FIFTEEN MINUTES after we walked through the front door, Dad had breakfast ready. French toast, one of my favorites, and a huge glass of orange juice. I hadn’t eaten since the night before, what felt like a lifetime away from where I was now.
I moved slowly, creaked really, like I’d aged eighty years in the last twenty-four hours. What didn’t ache, hurt, what didn’t hurt, I couldn’t actually move. I tried to comb out the mess of my hair, but even that was too much. Every time I turned my head, I discovered a new and interesting twist on pain.
“You know, princess,” Dad said. “We spent all that time at the hospital, but never had you checked out.”
Yeah. I wasn’t fooling Dad.
“I hate to say it,” he added, “but I think we should make a trip to urgent care.”
I fell asleep in the Blazer on the five minute drive to the medical building. In the urgent care section, he morphed into Avenging Dad and made a big enough fuss that I think the receptionist bumped us up on the priority list. And I think Dad was kind of enjoying himself, being large and in charge, telling anyone who’d listen how I saved a life.
In the waiting room, I fell asleep against his shoulder, and again, waiting for the x-ray results, curled up on the examination table. Back at home, Dad somehow got me from the car and onto the couch. The last thing I remembered was the rainbow afghan being tucked around my shoulders. I slept my Sunday away, while Landon spent his in post-op, a new pacemaker guarding his heart.
On Monday, Grandma Adele brought food, a ton of it, chocolate cake—three layers—and, of course, macaroni and cheese. She hugged me a dozen times, maybe more. But I also saw her speak quietly with Dad. When they embraced, something inside me loosened.
Between pain pills and muscle relaxants, I wasn’t quite myself, certainly not up for school. But I was enough of myself to want to see Landon.
“Let me call,” Dad said. “No sense going if they won’t let you see him.”
His grin moments later told me everything I needed to know. “He’s in the cardiology wing and can have visitors, but I’m driving.”
And I was in no condition to argue.
I left Dad in the same waiting area where we’d spent early Sunday morning. He had Wi-Fi, his laptop, and plenty of chemical coffee. I paused at the threshold and glanced back at him. I wanted to say he looked happy, but maybe it was simply that he didn’t look unhappy.
Somehow, that was enough.
At the entrance to the cardiology wing, an unpretentious brass plaque declared that this was the Scott Cardiology Wing.
Oh. Interesting.
The nurse led me to a private room. Outside the door, she gave me a sharp once over, clearly not impressed. “Try not to overexcite him,” she said. “He needs to rest.”
“Is he awake?”
“He’s been in and out. He wants to see you,” the nurse conceded as if revealing this particular fact pained her.
She opened the door and bustled over to Landon. She checked monitors and readouts, then touched his shoulder.
“You have a visitor,” she said. “A very pretty one.”
Landon turned his head, just slightly. Circles beneath his eyes were so dark, they looked like bruises. He was pale, his hair mussed, but he smiled at me, and those hazel eyes had never held so much light.
“Come here?” he said.
I nodded, but my feet wouldn’t move.
The nurse brought a chair to Landon’s bedside, one identical to those in the waiting area. I inched forward, finally, and sat.
“You need to rest,” the nurse said to Landon, her voice stern.
“Because you know,” he said in a stage whisper, “it’s real restful getting poked and prodded every half hour.”
“I heard that, young man.”
“I’m a lousy patient,” he added.
The nurse laughed and, on the way out, closed the door behind her.
A weird silence settled around us, not awkward, but unsettling, like we’d done this before only this time we both chose a different path.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Fine, fine,” he said as if the question bored him.
“Fine being one of those relative terms?”
“Look, you gotta tell me, because I know no one else will. Okay?”
My stomach clenched, but I nodded.
“Give it to me straight,” he said. “How’s the Corvette?”
I let out the world’s most exasperated sigh. “In better shape than you.”
“I’m fine, but seriously—”
“My dad’s taking care of the car,” I said. “What about you?”
“I just needed a replacement part.”
He was so cavalier, that, for an instant, I thought I might scream in frustration. Around us, monitors clicked. I caught the scent of hospital, of antiseptic, but underneath that, something warm, something spicy, something definitely Landon.
“Look,” he said, in response to my silence, “I’m hooked up to so much equipment, they know when I blink. My ribs hurt a little, but—”
“Ribs?”
“Your dad.” His fingers traced a line over his rib cage. “At least, I figure it was your dad. He did the chest compressions, right?”
In a flash, I saw Dad, hands on Landon’s chest, heard the echo of crushed egg shells. “Did he actually break something?”
“No, well, maybe a crack or two, but mostly just bruised.”
“We took first aid classes together,” I said.
“Can I just say I’m glad you did? What’s a few bruised ribs? I mean, it beats the alternative.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. How could Landon be so … so … non-serious about the whole thing?
“Did you breathe for me?” he asked, the question soft, almost like a caress.
I opened my eyes and stared into those amazing hazel ones. “I did.”
“I thought so.”
“Then, can you?” I groped for words. “Do you remember any of it?”
“It’s … hard to explain, it’s all kind of fuzzy.” He closed his eyes, those incredible calf eyelashes brushing his cheekbones. “But I’m glad I don’t have to remember a lip lock with your dad.”
I clamped my hand over my mouth, but what started as a laugh welled into a sob. I sank into my Dolphins hoodie and hid my face.
“MacKenna, don’t. I said it to make you laugh.”
“It’s not funny.”
“Maybe not, but I can’t look at it any other way,” he said. “For the longest time, I remember nothing but being scared.”
I peered through my fingers at him.
“When I was first diagnosed,” he added. “Then, later on, I went around acting like the world owed me, because of this.” He touched his chest above his heart. “I’m glad you never saw that. I was a total asshole.”
Landon grimaced, but after a moment, his expression brightened. “Then, the FDA recalled my pacemaker, and my mom recalled me to Black Earth. And instead of getting angrier, it made me think. Here I was, alive, because of luck, a lot of money, and medical technology. The world didn’t owe me shit.” He paused, looked up at the ceiling, then back at me. “So, here I am,” he said. “With you. And that really beats the hell out of the alternative. Besides,” he continued, the words slower now. “This time, I wasn’t scared at all.”
“Landon—” I began, not sure what to say to all that.
He hushed me, then urged me closer with the barest twitch of his fingers. He touched my cheek, loose strands of my hair, my lips.
“That’s better,” he said.
Nothing in his face told me how he lived like this. Not knowing whether his pacemaker would work—or not. Not knowing whether his heart would beat—or not. I thought of my question to him at prom: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Alive.
“How do you do it?” I asked, so quietly, that part of me hoped he wouldn’t hear.
“How do you?” he countered.
“What?”
“Live with a ghost.”
“A … ghost. Do you mean my mom?”
“Yeah, that.” Landon blew out a soft breath. “You guys make my family look normal.”
I thought of Mr. Scott, of Mrs. Scott’s sudden and icy control, of the Scott name plate attached to this hospital wing. “What about all this?” I waved my hand, indicating not just Landon’s room, but the entire cardiology wing.
“Ah, you noticed the guilt money. We don’t talk about it, because that would be unseemly. Doesn’t change anything, though.”
“Doesn’t change what?” I asked.
“I’m still a disappointment,” he said. “Never got the chance not to be.”
“But your mom—”
“I’m not talking about her.”
“But it isn’t even your fault.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he said. “I told you once that it was possible to break someone’s heart with your own.”
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t shake my head, couldn’t even think, except for a quick burst of gratitude. Maybe life with Dad wasn’t ideal, but to put it in Landon terms: it beat the alternative.
“I didn’t tell you why I wasn’t scared this time,” he said.
“I was,” I confessed.
“It was you.” He looked at me now. “I knew no matter what, you’d keep me safe.”
“How?” My cheeks grew warm under his unrelenting gaze. “I didn’t know anything.”
“What? Soldier girl not have my back? Impossible.”
“Landon, I—” I tried to force the words out, but they lodged in my throat. That thick panic returned, even though he was right here. I could see him, touch him, his skin so warm. “I thought I lost you,” I managed at last.
“But you didn’t.”
“But—”
“You didn’t. Still, it’s nice to know you want me around.” He grinned at me, those bruised, hazel eyes that saw through everything never leaving my face.
“I love you,” I blurted.
“Oh. So when are you going to tell me something I don’t know?”
Another laughed rolled into a sob, this one quieter, more contained. Landon had me scoot closer. I sat on his right, clear of the IV, the electrodes, and their wires. This near to him, the weight of his exhaustion pressed against me.
“I should probably …” I began. I didn’t want to leave.
“No. Don’t go. Please?” Landon patted the spot next to his hip. “Put your head down. We’ll both rest.”
I found an extra pillow in the closet and set it with care at the edge of Landon’s bed. I pressed a hand against his thigh, my head by his hip. His fingers slowly undid my braids and tangled in the strands of hair. I wondered if the nurses would let us stay like this. Then I remembered the name of the cardiology wing.
Yeah, I thought and closed my eyes. They probably would.
From the second I pulled into my usual spot in the overflow lot on Tuesday morning and didn’t see a yellow Corvette parked across two spaces, everything felt wrong. I’d wanted to go to school, to swim practice, pretend everything was normal, or at least as normal as it could be. Sure, I ached all over, but without the fringe benefit of shooting pain. I wanted to swim, almost as much as I wanted to see Landon again.
“You sure?” Dad asked when I walked into the kitchen, all my hair tucked under one of his old BDU caps.
“I want to go to school,” I said, “and see Landon after practice.”
Dad didn’t say a word, but on my way out, I grabbed my backpack and found the keys to my Jeep sitting on top.
Now? I couldn’t think of what had brought me to school. I stumbled through the halls, and groups of kids actually parted to let me through. Girls huddled by lockers, whispering when I passed.
Did you hear? Don’t you know? Oh, my God, he almost died. I heard some kind of heart thing … my dad saw the report when he went on shift … did you know that she …
My phone buzzed as I walked into English. Josh was at his desk, Patti at the front of the room. I could only think of one person who might send me a text in the middle of the day. I sidestepped the entrance and checked my phone.
Sorry.
That was all the first message said. Before I could decipher it, a second one appeared.
Mom panicking.
I blinked at the words a few times. If Landon’s mom was panicking, I should too. I felt a dull ache, somewhere deep inside me and my fingers fumbled on the phone’s keyboard.
Me: Everything OK?
Landon: Precaution. Going to Mayo. Poss. Infection. But OK.
None of that sounded okay to me.
Me: Can I call you?
Landon: Mom here. Gotta go. <3
That was it. For several seconds, I held the phone in my hand, willing one last message from it. Only the strange quiet in the room made me glance up. Everyone stared, from Patti to Josh to Landon’s little circle of cheerleader fan-girls. The hall behind me was empty. The bell must have rung, but I never heard it.
No one spoke. In their eyes, all I could see reflected back at me was worry and pity. I clutched the phone harder.
“MacKenna,” Patti began, her voice soft.
I did the only thing that made sense.
I ran.
I burst through the lobby doors, but when I reached the flight of steps that led down to the main parking lot, I froze. The wind—or my blood—roared in my ears. I couldn’t get my legs to move, couldn’t reach for the keys to my Jeep. But at the same time, turning around and going back inside?
I couldn’t do that either.
I jumped when my phone buzzed in my hand. I stared at it, only now realizing I still held it. My heart thudded and my vision blurred. Landon, I thought. But no, the number on the display was Dad’s.
Dad?
“I got a call,” Dad said when I answered. “What’s happening?”
“It’s Landon. They’re taking him to the Mayo Clinic. Something about an infection. Dad, I don’t know. It was just a couple of stupid text messages.”
“Where are you?”
“Standing outside of school.”
“I don’t want you driving.”
How did he know my first thought was to jump into the Jeep and zoom down the highway? Unless he had done the same thing once, had zoomed down some other road, a world and time away from here, a road packed with sand and diesel.
“But—” I began.
“I don’t want you driving. Not now. Not like this. It’s … dangerous.”
“Then what do I do?” I remained rooted on the front steps, my hand sore from clutching the phone.
“Charlie Mike,” he said.
Charlie Mike. Military talk. Continue the Mission. Class. Swim practice. It seemed so unimportant, so worthless.
“It’s what your mother would do,” Dad said, his words so quiet, I barely heard him.
I nodded, although Dad couldn't see me. Mom had run, just like I had, and I could see her on the edge of the battalion, the wind beating the black plastic above the slit-trench latrine. Then she turned back around and went to work again, where Master Sergeant Collier handed her a cup of coffee. Charlie Mike. It’s what you did, I thought. You did the stupid, hard thing.
“Okay, I’ll go back in.”
“And I’ll talk to Mr. Scott. By the time you get home, I should know more about Landon, and by the time you reach the office, there will be a pass waiting for you.”
He was right. There was. Like a zombie, I took the pass, walked it down the hall, into Patti's room, and placed it into her outstretched hand. Her cell phone was in the middle of her desk and right then, I knew. Of course. Nothing got by Patti. She didn't have a cup of coffee for me. But when I glanced up into her face, I saw she had something just as good.
Understanding.