Chapter 9
Beck
Portland Herald: Patrick Kendrick, Beloved Father and Patriarch of the Shadow Dancers Wolf Pack is Reported to be on his Death Bed
“Do I look like I’m on my deathbed?”
Our father, a man with more brawn than common sense, decided to perform some ridiculous country bumpkin jig right in the middle of the hospital room in his hospital gown. When he turned around, his ass toward the door, and shimmied, I closed and rubbed my eyes.
“Dad, the nurses don’t need you flashing them. We do want them to continue working at the hospital.” Cole was fighting to keep from laughing while our mother was the only one brave enough to try to coax our father back into bed.
“He’s right, Pops,” Ford added. “The nurses’ station is right outside the door.”
So they could keep an eye on our ornery father who’d made it his business to make everyone suffer during his stay.
He hated human hospitals more than any other shifter I’d known. The only reason he’d agreed to stay was because Georgia, Ford’s fiancée who was about to graduate from medical school, had coerced the right medical personnel to take over his care.
I wondered how much Georgia had needed to bribe the doctors.
I glanced at the open door, amused since our father’s least favorite nurse was glaring at him. He called her Nurse Ratched, which certainly hadn’t endeared him to her.
“Pat. Get back in bed,” our mother told him, her grip on his arm the one she used with her three boys when needing to drag one of us from a toy store. She’d needed superhuman strength then, even more so now.
“I am perfectly fine, Maggie. Why can’t anyone see that?” He was the only person to get away with calling her Maggie, Mags for short. That didn’t mean she liked either term of endearment. Even now, she was gritting her teeth to keep from lashing out.
“If you get back in bed,” she pushed, “you’ll get a surprise when you get home.”
Her singsong voice was also exactly the same as she’d used with us as children and every so often as adults.
When our dad’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, I could tell my sister was taking notes. How to handle a wayward husband in three easy lessons.
I’d never admit it in public, but women were much smarter than men. Now why was it that as soon as the admittance rolled through my brain I thought of Sloane?
My mother never lessened her grip while taking the newspaper from his hand and leading him back to bed.
“There. There. That’s a very good boy,” she cooed while rubbing his face.
For all the coddling she had to do with him, I’d never seen two people so very much in love. Their relationship was something to aspire to.
“Why are all the newspapers and social media posts reporting that Daddy is on death’s door?” Samantha asked. Since I was standing closest to her, she showed me what she’d been looking at, even scrolling for convenience.
She was right in that all the pertinent online news sources had a similar caption.
“What I want to know is where they got the name of the Shadow Dancers Wolf Pack,” Ford snorted.
The sheepish look on our father’s face was a clear indication he had an idea. When I took a step closer, my mother pointed her do-and-you’ll-be-cut-out-of-our-will finger. Her expression was no more comforting.
I wasn’t a stupid boy. I clammed up.
Cole, being the youngest of the three boys, apparently had a death wish. “Didn’t I hear that name at some point? Didn’t Grampa tell us stories that included shadow dancers?”
A sound from outside the room interrupted the family gathering, Nurse Ratched thumping into the room. She could certainly rival our mother in a mud wrestling event. “Visiting hours are over. You need your rest, Mr. Kendrick. We don’t want to find use for those restraints again, now do we?”
Pops ground his teeth. “I want to go home.”
“Tomorrow, Mr. Kendrick. But only if you’re a good boy.”
Maybe I was the only one who noticed the nurse winking at our mother on the sly.
I moved closer to the door, both Cole and Ford following me. While the nurse discussed our father’s care after he left the hospital, we had a little family meeting sans our sister. We’d catch her up to date later. She was our decoy so we could talk.
“What do you remember about the Shadow Dancers?” Ford asked, doing his best to keep his voice down.
“Just that the packs all used to have a name. Now they’re just listed by territories.” Cole leaned his head against the wall.
“That’s because there’s less pack mentality and more community connections,” Ford offered, more amused than anything else.
I don’t know why, but I was anxious. Our father’s heart attack had come out of the blue. The man was healthy as a horse. Or so his old timey doctor had told him.
Maybe it was time for Pops to come out of the stone age.
There was something to be said about modern medicine.
With Georgia being a pioneer in bridging the gap between shifter and human medicine, there were hopes that fears would eventually be dissipated.
Maybe not for the old timers, but the crop of young pups.
From what I understood, her exploratory work held respect from her peers on both sides of the DNA strain.
“Who would tell members of the press Dad was dying?” Cole glanced from one to the other of us.
“The better question is why.” Another hospital worker walked into the room. In her hand was a lovely plant instead of flowers. Since I was the closest, I moved into the doorway. “I’ll take those for you.”
The girl nodded, her eyes lighting up and I could tell instant recognition as soon as she turned her head toward the other two.
“Could I get your autograph?” Her voice was wispy.
I took a step away, nodding to Ford. Always the heartthrob.
“I don’t have any paper with me and I really do want to make your day,” he told her, already prepared to give his latest fan as much attention as she needed.
While trying to fight providing any reaction at all, I placed the plant on the table.
“Um,” the girl said as if confused while whipping out a glittery looking Sharpie. “If it’s okay with you, you can use my arm.”
At least the girl didn’t ask if Ford would sign her boobs.
“Sure,” he told her.
Imagine his shock when she walked toward me, holding out the pen. Her entire face blushed and the tiny little squeal of happiness couldn’t be faked.
While Ford’s face immediately fell, I couldn’t help myself, beaming as if I’d just won the lottery. “Who do I make it out to?”
“Alicia. I just adored the article on you. I knew you were a star, but reading about your amazing family and now getting to meet them is incredible. You’re my hero.” If the girl dripped any more honey, we’d all slip-slide on the floor.
“You’re very sweet.” I took my time creating a few little hearts with arrows while signing my name. You bet Ford was watching intently. I’d never seen his jaw clenched with such force.
I couldn’t help myself. Of all the times he’d been almost knocked down by girls even though it was no secret he was completely off the bachelor list was truly disgusting. Okay, so I was envious.
“There you go, Alicia.”
She held her arm out, admiring my scribble. “You are my hero,” she repeated.
Hero. I would never be anyone’s hero, but I damn well liked to hear it.
As she tried to back out from the room, she smashed her back against the wall.
“Are you okay?” Cole came to the rescue, ensuring she didn’t fall. There was something different about the way they were looking at each other.
I had to turn my head away before I laughed. Cole was turning out to be the family Casanova.
“Who is the gorgeous butterfly begonia from, son?” In addition to our mother ensuring the corporation hired the right people, she ran the household and had several hobbies, one of them being exotic plants.
Her greenhouse had been photographed for a couple of magazines.
The fact she obviously had eyes in the back of her head since she hadn’t looked away from our father was amazing.
Another reminder how powerful women could and should be.
“Let me see.” I pulled open the card.
Kendrick family. Sending my love and hopes for a miracle in Mr. Kendrick’s recovery. Sloane Winters.
I read the card again, even rolling my finger across the letters. She’d written the card herself. I could tell by the writing and the heart used to dot her I’s. I’d seen her notes in the bar. I wondered if she had any idea she was doing that.
“Oh, just a friend, Mom. Just a friend.”
Ford was by my side, snatching the card from my hand. My brother didn’t pull any punches. “Just a friend, huh?”
“Yeah, so she wrote the article. So what?” I snatched it back.
“So what? I don’t know too many reporters who have ever sent flowers. Granted, she’s under the impression Dad is currently rolling on a spit somewhere.”
“Son!” Mom snapped. “Don’t excite your father. You know how much he misses his grill.”
I wondered if she had any idea where the story had originated. “We need to find out who lied.”
“Don’t change the subject,” Ford hissed. “You spent a lot of time with that girl. Didn’t the coach find you in a massage room booked for two?”
“What are we talking about here?” Cole grabbed it from my fingers, even backing away so I wouldn’t try to take it again. “That article was hot. How about the girl?”
“From what I remember, she was pretty sexy,” Ford teased, bumping me on purpose in the process.
“What hot girl?” Samantha entered the picture, leaning over Cole’s shoulder. “Oh, I’ve read her work. She’s amazing. The best sports reporter in the industry. She has a crush on you?”
“More like the other way around. I heard one of the guys mention the two were huddled together inside a bar.”
Now I punched Ford. “She was there when we walked in. She hates me. I confronted her. That was it.”
“Then why did you two pretend you were married?” Ford lifted his eyebrow.
“Where did you hear that shit?” Great. The last rumor in the world I’d want flying around.
“Don’t curse!” Mom chastised. “Who’s getting married?”
“About time,” Pops chimed in.
I was exasperated, trying to jerk the card from Cole’s hand, but he took another step away.
What was the expression? Oh, yeah. If looks could kill, my brother would be the one on the spit. “We had an interesting few… conversations. That’s it. She was writing an article. Nothing more.”
“Oh,” both brothers said at the same time, way too gleeful about it too.
I snatched the card once again, curling it in my fingers.
“Everyone needs to leave,” Nurse Ratched insisted.
“We’ll come get you tomorrow, Dad,” Ford offered.
Pops punched his pillows and sat up. “No, you will not. You already missed two games. That’s it. I am fine. Go back to work. Your team lost in Chicago the other night and you,” he continued, pointing at Cole, “still need to prove your worth. Go. I will be fine.”
“Dad,” I started. “You need help with the sawmill.”
He shook his head vehemently. “That’s what having a manager is all about. He’s doing just fine. Go. I do not want you tangled under my feet.”
“Just give me a few minutes with your father.” Mom wasn’t using her happy tone, but her demanding one.
We all knew better than to ignore her request, piling out in the corridor to wait.
“Dad is going to be fine,” Samantha assured us. “I’m not going anywhere and I’ll keep an eye out on the business.”
“So will I,” Cole said. “And the season is almost over.”
All three of us looked at him. His disappointment was evident.
Ford had been there last year when he’d been injured.
With Cole, it was his lack of confidence that had held him back.
However, now wasn’t the time to point it out to him.
“With the team’s loss last night, there is no way we’re going to make the playoffs. ”
“Sorry, dude,” I told him. I wasn’t immune to the pain of feeling as if the whole world was on your shoulders. Cole was the most sensitive of the three of us. “Next year will be your year.”
“Yeah, I doubt I’ll be around. However, that leaves the two of you to make the family proud.”
“No pressure there,” Samantha hissed.
“Pops is right. We need to get back to the Hellions. We only have a few games left.” Ford was looking to me for advice or an okay. I knew our father well enough to know that even if he was on his death bed, he’d want us to push forward.
“Fine. I’ll call the coach.” Why was it that every sigh emitted was heavy as hell?
I leaned against the wall, realizing I was still holding the card.
I fingered it, able to detect just a hint of her perfume.
Hell, I couldn’t lie. I’d missed the woman more than I cared to admit.
“What is the point in insisting Pops is dying?”
No one had an immediate answer.
“What if this is all about trying to prove we live forever?” Cole offered. “That would make for one hell of a story.”
Shrugging, I wasn’t certain what to say.
“Or pushing him to shift. You know how some people are.”
Ford’s idea held some merit. “Most people understand by now that we’re not flesh-eating monsters.”
“No, but to continue pushing the point about us being shifters has never left the agenda. There are people who want us expelled.”
I was growing weary of dealing with the bullshit even though there was far less press or pushback since almost four years had passed since the great awakening that we existed.
“Maybe a reporter just got bad information. You know how the press feeds off one another. Suddenly a story explodes,” Samantha suggested in her usual calming voice.
“The only problem is that our father isn’t famous and no matter what Ford believes, neither are we.” I couldn’t help tossing out a barb or two.
“Uh-huh. Well, then, lover boy. Why don’t you have a nice, long, intimate chat with a woman who obviously believes the sun rises and sets on your ass while we’re in Miami?” Ford crossed his arms, tossing out the challenge just like he used to do when we were kids.
“Who says she’ll be there?”
“First of all,” Cole answered. “She must be at games to write about them. That’s her job.”
“There’s also a thing called a cellphone. Maybe you’ve heard of it?” Samantha’s smile was far too bright.
“Very funny. Trust me. We are not that close. If she comes to Miami, I’ll see if she has a minute to speak with me.
” Whatever was going on with the press, I didn’t like, but I’d learned after just a few games that all I could control was the game I played and the way I reacted to them.
I closed my eyes, wondering what it would be like to see her again.
Maybe I was playing with fire, but I liked the girl. Maybe a little too much.
The other three were entirely too quiet.
When I opened one eye, Cole started laughing first.
“Hey, buddy.” Ford wasn’t holding back on what he thought was his suave charm. “You better check those immoral thoughts of yours. Your ears are smokin’.”
While the other two laughed, I managed to give him a high five with my middle finger just before he blew me off, walking away.
Family. What a fucking pain in the ass.