Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls #2)(21)

“We both know it isn’t.” Grant gestured toward the door. “Let’s see how he is today.”

Hannah’s insides trembled as she stepped toward her father’s room. Grant put his hand on her elbow, and she tried to absorb some of his confidence.

The Colonel was asleep. Hannah couldn’t suck back the quick and quiet gasp as she registered his deterioration. His face was gaunt, his hands skeletal. His skin had tightened, as smooth as plastic, over his bones. Under the white linens, his body had shrunken. She had few memories of the Colonel before the explosion, bits of images and impressions that littered her mind like confetti. But even confined to a wheelchair, he’d been a formidable presence. Now his body was barely a shell.

A clip from her childhood played in her mind. The Colonel zooming through the forest on his specially rigged ATV. He’d been paralyzed in Desert Storm, but back then, he’d been determined to stay active. His descent into madness over the past few years had been the ultimate kick in the face for a man who’d confronted trial after trial with a warrior’s courage. It was as if Fate just wasn’t happy until she’d broken him.

Anger and hurt welled up in Hannah’s chest at the overwhelming unfairness.

Grant squeezed her arm. She ripped her eyes off her father’s shrunken figure and stared at her brother. Grant had inherited the Colonel’s size and natural leadership. The stubborn gene had been passed to all the Barretts. But their father was a soldier through and through. He’d shown his love for his children by pushing them as hard as new recruits. There was enough of Mom in Grant to soften his hard edges. He bonded with Carson and Faith in a way that had been impossible for the Colonel. Grant would never leave Faith behind, and he’d never exclude her, even unintentionally, and he wouldn’t put those two kids through drills that could break twenty-year-old men.

Grant walked to the bedside and inspected the bags hanging off an IV stand.

Hannah shuffled to her father’s side. Within a few seconds, lack of movement allowed anxiety to build in her bloodstream like a toxin.

“Colonel?” Grant touched Dad’s hand.

The Colonel opened his eyes, confusion and suffering clouding the once-sharp blue of his irises. “Gary?”

Hannah bit back a tear. The Colonel’s younger brother had been dead for fifteen years.

Grant didn’t miss a beat. “I brought you a visitor.”

The Colonel’s head moved on the pillow. His eyes blinked on Hannah. Recognition, then affection dimmed his pain, and relief flooded Hannah. He knew her.

All his joy came forth in one word. “Hope.”

The sound of her mother’s name from his lips nearly took out Hannah’s knees.

“Don’t just stand there, Gary,” the Colonel barked in a raspy, weak voice. “Get Hope a chair.” He coughed, the effort of issuing orders clearly taxing his lungs.

Grant rounded the bed and set a visitor chair behind Hannah. His hand on her shoulder steadied her legs.

This visit is for the Colonel, not for me.

She willed her disappointment away. It slunk to the wings and sulked, waiting. She knew it would be back.

Her father turned his hand over. His fingers curled in a Come here gesture. Hannah closed her hand over his, leaned over, and kissed his cheek. The strength of his grip around her fingers surprised her. She eased onto the plastic seat.

“Beat it, Gary,” the Colonel said with a slight jerk of his head. “I want to be alone with my girl.”

Wiping tears from her cheeks, Hannah laughed. Even impending death couldn’t break the Colonel’s fighting spirit.

With a sad smile, Grant bowed out, but Hannah knew he’d be lingering in the hallway, within earshot, in case she needed him.

“I’ll walk again. I promise,” the Colonel said.

He thought it was 1991, and he was just returning from Iraq. How often did he have to relive that awful time?

He squeezed her hand. “Don’t cry. Everything’s going to be all right.”

And, oddly, it was. Hannah wiped her cheeks. He was too weak for much conversation, but he seemed to be content to sit in silence and hold her hand. When he fell asleep, his face was relaxed and peaceful. She waited until his breathing leveled out before slipping from the room.

“He thought it was just after the explosion.” Hannah stopped at the nurses’ station to pluck a tissue from the box on the counter.

“That happens. Are you all right?” Grant wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her down the hallway toward the exit.

“The best visit I’ve had with him in years, and he thought I was someone else.”

“He can’t help it. I know you’re hurting, Hannah. But he had a really good hour, and you gave it to him.”

“I know,” she sighed. Outside of her hometown, she fared better, but here in Scarlet Falls, painful memories overwhelmed her. She was instantly reduced to a nine-year-old girl left behind while her father took her brothers on an outing in the woods. He usually let her go if she asked, but he’d never been happy about it. And the fact that she always had to justify her inclusion spoke volumes of their relationship.

Her therapist had not been surprised she had trouble forming attachments.

Grant pushed the door open, and they walked out into the daylight. The breeze swept cool over her face, but the sun rallied for warmth on her skin. Her brother started toward the truck. “Do you want to talk about it?”