Page 15 of A Mountain to Climb

NINETEEN YEARS LATER

“BLUE!” I’m sitting on the back porch reading a book when Whiskey comes running out the back door of the clubhouse.

“Someone better be dead. I just started this book,” I laugh at my own joke. The look on his face tells me something isn’t very funny. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Pops. He got in an accident. We gotta go to the hospital.”

I drop my book and run for the parking lot. Just as we get to the front, Brick appears out of nowhere. “I’ll drive,” he says as we pile into his truck and fly out the lot.

“What happened?” I ask whoever wants to answer.

“Don’t know for sure. George called saying that he just rolled in, and we needed to get down there fast.” George is a doctor the club uses sometimes for medical emergencies.

I happen to look in the rearview mirror and am thankful for what I see—the road is filled with motorcycles. It looks like the whole club is following us. Two Brothers speed past and escort us the rest of the way. I’ve got a feeling that whatever happens next, I’m going to need all their support.

“The surgery went as well as we could’ve expected. He’ll be waking up shortly. Just hit the call button and someone will be in.” George—Dr. Green as he’s called here—nods and leaves the room.

“Now what?” Whiskey’s pacing at the foot of the bed.

I claimed the chair at Mountain’s side, holding his left hand tight. It’s the only part of his skin that isn’t covered in bandages or scrapes. I can’t keep my eyes off his face, waiting for him to give us a sign he’s waking up.

“Whiskey, if you don’t stop pacing, I’m gonna sit on you,” Brick barks. The two of them are now toe to toe. Whiskey may be taller, and bulkier, but Brick is his uncle.

“Would you stop yelling?” The whisper makes us all turn to see Mountain’s eyelids moving.

“Oh my goodness!” I jump to my feet and lean forward, gently kissing his forehead.

“What’s going on?” The talking causes him to cough. “Water.”

Brick grabs the pitcher off the rolling table and pours a cup. “Here.” I grab it and help Mountain take a sip.

Whiskey runs for the door. “Nurse! We need a nurse!” he yells, to whoever will listen.

“Who needs a nurse? Why the hell am I in the hospital?” Panic has set in and Mountain is looking frightened. It’s not an emotion he shows to anyone.

Whiskey is standing at the foot of the bed again. “Pops, you were in an accident. You dumped the bike and had to have surgery.”

Mountain squeezes my hand so hard, I’m afraid I’ll lose a few fingers. “What’s wrong with my leg?” He’s staring at the blanket covering him from the waist down. That’s when I realize he’s figured out what’s going on. “Where the fuck is my left leg? Where is it?” He’s hysterical.

“They had to remove it. There was just too much damage,” I say as clear as I can, even with the sobs escaping. I’ve been strong, or maybe just numb, up until now, but my tears have started.

“Everybody OUT!” I think the whole hospital heard that.

Brick grabs Whiskey and they head for the door. “We’ll find the doctor.”

If fire could shoot out my eyes, my Old Man would have burns with his injuries. “I know you just woke up, and you’re overwhelmed, but you’re this Club’s President. You need to be better than this.”

He has the decency to look ashamed of his behavior, but I get worried by what he says next. “What if I shouldn’t be President anymore?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MOUNTAIN

The gate rolls open and Whiskey pulls his truck into the compound. Damn, it’s good to be home. Four months away was too long. The doctors and therapists didn’t want me to leave the center until I was able to do everything on their checklist. I’m still getting used to this prosthetic leg, but I worked hard every day.

“You know there’s a party waiting for you inside?” Whiskey chuckles.

“Yea, I figured, but it’ll have to wait ’til after Church. We’ve got business to discuss.” The truck stops and I get the door open, sliding out before he can rush around to help.

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