The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(57)

“Sorry, I think the call was dropped. I thought I heard you say you were done.”

“Funny,” she said.

“You’ll miss the excitement eventually. You’ve been eating stress three meals a day for over a decade.”

“I think I’m full,” she said with a laugh.

“I think it’s him,” Pax said.

“You’re being ridiculous. Would you stop your fellowship because you’re crazy about Genevieve?”

“That’s not what I mean. I didn’t mean you’d give up the Bureau because you’re into him. I think being with him has made you look at your life differently. It’s okay, Auntie Lainie. Life is very big, you know. And only one thing is required.”

“Oh, really? And what’s that?”

“That when you’re done with it, you don’t have regrets about your choices.”

“Don’t we all have regrets about some of our choices?”

“Not the really important ones.”

She was quiet for a long time. Finally she said, “Don’t make me think too hard. Let me be happy.”

“Absolutely. And in case you need permission, I’ll encourage you to stay happy.”

Thirteen

The busiest time of day at Lucky’s was from three to six when school let out and folks were getting home from work. That’s when they’d gas up for the next day or bring in a problem they had with the engine. That’s when Eric had the most hands on duty. After six things slowed way down. His employees who were not scheduled to work after six could start leaving then, including himself.

Justin came in at three. As usual, he got right to work. At three-twenty Eric answered the phone. “Lucky’s full service, Eric speaking.”

The young voice, clearly rattled, said, “Can I talk to Justin. It’s Danny, his brother.”

Eric called Justin to the phone and overheard Justin’s part of the conversation. “Did you try to sit her up? Call Doc Grant’s cell phone and 911. I’m on my way.” He hung up and saw Eric’s stunned expression. “I gotta go. My mom.” And he took off at a dead run.

Justin might be in shock, Eric thought. He watched the kid run out of the station and down the street. He ran like he had only seconds; it was a total sprint. Before the sight of him racing down the street faded, Al was standing in front of him, questions in his eyes.

“He got a call,” Eric said. “Something about his mom.”

And then as though Eric caught the same virus, he bolted for his Jeep, wrangling keys out of his pocket as he jogged. Behind him he heard Al shout, “Howie, pump gas! Shut it down if necessary. We got an emergency.” And then he was at the passenger door to the Jeep, opening it up and jumping inside even as Eric was backing out.

“What’s going on?” Al asked.

“No idea,” Eric said, making a T-turn to head after Justin. And man, could that kid run, even wearing his station coveralls and steel-toed boots, he was like the damn wind. When the Jeep came up behind him and Eric gave the horn a blast, Justin didn’t even slow down.

“Pull alongside,” Al commanded, lowering his window.

Justin had already run through town, past the diner and sheriff’s office, three more blocks and up the hill.

“Justin!” Al yelled, leaning out the window. “Get in! We’ll drive you!”

But the kid didn’t even slow down. He just kept running, pumping his arms, panting, his floppy hair slicked back with wind and sweat. Uphill, and still flying.

Al pulled back inside. “Just follow him,” he told Eric.

“What the hell is he doing?”

“We’ll find out soon enough. We either let him wear out or I get out and chase him and tackle him and I’m not doing that. Follow him.”

So, driving about five miles an hour, Eric followed behind Justin for a few more blocks, then the kid cut across some lawns to get to a very small house in the middle of the block. Justin’s van was in the driveway but another newer car was parked in front. Justin crashed through the front door.

“I guess we’re here,” Al said.

Eric parked his Jeep and the two men walked up the driveway to the front door, which still stood open, and what they could see inside was shocking. The small living room was dominated by a hospital bed and Dr. Grant was sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a wheelchair, oxygen tank, other hospital paraphernalia. Dr. Grant had his stethoscope in his ears and was listening to the woman’s heart. Oxygen was being administered and the woman’s eyes were closed. Justin leaned over her from the other side of the bed, panting. He tenderly touched her forehead while two younger boys stood off to the side, worry etched into their features.

Dr. Grant took his stethoscope out of his ears and looked at Justin. “I’m afraid this is the end of the line, Justin.”

Oh, shit, she’s dead! Eric thought.

Then the doctor continued. “I called for an ambulance. She has to go to the hospital. She’s breathing better now, but she needs close medical supervision.”

Justin swallowed and said, “Then she comes home, right?”

“Come on, Justin. You gave it your best shot. Your mother needs a full nursing-care facility. We can try to get her a bed. This is end stage. Her quality of life will be improved in a care facility. And so will yours.”