Page 72 of The Texas Sterling Collection
“We need your approval to disconnect the machines.”
“Oh, God.” Wyl crumbled. I scooted next to him. He wrapped his arms around me and sobbed into my neck. I let him cry. I cried, too, for Walt and for Wyl. The doctor waited, sadness in his expression.
After a few minutes, Wyl calmed. “Do I need to sign something, Doc?” His nasal-clogged voice shook with grief as I handed him a handkerchief. “Or give verbal permission?” He sniffed and wiped his eyes.
“Does he have other family?”
Wyl shook his head. “No, only me and Rod.”
Doctor Nelson nodded. “The hospital needs your signature on a few forms. The nurse will bring them to you.” He stood to leave and placed his hand on Wyl’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Sterling.”
“Thank you.”
Wyl buried his face in my neck and sobbed again. His only brother is dead. I held him and let him cry.
The nurse brought the forms and placed them on the table.
“We’ll bring these to you after he’s signed,” I said. She nodded and left.
“Let me read the forms and make sure nothing unexpected is included.” I pulled the forms to me with one hand, maintaining my hold on him with the other hand. “I’ll read the details, explain what each form says, and show you where to sign.”
We went through each form, and he signed where I pointed.
We took the forms to the nurse. “Do we need to be present when the doctors remove life support?” I said.
The nurse shook her head. “You may stay, but most prefer not to witness the cessation of respiration and heartbeat.”
I nodded and turned to Wyl. “Do you want to see Walt one last time?”
Wyl shook his head. I led him out of the hospital.
As we climbed into the truck, Wyl released a ragged sigh. “We need to stop by the funeral home and make arrangements.” Tears flooded, and he used my handkerchief to wipe his face.
We stopped by the funeral home that handled the funerals and burials of his parents. We spent time with the director. The Sterling great-grandparents and grandparents were buried in the family plot on the ranch. Wyl and Walt’s parents, too. Now Walt would join them.
Arrangements made, we drove to the ranch. Wyl sat silent and unresponsive. I took Wyl’s hand, and he wrapped my hand in both of his.
The next day, Wyl gradually emerged from the fog of grief consuming him since Walt’s accident. He called the attorney and the ranch foreman, Felipe, to let them know, and wrote an obituary for the newspaper. I stayed with him because I needed to.
On Wednesday afternoon, the funeral chapel filled to capacity. I scanned the crowd. “I didn’t realize Walt had this much influence,” I whispered.
“We’re Sterlings,” Wyl said. He squeezed my hand and repeated with an emotion-clogged raspy voice, “WEare Sterlings.”
I looked at Wyl’s teary face, and he nodded. Tears streamed down my cheeks at the loss of Walt and the reminder of our bond. Wyl and I were soulmates, and so much more. Walt’s death brought us closer together than ever.
We sat alone on the family row. As the service ended, many people stopped to offer their condolences. We kept an eye on the attendees filing past the casket. Wyl glanced around to see the line and tensed as his hand tightened around mine. He leaned toward my ear. “Mitzi.”
A woman with dark hair pulled into a tight bun approached us. She wore black patent stilettos, slender black leggings, a short black dress, and an inappropriate bright red jacket. “Oh, Wyl, what a terrible tragedy about Walt. This must be difficult for you.” Mitzi’s words sounded sincere with a smug and condescending undercurrent.
Wyl hesitated, avoiding Mitzi’s glare. “In my grief, I did not think to notify you. How did you find out about the funeral?”
“Oh…I maintain my contacts here in Blackfield.” Her attention turned to me. “Hi, I’m Mitzi Sterling, Walt’s ex-wife.”
“I’m Rod Bonner.” I offered no further explanation about my relationship with Wyl.
“Oh…soyou’reDr. Bonner.” Mitzi’s eyes wavered back and forth between the two of us. “Well, I’ll leave you to your grief. I’m sure we’ll be chatting in the future.” Mitzi turned and left. She passed Walt’s casket with a cursory glance and walked out the door.
I turned to Wyl. “What did she mean we’ll be chatting? Mitzi calls Stella almost daily. I can’t help but overhear Stella’s end of the conversations. I hoped neither of us would be involved with Mitzi.”
