“If you could convince him—”
“To do that?” Graham asked.
“To go to rehab.”
“I’ve tried. He won’t listen. I told him I’d drive him, be there when he got out.”
“Try harder, please. For me? So much has been lost; I just want my son back.”
“And I want my brother back.” Graham longed for the days when his brother was his best friend. Granted, over time, they’d grown apart, but they’d always had each other’s backs. He wanted more than anything to help his brother overcome his demons, to help him move on. Graham hated feeling as if Grady was a lost cause, but there were also times when he thought Grady could use a month or two in jail, under lock and key. He was sure it was his brother who had broken into the bar over the summer, but Graham couldn’t prove it. As much as he tried and told the police who he thought busted the door open and stole hundreds of dollars in liquor, nothing ever came to fruition.
Graham went back to the sink and finished the dishes, packed his leftovers, and kissed his mother goodbye. He sat in his car, looking at the house he had grown up in. So much had changed—and not for the better. He and Grady had so many dreams when they were teenagers. No one ever faulted Grady for wanting to be an angler. Most everyone embraced it. If anything, people turned their noses up at Graham for planning to leave Cape Harbor. Grady had been supportive of Graham’s career choice, and he of Grady’s. Now, all Graham wanted to do was find his brother. And when he did, he was going to ask him to finally pull his head out of his ass.
He started his car, and at the same time, his phone rang. He expected it to be Bowie asking him where he was. The display showed an unknown number. He declined the call, switched his car into reverse, and pulled out of his parents’ driveway. He’d made it to the corner when his phone chimed with a new voice mail. He sat at the stop sign while his car idled and wondered what kind of telemarketer would leave a message on a holiday. His curiosity won out, and he pressed the button to listen.
“I’m trying to reach Graham Chamberlain. My name is Traci Birk, and I’m calling from Port Angeles General. If you could return my call . . .”
Graham’s heart plummeted. He pressed the callback number and waited. Ring after ring, he sat there while his heart raced and his palms sweat. By the time someone picked up, his mouth was dry and parched. Images filled his mind of his brother lying somewhere alone—or worse, dying or already gone.
“Port Angeles General, how may I direct your call?”
“Yes, I need to speak with Traci Birk. I’m returning her call.”
The operator asked Graham to wait while she transferred his call. He needed to turn around, to head back to his parents, but he felt trapped, paralyzed with fear. After what seemed like an hour, Traci picked up.
“Traci speaking.”
“Um, hi, yes, this is Graham Chamberlain. You left me a message a few minutes ago.”
“You were listed as an emergency contact for Grady Chamberlain.”
“Is my brother . . . ?” Graham stopped, unable to bring himself to ask the question that sat on his tongue. “Is he . . . ?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t say much over the phone, other than you and your family should come to PAG. The doctor on staff will be able to fill you in.”
“Can you tell me if he’s alive or what happened?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Chamberlain—it’s out of my purview to say.”
Graham thanked her, hung up, and flipped a U-turn in the middle of the road. He sped toward the house, pulled back into the driveway, and left his car running. He ran toward the front door, threw it open, and yelled for his parents.
“Graham, what is it?” his mother asked as she rounded the corner.
“It’s Grady. We have to go.”
“What do you mean?” Her voice cracked.
He shook his head slightly. “I got a call from the hospital in Port Angeles. Grady’s there. We have to go. Where’s Dad?”
“What’s all the commotion?” George asked. He ambled into the room and yawned.
“George, we need to go with Graham.”
“What in heavens for? The game is on.”
“Dad, Grady needs us,” Graham said. “He’s in Port A. We should go now.”
George waved Graham off. “That boy will find his way home.”
“Not this time, George. Get your coat, and get in the car. Graham will drive us.”
George looked from his wife to his son. His eyes were like a Ping-Pong match, going back and forth. Graham waited for the realization to settle over his father, and when it finally did, his face went pale.
“What happened?”
“I got a call. They said to come to the hospital.”
Once the words sank in, George rushed to put on his shoes while Johanna put her coat on. Graham went into the den and turned the television off and made sure the oven was off as well, in case his mom had forgotten. He flipped the light switch for their walkway and waited for his parents to exit.
“I should drive,” George said as they approached Graham’s car. Graham wanted to chuckle, but his father was serious. The elder Chamberlain prided himself on being the best driver of the household.
“Not a chance.” Graham held the passenger door for his mother and waited for her to be safely inside before he shut it. He ran around to the driver’s side, got in, and reminded his dad to put his seat belt on.
Graham drove out of town, north toward the highway. It would take them approximately three and a half hours to get to Port A if they caught the ferry at the right time. He couldn’t be sure the ferry ran today and couldn’t very well ask his parents to look the schedule up on his phone. He took his phone out of his pocket and asked the artificial intelligence to call Bowie.
“Hey, what’s up? Are you on your way over?”
“Can you look up the Port Townsend ferry schedule to Coupeville?” he asked, avoiding his friend’s question.
“Everything okay?”
“I don’t know. Grady is in Port A General. My parents and I are heading there now.”
“Holy shit, Graham. What happened?”
“Not sure—they won’t tell us over the phone.”
Bowie didn’t speak for a few moments, and when he came back on the line, he gave Graham the schedule. The ferry ran on a limited schedule because of the holiday, and Graham would have to time his arrival to make it across to Coupeville.
Graham thanked Bowie, hung up, and pressed the gas pedal a bit more. His mother wouldn’t be fond of him speeding, but he needed to hurry. In hindsight, he should’ve gone the other direction, but he’d thought he would save time by heading north.
During the drive and ferry ride, no one spoke. Graham held his mother’s hand most of the trip, and when they were on the boat, his father refused to get out of the car. Graham needed fresh air. He needed to think. He went to the top deck, where very few people were, and stood against the railing. The harsh wind beat against his face. If he wasn’t already in pain from the ache he felt, the wind might’ve hurt. He tried to think about anything other than Grady’s cold dead body lying on a table. Since the fateful accident, Graham’s outlook on life was far from positive. He saw the bad before the good. He expected nothing to go his way, and when it did, he looked for the underlying message. Bad luck and shitty outcomes followed him like the plague, especially when his brother was involved.