Beneath the Palisade (16 page)

“I’d invite you to come live with me in the Cities, but Eric and Ben will be there, and they’re not going to let you be who you need to be. There’s nothing for you here but trouble.” Colin reached into the backseat and pulled out another beer.

“Thanks, Colin.” He was overwhelmed by what had just transpired.

“Wanna touch my butt again? Just this once I’ll drop ’em so you can get a nice squeeze.”

“Fuck off!” he barely got out before they erupted into fits of laughter.

I
AN
sat next to the bed, and Andy sat in the corner of the small recovery room. Allison, Spencer, and Brent had gone home with the promise from Ian he would call if for some reason Harper’s condition took a turn for the worse.

“Hey,” Andy asked out of the blue, “how did you know it was that Flynn bitch who shot him?”

“You want to hear something really weird?” Ian looked over to Andy. “He’s been having nightmares where he wakes up drenched. She’s been in his nightmares. Chasing him. She’s also called him at home, threatening him. The last time she called, he got mad at her and really let her have it. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. I went downstairs to answer the door, and she was standing there. She’d obviously been in the neighborhood when she called. She’s a freak. Never in a million years….”

“Wow! Yeah, who would ever think someone would get so mad they’d take a shot at another—”

Andy was interrupted by a nurse who came into the room. “Has he moved or opened his eyes?”

“No, not yet.” Ian backed his chair away from the bed, studying the nurse for her reaction.

“Enough time has passed since surgery. He could continue to sleep once the anesthesia has worn off, or he might regain consciousness.” The nurse made a quick tour of all of the monitors and devices hooked up to Harper. “If he does wake and you’re still here, why don’t you let one of us at the nurse’s station know. We want to make sure he’s resting comfortably and has everything he needs.”

“Sure.” His eyes met Andy’s briefly before watching her leave.

“She didn’t seem too upset or anything.” He scooted his chair back up to the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, she seemed pretty calm. I would think there’d be a whole lot more going on if he was iffy. Well, you know what I meant,” Andy whispered defensively after Ian had shot him the look.

“He doesn’t look as pale as he did when I saw him in the trauma room before surgery. That was so scary. There was blood everywhere—”

“Ian!” Andy jumped up out of his chair. “He just moved his eyes.”

“Wow!” Ian grabbed the metal rail of the bed and peered over for a closer look.
Oh please. Please let him wake up and be okay.
“Harper, it’s me, Ian. Can you hear me?”

With Andy breathing down his neck, he began a scan of Harper in hopes of another sign that he was coming to. Minutes passed by, and Andy sat back in his chair. “Maybe it’s just a reflex thing. I’ve heard of that happening before.”

“I hope it wasn’t just that.” He petted Harper’s hand gently. “Harper, we miss you. Everything is going to be fine. I love you.” He looked over at Andy. “Are you hungry? I’m sure they have sandwiches in the vending area.”

“His lips just moved.” Andy jumped out of his chair again.

This time there was no mistake. Harper twisted his head slightly. His left arm rose for a moment and then went back down.

“Harper, it’s Ian. Everything’s going to be just fine. I’m here, I’m right here.” He ran his finger through his boyfriend’s hair.

Harper scrunched up his face and then relaxed it. “Ol kin,” he mumbled after a few more seconds passed, in a small, weak voice Ian could barely hear. “Ol kin.”

“I’m here, Harper. It’s Ian. Andy’s here too. What are you trying to tell us?” He waited for Harper to respond.

“Maybe he’s talking in his sleep or something,” Andy offered when Harper failed to respond to Ian’s question.

“Harper, it’s Ian. What are you saying?” He wasn’t about to give up hope.

Seconds later, he was rewarded with more movement. First Harper’s legs twitched under the sheet, and then his head moved from left to right. Then he said it again. “Ol kiiinnn.”

“Andy, do you know what he’s saying? I can’t make it out.” He was frustrated. “Should we go grab the nurse?”

“Ollll kiinnnn,” Harper said louder and clearer.

“It sounds like he’s saying oil can or something that sounds like it.”

“Oil can?” Ian shook his head, exasperated.

“Yeah, like the Tin Man….” Andy stopped, slapping Ian on the shoulder. “I think your boyfriend is messing with us.”

Ian looked back over to Harper in time to catch something so wonderful, so astonishing, tears welled up. Harper, with his beautiful, deep dark eyes twinkling like diamonds, flashed a devilish grin like no other. “Hey, guys.”

Chapter 6

I
AN
looked up from his magazine when an elderly man took the seat next to him.

“Excuse me, young feller, would you pass me the People?”

He looked over at the table and discovered the magazine the old guy was referring to was the one he was reading.
My magazine! You’re too old to read this stuff. Here’s National Audubon; run with your bad self.
The last thing he wanted to do was relinquish his rights to the hot photo spread on excommunicated Mormon studs and their smokin’ fund-raising calendar to raise money in support of marriage equality. He’d never in a million years buy this to read at home. It was a special indulgence, something to pass the time away at doctor and dentist offices.

“Here ya go.” He gave up, handing the magazine over.

“Oh, no, I can’t take it from you if you’re already reading it.” The old man smiled thoughtfully.

“Nope, I’m done with it. It’s all yours.” He held the magazine out, and the man took it.

“When I was here on Thursday, I started reading an article on Mormons. They do a lot of charity work, is what it said. This year they’re doing a calendar you can buy. The wife and I always get our calendar from our insurance guy, Roland Lesinski. Otherwise I might be persuaded to buy one. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Hopefully not anytime soon.” He leaned over and whispered, “I’ve got a little skin cancer they’re treatin’.”

The small waiting area had become almost a second home. Ian had logged a lot of hours here over the last seven weeks, waiting while Harper’s progress was examined and his treatment adjusted. On a few visits, he’d brought his work along. Sketching garden layouts and making product lists. For reasons he couldn’t explain, it was hard to concentrate here, and he found passing the time with a magazine his best bet. Whatever he could do to keep his mind occupied was of huge importance. On more than one occasion, the smell and the setting had joined forces to launch a series of painful memories. He fought valiantly to bury recollections of the shooting and those anxious days directly after. The day of discharge was one such memory he’d give anything to be rid of. After Harper had been wheeled out of the hospital, he had tried on his own to get up out of the chair, stumbling into Ian’s arms, too weak to accomplish even this simple task on his own. A preview of the challenges they would face over the next days and weeks. It had been a long journey for them both.

Remarkable, when he thought about it, Harper’s recovery. So far it had gone amazingly well. Initially, pain had been the main issue. How horrible to watch someone you loved so much suffer. Frequently he wished there was a way for him to absorb the pain, to relieve and give Harper a break. Medication and time had worked its magic, and soon the tide had turned. Awful days were replaced with not-so-good days. Not-so-good days eventually gave way to okay days. On almost a daily basis, Ian could see signs of improvement. Small gains in movement and flexibility. Harper struggled to perform tasks most everyone else took for granted. Dressing, eating, so many activities were either rendered impossible or very difficult by eliminating the use of his left arm.

Ian’s recap was interrupted briefly when a young woman walked in. After checking in at the desk, she took the chair directly across the room from him. She looked familiar, but why? This would pester the hell out of him until he solved the mystery.
Damn! Who do you look like? It’s right there. You look like…. Yes!
He had it. She looked like Maureen, the lead nurse on Harper’s floor during his hospital stay.

Harper’s arm had been repaired on the second day, after it was determined no vascular compromise or damage to his lungs had occurred. Maureen was always there, it seemed, and nothing got in her way when it came to making sure Harper was comfortable. Some of his finest Maureen memories were from late-night visits, when she’d pop her head in to check on Harper and say goodnight. Ian, despite Harper’s protests, had opted to stay at his bedside, leaving only after he was certain his lover was sleeping soundly. Maureen, a little rough around the edges, had a way of telling it like it was that you couldn’t argue with. “Honey, you’d better get that cute little butt of yours home so you can catch some rest. This man is going to be hungry for some lovin’ when the time is right, and you’d better be ready to give it to him.” It was part of her charm, her face expressive and warm. When it came to providing patient care, he couldn’t imagine anyone doing a better job. Maureen collaborated with Dr. Monroe to go over the discharge process, making sure Harper understood all of the steps needed to ensure he was pointed toward the road to recovery.

He watched the woman page through her magazine.
What is she here for?
Her reading was interrupted when a nurse called her name. She was escorted through the door into the small individual offices, where Harper was now.

Knowing it would be at least another fifteen minutes before Dr. Monroe had finished her evaluation of Harper, he scrounged around the table for something else to read. The choices were limited to Field and Stream, AARP Magazine, National Audubon, and a real estate brochure for property on the North Shore of Lake Superior.
Oh, I love the North Shore.

Paging through the publication, he was surprised by the number of homes for sale. Many of them were beautiful, with stunning views of the lake.

Maybe he and Harper would retire there one day. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes to nurture the happy visual he was creating.

They would open a bed-and-breakfast. Harper could handle the reservations and all of the financials; Ian could take care of the maintenance. But more up his alley would be the beautiful gardens he would create. He’d read somewhere that the moisture coming off the lake compensated for the short growing season, and plants did quite well. The landscaping would attract lodgers. It would be something unique for the area. They could serve up a simple but elegant breakfast each morning. Lemony light pancakes with powdered sugar and sausages made locally.
Sounds pretty whacked. Maybe in another life.

This dream was a keeper, regardless of its practicality. He made a note to store it away for later. Maybe he would resurrect it on a cold winter night when he and Harper were snuggled together in front of the fire. It wasn’t likely Harper would buy into running a B&B on the North Shore.
I wonder if Harper has any pie-in-the-sky dreams of his own?

“Hey! You miss me, handsome?” Harper came around the corner with Dr. Monroe close behind.

“Hi, Ian, it’s nice to see you. You’ve obviously been doing a tremendous job keeping your partner focused on his recovery. I’m impressed.” Dr. Monroe looked radiant.

“Hi, Dr. Monroe. It’s great to see you too. I’m a taskmaster, and he knows I mean business.” He had no idea why, but the beautiful young doctor fascinated him.

“He’s not lying. I haven’t been able to slack off for a minute.” Harper gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Harper can fill you in on his progress. But really—and I know this involves you both—he’s doing exactly what I had hoped. Keep up the good work. If you want, Harper, you could reduce the therapy down to three days a week. The muscle atrophy appears to be diminishing rapidly. Your overall strength in that arm will only increase with activity, so it’s a tossup. Why don’t I see you in two weeks?”

“Two weeks, sounds good.” Harper walked over to the desk to schedule his return visit.

“Take care, you guys.”

“Bye,” they chimed in unison. Harper pocketed his appointment card, and the two of them left the waiting area.

“She’s so cool. And that hair, man, you don’t see hair like that often.” He knew they’d already discussed this, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Maybe I should dye mine red. Do the carpet too.” Harper reached over and gave his ear a tug.

“Ouch! Don’t you dare. I’d never forgive you. I like the Goth thing you have going on.”

Harper laughed, opening the door for him. “You very funny, meesta Ian!”

“I wonder if she’s got a devastatingly handsome man in her life like I do. She could probably have just about anyone she wanted.” He remembered the first time he’d seen her, how striking she was even in scrubs.

“She’s got a devastatingly handsome woman in her life, if you need to know.”