Major continued wiping at his mother’s tears. “And you are?” He glanced over his shoulder at the man.
“I’m Gideon Thibodeaux.”
“I don’t know him, Danny.” Ma’s blue eyes opened and showed that the pain medication was already taking effect.
Major had never met BPC’s new director. “He’s the manager at the Pointe, Ma.”
“Patrick, may I speak with you outside?” Mr. Thibodeaux’s grave expression told Major that Patrick might no longer be employed by the center in a few minutes.
“Can I...?” Patrick looked at Major, then at Ma.
“Yeah.” Major stepped back and let the kid have his place beside Ma.
“Ms. O’Hara, it’s me, Patrick. I’m so sorry about what happened. I hope you’re better soon.”
Ma’s glazed eyes tried to fix on the young man. “I had fun. But you need to go back and make sure the macaroni and cheese isn’t burning. I won’t eat it if it’s burned on the bottom.”
Patrick relaxed a bit. “I’ll do that. But you don’t worry about that. You just worry about healing, okay?”
“’Kay.” She closed her eyes. “Major Kirby, don’t leave me.”
“I’m staying right here.” He pulled over a stool. “I’ll never leave you, Ma.” Even though it would mean sacrificing everything he wanted in life. He would do his duty.
Chapter 20
“You’ll come tomorrow?”
Major pulled the covers up under his mother’s arms. “I’ll come tomorrow.” He set two pillows beside her. “You can put your hands down now.”
Gingerly, Ma settled her arms down on top of the pillows. “What if my shoulders get cold?”
He went to the closet and pulled a small lap blanket down from the shelf. He unfolded it and tucked it in around her shoulders. “There. All snug?”
She wiggled farther down into the nest created by the pillows and covers. “All snug.” Each time she blinked, it took a little longer for her eyes to open. The emergency room doctor had said she would probably sleep through the night and most of the day tomorrow. And Mr. Thibodeaux had arranged for around-the-clock nursing attention for the next week or so until the bandages came off.
“A nurse is going to be coming in every so often to check on you during the night.” He held up a little speaker. “And they’re going to be monitoring you, so if you wake up and you’re in pain or you need to go to the bathroom, just say something and they’ll come help you.”
“’Kay.” Her eyes drifted closed.
He leaned over the bed, careful not to bump her arm, and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Ma. I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Me, too.”
He stopped and talked to the floor nurse on the way out to make sure they called him in case anything happened. Then with heavy steps, he walked out into the chill night air to his Jeep. He glanced at the clock on the radio as he pulled out of the parking lot. Three o’clock in the morning. In two hours, he needed to be at work to prepare food for Mr. Guidry’s Thursday morning prayer breakfast. So that everyone could sleep in and recover from their late night working the banquet before they had to report to prepare for lunch service, he hadn’t scheduled a subordinate to assist.
At home he collapsed on the bed without even bothering to undress—but did make sure the alarm clock feature on his phone was set for four thirty. He’d barely closed his eyes when the alarm sounded, it seemed.
More tired than he’d ever been in his life, he dragged himself to the shower and managed, somehow, to get ready for a full day of work and then a full evening out at the Pointe with Ma.
As executive chef and co-owner of a restaurant, he could expect to put in these kinds of hours on a regular basis in the beginning.
He stuffed anything he might possibly need into his black duffel and walked out the front door, then went right back inside for his knife case—remembering after five minutes of wandering all over the condo looking for it that he’d left it at work last night.
At five o’clock in the morning, Bonneterre still slept. Only a hint of pink tinged the sky on the other side of the river. He had to sit through red lights at a couple of vacant intersections and fight falling asleep before they changed to green.
The parking garage security attendant greeted him with a wave and a stifled yawn. Major had to swipe his card twice—the second time making sure the magnetic tape was actually facing the right direction.
His shoes seemed to be made out of concrete. Every step sapped him of a little more of his precious energy reserve. Finally, he made it to his office. Someone—probably Steven—had thoughtfully cleaned and repacked his knives and put the soft-sided case on his desk. He steeled himself against the temptation of collapsing into his chair and closing his eyes for a few minutes, pulled his burgundy jacket out of the armoire, and went down to the executive kitchen to get to work.
By the time Mr. Guidry’s breakfast meeting broke up, Major had come to a decision. He gave Lawson a few minutes to get back to his office before following him. He knocked on the open office door.
Lawson looked up from his computer and pulled his glasses off. “Come in, come in.”
“Do you have a few minutes, sir?”
“Of course. Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Major forced his body to fold itself down onto one of the leather chairs facing Lawson’s massive desk.
“Meredith said you had an emergency last night and had to go to the emergency room. I hope you’re all right.”
“Yes, sir. It wasn’t me. It was my mother. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.” The nausea that had started with the doctor’s call last night returned full force. Good thing he hadn’t eaten in more than twelve hours.
“If you’re worried that there will be any negative repercussions from us because you left to take care of your ailing mother, don’t.”
Major wanted to get up to pace but wrapped his hands around the wooden arms of the chair instead. “That wasn’t really what I’m here about. But it does bear on what I need to tell you.”
Lawson leaned back in his chair and tapped his glasses against his chin. “Am I correct in assuming this is about the restaurant deal, then?”
“Yes, sir.” Major swallowed twice, trying to eliminate the bitter acidity in the back of his throat. “After a lot of thought and prayer, I am going to have to say no. I know y’all proposed the partnership based on the plan I gave Forbes to look at for me. And I really appreciate the belief you and Mrs. Guidry showed in me by coming up with the proposal—you have no idea how much I appreciate it. But the truth of the matter is that I can’t commit the kind of time that opening a restaurant requires—my mother needs me too much. These last two accidents with her have also shown me that I can’t take everything that I have and invest it in a business that might not turn a profit for eighteen months or longer. I need the safety net just in case something else happens.”
The words had spilled out in a monotone, his eyes glued to the front edge of Mr. Guidry’s desk. But now he dared to look up at his would-be benefactor.
Lawson’s expression hadn’t changed—still slightly smiling and warm. “I am sorry you feel that way, son. But I understand your desire to want to be sure you can take care of your mother. I was afraid it might come to that. I don’t suppose the fact that groundbreaking has been delayed six months would change your decision?”
Six months? Major went over all the numbers and scenarios in his head. The pit of his stomach gnarled. “No, sir. Six months probably won’t make a significant difference in the amount of time I will need to spend with my mother, nor in my financial situation.” The words
