Chapter Twenty-Five

Camden

I couldn’t bring myself to look at Xander. Not during his perfect testimony of his perfect life with his perfect choices and perfectly planned future. Not when he’d just thrown the fire in my face.

He used it against me, then testified that I was a great brother and son, just misguided about what was best for Dad. After all, I’d been gone for a decade, between that first year in college and the years in the military, so how could I really understand the level of care he needed? Being back for the last three and a half months couldn’t possibly give me a good enough perspective to judge my dad’s intentions, even though my heart was in the right place.

I had never hated my brother. Maybe I’d been a little jealous that he was the assigned angel of the family, but I’d never wished him ill.

Right now, I wanted to throw him through the gas station window again, especially since he brought that moment up, too. Even with the context Simon added, I came off like an asshole.

The doc was next, who went over Dad’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, his level of dementia, and his ability to make decisions. It was his opinion that while able to make decisions about his daily routine and care, he was unable to understand the impact of long-term decisions on more than half of his days.

The more the doctor talked, the more agitated Dad became, shifting in his seat and shaking his head.

“Are you sure you want your dad up there?” Simon asked me quietly.

Of course I wasn’t sure. The further we got into the hearing, the less I was certain about anything, including my brother’s morals.

“The doc says he’s lucid enough today, or at least he was at this morning’s interview. It’s his life. You ask him.” If Xander was hell-bent on keeping Dad from making life decisions, then I could at least give him this choice.

A few minutes later, Simon leaned in. “He says he wants to.”

“Then, let him. At least he never set anything on fire.” This might be the only chance he had to say exactly what he wanted to Xander, and the witnesses would hold him socially accountable.

Once the doc stepped down and Dad was headed up to the stand, I looked back at Willow.

She gave me a reassuring smile—not that everything would be okay but that she would be there even if it wasn’t. I couldn’t return the expression, and hers softened in understanding.

Being up there on the stand, having my military record brought out like that, only served to remind me that even though we knew each other on a cellular level, we hadn’t caught up on all the details of the years we’d spent apart. But we’d have time for that…at least if the envelope Julie had given me decided so.

I wasn’t looking. Not until after this was over.

Simon questioned Dad, and he did surprisingly well. His answers were clear and concise, and he actually came off as perfectly lucid. We couldn’t have hoped for a better day to do this.

“Art, tell me: are you certain about wanting a do-not-resuscitate order?” Simon asked.

“Since I had it tattooed across my chest, I’d say I’m very certain,” Dad insisted. “This isn’t your choice, Alexander.” Dad turned to stare at my brother, and my stomach clenched. “I’m not a child. I am a man who deserves the dignity of controlling what happens to his body.”

“Objection,” Milton called out.

“You know it’s wrong,” Dad continued, and now my stomach twisted with nausea. “I taught you better than to tie another person down and force things into their body that they don’t want. That’s what you did to me!”

The crowd behind began to speak at the same time.

“Objection!” Milton shouted.

Shit. He was going off the rails.

“No further questions,” Simon finished, then sat down next to me. “Well, if nothing else, the entire town will be talking about that for a while.”

My muscles locked as Milton approached my father. He started easy, laying the foundation that, in every other matter besides that of his DNR, Xander was an excellent guardian in his opinion. And the DNR wasn’t a matter of malice or negligence but opinion.

That’s where he lost Dad.

“I do think it’s malicious to directly ignore someone’s wishes about his own body,” Dad argued.

“I agree,” Milton said. “But are you sure they’re your wishes?”

“I am.” Dad nodded.

“Today, you are. But what about tomorrow? Next year? Your memory isn’t always supporting you, Art, is it?”

Dad’s forehead puckered. “Some days it’s…faulty.”

“Like the day you shot Camden?”

My eyes slid shut as the muttering of the crowd washed over me.

“I…” He shook his head. “I don’t remember much about that.” His confession was quiet.

“It was Alexander who wrestled the gun away so you didn’t kill his little brother a few months ago. Is that true?”

Dad looked down, his gaze darting back and forth, fighting to remember. “That’s what I’ve been told.”

“You don’t remember that moment?”

“Not as clearly as I’d like,” Dad admitted.

“Okay, for the sake of establishing your memory loss, can you tell me how your son, Sullivan, died?”

I almost came out of my skin.

“Objection!” Simon shouted. “Immaterial. We already have his diagnosis on file.”

“It goes to suitability of the guardian, Your Honor.” Milton looked at the judge like he was requesting a transcript from his last college, not ripping apart my father.

“You’re on a short leash, Mr. Sanders,” Judge Wilson warned.

“Yes, Your Honor. Art, do you remember how Sully died?”

My hands clenched into fists beneath the table, and I savored the bite of pain from my nails, using it to ground and focus me.

“Sully…” Dad looked away.

I knew that look. We were about to lose him. “You have to stop this,” I whispered.

“I can’t.” Simon sighed. “I’m so sorry. I never thought Xander would use Sully.”

“Sullivan died in Afghanistan, right?” Milton pushed.

“That’s right,” Dad confirmed, nodding but still focused on the floor. “Afghanistan. He was shot.”

“In the neck, right?”

I was going to rip Milton’s head from his fucking shoulders.

“Right. His neck.” Dad started subtly rocking.

“Another one of your sons was with him. Do you remember?”

Dad slowly looked over to me, his eyes full of agonizing grief, and my throat closed. “Cam. Cam was with him.”

“Is it true that Camden ordered Sullivan’s squad into the firefight that took his life?”

“Yes.”

Left. I’d chosen the man standing to my left instead of my right. One choice made in a flash of a second. It had been the flap of the butterfly’s wings that began the hurricane. And we were all still drowning.

“That must be hard, knowing that Cam didn’t bring your Sully home safe.” Milton’s voice dripped with pity.

Dad’s face crumpled, and I found it hard to draw a breath.

“Objection!”

“Isn’t it true that you blame Cam for Sullivan’s death?”

“Leading the witness!”

“I… Yes. He gave the order. You gave the order.” Dad looked toward me, his eyes glazing over.

How could I argue with the truth?

“Withdrawn.” Milton immediately put out his hand to Simon, like he was the one who needed to calm down. “Art, can you tell me what you had for breakfast this morning?”

“What?”

My heart fell to the floor.

“Breakfast? Or dinner last night? Or maybe what you watched on TV? Can you tell me any of that?” Milton asked softly, like he actually cared.

“I’m… Eggs?” he guessed.

“It was French toast, according to your home nursing staff. Can you tell me the date?”

Dad swayed. “It’s June. I know it’s June.”

“June what? Fifteenth? Seventh? Twenty-eighth?”

“It’s June!” Dad shouted.

My eyes pricked, and I blinked back the moisture that welled, watching my father dissolve.

“But what day in June?”

“I don’t know!”

“I understand, Art. Can you tell me the names of your home-nursing staff?” Milton didn’t even give Dad a chance to recover.

“There are a few,” Dad replied, looking so lost that my instincts screamed to get him down from the stand.

“But who are they?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know the people who are currently responsible for your around-the-clock care?” Milton questioned.

“No! I don’t! They’re people in my house. They’re always there. They never leave me alone anymore!” His voice broke and took my spirit with it.

“That’s okay, Art. Let’s try one last thing. Camden says that he was brought home by a voicemail you left. Do you remember that?”

Dad’s eyes brightened. “Yes. I remember the voicemail. I asked him to come home and help me. Xander wouldn’t let me have a DNR.”

“That’s right. Do you know when you left the voicemail?”

Shit. I felt the blood drain from my face.

“I…” Dad looked at me helplessly.

I wanted the last twenty minutes back. I wanted to tell Simon, No, don’t put him on the stand. Not because he didn’t deserve to say his piece but because he didn’t deserve what Milton was doing to him right now.

“Look at me, Mr. Daniels,” Milton ordered softly, like he was talking to a child and not a grown-ass man who had raised three sons and buried one of them, plus his wife and brother. “Do you remember when you left the message?”

“It was this year. I know that.” Dad nodded. “I know it. I know it. This year. This year. I know it.”

“Mr. Daniels, do you remember leaving that message at all?”

“This year. Had to be.”

“Mr. Daniels?”

“Objection. Your Honor, this is…” Simon just shook his head. Cruel. It was cruel.

“This is your last question, Mr. Sanders. We’re not here to torture those who need our protection,” Judge Wilson warned.

“Yes, Your Honor. Art?”

“What?” Dad whispered.

“Do you remember leaving Cam that voicemail?”

“No.”

“So everything we’ve done here, from Cam giving up his career to this very hearing, was all started over something you can’t even remember?”

“Mr. Sanders, that’s enough,” Judge Wilson ordered.

“I’m finished,” Milton promised and took his seat.

Dad’s gaze darted around the room to the ceiling and the floor, never settling on any one person or thing.

“Your Honor, may I help my dad down?” I asked, knowing it wasn’t my place to speak and risking it anyway.

“Yes, Mr. Daniels,” she agreed, her voice softer than before.

The court was silent until my chair shrieked across the polished floor as I pushed back from the table. I approached Dad with shaky knees, my eyes filling with tears I couldn’t shed. Not here. Not like this.

“Dad, let me help you,” I said as I stood next to the witness stand.

“I don’t… Why…?” He finally looked at me. “Why am I here? I want to go home.”

“Yeah, Dad, we’ll get you there, I promise. Come on down.” I held out my hand, but he refused to take it and instead stumbled from the stand.

“No. I’m okay. Don’t touch me. I’m fine!” He walked past me, gaining his balance as he went.

“Walt?” I called out as Simon opened the gate that separated the spectators from this hellhole.

“I got him,” Walt promised as Nikki walked with him to help.

“You,” Dad whispered, turning to me at the threshold.

“It’s me, Dad. Cam. I’m right here.”

His eyes turned cold. “You killed my Sullivan.” The whisper was barely loud enough for me to hear, but I did, and it cut me to the fucking core.

“Come on, Art. Let’s get you home.” Walt put his arm around his best friend and walked him from the courtroom. I stumbled into my seat as the volume of the crowd reached new heights.

Logic told me otherwise, but the rending in my chest overpowered it. I’d lost every member of my family. Sullivan and Mom to death. Dad to Alzheimer’s. Alexander to his own warped sense of good and evil.

The judge called for order as I felt hands on my shoulders. I turned and found Willow leaning over the railing.

“I love you,” she promised, her hazel eyes red and her cheeks blotchy. “I love you.” Her thumbs swiped at my face. “Do you understand me, Camden Daniels? I know your truth. I love you, and I have always loved you. First and always. You.”

“Order!” the judge demanded again, and the noise started to die down.

I kept my focus on Willow, anchoring myself in her eyes and slowly settling my boiling emotions into a soft simmer.

“Willow,” I whispered.

She let go of my face only to push something into my hand. “I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Then she sat back in her seat, where her father put his arm around her. Her father, who had recused himself because I was hers. He looked at me with pursed lips and sorrowful eyes.

The crowd quieted, and I opened my palm to see what she’d given me.

It was the white onyx queen. The most versatile piece on the board. The protector of the king. I forced deep and even breaths through my lungs.

A soft sob reached my ears, and I turned to see Xander’s head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he cried. As Simon and Milton both gave their closings, I stared at Xander. It took until the end of Milton’s speech for my brother to look at me.

When he did, he flinched.

I let it show—my anger, my loathing, and my utter disgust. When Judge Wilson dismissed us until her ruling, the crowd emptied out into the hallway.

“I’ll be there in just a second,” I promised Willow.

She nodded, squeezing my hand as she passed by on her way to where her family waited.

I finally opened the envelope Julie left.

With shaking hands, I read the three sheets she’d included and felt simultaneous relief and sorrow. Deep, gut-wrenching sorrow.

“You okay?” Simon asked.

“No. None of it is okay.” I slid the papers back into their envelope, then walked over to my older brother, my idol, the perfect example of love and forgiveness, and openly glared at him as he rose to leave.

“Cam,” Simon warned.

“I need a minute with my brother.” I kept my eyes on Xander.

“Alexander?” Milton probed.

“It’s fine. I’ll meet you out there,” Xander replied.

The courtroom cleared out until it was only us standing between the tables we’d gone to war at.

“No matter what happens, what she rules, I will never forgive you for what just happened. I’m ashamed of you, and Sullivan would be, too. How could you use him like that? Use the fire?”

Xander shook his head at me in confusion. “Forgive me? You’re the one who keeps trying to kill Dad even though the doctors have said he’s not mentally capable of making that choice. And you want to blame this on me? I have no choice but to stick to the decisions he made before he lost his mind, because that man we saw up on the stand is no longer our father!”

“He’s still Dad! He doesn’t want tubes and ventilators! He wants the dignity of making that choice, and you can’t even give him that? You have to shred what’s left of his pride in front of the entire town?” My voice rose.

“You made me do it!” Xander shouted. “Do you think I wanted this? Any of this? I don’t! I said, ‘Hey, Dad, you need a medical power of attorney, just in case you need someone to sign for a surgery or something.’ Do you know when that was?” He shook with anger. “It was five years ago, after Sully died! I never saw this coming! I never wanted this!” He motioned to the courtroom. “Never wanted to be responsible for his care, for making decisions that would mean his life or death over and over and over. But that’s what happened, because you were too busy being a hero to bring your ass home! But they don’t give you medals when you stay home, do they?”

His voice echoed in the empty room, and I began to understand. I’d been so focused on the house of cards crumbling at the top that I hadn’t stopped to look at the foundation. Xander was never going to let me win, because that’s how he saw this.

“You honestly don’t think he deserves to choose what happens to him,” I stated softly.

“He’s not capable of choosing. I have to choose for him. I have to step up, just like always, because you want to take the easy way out. So fine, I have, and I will, and every choice I make for him will be with his life and health in mind. I’m keeping our dad alive as long as I can, Cam. That’s what a son does for his father.”

“Yeah? And what would a brother do for a brother?”

“What do you mean?” Xander asked. “I would fight for you, too.”

God, I hoped not.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I told him, then left the courtroom without another backward glance. Simon led me to a quiet room, where I sat with Willow, her hand steady in mine, her head on my shoulder.

“I told your father on opening day that you were lonely,” she told me.

I turned my head, and she lifted hers.

“He replied that all great and precious things are lonely.”

My brows knit together, and she nodded. That line… Holy shit. The same man who’d mocked me for always having my nose in a book as a kid took the time to read the one I’d declared my favorite, and not just once, but enough to recall that line.

I kissed her forehead with gratitude and held her against my side as we waited for the judge to decide Dad’s fate.

…

“This case is definitely not an easy one,” Judge Wilson told us four hours later. The room held its breath.

“Mr. Daniels,” she said to me. “Your love for your father is obvious. The dedication you’ve shown by moving home and seeing this through is admirable. I truly think you are acting in what you feel is his best interest, and I would have done exactly the same had it been my father who called.”

I nodded as nausea turned my stomach into a cesspool of bile and hope.

“But in order for me to change the current guardianship, your brother has to be proven negligent, and he’s not. He’s stable, with a proven history of caring for your father. I cannot find legal grounds to grant you guardianship, no matter how much I would like to.”

That pit in my stomach filled with dread and defeat as the sour taste of despair hit my tongue.

“Mr. Daniels,” she addressed my brother. “You have done an excellent job of caring for your father’s body. I understand the strain you must be under. Being a parental caregiver isn’t easy. You deserve to keep your guardianship based on your history. However, I would urge you to listen to your father. Though legally, he cannot be deemed competent enough for me to order a DNR on his behalf, I sincerely hope you change your mind.

“The ability to control what happens to our flesh and to choose our future is the core of our personhood. Free will is the most precious of our possessions, and to lose it is a tragedy to which there is no equal. But the compassion we show to those who lack that control—both the very young who have yet to claim it and the very old who face its loss—that is the essence of our humanity. While I don’t think you lack compassion, I do think you lack empathy for your father’s plight, and I hope you find it before he’s made to suffer again.

“I find in favor of the defendant, who will retain guardianship of Arthur Daniels.” The gavel hit the bench.

Dad no longer had a say in the rest of his life.