His back rigid, Vick sat beside Frank’s hospital bed, questioning his decision to come. He wasn’t the hospital-visit type. He didn’t invest in people. He didn’t get attached.
He’d kept to himself most of his adult life and old habits die hard.
Death…
That’s exactly what this place brought to mind.
The chemical smells, beeping of heart monitors, the general aura of sickness and suffering, every detail served as a reminder of the fragility of life.
And when someone died, they left their loved ones behind to pick up the pieces, to pretend to move on, all while knowing it’s an impossible task.
“I’m going to the cafeteria for a cup of tea.” Beverly bent down and kissed Frank’s cheek, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes. “Can I get anyone anything?”
Both men declined, and Vick noticed Frank’s gaze remained on his wife until she left the room.
“She’s something else, isn’t she?” Frank’s typical gruff tone thawed, revealing his affection. “Tonight is her big night, you know. The library shindig at the inn. I told her she could go without me, but she wouldn’t hear it.”
She was brave and selfless, Vick noted. All things he wasn’t.
Frank shifted his gaze from the doorway, resting it on Vick. “I’m not one for flowery thank yous,” he grunted.
“And I’m not one for accepting them.”
“Then you’ll settle for a handshake?”
“Yes, sir.”
As they shook hands, Frank stared at the eagle tattoo on Vick’s forearm. “From the Marines?”
Vick retracted his hand and yanked down his sleeve. “I got it before I enlisted.”
“Sentimental reasons?”
“Something like that.”
Frank tugged on the collar of his hospital gown, revealing a tattoo of a bird on his shoulder. “It’s a nightingale. Any guesses why I got it?”
“A woman?”
“You’re pretty sharp.” Frank smiled to offset his sarcastic quip. “It’s always a woman. Either your girl or your mother. Which is yours?”
Vick shifted on the uncomfortable plastic chair, not meeting Frank’s gaze. “My mom. It’s her favorite Bible verse. Was her favorite,” he corrected.
“Let me guess. It goes a little something like, ‘Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.’”
“That’s the one,” Vick said bitterly. “Lot of good it did her.”
“What do you mean?”
“She had cancer, which means the last leg of her life she wasn’t anything but weary and faint. And then she died. So much for soaring on wings like an eagle.” He flexed his forearm, not for the first time regretting his choice in ink.
“Who says she isn’t?”
Vick balked. Sure, Frank was older, but had he completely lost his hearing?
“She died,” he repeated for emphasis, even though the word still tasted acrid on his tongue.
“I’m familiar with the term. And I’m sorry for your loss, son. But just because a person leaves this earth, doesn’t mean their hope was in vain. Trust me. I’ve been giving death a lot of thought these days.” He lifted his wrist, showing off his IV. “I bet your mom’s in Heaven right now, giving her wings a good spin around the Pearly Gates.”
To his surprise, the corner of Vick’s mouth crept upward in an involuntary smile. He welcomed the image.
“When I go,” Frank continued, “I like to think I’ll still roast coffee in Heaven. No decaf, purely the good stuff. And if I get distracted, I won’t burn the place down.” He chuckled, then softened. “The lie isn’t in hoping, son. It’s in thinking we can live this life on our own. Take it from someone who’s tried.”
Vick leaned forward, scooting to the edge of the seat. “Do you ever miss your old life? When you were on your own?”
Frank’s eyebrows knit together as he pondered the question. “It was difficult at first, learning to share my space, realizing my actions impacted the people around me. But even when it’s hard, it’s worth it for all that I’ve gained. Especially Bevy. I’d give up coffee for that woman.”
Vick expected Frank to chuckle again, but he didn’t. Instead, he peered at him with a penetrating stare.
“Did you ever figure out if you’re running toward or away from something?”
“Neither,” Vick said quickly and with conviction, as if his heart responded before his mind had time to think.
At some point during their conversation, he’d come to a decision without even realizing it—one his soul had known all along.
He met Frank’s gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The older man smiled, satisfied with Vick’s response. “Then I have a proposition for you.”
Fingers shaking with nervous energy, Lucy swept her blond curls into a low ponytail and handed Sadie the blue satin ribbon. “Can you tie this for me?”
“Of course.” Sadie fussed with the bow until she achieved the perfect shape, then whispered, “How are you feeling?”
“Same as five minutes ago,” Lucy teased. She’d told Sadie about her migraines earlier that afternoon, and her friend’s concern was sweet, if not a little too persistent. To her credit, she’d reacted better than Lucy’s parents when she’d called them shortly afterward. Her mother had fussed relentlessly, armed with even more incentive to pressure Lucy’s return home, while her father vowed to hire the best doctors money could buy. It had taken her almost an hour to convince them she had things under control.
Although she hadn’t had a migraine in several days, Lucy had called the clinic and made an appointment. Since she’d put it off for so long, they’d squeezed her in the next day, late in the afternoon. Finally having a date and time set in stone filled her with a strange mix of relief and apprehension.
“What do you think? Is it too much?” Jayla emerged from the bathroom of the Zephyr Suite in a silvery ball gown that contrasted beautifully with her skin tone.
“Not at all!” Lucy assured her, beaming with delight. “You look gorgeous.”
“Are you sure? I’m starting to think I should have chosen something more subtle than Cinderella. Maybe from a contemporary novel so I could wear my own clothes.”
“You were made for this dress. Come sit. I have the finishing touch.” Lucy rose from the small vanity table and gave Jayla her seat, grateful they’d decided to get ready with her, in case she backed out at the last minute.
Plus, she needed the distraction. She’d given a note to Bill earlier and asked him to hand-deliver it to Vick. If he showed up tonight, she’d know he’d forgiven her, and they could work on moving forward.
If he didn’t…
She involuntarily shuddered.
“What else do you think the outfit needs?” Jayla asked, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. She’d wound her thick black hair into an elegant bun on top of her head, which called attention to the blue velvet choker accentuating her long, graceful neck.
Smiling, Lucy lifted the vintage tiara from her bag, the one Penny helped her find, and carefully set it in place. “There. Now your transformation is complete.”
“Wow,” Jayla breathed, lightly grazing the glittering gemstones.
“You look amazing.” Sadie stood behind her in the mirror, and Lucy nearly laughed out loud at the startling contrast between their costumes.
Sadie had also gone with a fairy-tale theme, but rather than a princess, she’d chosen the wicked witch from Hansel and Gretel, complete with a prosthetic nose.
It was so like Sadie, when everyone else wanted to look beautiful, she went for the element of surprise.
Jayla giggled, pointing to Sadie’s bulbous beak. “Your wart is falling off.”
“Not again,” Sadie sighed, jabbing it with her finger. “Where’s the glue?”
“Here.” Jayla grabbed the bottle off the vanity. “I’ll help you.”
While they fixed Sadie’s wart, Lucy slipped out to see if Kat and Hana needed any last-minute help.
At least, that’s the excuse she gave.
Secretly, she couldn’t wait a second longer to see if Vick had arrived.
Halfway down the winding staircase, her breath caught in her throat.
She gripped the banister until her knuckles blanched, afraid she might fall thanks to the sudden surge of emotion.
He had his back to her, but she’d recognize the green tights and feathered hat anywhere.
She knew he’d come!
As though transported by pixie dust, she floated down the remaining steps, pausing at the bottom.
Any moment now, her heart would burst with happiness.
“You came.” The warble in her voice betrayed her, but she didn’t care.
It took all of her self-control not to rush into his arms.
Her Peter Pan turned, a smile on his face.
But it wasn’t the one she expected.