“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”
“Don’t care if the old man’s got a sniffle, okay?”
“It’s not just a sniffle,” Wayne said. “He has pneumonia.”
Jeff quelled the anxiety that rushed into his stomach. “Yeah? I hope he coughs up a lung.”
“He’s at Riverdale Hospital outside Grand Junction. It’s really serious in a guy his age. He’s not getting any younger.”
Damn it! Again, he pushed the feelings of worry deep within him. “The asshole’s too mean to die.”
Wayne shook his head. “You’ll never learn, will you?”
Jeff stood and walked Wayne to the door. “I’ve learned all I can from that old fool. I’ve learned exactly who I don’t want to be when I grow up. You take your inheritance when he dies. See if I care. At least I’ll go to my own grave knowing I didn’t kiss some old geezer’s ass to get mine.”
Wayne left, still shaking his head.
Jeff opened another beer, took a drink, and then spit it in the sink. “Goddamn you, Norman Bay.”
Jeff had only had one beer, and he poured the second one down the drain. He grabbed his leather jacket and his motorcycle helmet and left the apartment, sneering.
As he rode toward the hospital, he cursed himself for going. Yet he didn’t turn back. He rode all the way to the hospital and went in. Visiting hours were surely long over, but he didn’t care. He checked in with the front desk and asked what room Norman Bay was in. Then he walked to the elevator and headed up.
The man looked fragile, lying in bed sleeping. Jeff didn’t try to wake him up. Just stood and stared at his grandfather. Weak and old, the man had wrinkles marring his once handsome face. His gray hair, once as thick and bushy as Jeff’s own, was thinning. Sheesh, he’s not even on oxygen. Can’t be that bad. But a part of his heart hurt. Those anxious feelings of fear for the old man’s life crept up again. And he hated himself for them. This man had disinherited him. Practically disowned him. Had basically s
aid, “You aren’t fit to be my grandson.”
Well, so be it.
In spite of himself, he was glad Grandpa looked okay. He wasn’t in the ICU or anything. He’d be fine.
Of course he would.
Jeff walked quietly out of the hospital room and down the hall to the elevator.
He didn’t want to go home.
So he didn’t.
Chapter Five
How? How do I make myself whole again?
Even if he could afford counseling, a decent therapist in Bakersville didn’t exist. He’d have to go to Denver, and that was an hour drive each way. His old truck didn’t have it in her, and no way would he ask Maria to take him. Plus, he didn’t want to miss the work. He was no charity case, damn it. He’d do a hard day’s work to pay for his keep.
The nightmares weren’t the main thing. They were coming less and less. He’d been out two years, and now they only surfaced about once a week instead of every night. That was progress, right?
He didn’t have post-traumatic stress disorder. He didn’t have the symptoms. No, that wasn’t the problem.
He knew what the problem was.
He had to forgive himself. For rebelling as a young man and making such terrible decisions. For taking the fall for Max and going to prison. He’d felt he had no choice at the time after Mia’s betrayal, but he’d been young and stupid. He hadn’t been able to see past tomorrow. But God, he’d lived through three decades of tomorrows behind bars. So not worth it. If he’d had it to do over, he’d have just gotten over Mia and moved on with life.
“Ha!” He laughed out loud. Get over Mia and move on with life? Here he was, thirty-three years later, and he still wasn’t over her.
But at least he would have been a free man.
And he had to forgive himself for not helping the innocent inmates who were brutalized almost nightly in prison.