The question seemed to surprise Mad Dog. A slight frown pulled at his forehead.
"What do you mean?"
"Have you ever tried to stay anywhere?"
Mad Dog turned away from Jake and stared at the flocked, red-papered wall in front of them. He opened his mouth, then closed it.
"Are you gonna answer me?"
Mad Dog smiled, but it was forced. "Its a stupid question. I said I cant stay, so I cant. But at least Im honest—my old man lied to us. He acted like he was gonna stay, then he left. I never lie. "
Jakes heart twisted hard. "No, I guess you didnt. "
"When I realized what kind of drifter I was, how irresponsible and all, I made myself quit wantin a kid. "
"So now you dont want one?" Jakes voice was so quiet, he barely heard it himself.
"Naw, I like my life the way it is. I go where I want, do what I want. Im free. Youll know what I mean someday. "
Jake shook his head. "Ive been on the road awhile. I want a place to stay. " He looked at his dad, stared into his gray eyes and tried to make him understand. "Its . .
. lonely out there for me. "
Before Mad Dog could respond, a door creaked open. Doc Sherman came shuffling out of the bedroom and walked into the sitting room, sinking into the big, overstuffed chair across from them.
Jake froze, his eyes riveted on the doctor. Please, God, let him be okay . . . please. . . .
Easing the spectacles from his face, the doctor set them on his thigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Mad Dog leaned forward. "How is he, Doc?"
Sherman sighed again, a deep, depressed sound. "Not good. Its apoplexy. His left side is partially paralyzed, and hes in a deep sleep. A coma, its called. "
Jake felt as if he were falling. A tiny whimper escaped his pursed lips. Mad Dog squeezed his shoulder again. The reassuring touch comforted Jake, gave him an anchor in the shifting world of his grief.
"Is there anything you can do for him?"
The doctor shook his head. "Rass and I talked about this a few days ago. Hes been having the symptoms for a while now. He knew this was coming. He . . . he wanted to die at home. "
The word die hit Jake hard in the stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head in denial.
"How long does he have?" Mad Dog asked.
"Who knows? Maybe a week; maybe a day. "
"Sometimes miracles happen," Jake said quietly, staring at the doctor for confirmation. There was none.
Mad Dog gave Jake a slow, sad smile, and Jake knew that his father didnt believe in miracles any more than he did. "You just keep hoping that, Jake. Rass needs someone to believe in a miracle. " Then he turned back to the doctor. "What should we do for him?"
Doc pulled a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. "Ive made you a list. " He handed it to Mad Dog, who skimmed its contents before he looked back UP at the doctor.
"Anything else?"
"I dont think Mariah knew he was sick. Rass was so protective of her. " The doctor rubbed the bridge of his nose again and closed his eyes for a moment. "Its going to hit her hard. She has no one else in the world. " Jake looked up suddenly, feeling a tiny seed of hope in the darkness. She has me. He wanted to say the words out loud, tried to, but his throat was so thick, he could only make a useless, scratching sound.
"No one ever expects something like this," Doc went on, "and Mariahs . . . fragile. I wish there was someone to take care of her. Rass wouldve wanted that. "
Jake opened his mouth to say / will, but the words were never heard. Someone else had spoken first. "Ill take care of her," Mad Dog said. Jake looked at his father, stunned. Mad Dog was sitting hunched over, with his elbows on his bent knees, staring at the doctor. His eyes were filled with a quiet determination that surprised Jake. Mad Dog was serious. He would take care of Mariah. Jake shook his head. If he hadnt been so devastated about Rass, he might have managed a smile. It must mean something, this unexpected commitment to Mariah. Something big.