Chapter 2 - Room 17
Mr. Harrison drove faster than anyone I had ever ridden with.
Not recklessly.
Just urgently.
His hands stayed locked around the steering wheel while Rosie and I sat in the back of his black SUV.
Every few seconds, he looked at us through the mirror.
Not suspiciously.
Almost desperately.
“Is your mother conscious?” he asked.
“She was when we left.”
“How high is her fever?”
“I don’t know.”
“Has she seen a doctor?”
I stared at my knees.
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“Why not?”
“We didn’t have money.”
He closed his eyes for half a second.
Rosie leaned toward me.
“Caleb, is he really Grandpa?”
Mr. Harrison heard her.
His hands tightened again.
“I think so,” I whispered.
He looked at Rosie in the mirror.
“I hope I am.”
The Sunset Motor Lodge looked worse from inside a warm car.
The sign had three burned-out letters.
Rainwater filled cracks in the parking lot.
A vending machine buzzed beside the office.
I pointed.
“Room seventeen.”
Mr. Harrison was out of the car before I finished speaking.
I ran after him.
“Wait!”
He reached the door.
I pulled out the key Mom had given me.
My fingers were shaking so badly I dropped it.
He picked it up.
“Caleb.”
I looked at him.
“You did everything right tonight.”
Nobody had ever said that to me.
I almost cried.
Instead I unlocked the door.
“Mom?”
No answer.
The room smelled like medicine, damp carpet, and the instant noodles we had eaten the night before.
“Mom?”
Rosie rushed past me.
“Mommy?”
Mom was lying on the bed.
She looked too still.
Mr. Harrison froze in the doorway.
I had never seen a person’s face change so fast.
For one second he was a wealthy stranger in an expensive coat.
The next he was just a father.
“Sarah.”
He stumbled forward.
“Sarah!”
Mom’s eyelids moved.
Mr. Harrison sat beside her.
His hand hovered over her face like he was afraid touching her might make her disappear.
“Sarah, sweetheart.”
Her eyes opened.
She stared at him.
I watched confusion become recognition.
Then pain.
“Dad?”
Mr. Harrison made a sound I will never forget.
Half laugh.
Half sob.
He pulled her carefully against him.
Mom began crying.
Not quietly.
The kind of crying that seemed to come from somewhere she had kept locked for years.
“I tried,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I’m here now.”
“I tried to come home.”
He pressed his forehead against hers.
“You’re home.”
Mom shook her head weakly.
“You told me never to come back.”
Mr. Harrison went completely still.
“What?”
“You said I was dead to you.”
His face hardened.
“I never said that.”
Mom stared at him.
“The letter.”
“What letter?”
“The one Victor brought me.”
That name meant nothing to me.
But it meant something to Mr. Harrison.
His entire body changed.
“Victor?”
Mom nodded.
Before she could say more, her eyes rolled shut.
“Mom!”
Mr. Harrison caught her.
“Sarah!”
He grabbed his phone.
“Call an ambulance,” he barked before I realized he was speaking to someone.
Then he looked at me.
“She’s breathing.”
I stood frozen.
Rosie started crying.
“Is Mommy dying?”
“No,” I said.
I had no idea if it was true.
Mr. Harrison heard me.
He came over and placed his hands on my shoulders.
“No,” he said firmly. “Your mother is not dying tonight.”
The ambulance arrived within minutes.
At the hospital, nurses took Mom away.
That was when I finally fell apart.
I sat in a plastic chair with Rosie asleep against my side.
Mr. Harrison stood by the window, making phone calls.
“Private room.”
A pause.
“No press.”
Another pause.
“And call Dr. Brennan personally.”
He ended the call.
Then another came.
He looked at the screen.
His expression tightened.
“Victor.”
He answered.
“What?”
I could hear a man’s voice but not the words.
Mr. Harrison looked toward me.
“No. I’m not at home.”
Silence.
Then:
“I found Sarah.”
The voice on the other end stopped.
Even from across the room, I noticed it.
Mr. Harrison noticed too.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “My daughter.”
Another pause.
“No. You don’t need to come.”
The man said something quickly.
Mr. Harrison’s eyes hardened.
“I said don’t come.”
He hung up.
I stared at him.
“Who’s Victor?”
“My brother.”
“Mom knows him?”
“Yes.”
“Does she like him?”
Mr. Harrison gave a humorless laugh.
“I’m starting to think I don’t know the answer to that.”
A doctor came through the doors.
“Mr. Harrison?”
He stood.
“How is she?”
“Severe pneumonia, dehydration, malnutrition, and exhaustion. But you brought her in before the situation became critical.”
I let out the breath I had been holding.
“She’ll live?”
The doctor looked at me.
“Yes.”
Rosie woke up.
“Mommy?”
“She’s going to be okay,” I told her.
This time I knew it was true.
The doctor looked at Mr. Harrison.
“She’ll need rest. And there are some older injuries I want to discuss privately.”
Mom had old injuries.
I knew what he meant.
I had seen bruises before.
I had heard doors slam.
I had heard our father, Dean Mercer, tell Mom nobody wanted her.
That her family had forgotten her.
That we were all she had.
Mr. Harrison sat beside me after the doctor left.
“Caleb.”
“Yes?”
“Where is your father?”
I stared at the floor.
“I don’t know.”
“Is he the reason your mother ran?”
I did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Mr. Harrison looked away.
His eyes became cold.
“When did you last see him?”
“Four days ago.”
“What happened?”
I swallowed.
“He found us at the first motel.”
Rosie buried her face against me.
“He took Mom’s purse,” I continued. “He said she couldn’t leave him. She locked us in the bathroom and told us not to come out.”
Mr. Harrison’s hands curled into fists.
“Did he hurt her?”
I whispered, “Yes.”
For a while, nobody spoke.
Then a nurse opened the door.
“Sarah is awake. She’s asking for her father.”
Mr. Harrison stood.
But before we reached Mom’s room, a tall man in an expensive navy suit stepped out of the elevator.
He had silver at his temples and a smile that disappeared when he saw me.
Mr. Harrison stopped.
“Victor.”
The man stared at Rosie and me.
Then he looked at his brother.
“You said you found Sarah.”
“I did.”
Victor’s gaze returned to me.
For one strange second, I saw recognition in his eyes.
Not curiosity.
Recognition.
May you like
And then he said something no stranger should have known.
“So this must be Caleb.”
