Devil's Spring Page 5

  Orville gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks for not saying anything, darling.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “For now, anyway.”

  He turned off the television. “Think I’ll turn in now. That okay with you?”

  She glanced at the clock on the stove. It was almost seven-thirty, getting pretty late for a dairy farmer. “Of course, dear. I’ll just see to Ned, and then I’ll be up soon.”

  She watched him walk to the stairs out of the corner of her eye while filling Ned’s plate with dinner. He seemed okay. No wobbling or hesitation.

  She’d call the doctor tomorrow if he seemed at all off kilter in the morning. “Don’t forget to take your pills, dear.”

  He waved over his shoulder at her. “I won’t.”

  “See you in a bit.”

  She pressed three minutes on the microwave and sat down to wait for her youngest to return. One thing she’d never do was neglect her men. They needed her, and she swore she’d be there for them until the day the Good Lord called her home.

  ∞∞∞

  Grace sat on the side of their makeshift bed, brushing her hair. It fell in golden cascades over her shoulders, glossy and full of life. “Thanks for putting the crib together, honey. Caroline went down easy tonight. I think she likes her new room.”

  Anderson answered with muffled words from the nearby bathroom, where he was brushing his teeth. “You’re welcome.”

  “Tessie said she played really well with Joey today. Guess she wore herself out, poor little thing.” She stood, set her brush on the bureau, and reached for her lotion, scented with basil and blue spruce. It was one of her favorites. She began to rub it on her hands and feet, and then worked her way up her legs to her thighs. “She seems to be enjoying her time with Joey. I think it’s good for her. You know, to get socialized and all that.”

  Anderson walked back into the room in his boxers, hair wet from the shower. His eyes focused on her hands rubbing lotion into her upper thighs. “It is good for her, hon.”

  She put aside the bottle of lotion and lay back on the bed. “Come over here, mister.”

  He approached her with a lazy smile. “Do you have plans for me?”

  “I do,” she said, pulling him down to her and nuzzling his chest. “You up for it?”

  “Always, my love.” He kissed her hungrily and lowered himself onto the two combined beds that Boone had helped him lash together today with bungee cords.

  “Then show me what you’ve got, Mr. Anderson.”

  Chapter 10

  Orville stepped into the shower at four in the morning, per his usual schedule. He soaped up, shampooed his thick gray hair, and rinsed off, thinking about the field he needed to plow today. It would be a hundred and twenty acres of corn this year, hopefully resulting in enough money for them to catch up on their late payments for…everything. If the corn grew strong and tall, they’d come out on the right side of their current disaster.

  He climbed into his boxers and jeans, then cleared a circle on the foggy mirror, just enough so he could see his face. He knew the cows didn’t care if he was clean-shaven, but his Tessie always liked the smooth feel of his freshly scraped chin, and he wouldn’t disappoint her, not ever.

  He applied the shaving cream and carefully swiped the razor up and down, rinsing it under a stream of water ever few seconds.

  Done.

  He patted his face dry, and then clutched at his chest.

  What the hell? Something’s not right.

  He slumped onto the commode and leaned against the wall, feeling sweat pop on his brow and trickle down his face.

  A pain burned beneath his ribs and ran along his left arm.

  No. Something was definitely wrong.

  Somehow, he didn’t have the strength to call out to Tessie. The words clogged in his throat and he sensed the light fading around him. He tried to reach for the sink to steady himself, but his hand didn’t obey his mind. He slumped forward onto the bath rug and fell into a dark void.

  ∞∞∞

  “Better shake a leg in there, Orville. Those cows need milking.” Tessie tapped on the door, noting that her husband was ten minutes behind schedule. He’d never been late to the barn before, not in all the years they’d been married. “Come on, sweetie, I have to pee. You almost done?”

  He didn’t answer, and instantly fear churned in her belly. “Orville?” She jiggled the door handle and tried to turn it. It didn’t budge.

  “Ned!” she screamed, scrambling down the hall to her son’s room. She found him sitting on the side of his bed, pulling on his boots.

  “Mom? What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t get into the bathroom and I think something’s happened to your dad.”

  Ned propelled himself off the bed and streaked down the hall. “Dad?” he called, pounding on the door.

  She clutched at his arm. “I already tried that. Break it down, son.”

  Ned didn’t need to be told twice. He took three steps back, and then launched his shoulder at the old wooden door, crashing into it and splintering it from its hinges. The door swung in awkwardly, revealing Orville lying soaked in sweat on the bathroom floor.

  “Oh my God,” Tessie screamed, dropping to his side. “Call an ambulance, Ned.”

  Her son flew out of the room and grabbed the landline phone in the hall, where she heard him speaking rapidly to the emergency operator.

  “That’s right. It’s the Hawke Dairy Farm. Yes. We’re up on the second floor in the bathroom. No, he’s not conscious. I don’t know if he’s breathing. I’ll check. But please hurry.”

  Tessie rolled up a towel and placed it under her husband’s head. “Honey, can you hear me?” Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She desperately tried to think what to do. Should she try to get an aspirin into him? She thought that was one of the things they said about heart attacks.

  Was it a heart attack? How could she tell? He sure was clammy and his skin had lost all its color.

  But even so, how would she get a pill down him without choking him? He was completely unresponsive. She tried again, anyway. “Orville? Can you hear me?”

  Ned skidded back into the room. “Is he breathing?”

  Tessie nodded. “He is. But I can’t get him to respond.”

  “Okay. They said if he’s breathing, then try to make him comfortable while we wait. Loosen his clothing.”

  “Should he have aspirin?” Tessie asked, her voice tight with tears. She undid Orville’s belt buckle, loosening his jeans around his waist. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.

  “They didn’t say. But they’ll treat him on the spot when they get here.”

  “Oh, Ned. He looks so awful. Look how pale he is.”

  “I know. Geez, Mom. Do you think it’s a heart attack?”

  “I have no idea, honey. He started his new medicine a few days ago. You know, for blood pressure. Maybe he just got dizzy again. Passed out?”

  Ned nodded. “Oh, God. I hope that’s it.”

  Five agonizing minutes later, Tessie heard the siren. “It’s them,” she said in a hushed whisper. “Go down and meet them on the porch, honey. Show them the way up here.”

  ∞∞∞

  Hours later, Tessie and Ned sat in the hospital waiting room holding hands and praying. They’d just finished their prayer when a young woman in scrubs approached them.

  “Mrs. Hawke? I’m Dr. Rollins. I’m the cardiac resident on call today.”

  Tessie shot to her feet. “Yes. Please, tell me. Is my husband going to be all right?”

  Ned stood up beside her, steadying her with a strong arm.

  “We’ll know more soon. I’ve just done a complete work up on Mr. Hawke. The EKG shows severe abnormalities and his blood work confirms it. We’ve given him a clot-busting drug and have scheduled him for an angiogram in a half hour. We think he may have a clogged artery or two, but we won’t know for sure until we get inside and take a look around. He’s going up to the cardiac floor now.”

&nbs
p; Ned said, “Was it a heart attack, then?”

  The doctor nodded and in a flash of fear, Tessie thought she looked no older than a college freshman. How good was this woman? How experienced?

  “We believe so. But you got him here in time, which is key in situations like this.”

  “What will happen to him?” Tessie asked, trying not to wail. She didn’t succeed.

  Dr. Rollins patted her shoulder. “Let’s just wait and see what we find, okay?”

  “But can you fix him?” Tessie persisted.

  “In most cases, yes. Especially if he just needs a stent or two. That’s pretty straightforward. If he needs further intervention, we can do surgery these days with laparoscopy, which is much less invasive than the old way of going in through the opened chest.”

  Tessie sucked in a huge breath. “Surgery?” Inside, she saw the bill for tens of thousands of dollars, but she tried to ignore it. Right now all that mattered was her sweet husband, and she knew they’d have to find a way to pay for whatever he needed.

  The doctor smiled and patted her arm. “We don’t know yet. Please. Try to be patient and let us do our job, okay? I know it’s upsetting, but there’s nothing you can do now. I’ll come down to get you when we’re done.”

  Tessie sagged against her son, and he gently lowered her to her seat.

  “They’ve been married for thirty-five years,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  Dr. Rollins gave him an empathetic smile. “I see. Listen, you take care of her now. This’ll take several hours. Get her some food; try to calm her down. You don’t need two heart attacks in the family now, do you?”

  Ned reached up to shake the doctor’s hand. “No, of course not. I’ll take care of her. Thank you, Doctor Rollins.”

  “You’re welcome.” She leaned forward to speak a few reassuring words to Tessie, and then turned on her heel to re-enter the emergency room battle ground behind the swinging double doors.

  Chapter 11

  Boone finished up the barn chores, cleaned up, and hopped into his truck. Cows couldn’t go without milking, and he’d agreed to get through the morning jobs so Ned could stay with his mother while the doctors figured out what was going on with his father’s heart.

  His own heart thumped rapidly beneath his ribs. What the hell was happening? How could his bear of a father have a bad heart?

  Thankfully, Ned had a cell phone—unlike their mother—so they’d been keeping in touch all morning. Portia had stayed home from the nursery to watch the two children while Grace and Dirk were off at their first show of the season.

  He parked his truck and strode into the hospital entrance, stopping at the information desk to get directions to the cardiology department.

  Down the hall, follow the blue line to the blue elevator, up three floors, turn right and follow the signs.

  Easy enough.

  Most of the morning, he hadn’t let himself think about what had happened to his father. It was just too hard to process, and he successfully distracted himself with the barn chores. But now he’d have to face it.

  Ned said Orville had suffered a heart attack and was currently getting two stents installed in his ninety percent blocked arteries. The angiogram had answered all their questions and now they had a path forward.

  It sounded terribly serious.

  He straightened his shoulders and headed down the hall. On the third floor, he found his mother and brother in the waiting area, hunkered over full cups of cold coffee.

  “Mom?” He sat down and slid an arm around her shoulders.

  “Oh, Boone.” She fell apart, sobbing on his chest and trying to tell him the story at the same time.

  Ned gave him a grim smile.

  When she’d cried herself out, Boone held her at arms’ length. “Mom. Look at me.”

  She sniffled and raised her eyes to his.

  He spoke gently. “Dad will be okay.”

  Her face crumpled again. “But how do you know, honey? Can you be sure?”

  Boone had never seen his mother like this before. She’d always been the tough one, the strong farm woman who could do it all. It sent his stomach tumbling to see her so vulnerable.

  He took her hands in his. “My friend Pat had stents put in last year. Said it was a breeze. Completely fixed his problems.”

  “Really?” she said, hope glimmering in her eyes.

  “Really. Now, when’s the last time they came out to see you?”

  “About a half hour ago. They were just taking him in for his procedure.”

  “Okay. I guess we’d better wait a bit, huh?”

  Ned leaned toward her. “Remember they said it would be about an hour, Mom?”

  “Oh, yes. I do.” She blew her nose and turned to her sons. “Even if he’s okay, how in the world will we pay for the deductible? It’s almost three thousand dollars, boys.”

  Boone felt the color drain from his face. “What?”

  Ned nodded. “The new policy this year is a high deductible plan. Choosing this option made the payments a little lower so Mom and Dad could afford them.”

  “Just barely,” she said soberly. “We gambled on the fact that we wouldn’t need more than a few scripts and doctors’ office visits.” She sighed and leaned over, covering her face with her hands. “I guess we were wrong.”

  “What can we sell?” Boone asked.

  She stared at him blankly. “Whatever we could sell, we’ve already done it. I sold the blue tractor that we hadn’t used much over the last few years to the McCauleys. I pawned my mother’s engagement ring, much as it broke my heart. But boys, I don’t dare sell any of the cows, because we won’t have an income next year when things turn around.”

  “What about the lower forty?” Ned said.

  “That’s already seeded with alfalfa for this fall. If we sell it, what will we feed the cows, honey?”

  “Right,” Boone said. “What about your car? We can do without that. Portia can pick up your groceries on her way home from work, and bring them to you when she picks up the kids. You could probably get at least three grand for it.”

  Tessie’s face dropped. “But I’ve had that car for over ten years. I rely on it to go to the bank, the pharmacy, and everywhere.”

  “I know, Mom,” Boone said, laying a comforting hand over hers. “But you could borrow the truck during the day if Dad’s out in the fields or in the barn. And like I said, we can consolidate trips to the store.”

  She slumped back in her chair. “It’s a good idea, son. I’ll put an ad in the paper in the morning.”

  “Okay. Then that’s settled.” Boone stood. “Anyone want a fresh cup of coffee?”

  ∞∞∞

  Grace mounted Sasha with ease, positioned herself in the saddle, and straightened her derby. She was taking the mare into a Saddle Seat Pleasure class, and felt confident that they’d do well. Sasha’s flanks were gleaming from the grooming she and her father had given her, and she pranced in place as if already proud of herself.

  Dirk patted Grace’s leg. “Good luck, sweetie. Do us proud.”

  “I will, Dad.” She turned the horse neatly around and trotted toward the ring where the entrants were beginning to congregate. There were twelve other Morgans competing, but none that Grace recognized. She’d been out of the circuit for too many years, and everyone seemed younger and thinner than she was.

  No. Put that ridiculous thought right out of your head. You’re gonna win this thing.

  With renewed confidence, she squeezed Sasha into a slow trot, collecting her reins so that the horse traveled with head slightly tucked and mane flowing in the breeze. She picked up her dainty feet and forged ahead, moving with grace and balance. Grace knew the mare was the most beautiful animal in the fairgrounds, and glowed with pride as she passed the judge’s station, a slight smile fixed on her face.

  Don’t look at her. You don’t want to be seen as pandering.

  She remembered these words that her father had said years ago when
she was a teenager.

  Oh, so long ago.

  “Walk on. Walk your horses, please.”

  Grace shifted her weight down in the saddle and lowered her hands. Sasha responded immediately, settling into a sedate walk.

  She’d been fourteen when she last sat astride a show horse. Before she’d gotten mixed up with Skeeter Weatherby and his druggie pals. Oh, how life had changed since then.

  She tried not to think about those days. The days of unsafe sex, drugs, and stealing. To her shame, she’d even stolen from her parents.

  With an inner shrug, she forced herself to let it go.

  Today was different. She was a mother now. And she had a job to do.

  “Trot, please. Trot your horses.”

  Grace urged Sasha into a medium paced trot. She was letting her surge forward in a fast, extended trot when she passed a bay mare. Sasha’s hooves flew nearly straight out as she powered through the ring. This was one of her most impressive gaits.

  She posted with minimal effort, and even during this extended trot, the horse’s gaits were so smooth with each beat that she hardly needed to lift herself from the saddle. It was as if she were made for this, matched perfectly with the muscled mare beneath her.

  “Walk, please. Walk your horses.”

  With invisible signals, Grace slowed her mount to a walk. She pranced for a few steps at first, and then settled down. The mare really loved to move.

  For the first time ever, Grace suddenly had the vision of her daughter Caroline riding and showing. When she was five or six, she’d buy her a pony. They’d start riding lessons. She’d look so cute up on a horse someday.

  “Canter, please. Canter your horses.”

  She leaned slightly inward, pressing her right leg and curling her right pinky finger on the reins. Sasha took her left lead, leaping forward. She started to move too fast, but Grace reeled her in, sitting down deep in the saddle and pulling the horse into a slow, rocking horse canter.

  The announcer instructed the group to reverse directions, and they repeated the process again.