The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (39 page)

His face literally lights up. Perhaps
freeing a person from a life of misery is also as good as a
mother's touch when healing a child.

"Really?" he asks.

"Yep. My family likes you. The kids like you
even more. And we'd
all
like it if you would also stay with
us on this farm," Reagan tells him.

"Seriously?" he asks with two long
blinks.

He tries to sit up, but Reagan lightly
presses him back again.

"Rest, honey," she orders. "Think about what
you'd like, Huntley. We don't want you to stay if you don't want
to. You'd also be saying good-bye to your father, Frank. So you
really need to be sure. You probably wouldn't ever see him
again."

The boy's face does not fall at this
statement. How sad. To be told that you'll never see your last,
surviving parent again and to feel nothing remorseful about it is
saddening to Reagan.

"He'll never let me stay here," Huntley
finally says.

This time he does seem disheartened. He
lowers his gaze and looks away.

"Let us worry about that. We'll deal with
the big people stuff. You just worry about whether or not you'd
even
want
to stay here," Reagan suggests.

Huntley takes one look at Sam and nods
readily. "Oh yes, Miss Reagan. I want to stay. I really, really
do."

Reagan smiles down at him before replying.
"Just take a few days and think about it. Talk it over with Sam and
even Simon if you want to. You don't have to give us an answer
today. You're still getting better, so we don't expect you to think
too much about it now. We just want you to concentrate on getting
better for now, honey."

"Oh, I'm feeling a lot better already," he
chirps up but then yawns widely.

Reagan and Sam both chuckle. It's
short-lived for both of them, but they'd both done it
nonetheless.

"Just think about it for a few days, ok?"
Reagan requests. "Let Sam help you do another breathing treatment
and then I want you to sleep for a while."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll sleep," he says on another
yawn. "I'll be good. I promise."

Reagan stands and has to look away, has to
appear busy with his chart. His last words break her heart. It's as
if he's trying to prove to her that his behavior will be stellar
enough to earn her approval to stay on their farm. Little do any of
these wretched, young souls know is that they've already wriggled
their ways into all of the hearts of her family members. They've
even managed to slink a few inches into her own, which she'd never
guessed possible anymore.

"I'm going to the back to work with
Jennifer. Call me if you need me," she mutters to Sam without
turning back to them. Reagan can hear them quietly talking to each
other before Sam starts the breathing machine a few minutes
later.

Damn. No improvement is noted on Jennifer's
chart. Reagan gets straight to work, not wasting another moment
worrying about the future, or John, or their new, adopted
orphan-baby or the visitors or anything else. The only thing that
matters is the here and now and helping Huntley and Jennifer to get
better from this sickness that is so fierce and to protect her
family from contracting it.

The day flies by, the rain never ceases, and
Kelly stands guard until John returns with Cory who takes up for
his brother at the door to the shed. Reagan hadn't realized that
she'd been holding in a nerve-wracking breath until she finally
fully expels it upon John's return. The children aren't the only
ones who have managed to inch their way into her heart. But she's
not about to admit any of it to anyone any time soon. Hell, she's
not even ready to admit it to herself yet.

Two days after the death of Jennifer
Miller-Durant as they now know her full name to be, there is a
disquieting unease in the family as decisions need to be made about
the visitors. Huntley is still in the med shed but improving every
day. He is almost fully recovered with the help of the doctors'
medicinal compilations. They buried the pregnant mother on the hill
beside Garrett, and Doc had said kind words and read from the Bible
again at her gravesite. Only the ex-stripper, Jasmine, had wept
over this loss from the visitors' group. Not even Jennifer's
supposed boyfriend, Great-uncle Peter, had seemed to care. He had
cared that he'd had to help dig her grave, though, and had bitched
about it. John had held back his brother from kicking Grams's
brother's ass in front of the family. Kelly wanted to pound him to
a pulp, too, but out of respect for Grams he'd held himself back.
And out of respect for his gentle Hannah.

Hannah had told him about her bladder
infection and turned three shades of red while doing so. Kelly had
felt like a total jerk, although he hadn't known about women's
issues and how such a thing can happen. He's not been with her for
over a week. It just doesn't sit well with Kelly when he makes love
to her because he knows it's wrong. He also knows how close
Hannah's relationship with God is which makes him feel even worse.
But his Hannah is growing increasingly frustrated with him. Little
does she know, he grows increasingly frustrated just by looking at
her during dinner, while she made food and glided so effortlessly
around her kitchen, when she played with the kids on the floor,
held Isaac or Jacob in her arms or was just sprinkling bits of
grain to her stupid chickens. Or like they are currently: sitting
shoulder to shoulder at the loud and sometimes boisterous breakfast
table seated amongst their family and the new, extended family of
Simon and Sam. The meal is finishing up and he is already wishing
he didn't need to go out and cut wheat and that he could sit with
her on the back porch swing and drink a glass of lemonade and hold
her hand like when the world used to be normal.

As he hands his plate to Em in the kitchen,
Doc walks up to him and says firmly, "Kelly, I'd like to see you in
my office, please."

And with that, the older gentleman turns and
walks toward the front of the grand home to his study, fully
expecting Kelly to follow. He glances over at John, who shrugs, so
he turns to follow Hannah's grandfather. Once he is in the man's
study, Doc tells him to close the door.

"What is it, sir?" Kelly asks.

"Take a seat, Kelly," Doc says.

Herb sits behind his mahogany desk with the
intricately carved legs and claw feet.

"Yes, sir," Kelly says and immediately sits
in the plush chair in front of the desk.

"I have a few things I need to go over with
you," Doc informs him and removes his glasses.

"Ok," Kelly says and for some reason feels a
touch of apprehension at the formality of this meeting.

"I am going to ask our… guests, if you will,
to leave in three days," Doc tells him.

Kelly nods. "I think that's wise, sir," he
agrees.

"Yes, as do I. They are becoming more of a
burden every day. Is their RV ready to leave?" he asks.

Kelly and Derek and even Cory have been
helping them to repair the motorhome that has mechanical
issues.

"I don't think we can fix it, sir. It's too
computerized for us to figure out what's wrong and the things we've
thought were broken, we fixed. And it's still a heap," Kelly
informs the doc, and the man nods solemnly.

"No matter, they will still need to leave.
They can leave it behind and go in the one that works. Besides,
there are a lot less of them now and will be even fewer when they
find out we intend to keep the three children," Doc says.

He picks up his pipe and lights it. The
smell is nostalgic as Kelly remembers his own grandfather on his
father's side who used to smoke a pipe or a cigar and tell him
funny stories from his childhood.

"How do you want us to handle it if they
don't want to leave the kids?" Kelly asks. He doesn't even bother
asking how the doc wants it handled if they don't want to leave at
all. Derek and John and Kelly will simply persuade them that it's
in their best interest.

"I think I'll be able to work something out
with them," Doc says cleverly as if he's holding a trick up his
sleeve.

"Ok, you just give the order, sir. We're all
willing to do whatever you say," Kelly tells him, and Doc nods
knowingly.

"I know, Kelly," Doc says mindfully. "And I
appreciate that. Without you men on this farm I have no doubts that
those shitbirds out there would've overrun us."

Kelly chuffs.

"I don't know about that, sir. I've seen
Reagan shoot, and I've got a feeling you can handle that shotgun
just fine," Kelly praises.

"Yes, she's an accurate shot, that girl,"
Doc says with a chuckle of his own. "But I'd rather it doesn't come
to such drastic measures. Later today, I'll have one of you fetch
whichever of the visitors wants to hear what I have to say, and
we'll hold a meeting near the front porch. It's where we welcomed
them in. Seems right to ask them to leave the same way."

The doc is so old school and classic in his
way of thinking.

"Ok, sir. We'll be there, right beside you
in case it turns ugly," Kelly offers austerely.

"I know you will, son," Doc tells him and
then adds strangely: "I wouldn't want anything to happen to
Hannah."

Kelly's eyes snap up to meet the doc's. "Me
neither, sir."

They sit for what seems like an eternity as
Doc continues to puff on his pipe. It goes on so long that Kelly
actually squirms in his chair and is about to ask if that is all he
needs when the other man finally speaks again.

"Are you having sexual relations with my
granddaughter, Kelly?" he asks stoically as if he's just chatting
about crop rotation.

Fuck! That sure as hell wasn't what he
thought Doc was going to say next. They'd been talking about the
freak losers out at the camp. Jesus, this guy is a lot more cunning
than Kelly had given him credit for. He feels like a teenager again
taking a girl out on a date and meeting her father for the first
time. He's glad he still has the beard because he's sure his face
has turned red. Kelly stares hard at his knees for a minute,
wrestling with his thoughts, his conscience. Finally he raises his
gaze to Herb's and answers.

"Yes, sir," Kelly confesses quietly.

"I'm glad you didn't lie to me, Kelly. I
kind of already figured it out on my own," Doc discloses.

Kelly's positive that his look of shock must
be all too readable on his face.

Doc adds, "I have my ways."

"I'm sorry, Dr. McClane. I never meant to
disrespect you or your home. I wanted to leave. I did. I should've,
but I didn't because somehow I just couldn't leave her," Kelly
tries lamely to explain, but the only explanation is that he did
have sex with Hannah.

"I know, Kelly," Doc says prophetically.

How does he know so much? Hannah may be more
like her grandfather than Grams.

"I'm very sorry, sir," Kelly says again as
Doc holds up his hand to shut him up.

"What are your intentions with Hannah,
Kelly?" Doc asks point blank.

This makes Kelly have to look away and
swallow.

"I don't know, sir. Hannah's so… good and
pure. And I'm… just not. I understand if you want me to leave, Dr.
McClane," Kelly explains. Herb sighs heavily.

"Leave? Do you think that would make Hannah
happy? Because I sure don't. And as much as I don't approve of you
having sexual relations with my granddaughter out of wedlock, I
also don't want to have to mend her broken heart if you leave her,"
Doc explains.

He puffs that pipe again. Now the smell is
making Kelly sick. It brings back the memories of his innocent
youth before he'd become a stone cold killer.

"I just feel like I'm not good for her, Dr.
McClane. I don't feel like I could ever be good enough for someone
like her. Hannah deserves someone who is like her, someone who
hasn't seen and done the things I have," Kelly tries to make Herb
understand. The man just nods with a sagacious knowledge that Kelly
may never understand.

"You're a man conflicted, Kelly. I recognize
it in you because I have seen it in myself," Doc says.

He pauses while Kelly thinks about his
words. Herb rises from his chair, walks over to a plaque on the
wall and points to it.

"Boston General," he says.

Kelly nods, though he has no idea what the
doctor is talking about.

"What I am about to tell you can never leave
this room, Kelly," Doc explains. Kelly nods again. "It can never go
beyond these four walls. You can never,
never
tell Hannah.
It would crush her. You are partially right about her. Our Hannah
is a delicate thing, but she's more of a fighter than you give her
credit for, too, I think. But there are certain darknesses of the
world, of my past that I've always kept her and her sisters
sheltered from. My wife knows what I am about to tell you."

"Ok, sir. I swear I would never tell
anything you told me not to, sir," Kelly promises in earnest.

"I believe you, son. You're a man of your
word. And I also believe you have integrity, which will become a
rare commodity in a man as this world further disintegrates."

His words of praise move Kelly more than he
is willing to admit.

Doc continues calmly, "When I was a young
pup out of med school, I didn't come straight back to the farm to
set up my practice like most people think. I should have. But I was
ambitious, thought I could take on the world and light it on fire
with my brilliant medical mind. I was a fool, Kelly. And I paid the
price because I sold my soul to the devil for fame, recognition and
money, of course. I was working in the Boston General emergency
room, a huge hospital. I met another doctor there who encouraged me
to leave and join a practice with him and his friend who was also a
doctor and older and already established. I left the E.R. and went
into practice with these two men who were just as hungry as I was.
We mostly treated pregnant women which was an easy transition for
me because I minored in obstetrics and pediatric care. I was a lot
like Reagan when I was young. I could learn and retain medical
journals like a child reads a comic book, or I guess nowadays,
plays a video game," Doc jokes.