Kitty carried the cup of steaming coffee into the bedroom. Festus was still
unconscious, although she thought he at least looked comfortable now,
asleep amidst the clean linens, and under the watchful eye of the man
sitting vigil in the chair by the bed. In sharp contrast, Doc looked
miserable. His clothes were rumpled, and he hadn't slept. The worry that
permeated his entire being gave the illusion of deep lines in his face. He
sat rigidly in the upright chair, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
He hadn't heard her come in.
"Doc?"
He turned to look at her and the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes put ten years on him. She felt a pang of concern in her chest, but smiled at him trying to cover it. She handed him the saucer and cup, which he gratefully accepted.
"Thanks, Kitty."
She watched him for a moment, sipping the hot coffee. Save for his ragged appearance, there was no outward manifestation of the emotions she knew were churning inside of him. His reputation as town curmudgeon was well-deserved, but only because he worked at it; she knew it was his way of coping with the overwhelming worry he felt when he could do nothing more for a patient. And this time it wasn't just a patient whose life was in his hands, but one of his closest friends, although Kitty doubted he would admit that fact even to himself.
She reached out her hand and lightly brushed her fingers through his hair, trying to tame it into its normal arrangement. The motion wasn't lost on Adams; it was her way of letting him know he had done everything he could, and no matter what happened, no one would blame him. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment. Long ago, Kitty Russell had recognized the crusty doctor act for what it was, and she had spent the better part of twenty years chipping away at his carefully cultivated façade. For her trouble, every now and again, she was allowed to glimpse the soft and vulnerable man lying beneath the tough exterior.
Standing, Adams set the coffee cup down, and walked over to the window. It was a bright day outside, and still early, but he could tell by the bundled people passing quickly by, that the air was cool and crisp. He put his hands in his pockets, and looked down at the floor.
His voice was extremely soft, "Did Sam tell Newly?"
"Yes, and Newly went after Matt. He's pretty sure he knows where Matt was goin' on his fishing trip. He thinks they'll be back by nightfall."
Adams nodded, but that was the only indication that he had heard her. She took a step closer to him, but stopped a few feet away.
"You've done everything you can for him, Doc. It's up to Festus now."
"Yeah, I did everything I could all right." He turned toward her, the sadness shining in his eyes, "I shouldn't have said those things last night, Kitty. It was just plain cruel."
"He knows you didn't mean it, and you can tell him so when he wakes up."
Adams glanced over at the figure on the bed, and he swallowed hard.
"He may never wake up, Kitty." Her blue eyes pierced his heart with their fear, and he tried to push his emotions down as he explained it to her. "The knife used to stab him went in very deeply, and the damage internally was extensive. Plus there's no telling how much harm may have been done to his head in the fall down the stairs; judging by the bumps on his skull, I'd say it could be significant. Even if he does wake up, I doubt he'll ever be...." His emotions slammed into his throat, and he couldn't finish the statement. Doc blinked back the moisture in his eyes, and his voice dropped to a whisper of fear, "Those words in the Long Branch may well be the last ones I ever say to him."
Kitty closed the distance between them, tears rolling down her face. There was nothing more to say. Words were not going to act as a salve on hearts that were breaking under the strain of unspoken friendship and love for the dying man in the room. She pulled Adams into her arms, just as his guilt and sadness overtook his waning control. His shuddering form was the only indication of the pain in his heart.
Kitty rubbed her hand in gentle circles over his back, "Let it go, Galen....you don't have to hold back with me."
Doc wrapped his arms tightly around Kitty's waist, and buried his face into her shoulder, unable to bear the burden of his guilt alone.
"Doc?"
He turned to look at her and the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes put ten years on him. She felt a pang of concern in her chest, but smiled at him trying to cover it. She handed him the saucer and cup, which he gratefully accepted.
"Thanks, Kitty."
She watched him for a moment, sipping the hot coffee. Save for his ragged appearance, there was no outward manifestation of the emotions she knew were churning inside of him. His reputation as town curmudgeon was well-deserved, but only because he worked at it; she knew it was his way of coping with the overwhelming worry he felt when he could do nothing more for a patient. And this time it wasn't just a patient whose life was in his hands, but one of his closest friends, although Kitty doubted he would admit that fact even to himself.
She reached out her hand and lightly brushed her fingers through his hair, trying to tame it into its normal arrangement. The motion wasn't lost on Adams; it was her way of letting him know he had done everything he could, and no matter what happened, no one would blame him. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment. Long ago, Kitty Russell had recognized the crusty doctor act for what it was, and she had spent the better part of twenty years chipping away at his carefully cultivated façade. For her trouble, every now and again, she was allowed to glimpse the soft and vulnerable man lying beneath the tough exterior.
Standing, Adams set the coffee cup down, and walked over to the window. It was a bright day outside, and still early, but he could tell by the bundled people passing quickly by, that the air was cool and crisp. He put his hands in his pockets, and looked down at the floor.
His voice was extremely soft, "Did Sam tell Newly?"
"Yes, and Newly went after Matt. He's pretty sure he knows where Matt was goin' on his fishing trip. He thinks they'll be back by nightfall."
Adams nodded, but that was the only indication that he had heard her. She took a step closer to him, but stopped a few feet away.
"You've done everything you can for him, Doc. It's up to Festus now."
"Yeah, I did everything I could all right." He turned toward her, the sadness shining in his eyes, "I shouldn't have said those things last night, Kitty. It was just plain cruel."
"He knows you didn't mean it, and you can tell him so when he wakes up."
Adams glanced over at the figure on the bed, and he swallowed hard.
"He may never wake up, Kitty." Her blue eyes pierced his heart with their fear, and he tried to push his emotions down as he explained it to her. "The knife used to stab him went in very deeply, and the damage internally was extensive. Plus there's no telling how much harm may have been done to his head in the fall down the stairs; judging by the bumps on his skull, I'd say it could be significant. Even if he does wake up, I doubt he'll ever be...." His emotions slammed into his throat, and he couldn't finish the statement. Doc blinked back the moisture in his eyes, and his voice dropped to a whisper of fear, "Those words in the Long Branch may well be the last ones I ever say to him."
Kitty closed the distance between them, tears rolling down her face. There was nothing more to say. Words were not going to act as a salve on hearts that were breaking under the strain of unspoken friendship and love for the dying man in the room. She pulled Adams into her arms, just as his guilt and sadness overtook his waning control. His shuddering form was the only indication of the pain in his heart.
Kitty rubbed her hand in gentle circles over his back, "Let it go, Galen....you don't have to hold back with me."
Doc wrapped his arms tightly around Kitty's waist, and buried his face into her shoulder, unable to bear the burden of his guilt alone.