Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5) (2 page)

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T
hat’s where I’ve been the past few weeks, holding vigil by this man’s bed. Holding his cold hand, reveling at its size much like the man himself: big, bulky, and rough-looking. Cursing him for not waking up, for leaving us hanging.

It’s not like I was only one trying, either. Every one of our friends have been here, talking, coaxing, and even pleading with him to wake up, but without results until now.

I watch the nurse flick the flashlight into his eyes and he squints, his hand uncoordinated as it tries to swat at the light. A relief washes over me so strong, my entire body seems to deflate. It isn’t until the nurse talks to me that I realize the tears running down my face.

“You okay, Beth? Would you like me to call someone for you?”

Her gentle inquiry pulls me back in the moment, and I immediately dig my cell phone out of my purse.

“I will. Th—thank you,” I mutter, dialing the one person who has been as anxiously awaiting Clint’s return as I have, while the nurse continues her preliminary examination of his reflexes and tries to coax him to speak.

“He’s waking up,” is the only thing I need to say.

“On my way,” the person on the other side answers before hanging up.

-

-

W
ith the arrival of the doctor, I’ve been ushered out of the room, while Clint is subjected to a more thorough examination. He hadn’t done much more than blink, so far. The nurse suggested I use the time to get something to eat, but I can’t bring myself to move from my spot right outside his door. I should probably give Dylan a call. I’ve been staying with my son and his family for a few weeks now. Walking in, dead on my feet, after another day spent watching over Clint and doing little more than rolling into bed and sleeping. Only in the mornings would I allow myself an hour or two to enjoy my two-year-old grandbaby, Max, before my daughter-in-law, Tammy, would take him to daycare and I’d head back to the hospital for another day of vigil.

Frankly, I was glad to be out of the house, the tension between my son and his wife palpable. I’ve tried to talk to Dylan to find out what is wrong, but he isn’t talking. Neither is Tammy, for that matter, and although she’s never been my favorite person—a little too self-involved for my tastes—I hate seeing both of them struggle. They married so young, after dating only a few months and finding themselves pregnant. Dylan had just turned twenty-three and Tammy had still been in college. They struggled through his apprenticeship as a mechanic, where he made next to nothing, and more often than not, I’d had to help out when rent would come due at the beginning of the month. Once he was fully licensed though, his pay increased, Tammy got a part time job, and life had become a little easier for them, until now. I hate that as a mother and grandmother, I have no choice but to sit back and worry.

I am lost in my thoughts and don’t hear anyone coming in until a hand falls on my shoulder.

“Hey. How is he?” The deep southern rumble is so like his brother’s, I look up to find Jed’s eyes full of concern.

“Not sure. The doc’s checking him over right now.”

“Has he said anything? Can he talk?”

They’d told us that even when he does wake up, he might not be the same man we remember. It’s possible he’ll have some lasting damage. My heart clenches at the thought of the big burly man, irritating as he might be, limited or changed in any way.

“He hasn’t talked, has barely even opened his eyes. His arm just suddenly moved,” I tell him, as he sinks down in the seat beside me.

“He won’t be happy to see me, you know,” Jed says wistfully. It’s not the first time he’s said something like that.

When Clint was first brought in, and I threw myself up as his ‘next of kin,’ I realized how little I knew about this man. Didn’t know of any family or even a past. I’d never given myself an opportunity to know him better. All I knew was that the name of his company, Mason Brothers, would indicate there’s more than one Mason. So I started digging and making some calls, finally locating Jed, Clint’s brother, with whom he apparently lost touch years ago. Some kind of estrangement that Jed stayed very vague about, short of saying Clint bought him out and had taken over the company by himself. He hadn’t hesitated though, when I explained who I was and why I called. Within half a day, Jed appeared at the hospital, and I never questioned who he was; the two so similar in build it was almost uncanny. My guess is Clint has probably five years or so on his brother age-wise, but other than that, the brothers favored the same genes quite obviously. Jed came in and immediately took over the running of Mason Brothers, no questions asked. He also never questioned my ruse with the hospital to be put on record as Clint’s fiancée, something I immediately confessed to. From what I could see, Jed Mason was a decent, hardworking man, just like his brother. Puzzling.

“You don’t know that,” I suggest. “Surely, he’ll be grateful that you dropped everything to be here, making sure his business is taken care of.”

A snort is my only answer and rather than pry, I sink back in the quiet of the small waiting room.

-

“B
eth?”

The nurse from earlier, I think her name is Kathy, sticks her head around the door when she spots Jed.

“Oh good, Mr. Mason, you’re here too. Your brother seems to be waking up. Groggy still and not quite able to form words, but his eyes are open and his vitals are excellent. I’d normally say only one at a time, but I’m sure he would love to see some friendly faces. The doctor’s done with him, so feel free to come in.” She leaves with a smile.

I’m already on my feet when I notice Jed isn’t moving.

“Not coming in?”

“Not sure he’ll want to see me, Beth. I think maybe—“

“Nonsense. Come on, let’s go.” I grab his hand, and he lets himself be pulled across the hall into his brother’s room.

Clint’s eyes are closed when we walk in, but the moment the door clicks shut they shoot open and only widen when they fall on me.

“Beth...” Barely discernible he breathes out my name. A warm tingle spreads through me on hearing his faint voice.

“Clint,” I say simply, getting lost in his dark eyes that swirl with emotion. Remembering we’re not alone, I step aside to include Jed, but before I have a chance to say anything, Clint’s eyes fall on the figure of his brother and turn instantly cold.

“Out.”

“But, he’s—“

“Get. Him. Out,” Clint interrupts me, struggling to force each syllable from his mouth.

I’m shocked silent. Never have I seen him lose his temper over anything. Not even when I knew he was exasperated as could be with my persistent rejections.

“I should go,” Jed says from behind me, “I never should’ve come. I just thought...” He lets his thought trail off without explanation before turning and leaving the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Turning back to the man in bed, I feel anger bubbling up inside. I don’t know what happened between these two, but dammit, Jed doesn’t deserve this.

“Well, welcome back to you, too,” I bite off. “That’s your brother you sent out of here. The same brother who dropped everything and came running the moment he heard you were in here. The same brother who has spent the past few weeks peddling back and forth between keeping your contracts on schedule and holding vigil at your bedside.”

I can see my words are affecting him, because he flinches before turning his head away.

“How long?” His voice cracks from lack of use, and it almost physically hurts me to see him weak like this.

“Almost three weeks now,” I whisper, ashamed for going off on a man who has just survived what easily could’ve been a deadly injury. Someone who has missed a chunk of his life he’ll never get back, and we don’t even know if there might be lasting effects.

“Jesus... What—tell me what happened?”

“You can’t remember?”

-

-

I
should’ve stayed in the dark. Cold as it has been, it’s not nearly as brutal as waking up is. The harsh glare of that damn flashlight the nurse insists on aiming at my eyes, the pounding in my head, and the lingering smell of Beth in the room, long after the nurse escorts her out, is enough to make me want to crawl back under the surface of the dark pool I can still sense surrounding me. The doctor examining me asks numerous questions, which I only manage to answer in grunts and nods. Then he tells me I have a serious brain injury as the result of a violent attack and my mind goes blank. I’m obviously in a hospital and my head hurts like someone is taking a fucking pickaxe to it, but as to how I got here? I can’t remember a damn thing.

-

W
hen the door opens and Beth stands there, her name filters out on my breath. It hurts; talking. Feels unfamiliar as my mouth works around the words tumbling through my head, trying to line them up in order.

The moment I spot my brother behind Beth, my blood fires hot. The last person I want seeing me laid up in a bed, weaker and more vulnerable I can recall ever feeling, is that piece of shit.

“Out.”

That single word bursts from me without thought or warning and stings the back of my throat, which is parchment dry. Beth tries to intervene but I won’t hear it. He needs gone. Now.

After some whispering I can’t hear for the raging of angry blood in my ears, he leaves the room and Beth proceeds to tear a strip off me. When she lets slip I’ve lost a few weeks somewhere, I have to fight down the nausea threatening to choke me. “I can’t remember a damn thing,” I admit. “All I know is that I was at Naomi’s new place.”

Naomi is Doc Waters, who’s just purchased a house in Cedar Tree I’ve been contracted to renovate. I struggle to remember what I was doing, but I can’t seem to.

Beth moves closer to the bed and sits down beside me, grabbing my hand to hold it between hers.

“Do you remember hiring on a new guy that day?” she asks cautiously.

I do, I actually remember picking him up in Cortez because he had no transportation. When most of my crews were finishing up jobs elsewhere, I’d needed an extra body, and this guy happened to call looking for temporary work. It had seemed serendipitous and I never checked his credentials. A sense of unease settled over me.

“Yeah? Why?”

The look Beth gives me should’ve been a warning, but what she says chills my blood right down.

“The man turned out to be Maxim Heffler. He must’ve knocked you out before he went after Fox.”

My mind, still a bit sluggish, I struggle to put the names in place. When I realize the extra pair of hands I brought with me that day had been the murderer who’d been after Naomi and her son, Fox, for months, I feel sick.

“Fox?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“He’s fine. A bit banged up but fine. And Joe is fine now, too.”

“Joe?”

“Got shot in the scuffle, but Heffler got the brunt of that one—he’s dead.”

I have a hard time computing this news, and exhausted by the effort, I let myself slip into the darkness, Beth’s hand still clasping mine.

-

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“H
ow is he?” Jed asks me the minute I walk into the waiting room.

“Passed out. He wanted to know what happened, can’t remember a thing. He seemed in shock, and in hindsight, it probably would’ve been better to hold off, because one minute he was clinging to my hand and the next he was off.”