His Ordinary Life (10 page)

The surface of Lake Blackshear lay still and smooth under the afternoon sun. Light sparkled and danced on the water’s surface. Del stopped at the circular drive to the lake’s boat ramp and looked across the water. An egret lifted off from the stand of cypress trees on the other bank, where several loggerhead turtles sunned themselves on a fallen tree.

“You ready?” He glanced at Blake in the passenger seat. The boy had been quiet during the drive, his head resting against the window, eyes closed. Del reached for his shoulder. “Blake?”

His son stirred, blinking. “Huh?”

Del laughed and gestured at the lake. “We’re here. Come on.”

He pushed the door open and stepped out. Water lapped at the bank in soft waves and he dragged in deep breaths of the fresh, moist air. Lord, he missed that smell, living in the ocean of concrete and asphalt that was Atlanta.

Blake appeared on the other side of the boat, his movements slow. “So you’re going to Uncle Tick’s tonight?”

Here was another of those minefields. “I am, but I’ll still be here the next few days.”

With a sharp nod, Blake stared across the water. His jaw tightened. A muscle flicked in his cheek.

Dear God, the older he got, the more he looked like Daddy. Del shook off the realization and the eerie shiver it sent over his spine. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d seen that same expression on his father’s face, when Lamar Sr. had been struggling with an unpleasant situation.

“Blake?”

The boy wrapped his hands around the boat’s railing, knuckles glowing white. “I screwed everything up, didn’t I?”

Relief shimmered through Del’s mind. Thank You, Lord, maybe Blake was finally going to open up.

Del draped both wrists over the rail. “No, not everything. You made a couple of errors in judgment but that’s nothing that can’t be—”

“That’s not what I meant.” Blake scowled, an unhappy, heavy expression, but Del didn’t miss the suspicious glitter his son quickly blinked away. “I’m not stupid, Daddy. I know I was a mistake. Having me messed up everything for you and Mama—”

“Stop.” His own voice shook. Sweet holy Jesus, he would not have his boy live with that thought. Del reached over and wrapped a hand around Blake’s nape, forcing Blake to meet his gaze. “You listen to me. Don’t ever say that again. Don’t even think it, you hear me? It’s not true.”

Definite tears glimmered along Blake’s lashes and his mouth trembled before he tightened his jaw. “But—”

“No buts. You are the greatest blessing in my life, you and your sisters. I will not have you thinking—”

“You had to marry Mama because of me.”

Del sent up a swift prayer for patience. “I did not
have
to marry your mother. Yes, she was pregnant with you when we married, you’ve known that, Blake. But I married your mother because I loved her.”

Blake dropped his gaze, picking at the edge of the fiberglass hull. “I really messed up her life, though, didn’t I? She was going off to college and—”

“Blake. Stop. She still finished college. It took a little longer, but she finished. And she loves you. Son, where is all this coming from?”

“I heard Great Aunt Maureen talking to Grandma about you being gone a couple of weekends ago.” Blake shrugged and lifted fierce, glittering eyes to Del’s. “She said she was surprised you and Mama had lasted this long, seeing as how Mama had had such big plans and all and she never got to live those out. Didn’t take much to figure out why.”

“Aunt Maureen talks too much and doesn’t think enough.” So was this the reason behind Blake’s recent behavior?

“That’s what Grandma told her.”

Del chuckled. He could almost hear his mother telling her sister that. “See there? I’m telling you, sure, your mama had plans at seventeen. Everyone does. But it doesn’t mean that she’s not happy with her life now.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Blake leaned on the boat’s edge, his face pale. A sudden grimace contorted his face.

A different unease stirring to life, Del studied him. “Son, are you all right?”

“I’m thirsty.” Blake rested his forehead against the fiberglass hull.

Grabbing a bottled water from the onboard cooler, Del walked around to him. “Here.”

He examined his son more closely as Blake unscrewed the cap and took a long pull. Beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead and neck, and Del laid a hand against his cheek, finding his skin cool and a little clammy. Oh, hell. He knew that look. He should, since he’d seen it often enough, including one memorable trip to the fair when Blake had eaten three hot dogs too many then gone on the Tilt-A-Whirl.

“Blake, don’t drink so much so fast. You’ll make yourself sick.”

With a soft moan, Blake lowered the bottle and clutched his side. “Daddy, I don’t feel so good.”

The words ended on a retch and he bent over, vomiting. Del brushed the long bangs away from Blake’s damp forehead and waited for the spasms to end. When it was over, Blake clutched at him, still bent at the waist. “It hurts.”

“Where?”

“My chest and stomach.”

Fear tingling along his nerves, Del supported his son. Blake’s body trembled, his breathing shallow and rapid. Del hugged him close, wringing another groan from the boy. With his free arm, he reached for the bottle of water and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. Letting go, he dampened the cloth and handed Blake the bottle.

“Wash your mouth out.” He started to wipe Blake’s face and froze. Blood flecked the pale, bluish skin around his mouth.
Oh, God.
He glanced down. Sweet Jesus, Blake was vomiting up
blood
. The fear sharpened, joined by a rush of adrenaline. “Get in the truck.”

Blake nodded, still leaning against the boat. He moved, clutching his side, his shirt hitching up. Deep purple marred the smooth tan of his skin.

Del’s stomach dropped, a slow, sick roll. Brushing off Blake’s weak attempt to stop him, he lifted the edge of his son’s shirt. The huge reddish-purple bruise extended from his waist to his ribcage. Two smaller, older contusions, the edges already yellowing, marked his chest. A firestorm of pure primal rage flashed over Del. Someone had dared to lay a hand on
his
son. When Del found him, that someone was going to be one dead son of a bitch.

He slid an arm under Blake’s, half-supporting, half-carrying him to the cab of the SUV. With as much care as possible, he settled Blake in the passenger seat. He grabbed the empty bait bucket from the boat and set it in the floorboard at Blake’s feet, just in case. Jogging around the truck, he jerked his cell phone from his belt and hit the second speed dial number.

“Calvert.” Tick’s deep drawl rumbled over him and did nothing to soothe the mingled fear and fury.

“I need you to find Barbara and meet me at the emergency room.” The phone clutched between his chin and shoulder, he fired the engine and slammed the SUV into gear.

“What’s wrong?”

“Blake’s sick. He’s throwing up blood.” He cast a glance at his son, head resting against the window again, eyes closed. His chest labored with rapid breaths.

“What?” Concern pitched Tick’s voice higher. “Del, you don’t think he’s OD’ed on something, do you?”

“No.” The image of those mottled bruises floated in front of his eyes. He blinked them away, trying to concentrate on the road and the miles flashing by. “Tick, somebody’s hurt him. And you’d better pray to God you find them before I do.”

“You okay?”

She looked at Tick to find him darting concerned glances at her. “I will be.”

“We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.” He returned his gaze to the road. “And you know Del’s got everything under control.”

She didn’t know anything anymore, except the inescapable fact her son needed her and she wasn’t there. In the hospital parking lot, she barely let Tick stop the truck before she jumped out, hurrying across the crowded lot. The automatic doors swished open and ushered her into the controlled chaos of the emergency room.

A man with a large wound on his bare arm sat with a woman who uttered soothing words. Two chairs down, a young mother cradled a fussy baby on her lap. Other patients filled the room, but her son wasn’t one of them. She moved to the desk.

“Excuse me,” she said, out of breath, the thud of her heart painful in her tight chest. “I’m looking for my son, Blake Calvert.”

The young woman smiled, fingers hovering over the computer keyboard. “Date of birth?”

“April—”

“Barb?”

She spun to find Del striding toward her, his face set and tense. “Del!” She ran to him and he opened his arms. She went into them, her face against his chest. His unique scent, a blend of soap and the sandalwood aftershave he’d worn for years, enveloped her, wrapping her in a familiar security. “Is he all right?”

He cupped the back of her head. “Jay’s in with him.” His lips moved against her temple. “They’re doing a CAT scan.”

“A CAT scan?” She pulled back. “Why?”

“He’s…they think he’s bleeding internally.”

The words landed like a heart punch. “Wh-what?”

He gestured at his side, indicating his waist to his ribcage. “He has these bruises…”

She couldn’t get her mind around what he was saying. “Bruises? Del, where did he—”

“Someone hit him.” His voice was raw, as if the words were torn from his throat.

“Del, what’s going on?” Tick joined them.

Del ran a hand through already disheveled hair. “I wish I knew. He…it looks like someone’s punched him.”

A look passed between the brothers. Barbara shook her head in instinctive denial.

Tick voiced the thought pounding in her brain. “One punch doesn’t put a kid in the emergency room.”

“It wasn’t one punch.”

“Oh, God.” Nausea roiled in Barbara’s throat and she covered her mouth. Unwanted images flickered in her mind.
Her baby.
“Why didn’t he say anything?”

Tick rubbed her shoulder, a brief, comforting caress, and turned his gaze on Del. “Did he say who?”

Del shook his head, his mouth a grim line. “No.”

A frown pinched Tick’s face. “If he’s sick now, this had to happen today.”

“He was in ISS today,” Barbara whispered, the simple act of speaking an incredible effort. “It’s on a completely different campus in a wing at the alternative school. They’re isolated. He wouldn’t have been with anyone else.”

“Until he got off the bus at the high school this afternoon.” Tick rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Did you meet him at the bus?”

She shook her head. “No, he came to my room.”

“If this happened at school, we can pull the tapes from the surveillance cameras.” A reassuring smile curved Tick’s mouth. “We’ll get whoever did it, Barb. I promise.”

Nodding, Barbara reached for Del’s hand. He curved his fingers around hers, warm and strong. “I want to see him.”

“They said it wouldn’t be long, ten, maybe fifteen minutes.” With his other hand, he brushed her hair from her face. He smiled at her, although the expression was fleeting and forced. “Where are the girls?”

“With your mother.” She forced herself to pull her hand from his and felt the instant loss. “I wasn’t sure if…she’s taking them for pizza then home to do their homework.”

“I’m going to need a list of his friends,” Tick said, his voice quiet.

Barbara nodded, trying to pull her incoherent thoughts together. She looked between Del and his brother, reality sinking in. “Why? Why would someone want to hurt him?”

Her voice broke and she blinked against a sudden rush of tears. Del reached for her again, pulling her against him, massaging the back of her neck. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I just don’t know.”

The next few minutes passed with interminable slowness. Finally, the double doors marked “No Admittance—Staff Only” swung open, and Jay Mackey strode into the room. The young doctor paused to shake Tick’s hand and slap him on the back before greeting Barbara and Del with the professional smile Barbara knew was an integral part of his bedside manner. She’d seen that smile before—before the surgery to place tubes in Lyssa’s ears, when Anna had tumbled from the monkey bars at school and broken her wrist.

“The CAT scan is finished,” Jay said. As he talked, faint lines crinkled at the corners of his bright blue eyes. “We’re about to take him up to the surgical unit.”

“What?” Panic fluttered in Barbara’s throat. Del gripped her shoulders with gentle hands.

“We have to go in and repair the damage to stop the bleeding.” Terse sympathy colored the words.

“How much damage, Jay?” Del asked, and Barbara sagged against him for a moment, glad he was there to ask the hard question, glad he was there and she didn’t have to face this horror alone.

“I’ll know more once we open…once we’ve started the surgery, but it looks like a liver laceration, possibly some damage to his kidney. I’ve started him on an antibiotics drip to ward off infection, but the first order of business is getting that bleeding stopped.”

Barbara nodded, still surrounded by a haze of unreality. “I want to see him, please.”

Jay nodded. “Sure. He’s in cubicle three, but you’ll have to make it quick.”

She smiled, her chin trembling. “Thank you.”

Clinging to Del’s hand, she let him lead her down the corridor. It opened into a nurses’ hub with several patient cubicles branching off. Del walked to the third room and let Barbara precede him. She stopped in the doorway and Del’s settled his hands on her shoulders once more, fingers moving in comforting circles.

Eyes closed, Blake rested on the gurney. He was shirtless and the first sight of the massive purplish red bruises stole her breath. Above the fresh contusion were other bruises, the edges yellowing. Confused, she looked up at Del.

“Those are older.”

“I know.”

Barbara went to the bed and lifted Blake’s limp hand, her gaze following the IV line to the two bags, one filled with a clear liquid, the other with blood, hanging from a metal rack. She leaned over their son, Del’s warmth a comforting blanket of security at her back.

“Blake?” With a gentle finger, she eased his bangs off his forehead. Under his tan, his face seemed unnaturally pale.

His eyes flickered open, the coffee brown depths foggy and unfocused. “Mama.”

She tightened her hold on him. “I’m here.”

His eyes drifted closed again, his hand unresponsive in hers.

Time blurred over the next few minutes. Barbara clung to Blake and let Del sign the permission forms. An orderly appeared, lifted the gurney’s side rails, and prepared to wheel Blake from the room.

Del reached out to stop him. “Wait, please.”

When the orderly complied, Del leaned over, his mouth close to Blake’s ear. “You can do this, Blake. You’ll be fine. Know how I know that? You’re a Calvert and we never give up.” His low voice choked and he stroked Blake’s hair. “And I’ll be right here when you wake up. You hear me, son? I’ll be here.”