The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(65)

“Please tell me you didn’t lift a full paint can to stack those....”

“Okay,” she said.

“You did!”

“I’ve been instructed not to tell you....”

“You’re a wiseass,” he accused. He took off the slicker and draped it around her shoulders. “Come on. I’ll light the way. And step carefully—it’s wet and muddy out there.” He put an arm around her waist, what there was of it, and led the way. He jumped down first and reached up for her, lifting her down, his arm staying around her.

“If you slip and fall, you’ll take me with you.”

“I’m as sure-footed as a mountain goat,” he said, then slipped. He righted himself before he could do any damage. He got her inside and hung the slicker on a peg by the back door. “You feeling all right, babe?”

“I feel amazing. I wish the house was done.”

“Another six to eight weeks,” he said, running a hand over her pregnant belly. “Before she comes.”

“I wish it could be done in time for a graduation party for Landon.”

“We’ll have a great party right here. We have the deck and the beach. It’ll be good, don’t worry.”

Landon appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, mop in hand. “Did I hear my name?” Then he looked at the floor beneath their feet. “Aw, man. I just mopped.”

“Be nice,” Cooper said. “We’re planning your graduation party.”

“Cash money would be better,” he said with a grin.

“I think the University of Oregon is going to get the cash money,” Cooper said. “You’re getting a party. And a new niece.”

“Well, could you please move my sister and niece over so I can mop up that puddle you brought in?”

Cooper scooted Sarah over onto the rug inside the door. “Hey, Landon, you know a kid named Justin Russell?”

“Should I?”

“He went to your high school, but I take it he dropped out.”

“Oh, yeah? Oh, wait, he’s that kid who pumps gas at Lucky’s, right? He hardly ever says two words. So, what’s up with him?”

“When I stopped to get gas tonight, Eric mentioned the kid’s mother was taken to the hospital in an ambulance and there’s no dad in the family. The kid’s mom is an invalid. Justin seems to be taking care of his younger brothers. By himself.”

Landon whistled. “I hope he can manage as well as Sarah did, raising me alone. That can’t be easy. Poor guy.”

“Well, if you talk to him, like when you’re getting gas or something, you might ask him if there’s anything we can do to help. If you mention about being raised by your sister...”

“I can do that, Cooper, but I’m telling you—that kid doesn’t want to talk.” Landon gave the mop a swipe across the floor. “He probably doesn’t know what hit him. I’ll be sure to say hi. Or something...”

“Sometimes it doesn’t take much,” Cooper said. “You know—just reach out. Sometimes all a guy needs is a chance.”

* * *

The rumble of thunder and the rain against the window woke Sally Russell and she stirred in the hospital bed. She hadn’t been asleep very long—respiratory therapy kept waking her. This time when she opened her eyes she saw her son sitting in the chair beside her bed. “Justin?” she asked sleepily.

He stood up and came to the bedside. “Hi, Mom. How do you feel?”

“My chest hurts, but I think it’s getting better. I’m doing that breathing machine every couple of hours, at least. And I have antibiotics in the IV. Why are you here?”

“I got the boys home and came back. In case you need me.”

“I don’t need you, honey. There are nurses....”

“I mean, in case you’re upset or worried. You know...”

“I’m fine. I don’t want you to sit in that chair all night. You need to get home, get some sleep.”

“I’ll go in a while,” he said. “When the rain lets up some. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“You spoil me,” she said. Her voice was a whisper punctuated by attempts to take deep breaths. Justin had to lean close to hear her. “We have to be realistic, honey. You and the boys can’t take care of me anymore.”

“We’re okay, Mom. Really.”

“I know you’d do anything for me, I know. I want you to talk to Dr. Grant about what we do next. As a family.”

“Maybe the nurse can come more often. If the nurse can come more often...”

She was shaking her head. “I’m tired now, honey,” she whispered. “Maybe tomorrow we can talk more about this. I want you to go home. Get some rest.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I’ll just sit here for a few minutes. Until you fall asleep.”

She nodded and let her eyes close and he held her hand, but backed away to sit in the chair.

She was giving up.

Justin couldn’t remember a time they hadn’t lived with MS. It wasn’t long after his youngest brother was born that it was confirmed—her symptoms were related to MS; her muscle weakness and spasms, her lack of coordination and tremors, slurring speech. Then her vision became so bad if she didn’t fall because of her clumsiness, she might trip or miscalculate a step. From that first diagnosis until she needed almost full-time help was only a few years. Justin was doing more to help and take care of the family than anyone else by the time his father couldn’t take it anymore.