Get her to the couch. I'll call Dr. Reynolds. Thomas carried Dorothy to the living room couch with surprising gentleness. Walter followed his own body, screaming in protest after the day's exertions.
As Dorothy settled onto the cushions, her eyes found Thomas's face. "You have your father's eyes," she said softly. "Did you know that when you were little, you'd look at me with those same eyes, and I could never stay mad at you? " Thomas's jaw clenched. Don't Don't do this. Don't do what?
Don't try to make this okay. Don't act like seven years didn't happen. I'm not trying to make it okay. Dorothy reached for his hand. He pulled back, but she persisted, catching his fingers.
What happened 7 years ago was terrible. The things your father and I said were unforgivable. But I'm asking you to forgive us anyway. Why should I? Because I'm your mother and I love you and I don't have much time left to tell you that. " The front door opened again.
Grizzly stepped inside his massive frame filling the doorway. Behind him, Walter could see Cheryl and Tiny on the porch. Thomas's head snapped up. "Who the hell is that? " "That's Grizzly," Walter said. "He and his people are the reason we made it here alive. " "Your people? " Thomas looked between Grizzly and his parents.
"You came here with bikers. " "It's a long story," Walter said. Grizzly's eyes swept the room, taking in the tension, the tears, the confrontation. "We interrupting something? " "Yes," Thomas said at the same time Dorothy said. "No. " "We just wanted to make sure Mrs. Callahan was okay. " Grizzly continued.
"That bridge crossing took a lot out of her. " "Bridge crossing? " Thomas looked at his mother. "What bridge crossing? " "Where did you come from? " "Illino," Walter said. "We drove from Milbrook. " In this weather, are you insane? Probably, Dorothy admitted. Our truck broke down on Route 47.
We walked for hours in the snow. I collapsed. These people saved us. Then they brought us here through a blizzard and a rock slide in a bridge that almost killed us all. Thomas was staring at her like she'd grown a second head.
You almost died getting here. Several times, Walter said. But we made it. This is insane. This is completely insane.
Thomas ran his hands through his hair. You risked your lives. You got strangers to risk their lives just to come see me. To see you and Matthew, Dorothy corrected. And yes, because some things are worth risking everything for.
Sarah appeared from the kitchen with a glass of water and some pills. Dr. Reynolds is on his way. He said to keep you warm and hydrated until he gets here. She helped Dorothy take the medication, then looked at Thomas.
Maybe we should give your parents some space to rest. Space? Thomas's laugh was bitter. They show up out of nowhere after seven years, nearly die getting here, bring a motorcycle gang to my house, and you want me to give them space. I want you to calm down before you have a heart attack," Sarah said firmly.
"And they're not a gang. They're the people who saved your mother's life. " Grizzly cleared his throat. "We'll wait outside. Give you folks time to talk. " "No. " Dorothy's voice was weak but insistent. Stay, please.
I want Thomas to hear what you did for us. Thomas looked ready to argue, but something in his mother's expression stopped him. He nodded stiffly. Grizzly stepped fully inside, followed by Cheryl and Tiny. The small living room suddenly felt very crowded.
Walter saw Thomas studying the bikers, the leather vests, the patches, the tattoos. Saw his son making judgments, making assumptions. Your parents showed up at our clubhouse last night, Grizzly began. His voice was matter of fact, no emotion, just reciting events. Your mother was hypothermic, pulse, thready breathing, shallow skin temperature.
87°. Another 20 minutes and she would have been dead. Thomas's face went white. We stabilized her, Grizzly continued. Got her warm, got fluids in her, kept her alive through the night.
In the morning, we loaded up and drove them here. Hit a rock slide at mile marker 73. Spent 90 minutes moving boulders by hand. Your mother helped. Moved rocks while she could barely stand.
That's not She couldn't have. Thomas looked at Dorothy. I did, Dorothy said simply. Everyone was working so hard for us. I couldn't just sit and watch.
Then we hit the storm, Grizzly went on. Visibility dropped to nothing. Roads disappeared. We came to Stone Creek Bridge. Structure was compromised.
Cracked supports covered in ice. Your mother suggested we walk across instead of risking the vehicle's weight. She was right. The bridge almost collapsed with just a Suburban on it. Thomas had sat down heavily in a chair.
His face was the color of old snow. "You walked across a collapsing bridge. " "Your father carried me," Dorothy said. She was looking at Walter now, her eyes soft. "Well, Grizzly carried me, but your father was right there. " "Why? " Thomas's voice broke on the word. "Why would you do all this? " "Because you're my son," Dorothy said.
"And Matthew is my grandson, and I've wasted seven years being angry and hurt and stubborn. " "I don't have seven more years. I don't even have 7 months. So, I'm here now asking, begging for you to give me whatever time is left. " The room fell silent. Outside, the storm continued to rage. Inside, a family that had been shattered was trying to figure out if the pieces could still fit together.
Thomas stood abruptly. I need air. He walked to the front door, yanked it open, and stepped onto the porch. The cold blasted in, but he didn't seem to notice. He just stood there staring out at the snowcovered street, his shoulder shaking.
Walter started to follow, but Grizzly's hand on his shoulder stopped him. Give him a minute. He's my son, which is exactly why you need to give him a minute. Grizzly's voice was gentle. This is a lot to process.
Let him process. Sarah was checking Dorothy's pulse again, her face concerned. Your heart rate's elevated. You need to rest. I'm fine.
You're not fine. You're exhausted and sick, and you just crossed Montana in a blizzard. Sarah's voice was firm. Dr. Reynolds will be here in 10 minutes.
Until then, you're lying down and staying quiet. Dorothy started to argue, then sagged back against the cushions. Okay. Okay, you're right. Walter sat beside her, taking her hand.
It was cold despite the warmth of the house. He rubbed it between his palms, trying to bring some heat back. Do you think he'll forgive us? Dorothy whispered. "I don't know, Dot.
I hope so. " On the porch, Thomas was still standing in the snow. Cheryl had followed him out, and Walter could see them talking. Couldn't hear the words, but could read the body language. Thomas was gesturing wildly. Cheryl was standing calmly, letting him vent.
After a few minutes, Thomas's gesture slowed. Stopped. He bent forward, hands on his knees like he was trying to catch his breath. Cheryl said something. Thomas looked up at her.
Then, to Walter's shock, his son started crying. Not quiet tears, deep wrenching sobs that shook his entire body. Cheryl put a hand on his shoulder, steady and supportive, and just let him break. Walter felt his own throat tighten. When was the last time he'd seen Thomas cry?
The boy had always been stoic, always holding everything in, just like Walter had taught him. God, what had Walter done to his son? The front door opened. Thomas came back inside Cheryl behind him. His eyes were red, his face blotchy, but something in his expression had shifted.
The hard anger had cracked, revealing the hurt underneath. He walked to the couch where Dorothy lay, dropped to his knees beside her arm. Tell me about the cancer. Dorothy's hand touched his face. Stage 4 pancreatic spread to my liver and lungs.
They gave me chemo, but it didn't work. Now we're just trying to keep me comfortable. How long? Weeks, maybe a month. Thomas closed his eyes.
I'm so sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. I do. I should have I should have called. Should have come home.