DEACON"So, you brought in the reinforcements, huh?" Donnie managed a smile in Emma's direction. "You gonna help me convince Deacon here that sometimes, enough is enough?" "Mr. Crew." Emma slipped past me and sat down next to Donnie, right on his bed. I didn't miss the way the older man's expression softened as his eyes tracked her movements. "Call me Donnie . . . sweetheart. We're all . . . friends here." She picked up his hand, holding it between her own. "Donnie. Let's be clear that neither Dr. Girard nor I are trying to talk you into anything. We just want you to have all the information possible. Sometimes when people are sick, our perspective can be skewed. A fever can impact our way of thinking."Donnie frowned, blinking rapidly. "So you're saying I could make a decision . . . that could lead to me checking out . . . and it could be just the fever talking?" "I'm saying we can't ignore the possibility." She hesitated. "If we really felt that there wasn't a good ch

DEACON"Deacon Girard, what are you doing pestering that woman out here in the car, when you could be inside, acting like a gentleman and introducing her to us? Stop messing around, boy, and get yourself in here." I chuckled, resting my forehead against Emma's. "She always did have impeccable timing." Reaching for the door handle, I adjusted myself discreetly and climbed out of the car. "Hey, Gram! Are those your apple buns I smell?" "They might be, but you'll never know if you don't get a move on." "Yes, ma'am." I skirted the rear of the car and came around to open Emma's door, gripping her fingers as I helped her out. I kept hold of her hand as we climbed the steps to the porch. "Gram, this is Emma Carson. Emma, this is my grandmother, Anna Girard." Emma extended her free hand. "I'm so happy to meet you, Mrs. Girard. Thank you for having me out to visit today." "Honey, if you call me Mrs. Girard, I'm going to keep looking over my shoulder expecting to see my mothe

EMMA"Thank you." As he slowly navigated the dirt drive that led from his grandparents' home to the road, Deacon cast me a questioning sideways glance."For . . .?""For bringing me to the farm. For introducing me to your grandparents. They're wonderful." He smiled. "Yeah, I kind of like them. They've been . . ." He paused as though searching for the right words. "Stalwart and steady support as long as I can remember. I never felt a moment of insecurity growing up, even with one parent dead and the other constantly MIA. Gram and Pop had my back, no matter what." "I got that sense from them. As my mom would say, they're good people." He nodded but didn't say anything else as he turned onto the paved road. The car picked up speed, and I let my head fall back against the seat, the wind rushing through my hair and filling my ears. It had been an almost perfect day. I'd loved spending time with Deacon's grandmother, who was funny, irreverent and shrewd. She had made me

EMMABefore today, I'd had a vague idea of where Deacon lived-somewhere in town, I knew, and for some reason, I'd pictured him in one of those soulless townhouses with beige walls, beige carpet, stainless steel appliances and nondescript furniture. Not that I imagined Deacon in those terms at all-quite the opposite-but he was so much a part of the hospital that it seemed to be his natural landscape. Somehow, I'd thought of his home just as the place where he slept between shifts. But I was wrong, because the house we pulled into was the farthest thing from ordinary. It was small, yes, but in a cozy way. The outside was turquoise, which was utterly unexpected and yet absolutely perfect. I spotted a porch tucked into the front of the house before Deacon eased the car into the garage next to his truck.I was curious about the inside, but I didn't get to see much of it right away, since Deacon dragged me out of the car through the door that led from the garage into the house and the

DEACON"Welcome back to the floor, Donnie." I grinned at Mr. Crew as I strolled into his room. Two weeks after his transfer to ICU, he was back in the oncology ward, dressed in sweat pants and a T-shirt as he sat in a chair watching television. He was a little thinner, maybe a bit pale, but overall, he didn't look bad. "Thanks, doc." His smile was open and relaxed, completely different than the expression of hopelessness I'd seen on his face a few weeks ago. "I can't believe I made it through, but here I am." "You're strong, and you fought the good fight." I leaned against a table. "I'm not saying that won't have any more surprises along the way, but recovering from pneumonia and coming out the other side as well as you did is definitely a positive indication." I tapped on the tablet. "We're going to give another week to fully recover, and then we'll start talking about your transplant. How does that sound?" "It sounds like a winner of a plan, Deacon." Donnie nodded. He hesi