Chapter Fourteen
Daire finished inspecting his latest building site and checked his phone for the time.
Three o’clock. If he hurried, he could take a quick shower and be there when Doc came out of his chemo appointment.
Wouldn’t he be surprised? Maybe they could order takeout on the way home.
Shirley might have some soup to tempt Doc’s meager appetite.
Besides, the poor guy shouldn’t have to depend on rides from strangers, or as much of a stranger as an Uber driver could be in a town as tiny as Belton, Alabama.
He pulled into his long driveway, spotting someone on the porch before he turned off the truck. Few people but Doc ever came to see him, excluding the occasional one-night stands who never came here without Daire, or a seriously lost tourist.
Doc sat on the front porch in a rocking chair, wrapped in an old quilt. He should still be at the hospital, shouldn’t he? No cars, so he must have taken an Uber or had a friend drop him off.
Prickles of unease trailed along Daire’s spine. Icy dread seized his insides. He opened the truck door, shouting, “Doc! I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything all right?”
Please let him answer. Please, please!
Doc didn’t move from his chair. Was he asleep? Please let him just be asleep.
“Doc? Doc!” Daire dashed across the yard and took all four steps in a single bound. “Doc!”
Doc remained still, a look of utter peace on his face. Daire unwrapped him to place a hand on his heart.
A framed photo of Doc and Grandpa Nate fell from Doc’s hand. Oh fuck! Daire pressed his fingers against Doc’s neck and then moved them to beneath Doc’s nose. No pulse, no breath. He’d stressed often enough about his “Do not resuscitate” living will.
Daire fell on his ass more than sat, burying his face in his hands. Doc, gone! The only friend who knew the truth. His mentor. The man who’d kept him from giving up after he’d seen his own father murdered. Who’d fussed over him as a father would.
Who’d kept him going.
Someone Daire loved deeply. Hot tears squeezed from his eyes, and he rocked back and forth.
What would he do now? How had Doc died? Had he caused his own death?
Or had he come to be near his love at the end?
How long had he been sitting here? When had he passed?
And why couldn’t Daire have been with him?
About a half-hour passed before Daire regained enough control to pull his cell phone from his pocket and call for an ambulance.
“We’re too far out in the woods for them to get here soon,” he said to Doc’s still form, “but they’ll be here shortly.
” Making conversation helped calm Daire enough to keep his shit together.
He shifted Doc in the chair, trying to make him as comfortable as possible while firmly denying that Doc wouldn’t know. “Are you cold?” Daire tucked the quilt back around Doc’s lifeless body and fished one of Doc’s hands out from under the cover to hold the photo.
“You picked my favorite picture of you two,” Daire said, stopping to clear his throat when the words stuck. “What did you say? You want to hear a song. I guess I can play you one.”
Daire stumbled through the front door, glancing back over his shoulder. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Doc merely slept, like he did so often in his recliner while a game show played on TV. “I’m gonna miss you, old man. More than you’ll ever know."
Blinking back tears cleared Daire’s vision enough for him to find his guitar, return to the porch, and seat himself on the top step.
“Which one you wanna hear first?” he asked, pausing long enough for the Doc of yesterday to reply. “Since you didn’t make a choice, how ‘bout I start with this one?”
Daire played by muscle memory, because he damned sure couldn’t think right now, a lullaby his mother used to sing, one Nate had shared with Doc. Daire played the song twice through before switching to another, the one he’d played for Doc the other night.
Nate’s favorite.
Every note made Daire’s heart ache harder, a constant, squeezing pain. Though he stopped several times to sob quietly, he always resumed the song until he was too numb to play anymore.
Daire’s dragon lay quiet within him, not knowing how to help its human half, hovering just shy of shifting, offering all the reassurance a non-corporeal entity could, sending a silent, I’m here. You’re not alone, with feelings instead of words.
Wind rustled the uppermost branches of the oaks surrounding the cabin.
A mourning dove joined Daire in his grieving.
Across the yard, a doe trotted through the trees, a fawn racing to catch up.
In the distance, the river flowed. Life went on.
The world still turned. There was just one less kind soul to enjoy the beauty of this place.
Daire lifted his face to the sky, doing his best to wail like a dragon in human form until an ambulance siren joined his voice.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” Keith sat on the couch, beer in hand, long legs stretched out before him.
“There’s nothing anyone can do.” Daire sipped his beer, sparing a moment of gratitude for friends coming to see him, realizing they hadn’t before because he’d never invited them.
A friend in need changed the rules, and Keith hadn’t waited for an invitation to arrive on the porch with a six-pack of beer, a bucket of fried chicken, and a homemade pecan pie.
News traveled fast in a small town. Daire hadn’t even had to make a phone call. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I told ’em I’d be in later,” Keith said, running a hand through his mop of copper hair. “Sheila’s schedule changed too, so I imagine we’ll see her anytime now.”
A knock sounded on the front door frame, and Sheila tramped through the open door as if on cue.
Damn her quiet Prius. And Daire's current inattention. “I brought you some things.” Instead of the normal cake or pie Daire expected, like his workers brought him, Sheila carried several reusable grocery bags past him into the kitchen, the cabinets and the fridge door opening and closing as she put things away. “I figured you wouldn’t be in the mood to go out, so I made sure you have milk, bread, cheese, bacon, beer. You know, all the major food groups.”
Once more, gratitude filled Daire’s heart, or what little of his heart still functioned. “Thank you.”
Sheila took a chair across from Daire, the same place Doc used to sit, strategically placed for the best view of the TV.
“Y’all didn’t have to come. I’m not good company right now.” All Daire wanted to do was curl into a ball and mourn his friend. Doc’s death brought back memories of Father’s, and how Daire couldn’t give either of them a grand funeral. Doc didn’t want one.
“When you’re not good company is when you need friends the most,” Keith drawled, voice soft. He normally yelled to be heard over the bar’s music and a dozen competing conversations. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“As I can be.” Daire revealed more about himself than he ever had to Keith and Sheila.
“I don’t think I ever said, but my father died not too long before I came here.
” He caught his mistake the moment the words left his mouth.
The real Griff lost his father years ago.
Neither of Daire’s friends seemed to pick up on his blunder.
Had they not known Griffin’s father? He’d grown up in this town, right?
“Oh, you poor dear.” Sheila reached over, patting his hand. “And then your grandfather.”
For a moment, Daire nearly forgot to be Griffin Hodges. “Yeah.”
“Your horrible accident,” Keith supplied.
“That too. Doc stepped in to help me, though he’d never met me before. I didn’t realize how much I relied on him until too late.”
Sheila patted Daire’s hand again. “He knows, honey, he knows.”
Daire got to the heart of the matter. “I feel so guilty for outliving them all.”
“They were older than you. I’m not sure about your father, but your grandfather and Doc lived full lives,” Keith reassured him. “The whole town respected them.”
Daire, Keith, and Sheila sat in the living room drinking, not saying a thing unless one of his friends offered Daire another beer when he ran out. Most people would try to fill the void with chatter, offering condolences. Keith and Sheila sat in silence.
Exactly what Daire needed.
For a moment, a split second really, he swore he saw two men standing in the corner holding hands. Doc sported a full head of hair and not a gray strand marred either man. The image from the picture Doc held at the end.
An image Daire would carry with him.
Daire retrieved Doc’s ashes from the funeral home a few days later and repeatedly glanced at the urn strapped into his passenger seat on the way to the cabin. The more he drove, the heavier his heart grew.
“I’m not ready to tackle the house yet, but Reggie will see to your houseplants. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of your roses.” May the house’s new owners prize Doc’s flower gardens, the culmination of years of painstaking work.
He parked in his driveway, carried the urn to the river, and removed the top.
If he didn’t act quickly, he might procrastinate for days, maybe even months.
No. He’d made a promise to Doc. “Goddess, I’m still not sure if you have any say over human lives, but Doc didn’t pray that I knew of, so he has no one else.
Please take him unto yourself and, if possible, reunite him with his Nate.
” Daire would take comfort in the two men being together again, even if he couldn’t provide Nate’s true name.
The Goddess knew her own.
Daire dropped to his knees, staring out over the river, the flowing water sparkling in the sunlight.
A light breeze caressed his brow. He stared at the urn for a while before drawing in a deep breath and keeping a promise, spreading Doc’s ashes along the riverbank.
The Goddess had to have a special place for dragons who loved humans.
This couldn’t be the end for Doctor Anton Titus and Nathaniel Hodges.