Page 94 of First Love, Second Draft

Yeah, Noah didn’t figure he was. He tapped Buck’s leg again, then hopped from the bed. “So do I need a voucher or something to get you out? I’ve been here five minutes and I’m already depressed. How do we leave?”

“It’s not so bad.” Buck cocked his head to the curtain. “Shorty—he’s at dialysis and boy is he going to be sorry when he finds out he missed you—he and I can spend a day chewing the fat pretty well. But I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity for a change of scenery. Is it nice outside? Last couple of times Matt visited, it rained.”

“You sure do have a crummy view, don’t you? Yeah, it’s gorgeous outside. Let me scrounge up a wheelchair. It’ll give us a little practice for when we break you out of here for Matt’s wedding.”

Buck laughed and started coughing. “Have to give the boy props,” he said when he recovered enough to talk again. “After dragging his feet all these years, he’s sure not wasting any time getting that girl down the aisle now.”

“No, he’s certainly not.” Noah couldn’t help the punch of envythinking about how stupidly happy he and Rachel both were about this upcoming wedding—even if it wascompletelyinsane.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah had Buck situated in a wheelchair. He pushed him outdoors to a path that meandered to a small garden. The flowers had all withered and a cracked fountain in the center sat dry, but the view was still better than anything the inside of the hospital had to offer. Noah parked the wheelchair and sat down on a cement bench next to Buck.

“How often do you get a break from this place?”

Buck shrugged. “Used to get out every Sunday and join the girls for church and lunch. But it wears me out so much anymore. And I know it’s hard on the girls, too. They don’t complain, but I know it’s a burden. Shoot, Matt’s the only one strong enough to get me out of the wheelchair anymore. I’ve gotten so weak, it’s stupid. When you reach the point you can’t get on a toilet without your grandson’s help, you start making excuses to hang back, you know?”

Noah nodded. “Getting old is no fun, but it’s better than the alternative, right?”

Buck leaned forward, his nasal cannula hissing soft oxygen from the portable tank. “There reaches a point when the alternative doesn’t sound too bad. I’m about to that point.”

Noah hated to ask, but he had to know. “You’re not hanging on just to see Gracie remarry someone like Luke, are you?”

“I’m hanging on because it’s the top of the ninth and this game isn’t over yet.” Buck winked, then tugged out a tissue from his pocket to cover his mouth during another coughing spell.

Soon as he recovered, he said, “Am I hoping I’ll get to see Gracie happy again before I go? Sure. Nothing would make me happier.”

“What do you think will make her happy?” Noah kept his gaze focused on the weathered angel in the center of the fountain, not sure he wanted Buck to see the hope in his eyes. The hope that Buck would answer something to the tune of Gracie ending up back with Noah.

Buck took his time answering. “Did she ever tell you about Morris?”

Noah gave a slow nod, trying to figure out how a dead cat was going to factor into the key to Gracie’s happiness.

“Did she ever tell you I tried giving her another cat at least half a dozen times afterward?”

Noah held Buck’s pale-blue gaze. “She failed to mention that part.”

“Because she’s too much like her dad. Stubborn. The girls didn’t know it, but that Merkle lady never stood a chance. Their mother was the love of my life. I never learned how to let go of her. Took me a lot of years, though, to realize I could still hold on to her without holding on to my pain. Gracie’s cut from the same cloth, I’m afraid.”

“That’s why she never got another cat?”

“That’s why she’s never moved on from you. I think, whether Gracie realizes it or not, she’s never stopped clinging to you because deep down she knows you’re one of the best things that’s ever walked into her life. But she’s never figured out how to let go of the heartache either.”

“So what does that mean for me?”

Buck leaned forward in his wheelchair. “Don’t you get it, Noah? You’re Morris. But you want to know the difference between you and that cat?”

Noah could think of a few things.

“You’re not dead, son. Figure out a way to make this marriage work. And soon. I’d like to see my little girl happy before the bottom of the ninth rolls around.”

56

Mona:Please tell me we’re not really going to let them go through with this wedding.

Grace:The wedding we worked our tails off to put together? That wedding?

Mona:I was only trying to be supportive. I didn’t think they’d actually go through with it! How do we stop them?

Grace:Have you seen the way they look at each other? There is no stopping them.

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