Waiting On You

Once, Lucas had come upon her in Frank’s study, where she was slipping a little glass statue in her purse. “Please don’t steal from my in-laws,” he’d said mildly, and she’d flashed him a glare of such hatred, he’d actually smiled. She might want to kiss up to his in-laws, but it was almost reassuring to see that she still couldn’t stand the sight of him.

When informed about his divorce, Didi’s first question had been, “What about the holidays?” After all, if Lucas wasn’t a son-in-law anymore, odds were low that his aunt and uncle would get an invitation to the famous Forbes New Year’s Eve party, the amazing Thanksgiving dinner for thirty of their closest friends.

Frank and Grace Forbes—and Ellen—had stayed close with his sister, Steph, and her girls since the divorce, because they were really wonderful, not about to cut off five people—six, counting him—they loved. His divorce was more than amicable, not to mention Ellen’s idea.

“How’s Joe today?” Lucas asked Didi.

“See for yourself,” she said, turning away. “Take off your shoes first.”

He obeyed, then started upstairs.

“He’s in your—the room off the kitchen,” she said. “It was easier that way.”

Of course. Joe was weak, that was true. Also, Didi was a bitch.

Lucas went through the vast chef’s kitchen to the small hallway that led to the laundry room and his old room. Knocked gently on the door, which was open a crack.

The room was crowded: the hospital bed, a night table covered with the detritus of sickness—pill bottles, a half-filled glass of water, tissues, a magazine and Joe’s silver pocket watch, which had been handed from father to son since the Civil War. A desk with a large-screened computer was wedged against one wall. The room didn’t have windows, and Lucas remembered how dark it was in here. Like a grave, he’d often thought, and now more than ever.

His uncle was sleeping. Lucas hadn’t seen him for a few months. The kidney disease made Joe appear tan, and he was thinner than he’d ever been, though a little puffy from fluid retention.

But now, even asleep, he looked old. And tired.

A lot like Lucas’s father the last time he’d seen him. The family resemblance was strong.

Joe was dying. The reality hit Lucas like a tanker, and his eyes stung all of a sudden. Despite Didi’s ceaseless resentment, Joe had always been a good uncle.

Joe stirred, then opened his eyes. “Hey,” he said, struggling to sit up. “How are you, buddy?”

Lucas gave his uncle a lean-in hug. Cleared his throat. “Good to see you, Joe.”

“You, too! You look great. When did you get in?”

“Last night.”

“You see Bryce yet?”

“Sure did. Found him at O’Rourke’s.” And not just him, either.

“Yeah, he goes there a lot.” Joe smiled. “So.”

“So.”

“Don’t tire him out, Lucas,” Didi said, appearing in the doorway, hands on her bony hips.

“He won’t,” Joe said.

“When’s Bryce coming back? He wanted to do something with you this afternoon.” Her eyes flickered toward Lucas. This was typical for her; any time Joe and Lucas might have a bonding moment, she was there to interrupt and remind Joe that he had a son, a wonderful son, a real son.

And the thing was, it generally worked. Joe was a nice guy, but he was no match for Didi. There were other terms for it, meaner terms, but it was clear that Joe generally did what Didi told him to do.

“Give me a few minutes with my uncle,” Lucas said, and without waiting for an answer, got up and closed the door in her face.

The door flew open again immediately. “Just because you breeze into town whenever you like, I’m still the one who has to take care of him. My whole life is doctor’s appointments and hospital visits these days. I don’t have a minute to breathe—”

“Then breathe now,” he said, and closed the door again.

Apparently Didi couldn’t find a way to argue that. After a second, her heels tapped away down the hall, though Lucas would bet she’d tiptoe back and eavesdrop.

“What can I do for you, Uncle Joe?” he asked, taking his seat again.

Joe sighed. “Here’s the thing, Lucas. Bryce...well, he’s just not really grown up yet, you know what I mean?”

He nodded, his hand on his uncle’s. Joe’s arm looked odd, courtesy of the fistula he needed for dialysis.

“I’d like to leave this world knowing he had a plan, at least. I don’t want him—” Joe glanced at the closed door and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I don’t want her to have her hooks in him forever. You know what I mean?”

“I do.”

“So maybe you could hang around for...well, till the day comes. I know he’s gonna take this hard.” Joe’s eyes filled with tears.

Yes. Last night, Bryce had acknowledged that his dad was sick, but he also talked about how much better Joe was looking these days. Dialysis was amazing! And besides, a kidney would come along any minute.

The fact that Joe wasn’t on the organ registry—and indeed, wasn’t eligible for a transplant, thanks to the tumor in his lung—was not something Bryce would admit.

“I’ll stay however long you need,” Lucas said. He owed it to Joe, after all.

“You can get off work that long?”

“Yep. I’m leaving the company, remember?”

“Right, right.” Joe paused. “Where will you stay when you’re here?”

“I’m at the Black Swan right now,” he said. “Just called the Realtor about a short-term rental.”

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Joe offered, but they both knew that he wasn’t. Didi would hate having him here, and if Didi wasn’t happy, no one was allowed to be happy.

“That’s okay.”

“So you think you could help Bryce? Maybe help him find work? He hasn’t ever had a job he really loved, aside from the dog shelter stuff.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Just having you here is going to be great. He’s always worshipped you. Always wanted to do what you did, whatever that might’ve been.”

Lucas nodded. That was certainly true; from baseball cards to a paper route, if Lucas had it, Bryce wanted it. And Didi made sure he got it.

“There’s another thing I need you to help me with,” Joe whispered, and Lucas felt a flash of anger that the man had to whisper in his own home.