Grandson Sky strode through the door first, followed a moment later by grandson Wylie. Neither seemed aware of the other. To Adam, it was wrong for young people to be sullen, with so much life still ahead of them. As a sympathy-inspired alternate at the X Games the previous week, Sky had done poorly, and that was surely eating at him. “You look like two fighters coming into the ring,” said Adam more truthfully than he would have wished.
“Good evening, sir,” said Wylie.
“Is he any better?” asked Sky.
Adam watched Wylie round the bed and stop opposite Sky. From this vantage point, Adam could see both of their profiles and trace the distinct Carson lines of jaw and cheekbone clear back to his paternal great-great grandfather, Theodore, born in 1848 in Portland, Oregon, and photographed in Union uniform after Vicksburg. These facial features had come all the way forward to the Carson-Fixx twins, Evan and Evangeline, born to great-granddaughter Leigh-Ann down in L.A., what, five years ago? The last five years of Adam’s life seemed to have gone by in about five minutes.
Sometimes Adam drew comfort from the long years he’d lived, but sometimes he felt like he was just one more helpless observer. He watched as Wylie lifted Robert’s eyelids, looked down for a long moment, then smoothed them closed. Over the last weeks he had noted that, home from his five-year journey, Wylie seemed strong and humorless as ever. Wylie went to the foot of the bed, where he lifted the sheets to run a finger along the sole of Robert’s left foot.
“He can feel that,” said Sky, dropping into a chair.
“You don’t know what he feels,” said Wylie.
“There’s another chair outside, Wylie,” said Adam.
“I’ll stand.”
Adam looked at his favorite three grandsons, listened to the hum and shuffle of the hospital. “I asked you two to come here so we could have an honest talk. I have some questions that need answers. First is what to do with our beloved Robert. As you know, the doctors say he is beyond hope.”
“The doctors are full of shit,” said Sky loudly, aiming his voice toward the open door.
“In this rare case, I agree with them,” said Adam. “However, inarguably, this room has been running me eighteen hundred a day for the last two weeks. Plus the meds, supplies, nutrition, et cetera. Cotton swabs cost eight dollars per. This isn’t about the money, of course. It’s about getting Robert to where he would want to be.”
Adam caught Sky’s impatient look and took a deep breath, reminding himself that forgiveness was divine, especially when it came to offspring. “And where is that, G-pa?”
“Mammoth Lakes,” said Wylie. “Obviously.”
“Yeah, but take him home? Or to a room at the hospital?”
“Neither,” said Adam. “I think we should move Robert in with his mother. I think that would please her. The family can afford doctors and nurses as needed. But I wanted your thoughts before going ahead with that.”
“Mom is Mom,” said Sky. “But better for Robert than this dump.”
“Wylie?”
“Not up to me, sir.”
“I asked for your opinion.”
Wylie thought a moment. “Robert’s better off with his mother. So, yes, Cynthia.”
Sky looked at Wylie impatiently, then shook his head as if Wylie were a simpleton. “So, G-pa — what did you really drag us down here for?”
“We need to talk about you two.”
“Whatever.”
Adam set his big hands on his knees, balanced his weight over his boots, and stood. His knees ached and his vertebrae clunked, but he straightened to his considerable full height. With his toe, he pushed his chair to Wylie and pointed at it. When Wylie had sat, Adam took a deep breath and looked down at his grandsons. “I believe in both of you.”
“I believe in me, too, G-pa, although—”
“Shut up, Sky.”
“Okay.”
“Let me reassemble my train of thought. Good. Now. Twenty-five years ago, each of you was brought into this world with both advantages and challenges, as we all are. You are both parts of the larger Carson clan. Because of the death of my son, Richard, at the hand of Cynthia — and Richard’s prior fathering of Wylie — you two half brothers have had a rocky time with each other. You were born less than six months apart. Innocence protected you at first. Then, through the years, you found knowledge, truth, suspicion, distrust, dislike, disrespect, and — for want of a better term — contempt.”
“Don’t forget his envy of my Carsonness,” said Sky.
Adam looked down at Sky and rested his gnarled hands behind his back, feeling his shoulder rotators grinding softly — an old man trying to keep from slapping his grandson across the face. “We are now set forth on a new direction. The one person who could sometimes keep you two at peace lies before us, unable to speak to you. So, on his behalf, let me try.”
Adam relaxed his shoulders and let his arms fall forward to his sides, felt the blood surging back into place. “Robert loves you equally. He is never happier than in your separate companies and he looks forward to the day when all three of you can love each other as brothers are meant to. He is engaged to be married. If he could speak, he would ask that, in honor of that union, you forgive each other. The slights. The insults. The fights that spilled real blood. The hate. So I now ask you to forgive each other, in honor of Robert and Hailee. Move forward, apart in your lives but together in the spirit that Carson strength, excellence, and goodness shall not perish from the Earth.”
“No shame in that game,” said Sky.
“Wylie?”
Adam watched as Wylie continued to study Robert, as if Robert were a problem that could be solved. “What about Welborn strength, excellence, and goodness?”
Sky chortled quietly.
“Of course I meant to include them,” said Adam. Now in the lengthening silence, he was lost for words. He’d outlined his address, of course, refreshing himself with his beloved Lincoln, but forgotten to write the clincher that would close the deal. It was time to improvise.
“Then please rise and face each other.”
The young men did.
He saw their gazes lock, but he could see no emotion. They certainly were good-looking young men. For reasons he did not understand, Adam was prouder of these three than any of the others — even his own brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, other grandsons and granddaughters, great-grandsons and great-granddaughters — and the whole muddy slough of in-laws who were contributaries to the great river Carson. Of all, he loved these three troubled brothers most. Or, maybe, he was only most afraid for them. This idea was coming to him more often now, since tragedy had stolen Robert in his prime. Were the Carsons cursed? Adam felt his eyes welling and he willed it to cease. “Sky, do you swear in the presence of Robert that you forgive Wylie for all past wrongs? The words, the blows? Everything?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Wylie?”
Wylie waited a long beat. “Yes, I forgive all that.”
“Embrace.”
Adam watched Sky and Wylie come together briefly, then break apart with obvious relief. Still, hope lilted through him. “I’m not expecting instant miracles,” he said. “But I do expect civil behavior from you men. This isn’t for me. It’s for Robert. He loves you both very much. I’ll be making the arrangements with Cynthia to take him home. In the meantime, you two grow up. That goes especially for you, Sky.”
Adam saw the anger flash in Sky’s face. So much like his mother in that way, he thought; their emotions take them over and they do foolish things. Then, as Adam watched, Sky’s anger changed to something more subtle. Sky looked to Robert and took his hand. “Robert, for you, I’ll forgive this... man. But I’ll do more than just that. I’ll win next year’s Mammoth Cup for you. I’ll make you even more proud to be a Carson. I promise this to you more totally than I’ve ever promised anything to anyone.”