Rated: G
Hardcastle had spent too much time in hospital waiting rooms, especially when it came to Mark McCormick. And yet here he was again, driving the familiar GMC truck over to St. John's. He circled the visitor lot and finally found a spot as an older woman pulled out her Chevy Caprice and drove away. Back at Gulls Way he was just settling into a John Wayne movie and a bowl of popcorn when he got the call. He dropped everything at once and headed out.
Milt parked the car and quickly made his way to the information desk in the lobby. A kindly, elderly gentleman, obviously a volunteer, directed him down the right hallway.
When he reached his destination, he walked up to the nurse's station and asked about the condition and whether or not he could see McCormick. The nurse, whose name tag read ironically, Nancy H. told him that he couldn't go in quite yet, but that everything was under control.
The Judge let out a deep breath as Nancy the nurse came around and pointed him toward a waiting area. She compassionately touched his arm as he walked past her and said, "I'll check again and come out and let you know, don't worry, everything will be alright."
"Thank you," he said to her, as she continued on and he stepped inside the waiting room. A young man in his 20's also waited, along with an elderly couple. They all looked up and smiled cautiously as Milt walked in. He nodded to them as if to say hello.
He spotted a chair off to one side and picked up a magazine and proceeded to sit down and wait. He didn't get to comfortable because the magazine he picked up was Bride. He tossed it aside and got back up to find something more suitable. There was a copy of Time and he grabbed that and sat back down.
"They don't have much of a selection," the younger man said. "Someone probably walks off with the good stuff."
Milt nodded, "Yeah, you're probably right." He had too much on his mind to carry on any kind of a conversation with anyone. His thoughts turned to McCormick. He closed his eyes remembering all the times he'd already spent waiting in rooms very similar to the one he was currently in. He took his hand and wiped it over his face. He never did get use to the waiting. Too many times he waited to find out McCormick's condition and too often he heard the words critical. He shook his head and resigned himself to waiting, what else could he do? He numbly paged through the magazine, until his eyes started to get heavy and he found himself drifting off in a catnap.
Nancy H. came into the waiting room and saw him peacefully resting. She hated to wake him, but she also knew that he wanted to be woken up with news. "Judge Hardcastle," she softly shook his shoulder.
Hardcastle woke up right away and saw Nancy standing next to him. He glanced around the rest of the room and saw that he was the only one remaining. "Cleared out the room huh? How long's it been?"
"Nearly three hours," Nancy said giving him a smile. "Sorry to wake you, but Mark's calling for you, do you want to follow me, I can take you back."
"Yeah, how is he?"
"He's doing just fine."
The two of them walked down the hall and Nancy held open the door to the hospital room and Milt stepped inside. Milt wasn't really prepared for what he was about to see.
"Hi there Judge, come on in," McCormick said in a quiet voice.
Milt carefully shut the door quietly and stepped into the room.
"Well kiddo, I've been waiting out there for over three hours," the Judge said, "this better be good." Hardcastle stepped over to the hospital bed and leaned over and gave the woman in bed a kiss on her forehead, "How did everything go sweetheart? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine Milt," she said. "We're all fine."
Mark sat in a rocker right next to the bed, holding a special new delivery. "That's right Judge, we're all just fine." McCormick carefully stood up and said, "Let me introduce you to your grandson, Mitchell Stephen McCormick, this is your grandfather, Judge Milton C. Hardcastle." Mark eased the little bundle into Milt's waiting arms.
"He's okay huh?" Hardcastle asked.
Mark grinned, "Yep, ten fingers, ten toes, and I think he came with a basketball and a watch with a second hand too."
"He's beautiful kiddo, just perfect." A smile washed over his face as he took a close look at the baby.
"We decided on Mitchell, after you Judge, since we didn't know what the C. is for and you refused to tell us, well, we came up with the idea to add it into Milt, and well, we came up with Mitchell," Mark explained.
The Judge couldn't help but smile. "A namesake huh? That's really nice Mark, I appreciate that. Are you both sure that's what you want to do?"
They looked at each other and nodded the affirmative. "We've been sure for months Judge," Mark said, "and he," he motioned to the baby, "just confirmed our choice tonight when he arrived," he paused and added, "and when given the choice of Mitchell or Milton, well, honestly Judge, which one would you pick? I think he picked the right one, don't you?"
"You know maybe if he's got my name, maybe he'll take after me, instead of you and that smart-aleck mouth of yours, at least that's what I can hope for," Hardcastle said in a rather loud whisper.
"Now you're cookin' Grandpa." Mark said, "We can all hope he turns out to be the kind of man you are."