Page 32 of The Cowboy's Home
“I talked to the doctor today,” Craig admitted, glancing around and meeting everyone’s eyes easily enough. Well, everyone except for Skyler and Wyatt. He didn’t dare to look at them when he was in the emotional state that he was in.
“That’s it then, isn’t it?” Derrick asked, and his tone was calm, but he was holding on to Logan’s hand so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. And Logan himself had gone very pale. “I can tell by the look on your face. He’s not getting better.”
Craig was glad for Derrick’s comment. It made it a bit easier, somehow, because all he had to do at first was shake his head. It gave him some time to get his voice under control so that he could speak without it trembling too much.
“No. The tumor is spreading, and there’s more of them,” Craig said, looking around from one stricken face to another. The room was utterly silent, all eyes on Craig, which made him shift uncomfortably. “The doctor says …”
“What does the doctor say, son?”
The voice was familiar, so much so that it alone might be what made Craig burst into tears. He had been, to his own shame, fighting it off since he’d been at the doctor, or maybe even longer, but he had managed. Hearing the voice that had soothed him as a child, that had pointed him the right direction so many times, that might push him over the edge, though.
John Hart came into the room, standing on his own feet, but even so, they could all see how he struggled. His whole body shook, and his face was very pale. He had lost so much weight. Craig hadn’t noticed since he’d been trying very hard not to, but he was seeing it now, and it hit him hard.
“She says …” Craig started, and then he heard the tremor in his voice that meant he was going to give in to tears. So he slammed his jaw shut and set it firmly, shaking his head. He couldn’t do it. Someone else was going to have to, but this time, no one stepped forward, not even Malcolm, which was saying something.
“She says that I’m just about done, doesn’t she?”
Once more, Craig had the luxury of just nodding. He felt ridiculous, in a way, because he wasn’t the one who had just been told he was likely going to die in the next few months, but it was hitting him hard.
“Yeah. I pretty much figured. Probably about, what, a month or two left?”
Craig took a deep breath, then let it out slowly and nodded again.
“Yeah. That’s what she said. But …” Craig was filled with the overwhelming urge to say something encouraging, to offer false hope. He probably shouldn’t go into medical school, because he would be a terrible doctor. Unlike the oncologist, he felt like he would do anything, say anything, to give someone hope even when that wasn’t the best call to make.
“Stop, Craig. I’ve known for a while. Come here.”
Craig rose to his feet, and his eyes weren’t entirely dry as he made his way to his father. But that was okay because neither was his dad’s and as they embraced, the rest of the people in the room gathered around and joined in the hug, and if there were a dry eye in the room, Craig would have been very surprised.
Two people weren’t there. Two people slipped out while everyone else was busy. One was Wyatt, which was no surprise at all. And the other was Skyler, a fact that Craig couldn’t even start to be able to process.
Twenty One
Skyler
He thought about going to the spot by the river. He thought about how the water would be cold this time of year, but he could probably go swimming without too much risk. It would be good to have the water rushing around him.
But he didn’t go.
Instead, he retreated to the office, and he pulled himself into work. A man that he admired more than most, a man who had given him a home and a job, had just said that he was going to die. And the only thing he could think of to do was to work.
There was always work that needed to be done, and it soothed Skyler to go through the familiar motions. Later, he would go see John, but he would go see him alone. Going to join in that big hug in the middle of the room wasn’t his style, or, he thought, his place. That place was for John’s sons.
But his eyes burned so that he could barely see the screen of his ancient laptop. The light from it shimmered in and out, and while he had always known that John did have cancer, while John had had it the entire time that Skyler had known him, there had always been a chance that he would recover, that the chemo would work.
His phone chimed at him, and he wiped at his eyes with the heels of his hands and picked it up. It took a few blinks, but he was able to clear his eyes enough to see what it said.
Come to the door.
Skyler glanced at the office door, which he had firmly shut to keep anyone away. Mary Anne had been spending a fair bit of time learning the books from him, something that both John and Malcolm had been in full favor of. But sometimes, Skyler had learned, he just needed to work alone, and Mary Anne was good about respecting the shut door.
Who is this?
The text was from a number that he didn’t recognize, and he was baffled. A wrong number seemed the most likely when he thought about it.
Just come to the front door.
Skyler frowned and rose to his feet. If it was a wrong number, there was no harm in it. And it wasn’t like he was working, anyway. He could use the distraction. Maybe it was a sign that he should go outside, get some exercise. Maybe even saddle up a horse and go for a ride. Then he could tell the mystery texter for sure that it was a wrong number.
