Every Storm Runs Out of Rain

Chapter 3

Her husband had disappeared quite mysteriously the day before and Jill Dalton couldn't help but wonder where he'd run off to. He'd been pretty quiet for the past two weeks. Unable to stand it any longer, she dialed up his number and waited. Just when she thought it would go to voicemail, he answered.

"Howdy." She smiled at his typical greeting.

"Howdy, husband." He said nothing. "Where in tarnation are you?" He was quiet. "Hank Lucas Dalton, answer my question." She knew he didn't like to be bossed around but she was worried about him.

"Well ain't you jest madder than a wet hen." He emphasized his southern drawl and she rolled her eyes. When he continued, his voice was sober—almost angry. "I'm at a hospital up in Idaho right now." Dread unfurled in her gut.

"Are you okay? What happened? And why are you way up there?" she fired the questions off rapidly.

"Nothin'. Least not to me. I'm here because I got a pretty disturbing phone call from our youngest boy yesterday." She couldn't wrap her mind around what he was trying to say. Stetson had called his dad?

"You've seen Stetson?" she asked.

"Yep." he said. His voice was as hard as granite.

"Is he okay?" Jill asked. His reply to her email had been brief at best. But she had sensed something was wrong.

"Yeah. But his daughter ain't." Hank huffed. His daughter? She didn't even know he had one. She found it odd that he wouldn't have mentioned it.

"What's wrong with her?" she asked. He sighed. Before he could answer, she heard someone say "dad". That has to be Stetson!

"Let me talk to him!" No reply. "Hank!"

"I heard you. I heard you. Just a second." He sounded more than a little irritated. She heard them converse for a minute before Stetson spoke.

"Hello?" he said.

"Stetson! Oh my sweet, darling boy! How are you?" she asked.

"I'm okay. Stressed and overwhelmed but that's nothin' new I suppose." Stetson said. Her heart broke at the cynicism in his tone.

"What's wrong with your daughter?" she asked gently. He paused a beat.

"She was involved in an accident with a drunk driver. He hit her side of the car and broke her back. She's paralyzed from the waist down." Jill couldn't hear the weariness in her son's voice. She gasped.

"Oh Stetson. How awful!" She wiped at a tear that managed to escape. "How's she handling it?"

"Not well." he confessed. Stetson sounded so lost. Like he'd been before he left but much, much worse. He didn't say anything else. Oh how she wished he would come home! But she knew he didn't want to. Or maybe he did, but he was as stubborn as his father. And he wouldn't because he said he wouldn't.

"Is there a way I could talk to her?" Jill asked.

"Well," she could hear the hesitation in his voice, "I don't know if that would be a good idea right now. She's pretty mad." he said. A brilliant idea suddenly popped into her head.

"I'll just come visit." she murmured. She hung up before he could protest, ran upstairs, packed her suitcase, and drove to the airport. Within five hours, her plane was touching down at the Boise Airport. She texted her husband for directions which he quickly sent. The one thing he'd learned in over thirty years of marriage was that Jill did what she said she was gonna do. If he hadn't given her the information she'd needed, she would have found another way to get it. An hour and fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the hospital parking lot. She walked directly to the front desk and asked to see her granddaughter. After all the protocol, a nurse led her back to one of the rooms. She saw Hank first. Head in his hands, shoulders slumped, He looked every bit of his fifty-three years. She tapped lightly on the door. Stetson, who'd been standing at the window further to the left, looked over. She drank in the sight of him. He was at least six-foot-two now. Broad shoulders, black hair, and those bright blue eyes. But he wasn't the boy that had left them. He was a man now. And she was mighty proud of him. He walked over and embraced her.