. “Because I didn’t have your number. Um… I’m calling because…” she pauses and I wait, staring at my dad, both of us impatient. “Brendan’s in the hospital. There was a robbery and he got shot and there’s some other things that are happening.” Her voice trails off like she doesn’t know what to say, or if she even should.

I exhale and cover the phone. “He’s alive.” To her, I say, “Oh no. That’s terrible. How’s he doing? Is he gonna make it?”

“He’s fine. It grazed his lung, but they were able to save it. He was in surgery for five hours.”

Probably with pain meds, the dick. “Great. That’s great. How are you doing? You okay? You must be pretty scared, huh?”

“Yes, and I’m a mess. I need to see a friendly face. Can I come over?”

She wants to cry on my shoulder? This is my chance to get in there, and here I am on the couch in a fake Sahara Desert. Unbelievably bad timing.

“I’m sorry, Bec. I can’t. I’m staying with family for a while. There’s a family emergency. We’re really close. You know how it is.”

“Oh. I talked with Margaret – we’ve stayed in touch – I had to tell her Brendan wasn’t coming in to work for a while, tell her what happened. But she didn’t tell me you were out of town. I guess she wouldn’t have mentioned it, though…”

“Yeah, she probably wouldn’t.” My brain is doing somersaults thinking how I can make this happen. My dad reaches out his arm, wanting me to end the call. “Bec, I’ve got another call coming through. I have to go.” There’s silence on the other end. “Bec?”

“Yeah… sorry. I just wanted to see you.” I can hear the hesitancy. The guilt. What is she playing at? “I’m sorry for calling. I’ll talk to you later.”

She hangs up and I look at my dad. “She hung up. He’s alive.”

“Who was that?”

“Brendan’s girl,” I answer, still thinking about her call, my eyes distant.

“What’s she want with you?” I smirk my answer and throw him a look. His eyes go hard. “It’s a good thing you’re holed up here with that.” He points to my shoulder. “Give you a chance to cool off and not dig yourself deeper in this ditch you’ve made. Listen up, Tommy. You’re not taking this family down just because some guy has gold coming out of his ass and that galls ya. You stay put and let that steam that’s boiling out the top of your head, cool off. And stay away from his girl, too. If he ever finds out it was you that shot him…”

“He’s not going to, Dad.”

“You better make sure he doesn’t. Keep your head clear and your nose clean, you hear me? Or you’ll have to deal with me.” He juts his thumb to his chest, a wicked gleam in his eyes that still terrifies me.

“Okay, Dad. Alright.”

He stares at me until he believes me, and he turns, holding my eyes prisoner as he walks out of the room, his gait slow and steady. He closes the door and I wait with my heart beating hard in my chest. I’m staring at the door, wondering if he noticed. But the door stays closed, so I reach down to pick up the phone he forgot to take with him. She answers on the first ring.

“Bec, I only have a second,” I whisper, “I can meet you tomorrow night. Tell me where.”

“Really? That’s great. Thank you! I’m getting a hotel tonight. You can meet me there. I’ve been staying at Brendan’s, but I… I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“Go to The Inn on South Van Ness. It’s a Bed and Breakfast. You’ll love it. I’ll meet you there at 9:00 p.m. And look, I might not have my phone, so don’t call me. But I’ll be there. I promise.”

“Okay.” Her voice changes and she says, again, “Thank you, Tommy.”

“No problem, babe. Delete these calls from his phone.”

“Oh. Right. Good thinking.”

“See you tomorrow.” I hang up and delete the call myself, reaching over gingerly to lay it on the coffee table next to books on Zimbabwe and Nigeria. Lying back, I stare at the ceiling, my blood pumping in a cool, accelerating rhythm as I plan my escape tomorrow night. This is gonna be fun.

---