“For half an hour at lunch. That’s not enough.” While I’m waiting for my pulse to settle down, he adds, “I’m sorry I had to cancel our plans to go out.”
“Is something wrong?” I ask. “I saw you throw your phone.”
Humiliation flashes across his features. “I was talking to my dad.” He holds out his free hand to show me his cell phone. The back cover is cracked.
“Oh, no . . . does it work?”
Ty pushes a button, then lifts the phone to his ear. “Yeah. That’s surprising.” He shoves it into his front jeans pocket, out of sight, but doesn’t have as much success hiding the distress on his face.
“Is everything okay at home?” I ask.
“As good as can be expected, I guess.” His mouth crooks up at the corner and his face brightens. “Anyway, you’re here now, so everything’s better.”
Psyched by his compliment, I open the Blazer’s back door and look in at Cookie. “I’m glad you came,” I say to Ty. “You can help me get him inside.”
Cookie doesn’t even complain when Ty lifts him from the seat and carries him into the clinic. The receptionist tells us that Dr. Trujillo had an emergency and he’s running a half hour late, so we take Cookie back outside and sit on the lawn beneath a cottonwood tree.
Because it stays warmer in town than on the mountain, the trees bud earlier in the season here. Pale green leaves flicker in the cottonwood tree, and the cool air dances with sunshine. A bluebird sings in the branches, and Iris joins in the song. My fingertips pulse with her trilled melody as I slide them up and down Cookie’s spine, and I catch myself wondering if he feels the vibration. If so, he doesn’t show it. Cookie doesn’t even have the energy to lift his head.
“How’s it looking for our hike tomorrow?” Ty asks.
“We’re good to go,” I say. I slide him a mock-serious look. “I hope you’ve been working out. I don’t want to have to carry you back down the mountain.”
Squinting in a way that turns me inside out, Ty leans back on his elbows, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “We’ll see who’s carrying who. In fact, if you want to race to the top and down, you’re on.”
“I’ll pass.” I fake a yawn.
“I think you’re afraid,” Ty says, looking superior.
“No, I just don’t want to embarrass you when I win.” He laughs, and after a minute, I ask, “So what’s going on at home?”
Sobering, Ty lifts a shoulder. “Mom and Dad are pretty upset with me right now. They don’t get what I’m doing here.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask on impulse. When he doesn’t answer right away, I say quickly, “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s okay.” He tilts his head back, stares up at the cottonwood’s sun-spangled leaves. “My little brother, Kyle, was in a car accident over the Christmas holidays. Kyle wasn’t wearing his seat belt. His head hit the windshield, and he’s been in a coma ever since.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper, my fingers curling into Cookie’s coat.
Ty exhales loudly. “My parents told me yesterday that the doctors are saying he won’t ever get better. They’re talking about turning off the machines he’s hooked up to. Mom and Dad want me there to discuss it as a family.”
In the silence that follows, sorrow creeps over us, as dense as fog. I take a shuddery breath. “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s okay. That’s why I took off on this road trip. I couldn’t stand seeing my brother like that.” He shakes his head. “Pretty weak, huh? But I can’t believe they’ve given up on him so soon. The doctors aren’t giving him a chance.”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him.
Watching me, he says, “Spending time with you . . . talking. It helps.”
“I’m glad. Being with you has helped me, too.” My throat closes as I reach for his hand. I want to hug him, but hold myself back. “Please don’t get mad at me for saying this, but as much as I don’t want you to leave, maybe you should be with Kyle right now.”
“It wouldn’t make any difference. He wouldn’t even know I was in the room. I can’t help him by being there.”
“But maybe it would help you. I mean, I wish I’d had more time with my dad. To say good-bye. Even if he might