Page 17 of Backwoods
“Don’t I remember.” Grandpa Lee squinted as he looked at the rippling waters. “Good ole days. How times have changed.”
“Yeah, about that,” Nick said. His heart knocked. He retrieved the copy of the letter from his back pocket and unfolded it.
“Nick,” Amiya said, voice strained. “Is this an appropriate time for that?”
Nick ignored her, but his hands shook as he straightened out the paper. Grandpa Lee looked from Amiya to Nick. His brow furrowed.
“What is it?” Grandpa Lee asked.
“Mom got a letter in the mail earlier this week,” Nick said. He cleared his throat. “It’s from Falcon Properties. They contacted Mom because they couldn’t get in touch with you.”
“I get those letters from those property companies, I throw ’em in the trash, don’t open ’em,” Grandpa Lee said. He spat on the ground. “They don’t have anything I want.”
“You should look at this one,” Nick said. He offered the letter to his grandfather.
Grandpa Lee stared at the paper in Nick’s hand.
“They’re offering five thousand dollars an acre, Grandpa,” Nick said. “With all the land we’ve got back here, that’s a sum of over four and a half million dollars. A fortune. We should take the offer.”
“Sell . . . sell Westbrook?” Grandpa spoke slowly, as if the words belonged to a foreign tongue.
“Nick, please,” Amiya said.
Nick silenced her with a sharp look, turned back to his grandfather.
“We may never get an offer like this again,” Nick said. “We need to take it. I can give them a call on Monday and tell them to draw up the contract.”
Slowly, Grandpa Lee rose from the tree stump. With a grunt, he snatched the letter out of Nick’s fingers.
He began to tear it to pieces.
“Hey, come on, man,” Nick said.
“Not selling, goddammit . . .” Grandpa Lee said. He lowered his head, gasped. A violent cough shook him. Redness sprayed from his lips and spattered against the half-shredded letter in his hands.
Is that blood?Nick thought.Oh, Jesus.
Coughing explosively, his body wracked by the savage force of each spasm, Grandpa Lee sank to his knees in the dirt. His eyes rolled back, exposing the whites. Scraps of torn paper, dotted with blood, spun from his hands and scattered across the earth.
Nick rushed forward, Amiya right behind him. He got his arms around his granddad before he could hit the ground, and Amiya helped support him, too.
Grandpa Lee was heavier than he looked, like a dead weight in his embrace. He sagged against Nick. His bifocals hung askew on his face. A frothy mixture of blood and saliva bubbled on his lips.
Nick was dizzy from the sudden turn of events, paralyzed by indecision. He’d never seen anyone collapse like that, had no idea what to do.
Grandpa Lee’s eyes had slid shut.
“He’s still breathing,” Amiya said, perspiration beading her brow. She clasped Grandpa Lee’s hand in hers. “He’s got a pulse, he’s still with us. We’ve gotta get him help, right now, or . . .”
Amiya left the sentence unfinished, but even in the stupefied daze that had slipped over him, Nick realized what she had been about to say.
Or he’s going to die.
11
Nick fumbled with his cell phone but couldn’t get a signal. Amiya tried hers and couldn’t get service, either.
“It didn’t work back at the house,” Nick said. “It damn sure isn’t working out here in the sticks. Shit.”
