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Callahan reaches out and sets a hand on the boy's foot. There's work left to be done. Work that needs doing. But right or wrong, that work can wait. It has to wait. Because right now, they've got bigger concerns.
A doctor finally comes in. He's got a folder that's nearly an inch thick and has a bunch of x-rays sticking out. Callahan's heart jumps into his throat. Moment of truth time, now.
The doctor's got the same look doctors always have. It's bad. It's always bad. If you've got the flu, it's bad. And yet, somehow, when your wife isn't going to wake up again—that's just as bad. Doctors aren't ever happy with the prognosis.
No, it's the nurses who are constantly telling you that it could be fine. People get better all the time from 'never gonna wake up again.' You'll see, Phil. Don't worry about it, it's not your fault. There's nothing you could have done.
He sets the folder on the counter by the bed and flips it open.
"I just got the x-rays back. We did them as quick as we could, so we can assess the damage and make sure we know what to do about it."
James is the one to respond. Philip's throat's tight, now. Too tight for talking. And for that matter, it's not his place to lead the talk. He might feel like the boys' father sometimes—but he isn't.
"How's he look? He gonna be alright?"
The doctor looks at the x-ray photo, as if it's going to tell him something new this time.
"Should be. You boys are lucky."
James's jaw tightens up. Michael seems to hear something entirely different than what his older brother hears. For the first time since they've come in, he almost seems relaxed.
"What's the damage?"
"He's got a few broken ribs. Pretty badly broken, to be honest. But a few inches to the right, and he could be in a wheelchair the rest of his life. So as far as that goes—"
Callahan watches James's eyes flutter shut. He knows the expression. It's the face he'd made right after they'd told him that Sara was going to be fine. The knowledge that at least he had something left.
The doctors had been wrong that time. Hindsight being what it is, and all. Callahan looked as best as he could at the x-ray in the doctor's hand, from this distance. He hoped that they weren't wrong this time.
Then again, broken bones were what they were good at. Not a whole lot to internally bleed in the mid-back. If it was in the lungs, they'd know it by now. They'd probably be able to see if his liver were punctured, right?
So—he dares, for the second time in his life, to imagine that everything might not get worse. It's not something he'd thought he would do again. And the second he does it, he regrets it.
Because last time went poorly enough that it wasn't an experience he should be repeating. If anything, he should assume by default that things are only ever going to get worse. When Randy wakes up—and he will wake up, and has been in-and-out thanks to the pain pills conking him out—then Callahan can get funny ideas about the boy recovering.
Until then, it was best to assume the worst.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Morgan supposes that she should be satisfied. There's plenty of good to say about the factory. It's coming along nicely. Aside from that one snag, it's been nothing but successes. No problems to speak of at all. Which is great news. Wonderful news. Honestly the best.
It also doesn't count for as much as she'd thought it would. As the foundation goes up, as the girders go into the ground…
Well, it doesn't count for very much at all.
She takes a deep breath, because she shouldn't be thinking any of this. She should be giving herself credit for the successes she's been having. They're all very real successes. But it's hard to see it as anything other than things just going according to plan.
She's hired good people. She trusted the people who knew more than she did. She made a plan that was aggressive but obtainable. It was all by the numbers, from the top to the bottom.
As long as they stuck to the plan, there wouldn't be any trouble. If there was no trouble, then things would be easy. They'd stuck to the plan, and there wasn't any trouble. None except for the sink-holes.
It hadn't even eaten up the rest of their buffer. They still had three solid days of clearance before they hit their deadline. Days that, if things went anything like they'd been going, would go unused. Days that would be a little gold star next to Morgan's name at the end of the project.
But what would it mean in the end? Anything at all? Would it mean that suddenly she'd get all the respect in the world? Would it mean that everything would be easy from here on out?
No. None of that was the case. She'd still be sitting here having to babysit two new factories for another three years. At that point they'd be in a position where she can sit back and look at the next step.
Maybe they move further east. Maybe they move north. Maybe they consolidate their power here and start trying to branch out into new markets. Maybe they try to expand market share.
