Home Everlasting (Holliday Book 3) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  To Be Continued

  HOME EVERLASTING

  Sarah R. Silas

  Copyright © 2016 Sarah R. Silas

  Cover design by Melody Simmons

  All rights reserved.

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

  No part of this book may be reproduced without express permission of the author.

  All characters and events depicted are fictional.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The sunlight filtered through the blinds of Saul's hospital room. The room's subtle orange walls were awash with horizontal shadows and the few bugs that clung to the window's warmth. The room was sparse, with just enough room for the bed that Saul occupied.

  The ambulance had raced to the ranch, the paramedics placing him on a stretcher as gingerly as they could, doing their best to make him comfortable and administer emergency medication, before racing to the hospital, leaving Lilith to stare at the dust cloud down the long gravel road.

  Marty had gently grabbed her hand and led her back inside to shower and change. He made more coffee and then drove her to the hospital. The trip had been in silence. Lilith stared out the window, unsure how to respond or what to say, her mind spending more energy on her memories of her father leading up to his collapse. Were there visible signs? Was she missing something? Should she have known about his cancer before he said anything? Everything was confusing and although this was about his health, she felt responsible for not having foreseen it. She was a doctor! And she felt like she had failed him. And failed herself.

  Marty didn't know what to say either, even as he finally pulled into the hospital parking lot, realizing that the only thing he could give her was his physical presence and maybe his shoulder to cry on. Maybe he could talk to Sheriff Holt and get Clark down here? No, that was probably impossible.

  Beartooth General was miles down the highway, far from the ranch, and Lilith was unsure if the paramedics had gotten Saul there in time. Her mind kept flitting towards the idea that he had died en route. But she forced those ideas out of her mind. They weren't productive and her speculation always centered on the worst possible outcome.

  As she walked into the hospital, she spotted Mulreedy's truck already parked outside. He either had special sense for her father's ailments or had been at the hospital on other business. At least she knew her father would be well taken care of. She saw his thin form in the busy main lobby and snaked her way to him. Marty lagged behind her, quickly smoking a cigarette and throwing the butt towards his truck before entering the hospital’s no smoking perimeter.

  "Doc," she said, breathlessly reaching him as he stared down into a folder, with an older nurse by his side. "Did you...?"

  "Yeah, gimme a second," he said, not meeting her eyes, the gruff in his voice matching his need for a cigarette. He hated Beartooth General. He always thought it was medieval that they wouldn't allow him to smoke inside. He was a doctor after all! He had patients come in here all the time. Was his comfort not important?

  He flipped through the folder, trying to find out if he could figure out what exactly had happened to Saul, because the physician they had assigned, Doctor Harrison Wynn, hadn't finished his examination. He finally closed the folder and handed it back to the nurse. "I don't know yet," he said to Lilith, motioning towards the door and taking out his pack of cigarettes. There were only a few left and the day was still young. It was definitely going to be a two pack day.

  Marty kept his distance but followed them back outside, lighting another cigarette. Lilith took a cigarette from Mulreedy, knowing how bad it looked that two doctors were smoking outside a hospital. The last time she had indulged in cigarettes was finals in med school, and she definitely needed the kick then too. She inhaled deeply, taking in the warm smoke, realizing that she had needed it more than she had realized. "Is it cancer related?" she finally whispered.

  "Not sure. It could have spread farther since the last time I checked. It could be just a stroke. Which is the most positive thing you can ask for: just a stroke,” he replied, spitting onto the ground. "I dunno kid, we'll see after Doctor Wynn looks over him. I don't wanna step on his toes."

  "He any good?" muttered Marty, lighting another smoke. He couldn't stop now, he had to keep calm and not freak out. Saul was as close to a father he ever had, especially after his family kicked him out of the house. He hadn't cared to speak to his biological parents in years, and he didn't know it he ever wanted to. Saul was his real father. Saul was the father he had wanted and more importantly, deserved. And in a few moments, Marty would have to swallow his fears and see his father on his deathbed.

  "He's a doctor," said Mulreedy, shrugging. "He'll get the basics, at least. I'll take it from there." He squashed his butt on the ground and tried to kick it further into the parking lot, but failed. He shrugged and walked back inside. "Let's go see how my best friend is doing."

  Marty stared at Mulreedy’s and Lilith’s backs disappearing amongst the hospital’s hustle and bustle. He didn't know if he could follow them. They were both doctors and had a purpose going in there, even given Lilith's true family connection. He didn't know if Saul viewed him as a son, and he couldn’t understand what was happening in there. It would all have to be explained to him. And probably in simplistic terms. And watching Lilith, walking through the hospital, knowing that one day he would be the one uttering, 'let's go see how my best friend is doing,' when she was old and sick, made the specter of Beartooth General all that more frightening.

  He tried to find another cigarette in the pack, but it was empty. His fingers scraped against the thin cardboard. He took out his keys and walked back to his truck. He wasn't running away. He wasn't going to be that guy. He would be back. In a minute. Soon. He would be back with a fresh pack and some courage. He would find some courage, he decided. Somewhere.

  He hopped back into his truck, loving the whir and grunt of the diesel, and revved out of the parking lot, thankful to have a small respite from all of it.

  ~~~

  "You can go see him in a few minutes, but he's still coming out of it. Thankfully it was a small one, but I think it's connected to his cancer," said Doctor Wynn, pulling his right hand through his long brown hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He rubbed his pale brown eyes, his long eyelashes soft under his fingertip, trying to coax his brain into focusing. He had been on the clock for a long time, and having an extreme case come in towards the end of his shift was never a good thing. But this is what he had signed up for, and he was going to continue to do his job until it literally killed him.

  Mulreedy and Lilith each held one side of Saul's charts, trying to read them over each other's hands. Mulreedy had stopped listening to Wynn at the beginning of the conversation, and as the chart still wasn't telling him what he needed to know, he handed it to Lilith, nodded to Wynn, and walked into Saul's room. His mood was getting increasingly worse, especially as he realized that he would have to walk back to his truck to hopefully find his emergency pack. He usually kept one stuck between the cushions in the front bench seat.

  Lilith closed the folder, having gotten nothing from it as well. "So you're sure it was a stroke?" she asked, staring into his eyes. Something about them held pain, but also compassion. She had never wanted to work as an emergency room doctor. She could see how it had worn him down. He had seen death everyday, and in ways th
at she couldn't empathize with.

  "Yeah, again. It was a small one. We’re not sure yet the full extent of it. He’s probably going to need some physical therapy, regardless. But I've got him scheduled for a full body scan. We need to see if his cancer has metastasized. He's a little groggy, so be careful with him."

  "Yeah," she said, nodding. She stared at Mulreedy who was doing his own examination and barking orders to a nurse to get him what he needed. It seemed that Mulreedy would even do the blood tests over again.

  "If you don't mind me asking," said Wynn, bouncing a bit on his heels. "You're the same Hollidays as the Ranch?"

  "Yeah," she said, nodding, a little warily.

  Wynn smiled. "My father used to work on the ranch. That job really put me through school. So I guess, thank you."

  "Yeah," she said, smiling. She didn't know how to react. She nodded at him awkwardly and walked into Saul's room. He seemed like a nice enough fellow, but the town's constant insistence to remind her how important her family and the ranch was had gotten tiring many years ago. Plus, all she really wanted to do was see her father.

  Mulreedy stood above him, leaning over to check his breathing, feel his lymph nodes and monitor his heart rate, while a nurse took more blood. She looked annoyed at being ordered around by Mulreedy, and Mulreedy looked like his mood was worsening with every moment that he didn't get another cigarette.

  But when her eyes finally fell on her father, her heart nearly broke. He laid there, nearly motionless, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow but steady, as Mulreedy fretted and muttered. He looked small in the bed, as if he was slumped inside instead of laying on top of it. A tear sprung from her eye as she realized that he looked hollow, almost a shell laying there instead of the imposing father that she had known and still loved.

  "What's the word?" she whispered, not taking her eyes off her his unconscious form.

  Mulreedy finally noticed that she had come into the room and quickly moved to put his arm around her. She could feel the old doctor's warmth, breathing in his familiar nicotine smell, and pushed herself against him. But in that moment all she wanted was Clark. Clark's broad shoulders, thick arms, wide chest that worked the Ranch and hauled her heart away as well. But he wasn't here. He had been taken back to jail, and that was that. Now she had to deal with losing him and possibly losing her father as well.

  She didn't want to phrase it as if it was unfair. Obviously it was all unfair. But like her grandmother Aggie, and the nightly dreams of the pink dress that refused to leave her mind, she had to make her own future, whatever that might mean. Maybe the pink dress was in it. And maybe Clark would be too.

  "The word is that he's still alive," said Mulreedy, squeezing her. "He's still alive and we're going to see what's going on. Do you want to be in on it or would you rather sit outside and I'll let you know what I find out?"

  She sighed and rubbed her eyes, trying to get the image of her father laying there out of her vision. She couldn't handle it. She was a doctor, dammit. And yet she couldn't handle her father being the patient. This was worse than reading his file in Mulreedy's office. This was real. It was all finally real.

  She shook her head. "I think it's best if I go outside and sit and wait. I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere. But I can't be. I can't," she said, her voice cracking as her eyes welled with tears. "I can't be a doctor right now."

  Mulreedy gave her a full hug as the tears started flowing freely and kissed her forehead. "Everything is gonna be fine."

  "You don't know that," she croaked, before breaking from his arms and leaving the room.

  He watched her go, shaking his head, before turning to the nurse. "You gonna finish this up quickly or do I need to do this myself?" he snapped. His best friend and father to the only person he viewed as a daughter might be dead soon, and he wasn't going to let anything stop him from trying his best to save his life.

  ~~~

  Marty had driven all over town looking for the specific pack of filter-less cigarettes that he thought he was craving. Gas station to grocery store to pharmacy, he tried to find that one pack. It wasn't his usual pack, his usual brand, or even one that he thought he liked all that much, but trying to find that pack of cigarettes was a better excuse than admitting he wasn't strong enough to march into that hospital and see Saul.

  He finally found it in a grocery store near his bar, The Other Way. The cashier had looked at him oddly for choosing an archaic and not often purchased brand, had balked at the price, asking him if he was sure he wanted this specific brand, and then gingerly placed it in his hands with a look of confusion.

  But he sat in the bed of his truck, the soft pack in his hands, the label glaring at him as he smoked and coughed. Was it worth the wait and struggle? No. But then again, what really was? What was worth the waiting and struggle of life? Death didn't seem worth it. It just seemed like a sad and inevitable end. Saul was leaving so much behind, including whatever Marty was. His hired hand? His pet?

  He put the pack into his pocket and his fingers rustled the Holliday will. In all the excitement and sadness he hadn't shown Lilith the will! He took it out of his pocket and looked it over again, happy that he had found it and could contribute its discovery to his home and family. But giving it to Lilith would mean going back to the hospital. He looked at his watch. It was a little early for a drink, but why not? He definitely needed one!

  He got back into his truck and revved out of the grocery store parking lot. He knew Joel would have opened the bar already, some of the early risers in town liked to get an early start, and Joel was never one to refuse the money they brought in.

  He lit another cigarette, pulled the window down, and stuck his arm outside, letting his hand cruise along the breeze. He had been thinking of calling Gregg again, perhaps coaxing him to return to town a little earlier than he had planned. He didn't really know Gregg at all, but just the idea that someone was even marginally interested in him made him happy. It turned him on. It made him look at the world in a more positive way. He had a crush, it was requited, and everything was lovely.

  He had called Gregg briefly when Lilith was in the shower, but it had gone straight to voice mail, and his mind went straight to thinking that Gregg was busy boning some other guy, cheating on his own burgeoning feelings. He hated over thinking and jumping to premature conclusions, but he hadn't been accepted by a guy in a long time. He didn't want to count the months, the weeks, or the days. Maybe he was acting desperate, but at least it was an active decision, rather than just waiting for a guy who would probably never come back.

  He pulled into Joel's parking lot, jumped out and walked inside, plopping himself down on his usual stool. Joel looked towards him, not particularly surprised to see him, and slung Marty's usual beer down the bar. Marty took a gulp and then pointed towards the bourbon. Joel got the message.

  "What happened?" asked Joel, pouring a shot and refusing the dollar bills that Marty had slid over the bar. "I can take the beer in stride, but it's still a bit early for the drink."

  Marty poured the whiskey into his mouth and swallowed, shuddering as the taste and booze burned his throat. "Old man is in the hospital," he muttered. "Don't spread it around."

  "Your old man? Or old man Holliday?"

  "Holliday," he said, hating that even in town no one really could see how much Saul meant to him. They all knew that Saul had taken him in years ago, and yet it wasn't anything unusual or more extraordinary than Saul's usual kindness to most people who came to him looking for a job or momentary refuge. It probably said more about Saul's character that no one believed it was extraordinary that he took Marty in. But Marty wanted everyone to know it was something different. It was special. Even if it was just special to him.

  "Old Man Holliday is dying," muttered Joel. "End of a goddamn era. Ya think Lilith is gonna be as good as he was?"

  Marty pushed the glass towards Joel who poured another shot and then took Marty's cash from the bar. One free drink was more than enough
. "Lilith. Well. Lilith. She's better than her father in many ways. But also different."

  "Yeah, I bet," chuckled Joel. "If I didn't view her as a sister, I'd probably say something else about her right now."

  Marty laughed, his first of the day, looking at Joel. Joel was just another small town guy who had grown up with all of them in one way or another. He had graduated high school years before Lilith and Marty, and he had scraped together enough money to open his bar, but he had always been around. He was a good, honest, sincere guy.

  Marty's phone buzzed in his pocket. Joel nodded and moved away, giving him some privacy. It was Gregg. Marty answered it nervously, but greedily. He really wanted to hear Gregg's voice.

  It came through gruff and groggy through the phone, the connection in the mountains was poor sometimes, especially in buildings. "Hello?"

  "Hey," whispered Marty. He felt weird talking to him in such a cutesy way, but just talking to Gregg made him giddy.

  "What's up?" asked Gregg, his voice moving from croaky to flexing its usual timbre.

  "Did I wake you with my last phone call?"

  "Clearly not," chuckled Gregg. "I got it and then fell back asleep. You're my first phone call of the day though. A nicer one than the usual business shit."

  "Oh good, I'm glad I could start your day better."

  "What's up pioneer?"

  "Just having a pretty shitty day, and I wanted to. I dunno. I wanted to talk to a friendly. And ya know. Someone who is outside all this," said Marty, taking a gulp of his beer.

  "Kinda early for a drink, ain't it?"

  "How could you tell?"

  "Something about your voice," said Gregg, sighing. "What happened mountain man?"

  "I dunno if you know anything about the Holliday family."

  "Yeah, quite a bit. Why?"

  "Saul Holliday is dying. I was there and saw him collapsed on the ground. Just got back from the hospital. I just. I couldn't go and see him. But I have to. I need to. And I just need some courage or strength or something to do it," Marty replied, his voice cracking. He took another swig of beer and wiped at his eyes. He glanced at Joel, but he was thankfully engaged in other things and didn't see Marty crack.