WYATT CAME slowly awake in the recovery room, and the first thing he thought was that at least these curtains weren’t as hideous as the last.
After moments of hearing only muffled voices and being confused by the strange feeling all down his chest—everything was so numb—he called out for a nurse.
It was the cute redheaded girl, he was happy to see, but when he saw her nervous smile, he felt a jolt of worry.
And then he knew.
He knew before she said it.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Dolan—”
Owens-Dolan, he thought.
“—there was a complication.”
“Can I see Kevin?” he said, tears stinging his eyes, and then his throat closed for a moment, preventing him from saying more.
She sighed. “They did have to open you up after all.”
Gods! No! No, no, no, no….
And he began to cry.
“Oh, Mr. Dolan,” she said and took his hand. “It’ll be all right. I promise.”
“Owens-Dolan,” he managed through his tears.
And then he drifted off.
HE WOKE in his room, and Kevin was there, and his eyes were red, so Wyatt knew he’d cried too.
“I’m going to be ugly now,” he said, and the tears welled up again.
“You’ll never be ugly to me,” Kevin said and bent and carefully kissed his chest, but lower, down a bit and on the left. Such careful kisses. “And when these bandages are off, I promise to kiss your scar every single day.”
Wyatt tried hard to believe him.
It turned out that when they began the laparoscopic procedure, the surgical team pretty quickly saw why the nuclear procedure hadn’t worked.
Finally Dr. Lyons and his fourth-year medical student (resident? Intern? He wasn’t sure of the correct terminology) came to talk to him. They explained what had happened. The surgeon even brought photographs from the operation to illustrate, and Wyatt surprised himself by being able to get past his usual squeamishness to look at them.
Wyatt’s gallbladder was bright red (when it apparently should have been a robin’s-egg blue) and swollen and filled with gallstones. Lots and lots of gallstones. Dr. Lyons had to switch from the planned laparoscopy to full-out abdominal surgery, which meant a bigger incision—and gods!—a longer recovery time.
The thing that had interfered with the nuclear medicine test?
A gallstone “the size of a shooter marble” had blocked what was essentially the intake valve of his gallbladder—that’s how Kevin helped him understand it more fully later—and that had prevented the radioactive stuff from going into his gallbladder. The big problem, though, was that this gallstone had been blocking its intake for quite a while.
Long enough that it had atrophied and then died from disuse.
His gallbladder had been rotting inside of him. It had actually been gangrenous!
Wyatt shuddered at that.
When Dr. Lyons had lifted his gallbladder to remove it, it shredded. He and his team had to use a tremendous amount of sterile water to flush his abdominal cavity and make sure they’d gotten rid of all the necrotic tissue. Otherwise, it would be even more icky, although later Wyatt doubted that anyone had used the word “icky.” But by then he was getting so grossed out that he had actually grown faint. Something about how there could have been further infection and decay, a possibility of sepsis and more.
Not good stuff.
Dr. Lyons left after that, but to Wyatt’s surprise, the medical student lingered behind.
“I just wanted to tell you that I’ve worked with Dr. Lyons for a year now,” she said, “and he really is a brilliant surgeon even if he… well, even if his bedside manner is a bit lacking.”
She went on to say that it was the worst gallbladder she’d ever seen, that it had felt so large and hard and there were so many stones in it….
Wyatt paled at that and decided he’d really heard far more of this icky stuff than he wanted to hear.
Then she told Wyatt something else. “It’s just that…. What I wanted you to know is that I’ve never seen him take as much time and care during a closing.”
Wyatt could only blink.
“Mr. Owens-Dolan—”
And confused or not, that made him smile, even if it was only the smallest one.
“—he usually has me or someone else close for him. But he did it this time, and he put in so very many teeny, tiny stitches.”
Wyatt shook his head, and she explained that he usually put in bigger stitches and didn’t even worry if they were 100 percent even.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Wyatt confessed.
Then she gave him a truly lovely smile, leaned in, and said very clearly…
“In other words, ‘pretty scar’!”
Wyatt had to laugh at that. He couldn’t help it.
But he cried again after she left.
Only this time the tears weren’t so bad.
As Kevin held him as best as he could, Wyatt found he was feeling a little bit of hope.
KEVIN CALLED Wyatt’s mother after Wyatt slipped off to sleep once more. He was dreading it. Dreading telling her that he still hadn’t told Wyatt about his father, but what could he do?
He couldn’t tell Wyatt the night before his surgery.
And now? After the trauma of today?
What was he supposed to do?
And more, how did he drop all this in the woman’s lap? She had just lost her husband. Did she need to know how serious the surgery had been? How Wyatt might have quite easily died?
Thank God that lady in the ER—Doris, he remembered—had found a room for Wyatt and gotten him admitted. Wyatt’s gallbladder had been rotten! Kevin knew without a shadow of a doubt that Wyatt could have died.
So make the call he did.
He thought about calling on his own cell, but thought that in a time like this, it was pretty damned likely that she wouldn’t answer the phone if she didn’t recognize the number.
“Wyatt?” she cried into the phone on the second ring.
“No, Mrs. Dolan. It’s Kevin again.”
“Wyatt’s… friend.”
“Yes, Mrs. Dolan,” he said. “Wyatt does have friends. Lots of them.” He immediately regretted his tone—This is why I have Theresa do all my talking for me—but not what he’d said.
“So you’re not that kind of friend.” There was no question in her tone. She wasn’t asking. “Because I know that Howard is finally out of his life and—”
“And thank God for that,” he replied. “Howard is a—” He almost said “motherfucker” but changed his tack. “—a despicable person.”
“I… I…. How is my son? How did the operation turn out?”
So Kevin told her. His tone softened a bit, but not much. He didn’t tell her how Wyatt’s gallbladder shredded and dumped necrotic tissue into his abdominal cavity or the possibility of sepsis and more. Or stones the size of shooter marbles. But that was about all he left out. Her husband had just died, after all.
“But he’s okay?”
“He’ll be in here at least another three days or so. I don’t think he’s going to make the funeral.”
“Who gives a da—dang about that?” she said, surprising him. “I might have to miss it myself.”
Kevin’s eyes went wide in more than surprise. In shock, even.
“My son is alive. My husband is dead. Charles has had his entire funeral planned out for years. Everything is taken care of. He doesn’t need me. But Wyatt? Maybe he does.”
Kevin could have dropped the phone. Wyatt hadn’t talked much about his mother in their days trapped in the snow, but from what he had said, Kevin hadn’t been prepared to hear the woman talking that way.
“Hello? Are you still there, Mr.—”
“Kevin. Just call me Kevin.”
“Can I talk to my boy?”
Kevin opened his mouth, shut it, opened it, and shut it again. Geez. “He’s out again, ma’am. Like I said, this took a lot out of him. A whole lot.”
“Oh my.” Pause. “And you think he’ll be there for at least three days?”
“Yes.”
“All right, then. Please tell me which hospital.”
Kevin told her.
She took a long breath. “I’m coming, then, Mr.… Kevin. The funeral isn’t for five days. I’m coming.”
“But—”
“I’m coming. I’m his mother and I have the right…. Well….” Her voice hitched. “I guess I don’t know if I do have the right. But I’m coming.”
“Mrs. Dolan,” Kevin said then. “I haven’t told him about his father. I don’t even know how. With all he’s going through….”
“Then don’t. I will. Maybe that’s best.”
“I….” Kevin didn’t know what to say. “I don’t… I don’t know what to s-say.”
“I’ll figure that part out. Don’t tell him I’m coming either. It might upset him. No, it probably will. Especially given what happened the last time we saw each other. Better the upset of me showing up unannounced than him fretting while waiting for me to arrive.”
“You realize…,” Kevin said, then swallowed hard. He heard the click in his throat. “You realize you’re putting me in quite a predicament. He told me not to call you.”
“Well, the first time you didn’t. I called, now didn’t I? And now you’re in this either way. So let’s just see where the cards fall.”
Kevin didn’t like the idea.
But then, what else was there really to do?