“You say a word to them, and you’ll sleep outside for a week,” Jax threatened.
He got nothing but a low growl in return.
Romeo had never met a woman he didn’t like. He saw a pretty one and everything else went straight out of his head.
“Just remember where we are, and that you’re not supposed to be here,” Jax reminded him.
As hospitals went, this wasn’t bad. It was in a nice, old, whitewashed stone building with a wide, elegant, wraparound porch and tall, white columns, which used to be the main hospital seventy years ago. Now, the real hospital lay off to the right, attached to the hospice unit by a pretty atrium.
They kept things quieter over here. It was dark and peaceful. The patients slept as long as they could in the morning and throughout the day, had as much medication as their systems could stand and as little pain as was humanly possible, although it was still too much.
Jax hated the place.
But his mother was in the room down the hall, and there was nothing on this earth that would keep him away from her now or at any other time in her life when she needed him.
His three little sisters were all exhausted from the battle they’d fought to keep their mother at home, where she’d asked to stay until the end. But in the middle of the night, forty-eight hours ago, her breathing had gotten so labored and the pain so bad and his sisters had cried so many tears and hurt so badly themselves, that maybe he’d just gotten too scared to let it end like that. Because he’d called 911, and they’d carted his mother off here, where, with the kind of strength she’d always possessed and he’d never understood, she still clung stubbornly to life.
She was one amazing woman. How could she do something as ordinary as die?
Pausing outside the door, he looked over to Romeo and shook his head in disgust. “Don’t jump on her or hang all over her. She hurts just about everywhere,” Jax said, then thought of one more thing. “And don’t you dare cry.”
Jax pushed open the door. The room was dim. His mother’s body nothing but a faint impression under the pretty quilt stitched by his own grandma Jackson’s hand, the woman whose family name he carried. William, for his father, although everybody had called his father Billy, and Jackson, for his mother’s family. William Jackson Cassidy.
His mother had realized right away what a mouthful it was.
She was the one who’d given him the nickname Jax when he was still tiny, when she’d been young and absolutely stunning, from the pictures he’d seen, and had what everyone must have thought was a long, happy life ahead of her. A husband she loved dearly, one who clearly adored her, a son who adored her just as much, and three beautiful daughters.
“Didn’t quite work out that way, did it, Mom?” he whispered.
Her pretty, honey-colored hair was long gone, her eyes sunk down into her face, dark circles under them, no color at all in her cheeks. She turned her head ever so slowly toward him and managed a weak smile.
Then she caught sight of Romeo and said, “Oh, baby. You made it.”
Romeo stood there and grinned like a fool. His tail swished back and forth in a move that he seemed to think made women swoon. Of course, he thought everything he did made women swoon, and Jax couldn’t deny it was pretty much true.
The dog had a way with women.
Especially Jax’s mother.
“Come here, sweet thing,” his mother said.
“I take it you mean the dog, and not me?” Jax said, taking the chair by her bedside and sitting down.
“You know I love you,” she murmured weakly, turning her cheek for his kiss.
He gave her one, trying to make it seem like any other greeting he’d given her over the years. Casual and easy, as if he had ages to say hello to her this way. As if this might not be the last time.
How could that be? The last time?
What were they going to do without her?
“You love the dog more than any of us,” he said, because it was a familiar argument, and he couldn’t stand to talk about her dying.
“You’re just jealous…because he’s prettier than you…women like him better,” his mother said, actually managing to make him grin when he wouldn’t have thought anything could. She was one of those who claimed he and the dog were way too much alike. Another subject he was happy to talk about, instead of what was going on here.
Romeo whined and put his front paws up on the bed, then stuck his cold nose against his mother’s cheek. She smiled and turned her face to him. “Come here, baby.”
The dog leaped up onto the bed.
“Romeo, what did I just tell you?” Jax reminded him.
The dog gave him a look that he could swear said, She does love me more than you, and I am prettier than you. So there.
“It’s all right,” his mother said, the words coming slowly, her breathing labored. “…been at this for a long time. He knows…to be careful. Come right up here beside me, baby.”
Her fifty-five-pound baby crept up very slowly, feeling his way, until he was as close to her as he could get, pressed against her side, all stretched out on the bed, his head on her right arm, his nose against her cheek. He whimpered softly.
“Yes. That’s my good boy.” His mother leaned her head against the dog’s and gave a contented sigh, then turned back to Jax. “Thank you for bringing him.”
“You know I’d do anything for you,” he said and worried he might be the one to start to cry.
“Yes, I know.”
“Sorry about bringing you here.”
“It’s fine…. Doesn’t hurt much now. The medication is…They keep the really good stuff here. I needed it.”
“If you want, we’ll take you back home.” And somehow they’d find the strength to see this through to the end. If she could do it, so could the rest of them.
“No…. Better this way,” she said, lightly caressing the dog who’d been her pride and joy for the last year and a half. Romeo had flunked out of K-9 school and Jax had brought him to his mother after someone had broken into old Mrs. Watkins’s house, three blocks down from his mother’s place. Romeo was supposed to protect her, although if anyone ever broke in, the worthless dog would probably try to charm them to death.
Romeo was practically purring now. Female attention of any kind did that to him. He was the most ridiculous excuse for a dog Jax had ever seen.
“Don’t worry,” his mother said. “Won’t be long now.”
Jax stiffened. How did she know that? How could she sound so calm about it? How could he want so badly to get up and run away? She was his mother, and she was the one who was dying. If she could handle it with such dignity and grace, surely he could find a fraction of her courage and strength.
“Did you run the girls off?” she asked, about to drift off. It didn’t take long to wear her out these days.
Jax nodded. “I told them you didn’t want anyone but your two favorite boys tonight.”
“Good. Done all they can. I know that. Make sure they do, too.”
“I will.”
She lifted her right hand off the blanket, a sign that he knew meant she wanted him to hold it. He did, wrapping both of his around hers, which was like ice. He thought it got colder every day.
“I know you’ll take good care of them,” she said. “You always have.”
“No, you have. You’ve taken