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Frank McCullough had always been a rugged, intimidating man. Yet he’d never once made Harrison uneasy. Funny how some men just put off different vibes. He wondered what sort of man he was.
His gaze dropped to Mrs. McCullough’s hand, noting the way she rubbed Mr. McCullough’s arm. Had he done that to Mariella? He’d been so worried about simply getting to her, he couldn’t remember how he acted when he first arrived.
Harrison had no one in his life who might show such concern if he were in an accident. No one who would hold his hand the way Mrs. McCullough held her husband’s.
He glanced back to his left, toward Mr. Mosconi’s room and flinched, remembering the little Italian granny still glaring up at him.
“Hi,” he said, uncomfortably.
Her fixed dark eyes narrowed on him. “Who are you?” Her thick accent rolled through the air with heavy accusation.
“I’m Harrison.”
“I do not know Harrison. You know my son?”
“He’s Mariella’s friend,” Mrs. McCullough explained, speaking louder than he thought necessary. “He’s here with Mariella.”
Loud or not, that did the trick. The little Italian woman’s expression instantly changed and she pressed a gnarled hand to her chest. “Mariella mia nipote—my granddaughter.” She lifted the pendant hanging from her neck and kissed the gold face of the Virgin Mary. “Paulie’s my son.”
At a loss for words, he said, “I heard the surgery went well.”
She nodded. “My boy è molto forte.” She made a fist and pounded it on over her heart. “Strong.”
He suspected he had good genes as well, because this woman looked about a decade past one hundred.
“I wonder if Colleen’s had anything to eat,” Mrs. McCullough whispered to her husband. “She hardly touched her breakfast, and I doubt she’s had anything since.”
“I can run down to the cafeteria,” Harrison offered, happy to be of some service while Mariella was away with her mom and dad.
“Oh, that would be lovely, Harrison. Thank you. Maybe just some cookies and a cup of soup. Perhaps some crackers, too, if they have them. And maybe something chocolate. My sister’s a snacker, especially when she’s emotional. She probably hasn’t had anything to drink all day, either. Her sugar gets low, so some juice might be good…”
“I’ll get a bunch of stuff.”
“Thank you.” She squeezed his arm, the gesture full of affection and somehow filling him with warm satisfaction. “Such a sweet boy, you are.”
Before heading to the cafeteria, he drifted past Mariella’s father’s room. She and her mother sat at his bedside, quietly talking, while Mr. Mosconi slept. Machines chirped and several wires surrounded the bed.
Colleen looked up, spotting him, and tapped Mariella’s knee. Mariella’s breath noticeably caught the moment she saw him and she came to the door. “Are you leaving?”
“No, just running to the cafeteria. I’m taking special requests.”
She turned to her mother. “Mom, did you want something from the cafeteria?”
“I couldn’t eat if I tried, but thank you anyway.”
No way he was coming back empty handed and disappointing Mrs. McCullough. He’d get a variety and see if Mariella’s mom changed her mind when food was in front of her.
Mariella met his eyes and whispered, “Can you try to find me some aspirin?”
“In a hospital? I’m sure I can figure something out.”
She smiled, but the expression was tired, and her eyes reflected the stress of the day. “Thank you.”
He spent a small fortune at the visitor station and cafeteria. When he returned upstairs, the Italian grandmother was in with her son and Mariella was waiting in the hall with the McCulloughs.
Harrison filled an entire chair with snacks and tore open the aspirin for Mariella. “Do you have a drink?” He dropped two pills in her hand and opened a bottle of water for her.
“Thank you.” She swallowed the pills then leaned into his side, resting her eyes.
He didn’t pester her with questions or try to make small talk. He simply rubbed a hand over her arm, trying to bring her a touch of comfort.
The McCulloughs eventually left with Mariella’s grandmother. Mrs. Mosconi stayed by her husband’s side, and Mariella slept, leaning into the curve of Harrison’s arm.
The sun was coming up when Erin finally called, the ring of his phone startling Mariella awake.
“Hey.”
“We’re here.”
“Did you get your luggage yet? I can leave now—”
“Don’t worry about it. Giovanni didn’t want to waste any time, so he called an Uber. I’ll have to catch up with you after we visit the hospital.”
“I’m still at the hospital.”
“You’re… What?”
“I’m still here. I never left.”
“Wait…” Behind Erin’s confusion he could hear Giovanni speaking to the Uber driver. “Harrison, why are you there?”
“I…” He was suddenly self-conscious about his presence. “I just am. I’ll see you when you get here.”
“O-okay. Do you have any news about Paulie?”
“He’s sleeping. Everything seems calm.”
She let out a relieved breath and whispered, “Thank God. They’re not like us, you know? Giovanni would be devastated if anything happened to a member of his family.”
