Page 27 of Forever Christmas
“Why don’tyou let June come home with us?” Mrs. Mays offers. “If she wants to sleep in her own bed, Gavin can stay with her. Otherwise she is welcome to take our guest room.”
“Yes, please, Mom!” June says. “Let me stay with Gavin and Corabelle!”
Mom hesitates, but then rubs her tired eyes. “That might make things easier in the morning. Thank you.”
“We’re happy to help,” Mrs. Rotheford says. She takesMom into another embrace. “It’s been a long time. Too long. Let’s catch up.” She leads Mom toward the waiting area.
Mr. Rotheford turns to June. “You want to show me the cafeteria? I could use a piece of pie. You think they have some?”
“They do!” she says. “Three kinds! Mom didn’t let me have any.” She steps closer. “Do we have to ask her?”
Mr. Rotheford leans in close. “I won’t tell if youwon’t.” Then to me, “Let your mom know I’ve taken June with me.”
“I will, thanks.”
They take off for the elevator, and I look over at Corabelle. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”
“You want me to go in with you?” she asks.
“Are you kidding? You dragged me here.”
She nods. “I’ll change how it goes.”
“For the better. You always did.”
She bites her lip, thinking. “Okay, I’ll go in. But ifI decide to slip out, you let me go, okay? Trust me?”
I’m not sure I’ll stay five seconds longer than she would, but I agree.
We hold hands, dropping by the cluster of chairs to tell Mom where June has gone, and head to Dad’s room.
I shouldn’t be nervous. He’s sick, probably strapped to a bed. And I’m grown, no doubt a million times stronger.
But still, there’s that seed there. That littleboy who cowered for too long.
We pause outside his door. It’s open a few inches.
“Should we knock?” Corabelle asks.
I shrug.
She taps lightly on the door.
His voice booms, unexpected and loud for someone about to have a quadruple bypass. “Can’t a man get any goddamn sleep around here?”
Corabelle and I turn to each other.
“He can’t be too close to dying,” she whispers.
Figures my dad wouldbe an ass to the end. I push open the door.
He’s half lying, half sitting on a bed that’s partially raised at the head. He holds a hospital remote in his hand, the coil all caught on his wrist and the side of the bed. He’s fighting to get the channel changed.
“No hunting shows whatsoever,” he says. “Though I did find some people tracking Bigfoot.” He mashes buttons.
It’s as if he totally expectedme to show and it’s no big deal that I’ve walked in.
“Let me get it untangled,” Corabelle says, moving toward him and working on the remote. “Let me hold it.”
