Falling Into Blue Read online

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be back up before too long. We have all the time in the world, and it seems we’re probably going to need it to get you up on skis,” he chuckles.

  “Grandpa, you should probably let that dream go,” I joke and laugh, “they’re too heavy.”

  And they were! Just getting them on was a task. By the time I could get one on, the other would be floating away. That’s why one or more of my brothers, uncles, or even my dad or grandpa had taken to jumping in the water with me to set me up, and when the boat took off they’d lounge in the water until the boat circled back for them. When they first started trying to teach me to ski, they’d get me set up and swim back to the boat and start up the ladder, but before they could step foot back in, I would have tilted to one side off balance and lost a ski, and they’d be jumping right back in to set me back up.

  I remember that even though I was frustrated, they never were. And I admit, there were comical wipeouts on my part. It was always funny when they’d yell at me to close my mouth right before I’d face plant into the water, then accuse me of swallowing up half the lake to where there wouldn’t be enough water left for them to ski on, or enough for the needs of local wildlife to survive on. I would tire of trying and climb back in the boat exhausted, then get a collective, “you’ll get it next time” from my brothers and a kiss on my wet head from my grandpa as he’d wrap me in a towel. He’d say jokingly, “You’re a McGinty, it’s in your blood to ski,” like it’s parallel to being royalty, “so, no worries, you’ll have your day.” He’d start pulling in the double skis as Jesse and Jake had already jumped back in the lake with Nash dropping their skis, a slalom for Jake and trick skis for Jesse.

  Then Nash would release two more ski ropes and get his ski vest on and jump in, waiting for my grandpa to drop in his slalom. I loved this part. I’d take a seat in the back of the boat in the rear-facing seat to watch them set up. It was always funny when one would miss grabbing onto their rope and my grandpa would have to take off and circle back around to them with the ropes skimming across the top of the water to get them back in reach of my brothers.

  When they’d finally get a hold of their handles, Grandpa would give them just enough slack to get positioned and we’d wait to hear their collective, “GO!” This was the best part. As my grandpa gunned it on their “GO,” the bow of the boat would rise completely from the water from the weight of all three of them being towed and cause the helm to lower so close to the water’s top I could dip my hand just off the edge of the boat and get slapped from the spray of the water. I’d watch in awe as my brothers rose out of the water together, and then the fun began. I’d double as my grandpa’s spotter even though my grandpa always watched too. He never took his eyes off them for too long. Jake would spray the water a mile high as Jesse would flip and do somersaults in the air and Nash would duck and glide across the water between them both at lightning speed. I really miss not having those times now.

  Grandpa calls over to Jake to double-check the hitch before we start back for the road and hop on the highway. As we turn to walk back, I notice my grandpa’s steps falter and I think he’s stumbled on a rock. I look over and see him fall to his knees.

  “Grandpa?” I start toward him but he puts up his hand to stop me and hollers for Jake.

  “Grandpa!” Jake yells as he runs over and skids to a stop and drops down to my grandpa, who is now doubled over on his side. And that’s when I notice blood. Blood everywhere. What’s happening? Where is the blood coming from? I wonder. “Jaycee, run to the truck and get my cell phone and call 911,” Jake calls back to me, but I stand frozen, looking down at my grandpa. I hear what Jake says, but I can’t seem to move. “Jaycee, listen, I need you to help me. Go get my phone and call 911! Sissy!” It’s the use of my brother’s nickname for me that jolts me from my daze and I turn and run for the phone.

  After what seems like an eternity I hear sirens and see lights coming over the hill leading up to the shoreline. Firemen from the local VFD and EMTs from the ambulance that pulled up rush over to him, carrying their equipment. I see a sheriff’s car pull in next. The sheriff starts towards Jake and me and then stands back asking us questions about what happened as we all watch the EMTs work on my grandpa. One of the EMTs stands up from my grandpa and walks over and asks if we know of any health history for him. Jake and I share a glance of confusion, realizing neither of us knows anything, and we pass that on to the EMT. He informs us that the situation looks critical with the amount of blood loss. He says he’s called in Airlife because the closest trauma center is two hours away and with the loss of blood, they don’t have that kind of time.

  Minutes later, but what seems like hours, a helicopter lands in the empty parking lot of the marina, which is vacant due to the fall season. Jake has given the sheriff my grandma’s number and he’s called her to bring her in on what’s been happening since Jake and I are still in too much shock to really talk. The sheriff tells us our grandma will be waiting at one of the military medical centers in San Antonio, which is where Grandpa is being taken. It’s only twenty minutes from our home in town, so Grandma will be there waiting. Jake pulls me in to his side as we watch them load up the gurney carrying our grandpa and secure the door on the helicopter. One of the pilots gives us a thumbs up and head nod and the helicopter blades start spinning faster and it begins to lift. We all watch it fly off into the sunset till we hear nothing but the sounds of the tiny lake waves gently lapping at the shore.

  Jake kicks a rock into the lake and cusses out a question, “What the fuck?!” and turns to walk to the truck.

  The sheriff takes my shoulder and guides me to follow my brother, then gives Jake a short talk about taking it easy on the way back into town. “Son, we don’t want anyone else having to go to the hospital hurt, so I want y’all to just take your time and stay safe. You’ll be traveling down a mostly unlit two-lane highway hauling that boat. When you hit I-35 you can pick up your speed a little but till then, take it slow, all right?” Jake absently nods his head in agreement. The sheriff looks at me and gives me a tight, sad smile and head dip and starts back to his car.

  Jake opens the passenger door of the truck for me and helps me hop in. I just sit staring out the window as he walks around the front of the truck, watching me through the window. He hops in the driver’s seat and leans over me, grabs my seatbelt and pulls it across me and fastens it.

  “Sorry for back there, Jaycee. He’ll be fine,” he says as he grabs my hand.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper.

  “Sissy, you know he’s going to be okay, right?” Jake gives my hand a tight squeeze.

  “I know. He’s going to be fine,” I reply, still staring out the window and refusing to let go of his hand. He reaches over to the ignition and starts the truck with his other hand. “He has to be,” I whisper and close my eyes as silent tears stream down my cheeks and a feeling of panic sets into my heart.

  Chapter 1

  Not wasting time to drop the boat at the house, we pull into the hospital parking lot in record time and Jesse finds a large enough area to park the truck with the trailer and boat and we jump out and rush into the ER doors. I see Nash and Jesse with my grandma. My grandma reminds me of what Mrs. Claus might look like. She is “pleasantly plump” with gray hair always pulled back into a French twist and pale blue eyes. When they hear the doors they all look up and our eyes meet. It’s clear we all have the same thought—not him. Please not him. Somewhere behind the metal double doors of the ER we don’t know if he’s dead or alive.

  Over the next hour, family arrives between updates from one of the nurses letting us know my grandpa is still in surgery. My two uncles, Brock and Duke, and their wives Paige and Savannah arrive first. Uncle Brock and Aunt Paige were high school sweethearts and seem to be more in love with each other every day. They’re beautiful to look at. Uncle Brock is the youngest of his brothers and the quietest, but seems to s
ay the most when he does talk. He’s an insurance agent and does real estate on the side. He’s got dark brown shaggy hair and wears a constant five o’clock shadow. My aunt Paige is fun-loving with cool fashion style. She has an exotic look and she’s hilarious to be around, but has a shy side. She loves to laugh and be loud and you can always catch my uncle Brock smiling lovingly at her. Despite his quiet ways, he loves her loud. I’ve always watched them, hoping to find their kind of love with the strong, unbreakable bond. As my uncle Brock is known as the “college boy” even though all the brothers hold degrees, it’s his style of clothing that he likes to wear—his loafers and starched jeans and button-down shirt—that earned him his nickname.

  Uncle Duke is the oldest and the cowboy. With his full beard and shoulder-length light brown hair that he sometimes pulls back into a ponytail, he gives off a rustic cowboy look, which is what he is. He lives in faded jeans and cowboy boots and every now and then you can catch him with a beer in his hand and a cigarette hanging from his mouth, which completes the look. Their button-down shirts seem to be the only similarity in clothing style, only Uncle Brock’s are mostly worn untucked. Uncle Duke’s are always tucked in and showing off his leather belts with various cowboy belt buckles. Uncle Duke holds a PhD and teaches in the agriculture department at the university. He is the spitting image of my grandpa, right down to the blue eyes. Whenever I feel overwhelmed and need a pep talk and a hug, he’s my go-to guy. My aunt Savannah can be summed up in one word—sweet. If Tanya Tucker had a twin it would be my aunt Savannah, with her big blonde hairdos, blue eye shadow, and pink lipsticks. She grew up on a farm in Johnson City and her country girl ways are just who she is and it compliments my uncle Duke’s country boy ways perfectly. Uncle Brock and Aunt Savannah’s son Bradley lives in Dallas and I’m sure he’s on his way down as well.

  Everyone is huddled together waiting on word from the doctors. My uncle Duke walks over to me and pulls me into a hug. “How ya doin’, Jaycee?” and I feel his big arms give me a tight squeeze. I need this right now. He looks at me with his kind, deep, vibrant blue eyes that seem to be able to see right to my soul and feel my pain.

  “I don’t know. There was so much blood, Uncle Duke. I mean, like, I don’t know how he’s alive.” I feel my uncle tense. He doesn’t want to hear that his dad was in pain like that. He doesn’t want to know that Jake and I saw that. His concern is always for the other person.

  We hear the ER entrance door swoosh open and in comes the person everyone has been waiting for—Stone, my dad. Stone, the tough guy of the brothers, is an Army vet and owns a local construction company. He’s a giant of a man with collar-length black hair that’s greying and a beard doing the same. He’s wearing faded jeans, a t-shirt with his construction company’s logo—a simple “McGC” for McGinty Construction—and scuffed-up steel-toe boots. After my mom’s death from a car wreck when I was only two months old, he took us all to move in with my grandparents. And after so much time away on deployments with the Army, my brothers and I ended up becoming attached to my grandparents, especially me. So, he decided it was best to take a step back, but not far, and let my grandparents do most of the raising. After he left the military he bought a home not a mile away and started his construction company. My dad is loud and sometimes scary, but he’s really a giant teddy bear.

  My step-mom, Violet, who walks in after him, is probably the only woman on the planet who is able to keep him in check when she needs to, but also enjoys his wild ways at the same time because that’s what she fell in love with—his crazy, loud ways. She’s a beautiful redhead with a sharp wit.

  Following behind them are my brother and sister, Chase and Abigail. The only difference between them and my other three brothers is we didn’t grow up in the same household, but we were together more days than not. Chase is always with our other brothers on most of their idiot choices like jumping from cliffs into the lake or trying to kill each other by daring each other to do ridiculous things from drinking a bottle of hot sauce to having wrestling matches. Constant challenges as to who is the biggest idiot. I have four blue ribbons that say they all win first prize. They may not share blood but they do share a brain, and not a very smart one at that. Abigail is the apple of my eye. She’s very beautiful with her long blonde hair and brown doe-shaped eyes. She’s all girl. I used to feel sorry for any boy who tried to date me, not that that ever seems like it’s going to happen, but if that’s the case, I downright fear for the life of any boy she’ll choose to date, being the baby of us all.

  My dad walks up to me and my uncle Duke as Violet and Abigail head over to join my grandma, aunt Paige, and aunt Savannah. After sharing a look with his wife, Uncle Brock starts our way too. I see Chase join Jake, Nash, and Jesse. As I look at them, I note how they’re all almost the same height and look very much the same in build. They are all toned and slim but not skinny. To see their differences you have to really look closely. Jake also has my grandpa’s blue eyes, while Jesse and Abigail share the same brown doe-shaped eyes, and Nash and Chase both have light brown eyes. Chase, the youngest of them all, is a bit taller than the rest, with a wider nose, and Nash has a thinner nose than the rest.

  Me, I’m the conundrum, with green eyes, dark auburn hair, and a smattering of freckles across my nose and pale skin. I’m told I look like my mom, which is nice, I guess, but sometimes I just wish I didn’t look like someone whose memory caused so much heartbreak. When a comparison is made, it makes me uncomfortable, but I guess it’s a compliment. I shouldn’t let the history of what happened to her define who stares back at me in the mirror, but sometimes it’s really hard.

  I wait for my uncle Duke, uncle Brock, or dad to send me to be with the other women but they don’t. My dad pulls me into a hug and just holds me there as he asks his brothers about any news on their dad and how their mom is holding up. I think it’s his way of letting me know I can let go and lean on him. He’s here and he’s got this. I can go back to being Jaycee. Not the granddaughter of someone who might be dying or the sister of the four horse-morons of the apocalypse. But right now my dad is just being a dad, not the smartass alpha male we truly do love because it’s him and it fits. Without my brothers doing their normal bantering, I feel off. This quiet is making the waiting worse and my fear is growing.

  I hear the back ER doors swing open and my dad turns me around while still holding my arm. My sister Abigail walks over to stand with us too, and he drapes his big arms around both of us as I take my sister’s hand. A doctor has just walked in, and by the look on his face his news is not going to be good.

  He walks to my grandma and says, “Mrs. McGinty?” and when she nods he introduces himself. “I’m Dr. Jackson, the doctor who’s been seeing to your husband during surgery. We’ve just brought Mr. McGinty out of surgery and he’s currently getting settled in the ICU.” A family walks through the entrance doors and the mom’s holding a crying baby. We’re all distracted momentarily until we hear Dr. Jackson say, “Let’s move this in here,” and he motions to a private family waiting room. He walks over and opens the door but doesn’t go in. He steps aside to let us all enter first. He gestures for us to sit if we’d like on the couches and chair that line the room’s walls, but we all keep standing. He follows, but turns to pull the door shut and then turns back to us but doesn’t speak right away as he takes in all of our faces.

  My dad finally speaks, “Doctor, please.”

  The doctor bows his head a bit and then looks back at my grandma. “Mrs. McGinty, your husband had a lot of hemorrhaging, bleeding. We went in and got it repaired and were able to stop it and replenish the blood that he lost. The bleeding is no longer the issue. It’s what caused the massive hemorrhage...I’m sorry, but we found he has cancer.” He takes in a deep breath and releases it as we all hold ours, waiting for what we know will be bad news. “By the level it’s spread, he’s well into stage three, if not four. It’s beyond any type of surgery that I could do to help. Radi
ation or chemo may help to prolong his life for a little while longer, but I’m a surgeon and we’ll have to set you up with an oncologist. I really can’t make this call because it isn’t my field.” He pauses and looks over at the wall and back to my grandma and says, “Mrs. McGinty, I don’t understand. I looked at his medical records and I didn’t see any recent visits to the hospital or treatments. Did you know he had cancer?” He sighs and shakes his head. “Did he know he had cancer? I mean, the level that it’s spread, he had to be in constant pain.”

  Dr. Jackson looks at us all in question and we all share the same response, but it’s our grandma who answers, “No, we did not know he had cancer, nor did he. But I did know he was having some abdominal pain and I told him to get it checked, but he kept telling me he was fine.” She’s been looking worried this whole time but now she looks almost angry. “When can I see him, that stubborn man of mine, Dr. Jackson?”

  “Give the nurses an hour or so and then head up to the third floor, south wing. Only two visitors at a time for a few minutes each, for now. The blood we gave him will help him gain some color and strength, but it’s going to take time for that to kick in and the drugs given for the surgery to wear off and allow him to wake up, okay?”

  As Dr. Jackson starts to leave us, I hear my brother Jesse ask the question we all want to know but don’t want to know: “How long?”

  Dr. Jackson looks to Jesse and then back to my grandma who nods her head, giving the go-ahead to give his answer. “From my own experience—and this is just my opinion—he may have six months. The progress of this cancer seems aggressive but I wouldn’t know for sure, since there’s been no record of doctors’ visits in recent years. It’s really going to depend on several things, but I’m thinking six months at the most. I’m sorry,” he says and he drops his head as he turns to leave the room.