intently.
“I was convinced that tens of thousands of people died in those towers,” Kate said. “And that’s before I’d even heard about the Pentagon and the plane in Pennsylvania. I actually felt relieved later that day, and the next, when the estimates of those killed went down and then down again. I thought it was downright miraculous that we only lost three thousand souls that day. Not to discount those people’s lives or what their families suffered, but it could have been so much worse. And you, Pete, were one of the reasons why it wasn’t worse. So get used to the idea that the rest of America thinks you’re pretty damn special!”
After a moment, Pete gave her a small smile. “Still don’t feel like a hero, but I get what you’re saying.”
~~~~~~~~
Skip caught himself. He’d been about to ask Maria if she’d mind watching the kids while he went to visit Mac. Then he remembered what Kate had told him. Instead, he asked Maria if she wanted to go with him to the hospital. They could take turns staying with the kids down in the cafeteria.
Maria’s visit was short. She returned to the cafeteria before the kids had finished the ice cream Skip had bought them. She was beaming. “He grouchy. Good sign.”
Skip grinned at her. He handed over a twenty-dollar bill. “They can each spend ten dollars in the gift shop, but not on candy.”
“Cool,” Billy said with enthusiasm, as his sister bounced in her chair.
“Finish ice cream first,” Maria said.
Skip hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed. Ten dollars didn’t usually buy you much in a hospital gift shop. He headed for the elevators.
He took two steps into Mac’s room and froze. The women had reported the patient was improving, but he looked like hell. His wiry body seemed downright frail in the big hospital bed. His eyes were closed, the eyelids thin with blue veins showing through. The white towel draped over his chest was only a couple shades lighter than his skin. He looked like an old man, wearing a bib to catch his drool.
Fear ricocheted through Skip’s nervous system. For a moment, he thought Mac was dead.
The patient’s eyes opened. They brightened when he saw Skip. “Hey, boss man. How ya doin’?”
“I’m fine.” A lie. His heart was galloping a mile a minute. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
Mac was two years older than Skip’s forty-four, and on a toughness scale of one to ten, Skip considered himself an eight and Mac an eleven.
Mac gave him a lopsided grin as his right side rippled under the bed covers.
Worry gnawed again at Skip’s gut. Had Mac suffered some kind of stroke or nerve damage?
“Damn nurse keeps wrapping me up like a mummy. Can’t even get my arms loose.”
Letting out a short bark of relieved laughter, Skip stepped over to the bed and pulled the sheet and light blanket loose. Mac disentangled his arm and shook his hand.
Rose came into the room carrying a pair of scissors. “Finally convinced the nurse I wasn’t a homicidal maniac and could be trusted with sharps... Oh, hiya, Skip.”
“Hey, partner, how you doin’?”
“I’m fine but the patient’s annoyed ’cause he missed his haircut this week.”
Mac might go two or three days without shaving but the one aspect of his appearance about which he was meticulous was his hair. He kept it trimmed in a precision military buzz cut.
“Ah, thus the towel,” Skip said. He noted that indeed Mac’s hair was rather ragged looking, and
“I was convinced that tens of thousands of people died in those towers,” Kate said. “And that’s before I’d even heard about the Pentagon and the plane in Pennsylvania. I actually felt relieved later that day, and the next, when the estimates of those killed went down and then down again. I thought it was downright miraculous that we only lost three thousand souls that day. Not to discount those people’s lives or what their families suffered, but it could have been so much worse. And you, Pete, were one of the reasons why it wasn’t worse. So get used to the idea that the rest of America thinks you’re pretty damn special!”
After a moment, Pete gave her a small smile. “Still don’t feel like a hero, but I get what you’re saying.”
~~~~~~~~
Skip caught himself. He’d been about to ask Maria if she’d mind watching the kids while he went to visit Mac. Then he remembered what Kate had told him. Instead, he asked Maria if she wanted to go with him to the hospital. They could take turns staying with the kids down in the cafeteria.
Maria’s visit was short. She returned to the cafeteria before the kids had finished the ice cream Skip had bought them. She was beaming. “He grouchy. Good sign.”
Skip grinned at her. He handed over a twenty-dollar bill. “They can each spend ten dollars in the gift shop, but not on candy.”
“Cool,” Billy said with enthusiasm, as his sister bounced in her chair.
“Finish ice cream first,” Maria said.
Skip hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed. Ten dollars didn’t usually buy you much in a hospital gift shop. He headed for the elevators.
He took two steps into Mac’s room and froze. The women had reported the patient was improving, but he looked like hell. His wiry body seemed downright frail in the big hospital bed. His eyes were closed, the eyelids thin with blue veins showing through. The white towel draped over his chest was only a couple shades lighter than his skin. He looked like an old man, wearing a bib to catch his drool.
Fear ricocheted through Skip’s nervous system. For a moment, he thought Mac was dead.
The patient’s eyes opened. They brightened when he saw Skip. “Hey, boss man. How ya doin’?”
“I’m fine.” A lie. His heart was galloping a mile a minute. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
Mac was two years older than Skip’s forty-four, and on a toughness scale of one to ten, Skip considered himself an eight and Mac an eleven.
Mac gave him a lopsided grin as his right side rippled under the bed covers.
Worry gnawed again at Skip’s gut. Had Mac suffered some kind of stroke or nerve damage?
“Damn nurse keeps wrapping me up like a mummy. Can’t even get my arms loose.”
Letting out a short bark of relieved laughter, Skip stepped over to the bed and pulled the sheet and light blanket loose. Mac disentangled his arm and shook his hand.
Rose came into the room carrying a pair of scissors. “Finally convinced the nurse I wasn’t a homicidal maniac and could be trusted with sharps... Oh, hiya, Skip.”
“Hey, partner, how you doin’?”
“I’m fine but the patient’s annoyed ’cause he missed his haircut this week.”
Mac might go two or three days without shaving but the one aspect of his appearance about which he was meticulous was his hair. He kept it trimmed in a precision military buzz cut.
“Ah, thus the towel,” Skip said. He noted that indeed Mac’s hair was rather ragged looking, and
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