pretty sure that her father's recent efforts to keep Mark and Shylah apart meant that he didn't quite feel the same way.
"Yeah. I know YOU do, Mama," Shylah said with a voice so tremulous that it said just as much as did the words. As she said this, Shylah gave her father a look of deep-seated disgust, very unusual until the recent events.
"Now, come on, child. Your father cares about Mark. He's like a son to us and always has been."
"I don't think so, Mama. Daddy had to try to keep me away from Mark, and look what happened. Mark wouldn't be in the hospital right now and have to have a bunch of metal in his head for the rest of his life if it wasn't for all of Daddy's nonsense."
"Honey," Mrs. King began, placing her hand on her daughter's wrist. "You know I don't care who you love, as long as he's a good man and a God-fearing man. You and Mark have known each other longer than I care to recall. I know Mark is a good man, and there probably ain't nobody in this world that could love you better than he could. I've talked to your father about this until I'm blue. You don't pay attention to what he says on the matter, and if he gives you one bit of trouble over it ever again, you tell him he can come speak to me about it. Ok?"
This filled Shylah with a faint sliver of hope. She decided then and there that she would do what she wanted, despite what her father thought. He would eventually get used to it all, but of course, that was only if Mark could be convinced how incredibly sorry Shylah was and how much she wanted to make things right again. T.L., in the meantime, kept his father entertained, at a safe distance from Shylah. Shylah and her father had barely spoken to one another in the nearly two weeks since her breakup with Mark. Now, Shylah had no desire to see her father's face, and T.L. already knew that. Shylah did not have to say it. It was plain to everyone but Mr. King.
"Crady. Anyone here for Mark Crady?" The voice rang out across the waiting room, but it took the King family a moment to realize what had been said. Before they could rise and make it to the woman at the door, she repeated, "Crady. Mark Crady. Anyone here for Mark Crady?"
"Us. We're here for Mark Crady," T.L. stammered. For some reason, despite the fact that he often took charge of dire situations, he often had difficulty speaking to doctors, nurses, and law enforcement personnel. There was something about such serious situations that scared T.L. This one just happened to be the worst one he had ever had to deal with.
"Are you family," asked the nurse, a little puzzled.
"Well," replied T.L. "You could say that."
"So you're not family," the nurse shot back, hastily and without any sort of feeling.
"No,' T.L. reluctantly added.
"Well, we would like to speak to someone from Mr. Crady's family, if at all possible, but if you want to come with me, I'll take ya'all to a waiting room where you can sit til he gets out of surgery. He's in with Dr. Armintraska right now, but he should be out soon. But to tell you the truth, he's probably gonna be out cold in recovery for a few hours after the surgery." The nurse beckoned for everyone to follow. They were all concerned enough and worried enough to want to wait out the next few hours, even Mr. King, no matter what his daughter believed.
Another waiting room, another long wait to be had, a long day in all; it would all leave a sour taste. Boredom took its toll early. There really wasn't much of anything to do except talk, something that Shylah was not in the mood to do. She was normally a very talkative person, but being in the hospital, still worrying endlessly about Mark, talking just wasn't in her. Darius tried several times to make Shylah laugh, in order to get her mind off of things, but every time, Shylah turned her head and avoided all contact, verbal or otherwise.
"What's wrong with her," Darius asked his son. It
"Yeah. I know YOU do, Mama," Shylah said with a voice so tremulous that it said just as much as did the words. As she said this, Shylah gave her father a look of deep-seated disgust, very unusual until the recent events.
"Now, come on, child. Your father cares about Mark. He's like a son to us and always has been."
"I don't think so, Mama. Daddy had to try to keep me away from Mark, and look what happened. Mark wouldn't be in the hospital right now and have to have a bunch of metal in his head for the rest of his life if it wasn't for all of Daddy's nonsense."
"Honey," Mrs. King began, placing her hand on her daughter's wrist. "You know I don't care who you love, as long as he's a good man and a God-fearing man. You and Mark have known each other longer than I care to recall. I know Mark is a good man, and there probably ain't nobody in this world that could love you better than he could. I've talked to your father about this until I'm blue. You don't pay attention to what he says on the matter, and if he gives you one bit of trouble over it ever again, you tell him he can come speak to me about it. Ok?"
This filled Shylah with a faint sliver of hope. She decided then and there that she would do what she wanted, despite what her father thought. He would eventually get used to it all, but of course, that was only if Mark could be convinced how incredibly sorry Shylah was and how much she wanted to make things right again. T.L., in the meantime, kept his father entertained, at a safe distance from Shylah. Shylah and her father had barely spoken to one another in the nearly two weeks since her breakup with Mark. Now, Shylah had no desire to see her father's face, and T.L. already knew that. Shylah did not have to say it. It was plain to everyone but Mr. King.
"Crady. Anyone here for Mark Crady?" The voice rang out across the waiting room, but it took the King family a moment to realize what had been said. Before they could rise and make it to the woman at the door, she repeated, "Crady. Mark Crady. Anyone here for Mark Crady?"
"Us. We're here for Mark Crady," T.L. stammered. For some reason, despite the fact that he often took charge of dire situations, he often had difficulty speaking to doctors, nurses, and law enforcement personnel. There was something about such serious situations that scared T.L. This one just happened to be the worst one he had ever had to deal with.
"Are you family," asked the nurse, a little puzzled.
"Well," replied T.L. "You could say that."
"So you're not family," the nurse shot back, hastily and without any sort of feeling.
"No,' T.L. reluctantly added.
"Well, we would like to speak to someone from Mr. Crady's family, if at all possible, but if you want to come with me, I'll take ya'all to a waiting room where you can sit til he gets out of surgery. He's in with Dr. Armintraska right now, but he should be out soon. But to tell you the truth, he's probably gonna be out cold in recovery for a few hours after the surgery." The nurse beckoned for everyone to follow. They were all concerned enough and worried enough to want to wait out the next few hours, even Mr. King, no matter what his daughter believed.
Another waiting room, another long wait to be had, a long day in all; it would all leave a sour taste. Boredom took its toll early. There really wasn't much of anything to do except talk, something that Shylah was not in the mood to do. She was normally a very talkative person, but being in the hospital, still worrying endlessly about Mark, talking just wasn't in her. Darius tried several times to make Shylah laugh, in order to get her mind off of things, but every time, Shylah turned her head and avoided all contact, verbal or otherwise.
"What's wrong with her," Darius asked his son. It
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