when you get close to the hospital,” Logan said flatly. “I’ll make sure I’m gone before you get here.”
His stiffly spoken words broke her heart, knowing she had made him this way. Distant, almost hard. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Before she could respond, before she could tell him there was no need to leave on her account, he was gone. The line every bit as empty as she felt inside.
* * *
Logan sat next to Jack’s hospital bed, feeling helpless. A feeling that didn’t sit well with him. There had to be something more he could do for his friend. Jack had given him his first job. Had taught him everything he knew about flowers and plants and trees. And after encouraging him to take his passion for those things and start his own landscaping business, Jack had gone so far as to loan Logan the money to start that business up. He had long since paid Jack back the money he’d lent him. His business, Cooper Landscaping, had taken firm root. He had no doubt that his company’s success was due in large part to Jack Dillan’s support and guidance over the years, as well as his brothers’ bringing him in on several of their company’s construction projects. If the businesses or home owners contracting work through Cooper Construction were in need of landscaping to go with their newly built homes or businesses, Logan’s company was at the top of the recommended landscaper list his brothers provided to their clients. Being the only local landscaping company in the immediate area had no doubt helped, as well.
The steady hiss of oxygen being fed through the tube in Jack’s nose had Logan’s brow creasing in concern. He hated seeing his friend this way. Jack Dillan, at fifty-nine years of age, was still in his prime. He wasn’t the kind of man to sit around having others do things for him. He was a doer, grumbling anytime someone fussed over him. Except when Verna Simms stopped by to bring him some of her homemade chicken soup because she’d heard that he was suffering from a bout of the sniffles. He didn’t seem to mind the pretty widow and owner of Big Dogs, the local diner, coddling him. Not that Jack would ever admit to having a liking for the attention she paid to him. He was too set in his ways. But Logan knew better. Maybe he ought to give Verna a call. She’d have him back to his old self in no time. The thought of it brought a semblance of a smile to Logan’s tightly pressed lips.
Closing his eyes, he prayed for the Lord to give Jack the strength to pull through this health crisis. It had been hard enough having to call Hope with the news that her daddy was in the hospital. Now he was going to have to stick around, despite preferring to be gone when Hope arrived. Jack had asked him to call and tell Hope he was under the weather in case she tried to reach him, sugarcoating the truth and leaving out the details, which Logan refused to do. Hope needed to know the whole of it. Dragging a hand back through his own dark, wavy hair, he took in Jack’s pale face as he lay asleep in the hospital bed. “You’d best get to mending, old man. A lot of folks are gonna be counting on you for their garden flowers with spring being just around the corner.” He was gonna be counting on Jack to be there.
His gaze flicked to the clock on the wall, watching as the second hand made its painfully slow trip around the circle of numbers. Over and over. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Unable to sit there listening to the hiss of the oxygen and the beeping of the monitors any longer, Logan pushed out of the hospital chair and straightened his six-foot-four-inch frame. Casting one more glance down at his friend, he turned and made his way out of ICU. He figured he’d return a few work calls that had come in that morning. Anything to fill the time and keep his concern at bay.
The automatic doors eased closed behind him as Logan stepped out into the hallway. Digging into the front pocket of his jeans, he grabbed for his cell phone and had just settled back against the brightly lit corridor’s wall outside when a very feminine, all-too-familiar voice called out to him.
“Logan?”
His hand, still curled around his phone, dropped down to his side, his gaze shifting in the direction of the approaching hospital visitor. Hope. He stood frozen for a long moment, drinking in the sight of the woman he had once loved as she made her way toward him, wheeling a small floral suitcase behind her.
“Hope,” he replied, shoving his cell phone back into his jeans pocket as he pushed away from the wall. Her wide green eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Her normally beautiful, sun-kissed face void of color.
“I know I was supposed to call when I got in,” she said, sounding panicked. “But my flight was delayed and all I could think about when we finally landed was getting here as quickly as I could.”
“Your daddy’s gonna be okay,” he told her with less conviction than he’d like to have put across. He had to be. Hope needed him. He needed Jack, truth be told. The older man was like a second father to him.
Sniffling, she brushed away a stray tear that had started down her cheek. Then she looked up, searching his gaze. “Have you heard anything yet?”
Instinct had him wanting to reach out and comfort her. But it was better to keep his distance where Hope was concerned. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, to tuck away the emotions Hope never failed to stir in him. Hurt. Anger. Resentment. Longing.
“Logan,” she said, the urgent plea pulling him from his troubled thoughts. “Please tell me.”
He heaved a heavy sigh. “The doctor stopped by to look in on your daddy about thirty minutes or so ago. He told us that the tests they’d run so far have confirmed that Jack suffered a stroke.”
“A stroke?” Hope gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She shook her head in denial, sending long, coppery curls bouncing over her slender shoulders. “That can’t be. He’s not old enough. He doesn’t even smoke,” she went on as denial took hold.
He nodded. “I know. They’re still running a few more tests, but the doctor’s pretty confident Jack’s high blood pressure contributed to his having the stroke.”
Confusion filled her green eyes. “But Daddy doesn’t have high blood pressure.”
He frowned, knowing that Jack had probably kept that information to himself to keep Hope from worrying over him.
Understanding dawned in her eyes as she took in his reaction to her words. “He does,” she said, the words a mere whisper.
Logan nodded. “Yes.”
“And you knew about it?” she said, more a statement than an actual question.
“Jack made mention of it a while back,” he admitted.
“And you didn’t think to call and let me know he was having health issues?”
“I didn’t have your contact information,” he said soberly. “The only reason I was able to reach you today was because I got your number from Jack’s cell phone to make the call.”
“Oh,” she said, guilt lacing her tone. Her gaze dropped to the front of his shirt. “I’m sorry. None of this is your fault. I shouldn’t have snapped at you that way.”
“Don’t apologize,” he told her. “You’re upset. It’s understandable. We just have to keep in mind that this isn’t about us.”
“Agreed.”
“Our focus needs to be on getting Jack back on his feet.”
Her chin snapped up, her tear-filled eyes searching his. “So he really is gonna be all right?”
“He got to the hospital in time to put the odds back in his favor,” he explained, repeating the doctor’s earlier words.
“Thanks to you.”
“Thanks to the Lord,” he muttered. God had put him in the right place at the right time. “They need to get your daddy back on his medication, make adjustments as necessary to get his blood pressure under control. Once that’s done, he should be his old self.”
“Back on?”
“Apparently, Jack decided to stop taking his blood pressure medication about four months or so ago because he’d