“Yeah?” Hudson glanced over to John’s room.
“See for yourself. I just finished rounds and have some patients to check in on, but if you have any questions, ask the nurse on duty, or you can reach me later.” She pursed her lips. “You have my cell number?”
At his nod, she grabbed her iPad and headed down the hall.
Hudson peeked through the window into his father’s room. Regan hadn’t been kidding. His father was sitting up in bed, looked as if he’d made good progress with the breakfast tray, and there was color in his cheeks.
Slowly, Hudson pushed open the door and slipped inside, so far undetected. John Blackwell was leafing through a book, a thick volume that looked much too large for his frail hands. A small smile swept across the older man’s face, and Hudson sucked in a sharp breath. In that moment, the glimpse of the man he’d been, the father he’d been, was undeniable.
It was both bittersweet and painful.
He watched his father for several more seconds, and then, feeling like a voyeur, cleared his throat. Almost instantly, John looked up from the book, though the smile on his face never left. In fact, it widened. Hell, it even reached his eyes.
“There you are,” John said, closing the book and setting it on his lap. “I hear I missed you last night.”
Hudson strode forward until he reached the edge of the bed. “You were sleeping.”
“Apparently, I slept the night away. Missed The Bachelorette.”
“The Bachelorette?” Hudson couldn’t be hearing right.
“Damn straight,” John replied a little sheepishly. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s Darlene’s fault. She watches all those damn reality shows. After a while, I kind of got sucked in.” His eyebrows rose. “You ever watch it?”
“No. Can’t say that I’ve ever been tempted.”
“Stay strong, son. Or you’ll end up like me. Usually Darlene and I discuss what happened. But I have no idea if that there bachelor, Brad, I think his name is, gave Tiffany a rose or not.”
“Sorry,” Hudson said, trying to hide a chuckle. “I can’t help you there.”
“No. I suppose you can’t. I guess I could google it.”
Hudson studied the man closely. “You’re looking good, Dad.”
“I feel pretty damn good today. Don’t even need extra oxygen.” He shrugged. “Not sure why, but I’ll take it.” He paused and settled back on his bed. “You get in to see Waters yesterday?”
“I did.” Hudson pulled up a chair and sat down.
“And?”
“And things are running the way they’re supposed to be. We’ve got a bid going in for roadwork in the next county, and I was told that phase three of the development across the lake is a go.” Hudson paused, watching his father closely. “Sam told me you sold off the financial branch.”
“I did. My heart wasn’t in it anymore, and I knew you boys would never come around.” There was no bitterness in his father’s words. No blame. Just quiet acceptance. “I had Sam invest most of the profits into your individual portfolios.” His father offered a weak smile. “Did it damn near a year ago. I see none of you boys check after your financials.”
That was an understatement. Sure, Hudson saw the statements when they arrived in the mail, but years ago, he’d stopped opening them and shoved them into the bottom drawer of his desk. It was as if hiding them meant he didn’t have to acknowledge a life that he’d given up. A name and a legacy he had no interest in. A community he was no longer a part of.
And yet…
Yet an idea had begun to percolate. One that he couldn’t stop thinking about.
“Can I talk to you about something?”
John nodded. “Fire away.”
“I ran into Harry Anderson yesterday.”
“Ah.” John’s mouth tightened. “Damn shame what happened to that boy. Nearly broke his father’s heart.”
“I bet.” Hudson splayed his hands over the tops of his thighs. Up until this moment, he hadn’t been exactly sure what he was going to say or do. “Remember when Myrtle Winger’s diner caught fire and all her kitchen equipment was ruined?”