Bourbon Nights - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,98
the leaves.
A change.
Fall is the transition from hot to cold.
Hot to cold.
I turn up the radio to drown away my unruly thoughts, but I’m not sure the heaviest metal band in the world could make my thoughts any quieter today.
Driving in a daze from point A to point B feels timeless as I wonder how my brain knows to keep driving safely while my mind is in another world. However, I arrive, and I guess that’s what matters.
Mom and Dad have just pulled into the parking lot, and I watch them from my rear-view mirror. Mom drove.
Before the last six months, Dad always drove the car. They’re from a generation where the man drives, and the woman doesn’t have the desire to fight for the task.
Journey whips into the parking lot next in her little black coupe, which accents her personality. We’re only two years apart, but different like night and day with our lifestyle decisions. She likes to sit back and wait for the world to bring her gifts, and I work fifteen hours a day to get further faster. Neither of us is wrong. She’s become a well-known photographer at twenty-four, and I’ve landed a job with a movie channel to edit screenplays while living in our own apartments down the street from Mom and Dad. We have both threatened to leave the area many times before, but I’m glad neither of us did. Dad needed us this past year.
I’m the last one to join Mom, Dad, and Journey as we all silently walk into the medical facility.
While standing between two sets of glass doors, in a state of purgatory as it feels, Dad stops walking and turns to face Journey and me. Tears are in his eyes as he wraps his arms around both our necks, pulling our heads into his chest. "I love you, girls. My girls. Everything will be okay, one way or another. Do you understand?"
Journey, who has never been big on emotions loses a tear first. She clenches her dark-lined eyes, and more black makeup filled tears fall as she wraps her arms around Dad and me. Mom’s cool hand then falls upon my back; the four of us quiver and cry quietly in between the unknown outside and the news awaiting us inside.
The four of us have always made comments about our luck. Since Journey and I grew up in a time when divorce was prevalent, we know we are fortunate to have two loving parents who always paint a picture of a healthy relationship. Our family dynamic differs greatly from what I had seen and gone through with my closest friends. Our situation often made me feel like we were escaping the jaws of death. We were all healthy, we never needed much, and we were an exceptionally happy family.
It turns out, we were also a target for disaster.
The fifteen minutes we had been waiting, felt like hours, but now we’re being escorted into a room with oversized windows, which offer us the view of a lake with colorful reflections of some surrounding trees that haven’t lost their warmth yet. I keep my focus on the scenery, while we wait for the doctor to startle us with what will probably be an abrupt knock on the wooden door.
As I assumed, the sound of his fist makes my chest hurt, and my throat feel tight. My stomach no longer feels like it’s in a knot, but now feels weak like I’m going to be sick.
Dr. Manapple walks in, dressed in a white coat; pristine and starched, his almond brown pants have a perfect crease down the center from his knees to his ankles, and his toffee-colored loafers are so polished they reflect the ceiling light.
"How is everyone doing today?" he asks while folding Dad’s files under his arm.
How does he think we’re all doing? The four of us are nearly green with worry.
"What’s the verdict, doctor?" Dad asks, sounding stronger than he must be feeling.
Dr. Manapple lowers his head for a moment before looking up at our four sets of wide eyes. "The margins are clear. Your numbers look great, and the blood work is clean. Mr. Quinn, the chemotherapy worked. There is no evidence of the disease left in your body."
I didn’t mean to fall to my knees, but I should have been sitting in a chair when receiving this news, knowing how my body reacts to stress. Journey is quick to lift me back up and hug me as we both cry into each other’s shoulders. "He’s okay," she whimpers, pulling me over to Dad and Mom, who are holding each other so tightly, it looks as if they have a fear of gravity separating them.
"Thank you, Doctor," Dad utters. "Thank you."
"I’ll want to see you in six months for a checkup, Mr. Quinn. I’ll let you have this moment with your family. Congratulations, sir."
"We’re going to Europe, Hawaii, and Australia. Anywhere you girls want to go, we will go see the world and live as if there is a tomorrow … because there is a tomorrow. The doctor said so. I have a second chance, and I will not take it for granted," Dad cries.
"We had five years, sweetie," Dad reminds me.
"I shouldn’t have moved to South Carolina," is all I can think to say.
"Yes, you should have moved there. You are living the life you desire with Ace. This is your chance to have the perfect life you always talked about."
I can’t help but look at Ace while Dad is saying these sweet remarks. He’s flipping through the mail, no longer concerned with the letter. "I’m not happy,” I confess.
I should not have told Dad I’m not happy. My happiness doesn’t hold a flame to finding out his cancer is back.
"What?" Dad questions.
"How bad is the cancer?"
There’s a pause. A long pause. "It’s bad, Melody, it came back with a vengeance and spread everywhere. My CT scan was lit up like a Christmas tree." Christmas. Will he make it another Christmas? I didn’t come home last Christmas, and it could have been our last. "He told me to make my end-of-life plans. It could be a week or two months. There’s no telling how long I have left."
I clap my hand over my mouth, trying to stop the wretched sounds threatening to escape my throat. "I’ll be home tomorrow.”
"Melody—"
"Dad," I cry into the phone. "There has to be something we can do." I spin around, feeling frenzied and lost.
"Melody, you don’t need to stop living—" How can he tell me this when he’s about to stop living?
"I will be home tomorrow, Dad." To read more, tap here.
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Also By Shari J. Ryan
Women’s Fiction / Contemporary Romance
* * *
The Barrel House Series
Bourbon Love Notes - Book 1
Bourbon on the Rocks - Book 2
Bourbon Nights - Book 3
Bourbon Fireball - Book 4 (coming soon)
* * *
Shattered Stars
Last Words
The Other Blue Sky
Unspoken Words
The Heart Series (3 Books)
Ravel
Red Nights
* * *
Romantic Comedy
* * *
The Man Cave Series (5 books)
Queen of the Throne
Spiked Lemonade
* * *
Romantic Suspense
* * *
Darkest Perception
Raine’s Haven
No Way Out (3 books)
TAG
Acknowledgments
A BIG THANK YOU TO:
Linda Russell- Foreword PR
Tracey V. - Alpha Reader
Heather A. - Alpha Reader
Emily G. - Alpha Reader
Reggie Deanching - RPlusMphoto (Cover Photographer)
Aidan Stuart - Cover Model
Cindy Dimpfl - Editing
Heidi M. - Being my soundboard for all ideas for this series.
My ARC team: THANK YOU for sticking with me and always embracing my new stories.
To all of you who have invested time into reading this series, I am so grateful for you all. Thank you for loving my characters as much as I do!
Josh, thank you for supporting my odd behavior of hiding in the bathroom to write. In these times, quiet isn’t easy to find, but you have done and continue to do everything possible to give me the time I need. I love you!!
Boys, I managed to write a book while assisting you in this homeschooling thing, and through a quarantine full of wrestling, screams, blood, tears, and requests for everything under the sun. I know you think Batman and Ironman are cool, but seriously … come on :). I love you both more than anything, and I’d homeschool you for another ten years if I had to (It’s the right thing to say ;) ).