by: Kristy Duke

Chills quickly spread across my tired body as I slowly step out of the cold, dark winter night and into the local bar I have spent so much time at the past month, since I have returned home. Hugging my thick denim coat tightly against me, I stand next to my cousin as we squint through the smoke in order to see through the thick, rowdy crowd. “There he is,” I rest a caring hand upon Bo’s right shoulder to gather his attention while I point to a couple of tables squeezed together in the far back corner. Glancing over at Bo, I watch him momentarily as he continues to glare through the hazy smoke before recognition strikes in his baby blue eyes. Continuing to rest a hand upon Bo’s shoulder, I steal another glance at the table in the far away corner where Cooter, dressed in his usual grease stained clothes, sits leaning lazily against the brown wooden walls. Sitting across from him is a thin lanky man dressed in grease stained overalls with a red hat that hides his thick reddish brown curly hair, a man I have never seen before. “C’mon,” I finally motion Bo to lead the way before he slowly nods and does as he is told, “let’s go join them.”

Thick cigarette smoke lingers heavily in the dark musty air of the crowded bar as I slowly force my way in between the thin isle that lies in between the square shaped tables and chairs. Continuing to follow Bo through the thin maze of chairs to the table Cooter sits at with his friend, I fight to block out the loud laughter and talk that seems to echo off of the cheap thin walls. The old jukebox that rests upon the wall besides the wooden bar seems to come alive as it plays an old hit song by Waylon Jennings, only to contribute to the loud rough Saturday night crowd.

“LB Davenport!” Bo yells breathlessly as we slowly approach their tables and the thin lanky man sitting across the table from Cooter is quick to stand up, crazy-like excitement dances in his light brown-green eyes, “Whatchya doin’ home?”

I watch momentarily as the man Bo had addressed as LB excitedly flings himself into Bo who excitedly returns the hug before stepping back. “Well,” he drawls as he looks at Bo before looking around, taking Garrett and me in with watchful eyes, “I had some troubles in Capital City and Cooter here has offered me a job at his garage.”

“So, you’re here for good?” Bo asks, his eyes brighten up in child-like excitement as he searches the lanky man for an answer.

“Well…as long as I am welcomed by Cooter that is,” LB turns to Cooter and gives him a half smirk smile before sitting back down in his chair next to the wall and Bo slowly sits down next to him.

“That’s great,” Bo smiles, reminding me of a child in a candy store with an un-limited selection. Silence slowly comes between them as Bo looks up at me for some sort of support before excitement re-enters his eyes. “Hey LB! I’d like you to meet my cousin, Luke Duke,” he motions towards me before motioning to LB, “this here is LB, Cooter’s cousin.”

Sitting down next to Cooter, across from Bo, I offer LB a reassuring smile as he excitedly forces out his hand across the table at me. “So,” he grins at me as we shake hands briefly, his brown eyes flickers with the same craziness I have spotted in Cooter’s dark brown eyes before, “you’re the famous Luke Duke I’ve heard so much about.”

Worry is quick to settle in me as I glance over at Bo to notice how pale his complexion has gotten since we have left home only a half hour ago before I slowly force my attention back to LB. “Well, I have never been called famous before,” I slowly answer as Garrett takes a seat next to me, “but I am Luke.”

“First for everythin’,” LB responds as he glances over at Cooter momentarily, “I came up for a couple of weeks last year when Cooter got to go to a car convention in Atlanta. All I heard about was Luke, Luke this, Luke that. By the time I left, I felt as if I knew you personally. It is great to be able to actually see the Luke Duke I’ve heard so much about.”

The jukebox recedes into silence as I give Bo a small comforting smile as I am reminding of Jesse’s lecture the other day, of how much Bo still looks up to me. “Well any cousin of Cooter’s,” I finally say as the jukebox kicks in once more, “and any friend of Bo’s, is a friend of mine.”

He lends me a crazy smile as the juke box comes alive once again, blaring Alan Jackson’s “Five O’clock Somewhere” to send a roar of excitement through the bar. As silence melts over our table, I glance across the table at Bo whose thin chest heaves noticeably in and out in his struggle for air. My worry continues to grow increasingly stronger as I silently watch him as he stares down at the old tattered table cloth, slowly tracing the inch long tear in the cloth with a shaky finger; not noticing my concern for him.

“Anyone order any drinks yet?” Garrett finally speaks up as he shifts in his chair to bring out his box of cigarettes from his coat pocket, his expensive coat now hangs on the back of his chair. Setting the box and his lighter down in front of him, he glares across the table at LB and Cooter, demanding an answer through his hardened gray eyes.

“Well,” Cooter begins to answer as he watches Garrett pull the black ash tray in front of him, with skeptical brown eyes, “Dobro and Brodie went up to the bar to order as soon as we spotted y’all walking in,” Cooter pauses to watch Garrett slowly lighting up his cigarette, Cooter shrugs before continuing, “Perhaps they got lost.”

“How doubtful,” Brodie grins a large smile as he approaches the table carrying a brown circular tray with our drinks. Dobro slowly reaches the table holding two extra mugs of beer that didn’t fit on the tray, while singing along with Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffett on the chorus of “Five O’clock Somewhere.”

“Hi Bo,” Dobro grins at Bo as he stops singing, “Hi Luke,” he pauses for a long moment to take Garrett in with questioning green eyes, “Y’all didn’t mention anything about bringing company.”

“Company?” I glance up at Dobro who motions towards Garrett as he takes a seat across the table, next to Brodie and Bo, “I’d like y’all to meet Bo’s twin brother, Garrett Duke.”

Bo glances up at me in brief anger at hearing me introducing Garrett as his twin brother before his anger slowly fades into pain. “Bo’s twin?” Cooter asks besides me as he stares over at Garrett who leans back in his chair, blowing out a cloud of smoke, “I met him and Kristy in town their first day in Hazzard, LB here helped tow Kristy’s truck on his way into Hazzard,” he pauses once again as he continues to watch Garrett before looking at Bo, comparing them to one another, “I would never have guessed them to be twins. . .perhaps brothers, but twins?”

“Yep, twins, at least that is what Jesse says,” I smile at Cooter as I glance from Garrett to Bo, “I’d have guessed the same Cooter, but I guess that is what two different life styles can do. . . Garrett is from Knoxville.”

Cooter silently nods in understanding as he takes a long slow drink from his watered down beer before placing in front of him. “That could explain some of it,” cooter finally speaks up as he begins to wipe off the condensation that has began to bud up against his mug, “You tell them?” Our attention drifts to Garrett as Cooter stares at Garrett, asking for an answer. Garrett abruptly glances up from his drink to notice our attention on him, he stares hardly around the table before he slowly shakes his head. “I gave them a tour of my old farm house yesterday,” Cooter speaks up, answering for Garrett, “Kristy and Garrett is going to be renting the farm house with LB here.”

I slowly take a drink of my own beer as Garrett pulls himself up towards the table to send a wave of smoke in my direction. I watch warily as he slowly knocks some thick ashes into the plastic ash tray before he places the cigarette back into his mouth. Slowly, he catches me watching him and he sends me a hardened cold look before his hand reaches up to trace his thick scar that shines engraved into his neck and chin through the darkness of the smokey bar.

Fighting to ignore Garrett’s attitude, I slowly turn to LB and Cooter to say, “Of what I remember of the house and land,” I pause as Garrett forcefully blows out thick smoke in front of me to force a flash of anger to momentarily streak through me, “I don’t see what they wouldn’t like about – ”

I am abruptly interrupted as Bo suddenly begins coughing wheezily across the table from me. My worry quickly turns into fear as I am reminded of the attacks he had when I had found him in the woods, target practicing. Harsh memories of his childhood filled with pain and fear floods through me while I watch helplessly, searching for answers. My heart tightens in fear and in sadness as Bo glances up at me, his baby blue eyes expresses harsh pain and fear.

“Take a drink.” my voice quivers as I point to his mug of beer that sits un-touched in front of him. He sends me a question look through pain filled eyes before he slowly nods as he shakily grabs onto his mug of beer.

He glances up at me through watered eyes before glancing questionably down at the watered down beer that sits in front of him as he slowly reaches to grab a hold of the thin handle. Watching him slowly taking a couple of long drinks, I slowly say a silent prayer as his harsh wheezy coughing slowly comes to an halt.

For a brief moment, I continue to watch Bo worriedly who continues to wheeze while staring silently into his beer, fighting to ignore everyone’s worried eyes that are focused on him. My attention is quickly yanked away from Bo to Garrett who abruptly sits up in his chair and roughly jams his small lit cigarette into the black ash tray. “Damn it,” I mutter silently as I continue to watch Garrett put out the small flame on his cigarette. I watch Garrett as he leans back in his chair while eyeing everyone at the table with hardened eyes as I silently realize that it was his cigarette smoke that had set off Bo’s attack.

I sigh warily as I slowly glance back at Bo to find his right hand clenching tightly onto his chest, as he had done so often as a child when the pain in his chest became too much to handle. “How you feelin’ Bo?” I ask the dreaded question as I continue to watch him holding onto his chest. My heart seems to sink into sadness and fear as nightmarish flash back plays vividly within me of watching Bo grow up in pain and fear. “Perhaps we should go home and – ”

“No,” he answers abruptly as he reluctantly removes his hand from his chest as he glances up to find me watching, “I’m fine.”

I allow silence to fall upon our table as I silently search for answers of how to deal with the stubbornness that my cousin portrays as well as for the right thing to do. “Alright, we’ll stay, but if things get worse, we are going home, ” I say firmly, “And tomorrow morning, I am going to call Doctor Appleby and have him stop by to check on you, despite what Jesse may say or what you say. Understand?”

Abruptly he jerks his head up from staring silently into his half drank beer and glares angrily at me before his anger slowly melts into a hint of pain and fear. “I’m fine,” he whispers, barely audible to anyone around him, as if he is trying to convince himself as well as me that he’s fine. After a long silent moment he slowly breaks eye contact to slowly glance around the table to find everyone’s worried attention stuck on him. “Really, I’m fine,” Bo repeats with hope of taking their attention off of him as he slowly arises from his chair, holding onto the back in order to keep his balance.

“Where you goin’?” I ask worried as he slowly makes his way behind Brodie’s and Dobro’s chairs and he hesitantly stops to look back at me.

“To the bathroom,” he slowly answers as he glances across the table before his attention comes back to me and I sense a call of panic through his eyes. Slowly I begin to get up, in small attempt to follow him in order to make sure he is ok, but am quickly cut down as he snaps, “I am fine, Luke. ” Even though the pain and fear in his eyes say else wise.

I slowly nod as I watch him unsteadily walking in the direction to the back dark corner where the restrooms lay before taking my seat once again. A thick eerie air of silence continues to hang thickly over our tables as everyone looks at one another, awaiting for someone else to say something or to make the next move. I watch Bo disappear around the small corner of the entry way to the restroom before I slowly glance up at the bar to find Daisy behind the bar, leaning against the bar as she wipes a clean beer mug dry. She stares worriedly at the closed door of the restrooms before glancing back up at the tall muscular man that sits in front of her on one of the old chipped bar stools. I silently take in the muscular man that looks to be around my height with thin reddish blond hair that is cut shortly and wears a nice pair of khaki pants, worn walking shoes, and a thick black leather coat.

“Who’s that talking to Daisy?” I finally break the silence as I glance over at Cooter, motioning up to the bar with a nod of my head.

“Beats me,” he shrugs as he glances back up at the bar, “he was here when we got here, a few minutes before you all got here, and they were talking then. She seems to be attracted to him.”

Glancing back up, Daisy catches my eye and sends me a small wave to send the man turning around to look at us, taking us all in with a serious _expression until Daisy whispers something to him. He slowly waves at us while flashing us a small cautious smile before turning back around to talk to Daisy. “She’s attracted alright,” Cooter confirms out loud and I slowly nod in agreement at his suspicion.

“He ain’t too ugly,” LB finally speaks up as he slowly sits up from leaning against the wall before directing his attention back to Garrett who slowly finishes the last drink of his beer before shoving his hands into the pocket of his heavy navy blue hooded sweat shirt while leaning back into his chair. “Where’s Kristy at, Garrett?”

Garrett tiredly glances up with impatient eyes at the sound of his name before sitting up to look at LB. “She’s at the motel with the kids,” he slowly answers before eyeing his pack of cigarettes before glancing back up, “Jesse was there with her when I left, helping her get them ready for bed and all.”

Silence slowly crawls across our table once again as my attention shifts from Garrett to LB before glancing up at the man Daisy is talking to, to find him slowly covering her hand with his muscular hand for a short moment. Glancing over to Cooter and LB, I slowly stand while saying, “I am going to go check up on Bo.”

Worry and concern quickly covers their faces and Brodie and Dobro slowly stop talking amongst themselves to glance up at me, taking me in with worried faces. Cooter silently nods besides me as I slowly make my way behind Garrett’s chair and begin to make my way through the maze of chairs and tables to the restrooms.

Growing closer to the back corner where the restrooms rests in darkness, intense fear mixed with harsh panic corses through my chilled body. Fighting back the unwanted emotions that continues to wash through me, I quickly pick up pace as I fight my way through the thin maze of chairs. After what seems to be an eternity, I slowly disappear within the small hall way that the set of bathrooms lie. My panic abruptly switches to intense anxiety as my strong feeling that Bo is hurt in someway, increases dramatically. “Please no,” I beg silently under my breath as I lie a trembling hand upon the silver door handle of the men’s rest room.

I am instantly stricken with harsh fear as I slowly open the heavy wooden door to find Bo’s still body lying face down upon the baby blue tile bathroom floor with his right hand covering the right side of his face. “Bo!” I yell as I hurriedly rush to his side to notice the rusted white sink to our right to remain on full pressure. Thick blood rushes down the side of the sink to drip only inches away from Bo’s face while thick blood runs down the inside of the sink, forcing the water into a thin strawberry red color.

Ignoring the blood and the water, I abruptly kneel down besides Bo, my back against the small counter and sink as I slowly press two fingers tightly against his neck. “No Bo,” I softly say as my heart comes to an abrupt stop within me as I come up empty in my search of a pulse. Without any thought, I carefully roll Bo over onto his back and his right hand slides off his forehead to the ground to show me a harsh cut upon Bo’s right half of his forehead; blood gushes out of the cut like water over a high ledge. My fear accelerates within me as his chest remains still within him and no air exits from his closed mouth, the only sign of any life remaining in his ashen body is the blood coming out of the cut and a single tear that slowly melts down his right cheek.

Leaning over his still body, I quickly plug his nose and breath two breathes into his mouth while watching his chest move slightly up. I fight for recollection of my first aid training and CPR as I quickly move to his chest to begin to do compressions on his chest as I silently pray for some sign of life. “One. . .two. . .three,” I silently count a loud as my attention remains attached on Bo as I sense the door slowly opening a few feet away.

“Bo!” a familiar male’s voice full of panic and fear yells out over me, echoing off of the cheap bathroom walls. I continue with his chest compressions as I hesitantly look up to find the sheriff standing at the door, out of uniform. His piercing blue eyes are thick of fear and panic as he stares silently at Bo lying silently still on the floor.

“Rosco,” I gasp in between compressions, my own voice drips thickly in fear, “I need you to go out and get the air tank that Jerry keeps beneath the bar and get someone to call for an ambulance!” He nods as he opens the door once again, “And get someone from my table to come in and help…NOW!”

I once again return to breathing a couple of breathes for him before returning to the compresses as Rosco rushes out of the bathroom in order to do what I had told him to do. My mind numbly rushes from thought to thought, from his earlier attack to the possibility of losing him due not giving him the medical help he needs in time. “C’mon buddy, you gotta be ok,” I plea with him as I watch the blood drip off of the counter and sink for a silent moment before the door is thrown open once again. I look up to find Rosco holding the air tank with Brodie, Garrett, Cooter, and LB behind him. “Thank-you,” I grasp as I take the air tank from Rosco and slowly set it on the floor besides Bo. Carefully I raise Bo’s head to place the plastic mask over his nose and mouth before turning on the air. Watching Bo’s chest slightly rise with the help of the tank for a short moment, I return to the compressions as I say, “I need one of you to get a wad of paper towels and hold it tightly to his forehead. We need to get at least some of the bleeding to stop.”

For a moment everyone stands silently over me, watching through fear – filled eyes before Brodie quickly walks behind Garrett in order to get to the paper towel holder and drags out a hand full of brown paper towels. “That guy Daisy is with,” Rosco speaks up to break the silence in the room, “is making the call to the hospital.”

I slowly nod as I once again take a pulse to come up with the same result as Brodie slowly kneels next to Bo’s head, his lanky black fingers press several towels to Bo’s cut. I quickly return to Bo’s compresses as the door is slowly thrown open and I glance up to find the guy at the bar that Daisy had been talking to, to be joining the crowd around me. His edgy green eyes pierces through me with concerned authority as he moves closer to me, kneeling next to me he says, “I can take over now.”

I glare angrily over at him as disbelief rushes through me at his boldness he displays towards wanting to take over. “I am doing fine, thank-you though,” I silently force myself to retrain my temper.

He rolls his green eyes at me before he yanks something out of his pocket and flips the cover off of it to display a shiny gold star; an FBI agent. “I am trained at-”

“And so am I,” I hastily snap at him as my compresses become more forceful as he gives me a questioning look, “I just got back from war…Marine Sergeant. Thank-you for calling it in for me.”

He shoots bullets at me through hardened eyes as he slowly stands up, filled with resentment as he stands next to Cooter. I glance up as Brodie slowly reaches up for more paper towels, his last handful drips of blood as he tosses it into the metal garbage can. “Damn,” Brodie cusses under his breath as he presses his fresh paper towels onto the ugly wound.

“Bo!” a sharp female’s voice pierces through the restroom and I glance up to find Daisy standing next to Dobro who glares at her before staring vacantly at Bo.

“Damn it,” I utter angry through clenched teeth as a loud cracking noise harshly escapes from within Bo as I press too hard into a compression; to send a chill racing down my back at the wicked sound of a bone cracking. Hesitantly, I glance up at the thick crowd that has seemed to gather around me in the small area of the restroom and slowly say, “Someone needs to be outside to flat down the ambulance.”

I search silently around the room as I silently count in my head as I continue with my compressions, pressing upon the rib I had either broke or cracked. “OK,” Dobro slowly speaks up in a hushed whisper, almost inaudible to those around him. Quietly he wipes the back of his right forearm across his eyes before he takes a last look at Bo lying on the floor before he slowly turns around and disappears behind a closed door.

I slowly glance back down at Bo as Brodie slowly pulls away the blood soaked napkins away from Bo’s cut to throw away and as he grabs for another handful I watch thick blood gush quickly out of the thick open cut. Tears form a large lump in my throat as I slowly watch Brodie reapply a thick stack of paper towels on the cut to send my mind rolling from dreadful thought to dreadful thought. “C’mon Bo,” I silently whisper to Bo as I reach my fifteenth compression. Once again, I say a silent prayer as I slowly reach up to place a couple of fingers up to Bo’s icy cold neck to find a very slow and very soft pulse. I allow a small sigh of relief to escape me as I sit up looking over my cousin’s silently still body, his pale complexion has now rested to icy blue-gray color with the lack of oxygen; making him look even more dead. “A very small pulse…barely noticeable, but it is there,” I hesitantly tell the people that stand over me.

Sirens slowly become loud through the wall as I numbly glance around the familiar faces that watch me with fear filled expressions. Daisy stands across from me, hugging tightly onto the smug FBI agent that had attempted to take over, struggling for some support through his authority. Cooter and LB stand to my side with worried expressions, Rosco stands in between Daisy and Cooter, while Garrett stands off to the side with little to no _expression in his heavy smoky gray-blue eyes. Abruptly I glance back down at Bo’s still body as I recheck his pulse to find it the same before I readjust the mask on Bo’s face, making sure it is still working.

Suddenly the heavy brown wooden door is thrown open and I look up to find Dobro leading three paramedics with dark blue uniforms on. The younger two paramedics quickly wheel a stretcher into the room, forcing people to back away to let them in, while the older paramedic carries a black case of some sort along with their own air tank. I hesitantly stand up to move to the side as they wheel their stretcher to Bo’s side and the two paramedics move to his head and heels to slowly and carefully pick him up.

“What happened?” the older paramedics gruff voice speaks up besides me as he hands me The Boar’s Nest’s air tank to replace it with their own. One of the younger paramedics places a thick gauze over the cut, taping it around his head with a cloth material tape.

“I. . .I don’t know, “I utter as I follow them out of the restroom and into the smokey restaurant and several people stop their conversations to glare curiously at us, “he began coughing at out table, kinda like an asthma attack due to some smoke. I came in here to check on him to find him rolled over and not breathing. I performed CPR on him, may have cracked or broken a rib. It looked like he passed out, hitting his head on the sink.”

He slowly nods as I find ourselves out into the snowy cold winter night to the white ambulance whose sirens are silent, but the red and white continue to flicker across the white parking lot. “Can I ride along?” I slowly ask.

They all remain silent as they load Bo’s still body in the back of the ambulance before the older man turns to me and says, “Get in.”

Climbing into the back I turn to Daisy and say, “I am riding along…can you go get Jesse?”

Silently she nods as they close the back doors just as the ambulance begins to speed out of the parking lot, on it’s way to the hospital.

***UNCLE JESSE***

 

Chills race steadily up and down my body as I tiredly close the well worn leather cover to my old Bible my parents had given to me for graduation. Glaring down at the worn leather cover my mind revisits the past, of when I had been eighteen years old and had ran free around Hazzard. A small smile builds upon my face at the thought of all the wild things I had done for fun while growing up. While growing up on the old farm I had been filled with a fierce rebellion that had rested within me, a rebellion that no one was able to tame, including me, except for Julianne. My heart throbs at the thought of my late wife, her pretty face with dark brown eyes and thick dark brown hair that had laid down to the middle of her back when she had it tightly braided. Already, it seems like an eternity has passed since the last time I had given her a hug, been able to hold her, to tell her how much I love her, or to tell her how much she means to me. It has been twenty-five years since that horrid day that I had sent her and our son to go grocery shopping. Twenty-five damn long years of loneliness.

Biting my lip to fight back more tears that cloud my vision, my mind rushes through the long years I had spent without Julianne and our son, Noah, who had been two at the time of the accident. He’d have been twenty-seven years old if it hadn’t been for that drunk driver. He could have been happily married by now with children of his own, a successful job, or perhaps have his own farm. Possibilities and what ifs rush through my head as they do every day that I look at the picture of them on my night stand. Julianne had been so good with children, with people, she seemed to have the loving, caring touch that helped anyone out, helped calm fears, and help lessen the pain in some way or another. I sigh sadly as a shiver of regret rushes through my chilled body as I think of how good she would have been for Daisy, Luke, and Bo. They all needed someone…someone other than me that could give them the caring hand, a better direction in life. Especially Daisy, she needed that female guidance while growing up, something I never was able to help her with. She would have loved having them around the house, raising them all as our own, as we did Noah, our son. She could have helped them all out in so many ways that I have failed to do so and perhaps hold better patience in them that I so often lacked with them. If only…

Abruptly my thoughts are broke as a large tear melts way from my eye to drip upon the old leather cover of my Bible, to leave a large circular wet mark. Slowly I wipe at the wet area with my sleeve to dry it off as I glance up at the pictures that line the shelf above the fire place. Pictures of Bo and Luke, of Daisy, of all three of them together, some with friends, and some with me in them. They all seem so happy, perhaps all that I had done for them, the best I could do for them, was enough for them; but they all missed the female touch of a motherly figure. I sigh as I glance past the fire place to the left to the small window and am greatly surprised to see how dark it has grown outside. Only a few minutes ago it had been dark and dreary, but day light had shone through the window. Now pure darkness lurks out my window with small snow flakes slowly floating to the ground.

Hugging myself against the chilly air, I slowly get up from the old rocking chair and carefully place my old Bible down upon it. Stiffly, I slowly make my way to the fire place where I place in a couple more logs that lie in a small pile besides the brick fire place. Feeling the heat beat upon my face I straighten up to glare out the small window to find the ground now thinly covered in snow, perhaps a half an inch already and it is still snowing. Tiredly watching the snow slowly fall from the dark black sky to the whitened ground, my mind returns back to Julianne and Noah. Fighting back more tears that threaten to fall, I take a step back to take in an old picture of Bo, Luke, and Daisy. In the picture Bo is eight, Luke thirteen, and Daisy fourteen years old, it was taken at the annual summer fair Hazzard has, their faces are bright with smiles. Staring across the wooden shelf above the fire place, I take in the pictures that stand proudly there of my family; Bo, Luke, and Daisy. Slowly a small, weak smile breaks through my tears as I take time to say a small prayer of thanks for Bo, Luke, and Daisy. I sigh remembering Daisy’s and Luke’s parents who were killed in two different incidents, their fathers being my younger brothers, while Bo’s parents had merely abandoned him upon my doorstep a week after he had been released from the hospital from being born, at seven months of age. I had lost so much in losing such great people as their parents, but I gained so much more. If not for them coming to live with me, for raising them as my own, I surely wouldn’t have made it as far as I have. I wouldn’t have had any reason to live.

I am abruptly torn away from the several pictures that line the old shelf above the fire place with the loud squeak of the front door being opened shortly followed by the loud bang of the screen door slamming shut. Taking a last look at the pictures I slowly start to walk towards the kitchen to be greeted at the entry way of the kitchen by Daisy and Cooter. My heart comes to an abrupt stop at the fear and sadness that thickly streaks across both of their faces; the fact that Daisy is here instead of at work, is the first hint that something is seriously wrong.

“Daisy, Cooter,” I slowly find my voice to speak up as I fight for strength to ask what is wrong, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Bo,” Daisy hesitantly answers, her voice drips with fear before she goes silent as if unable to go on. What I had feared the most.

Cooter glances at her for a short moment before looking back at me, searching for the right words to speak. “We’ll talk on the way to the hospital,” Cooter says, his voice calm, though his crazy brown eyes say otherwise, “let’s get going.”

I am filled with disbelief as I quickly grab my thick coat out of the crowded closet to meet them back at the front door where Cooter silently hugs Daisy. Without any words, we escape from the warmth of the farm house and into the chilly winter night as we all pile up in Cooter’s tow truck. “What,” I slowly break the silence as we exit our drive way and onto the dirt road, “what happened? Is he…is he-”

Cooter glances over at Daisy for a short moment who stares silently down at her hands that are tangled together in her lap. “I don’t know,” Cooter slowly speaks up as he stares out through his windshield, “Bo had began coughing at the table after Garrett had been smoking. . .Luke seemed to have calmed it down for a while at least. After a few minutes, Bo excuses him to the restroom; refusing anyone to go with him,” he takes a long breath as he watches a pasture of horses to go past his side window, “after a moment, Luke went to go check up on him. I guess that is when he found him lying on the floor, covered in his own blood by a thick cut on his forehead. Luke is guessing that he must have passed out and hit his head on the sink.” He pauses once again to allow silence to build up, “Luke had done CPR on him while they waited for an ambulance; he had gotten a small and barely noticeable pulse like a minute before the ambulance showed up. Luke rode to the hospital in the ambulance with Bo.”

 

 

My fear seems to accelerate at the sight of the familiar tannish brown tall and wide building that looms depressingly ahead of me. I sigh silently at the sight of the Tri-County Hospital as old memories flood my mind of the painful past, where Bo spent so much time here, fighting for his own young life. “Damn it,” I mutter silently as I fight off unwanted memories while I step out into the icy cold winter night. Hugging my coat closer to me I say a silent prayer for my nephew as I join Daisy and Cooter at the rear of the truck. Silently we walk together to the hospital doors where Cooter holds the glass door open for us where we are filled with the warmth of the hospital’s heating.

After a few long moments of riding through a large elevator and walking down the long brightly lit hall way we slowly arrive at the ER’s waiting room where we find Luke sitting in one of the blue cushioned bench chairs. Next to him sits LB, Garrett, Brodie, and Dobro; their faces filled with their own fear as they silently look at their magazine or just staring off.

“Uncle Jesse,” Luke silently whispers as he looks up to see me and he slowly gets up to show the smear of blood the covers his chest and most of his right sleeve; Bo’s blood. He sniffles back unwanted tears as I slowly pull him into a comforting hug, attempting to comfort him in any way possible. He slowly steps back to take Daisy, Cooter, and then me in before slowly saying, “He is still in the ER. His heart. . .heart stopped as soon as we got here. They were going to try to revive him…but,” he fights back tears that struggle loose from his right eye, “but I don’t know. They haven’t given us any word yet.”

Silence is quick to rotate around the room as I take in Brodie and Dobro who sits silently in their seats, their eyes are glossy of their own tears that they struggle back. Brodie’s right sleeve of his blue flannel shirt is thickly splayed of Bo’s blood as few as a few specks across his chest. “LB,” I nod as I silently wonder what he is doing here, last I knew he had a garage in Capital City.

“Hey Uncle,” he catches himself and gives me an apoligical look, “I mean Jesse.”

 

 

A long couple of hours slowly passes by of waiting for word in the waiting room, awaiting word on Bo. My mind quickly and worriedly rushes through thoughts of the past month and a half that he had been showing signs of not feeling good. It had first started through one or two signs that came and went, but as time went on it all started to get a lot worse and more constant. Staring at the round clock above the receptionist’s desk, guilt corses through my body for not doing anything sooner, for not giving him the medical attention he needed. ‘But they promised,’ my thoughts keep returning to the premature promise his doctors had given him six years ago, the promise of the illness having no chance of returning to him. A tear slowly trails down my face at the thought of his asthma worsening and his heart disease returning, of having to watch him live through his pain once again, of living in fear and worry as I had done for the first fifteen years of his life.

I jump a couple of inches in my seat as a gentle and caring hand lands upon my left shoulder and I slowly glance over to find Brodie sitting next to me, attempting to comfort me through a light squeeze of the shoulder. His dark brownish black eyes are watered with worry and fear as he slowly takes me while he fights for comforting words. “He’s strong,” he slowly speaks up to break the cloud of silence that has hung over us the past couple of hours, “and stubborn.”

“Yeah,” I slowly answer as I fight for my own comforting smile to return for his, “hopefully strong enough.”

He nods silently as I glance over at Luke who remains standing next to the closest window, looking out over the black winter night. Feeling several set of eyes attached to me, I stiffly stand up from sitting in the uncomfortable bench chair to slowly walk over to where Luke stands silently still. “You Ok?” I finally speak up as I place my own caring hand upon his shoulder to feel him tense up to the touch, “I am here, if you want to talk about it.”

For a short moment he continues to stare out through the small window, glaring out over the dirt road that remains empty of any cars, the dirt parking lot is only lightly scattered of vehicles. “What’s there to talk about?” he slowly speaks up as he hesitantly looks over at me to find an abandoned tear slowly rolling down his left cheek, “I already tol’ you what happened.”

“Yeah maybe so,” I silently nod as he forcefully wipes at his cheeks, “but it may help to talk more about it, like how you felt and all that.”

“How do you think I feel?” he snaps angrily at me as he goes back to staring out the window and for a moment I left to watch his light reflection through the window. Looking back at me a long breath escapes him as he apologies, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just keep thinkin’ of what I should have done,” he pauses to glare over my shoulder at Garrett who remains sitting in his chair, “I should have taken him home after he had his attack as I told him we should do, but instead I listened to what he wanted. He didn’t want to go, said he was fine. It was damn obvious he wasn’t fine, but I allowed myself to believe what he wanted me to believe. I tol’ him that if things got worse that I’d be takin’ him home and calling Doctor Applebee in the morning no matter what. Guess it’s too late,” he silently shrugs as he pauses once again to send his attention back out through the dark window, “I just keep seeing his still body lying on the bathroom floor, covered in his own blood.”

Silence slowly builds within us as a chill rushes up my back at noticing how vulnerable Luke looks at the moment, standing in front of me with tear filled bright blue eyes. The first time in several years that I have caught him looking vulnerable; for the first time since he has returned from war, his feelings radiate from his tense body. “There is no need to blame yourself, Luke. You did all that you could do by doing CPR…you may have saved his life,” I sigh silently as I once again recall the past month and a half or so to send guilt creeping quickly through my body, “I had noticed signs of it all returning a couple of weeks before you had came home, but I had allowed myself to refuse to believe it. Instead I held tightly onto the promise his doctors had made so many years ago, the promise that had angered me, because they didn’t know whether if they could keep the promise or not. They still didn’t know anything about the disease. And yet that is what I had held onto when I heard him coughing or saw him in pain. I could have called Doctor Applebee weeks ago and yet I allowed my fear to make me believe what I wanted to believe, to believe what Bo wanted me to believe; that he was fine.”

A brief moment of silence slowly passes by as I glare over Luke’s shoulder to stare at his reflection that stares at me through the clean window. “Dukes,” a thick male’s voice finally calls out.

I glance over at Luke as he abruptly turns around to glare at a tall lean man in a white over coat and thick black hair that has streaks of white rushing through it. “That’s us,” I say as I quickly walk over to him to be followed by Luke, Daisy, LB, Cooter, Brodie, and Dobro; Garrett remains sitting in his chair, looking at a sports magazine. “How’s my boy doctor?”

“I’m going to his doctor. Dr. Hirsh,” he slowly answers as he glances down at his clipboard for a short moment before glancing back up at us, “Bo has suffered through two cardiac arrests. . .one in the bathroom and another in the ambulance as he got here. We spent several minutes trying to revive him,” Daisy silently sobs out and Hirsh pauses to glances worriedly over at her before continuing, “we finally got a small pulse…not very promising, but we got one. As for his breathing, well we finally got him to breath a little, but he is getting a lot of support from an air tank at the moment.

“From what we have so far, we are guessing that he had a cardiac arrest in the bathroom…where he was found?” he continues, “Which is what caused him to go un-conscious, hitting his head harshly on something solid, perhaps a sink?” he glances around and I notice Luke slowly nodding in agreement, “He has lost a lot of blood through a thick cut on his forehead. We had given him fifteen stitches to close it up…a lot of swelling where he had hit his head at. He has a pretty bad concussion from the blow to the head,” he pauses for a short moment to go over his medical notes that he has clipped to his clipboard, “he also has a cracked rib.”

“That’d be from me,” Luke slowly speaks up to draw everyone’s attention, “I accidently pressed too hard when I had done CPR.”

“It says here someone done CPR on him before the paramedics got there. Your CPR has saved Bo his life,” he pauses dramatically as he takes Luke in with approving eyes, “he should be grateful for his cracked rib compared to the consequences.”

Once again silence begins to linger above us as I sneak a peek at Garrett who glances over his magazine, trying to keep the image of not caring. “Is he,” I fight for the right words, “is he going to be OK?”

“He isn’t out of the woods yet…as I said, we do have a pulse but it is very weak and slow, but we are hoping for the positive,” he nods as he searches through a couple of pages before looking back up, “it says here that Bo has a series of health problems in the past? We would like to take tests to make sure that none of them has worsened or have came back for one reason or another.”

I slowly nod in agreement before speaking up, “I figured you would,” once again I search for the proper words, “which would include needles and a few questions I presume. I hold no prejudice over you or any of your colleagues,” I pause as he nods silently at me, awaiting for me to go on, “but I know Bo would feel more comfortable with someone he knew, be at least a little more cooperative to someone he knew. Would it be possible to call up Doctor Applebee from Hazzard to do his tests? That is our family doctor.”

“Sure,” he smiles appreciatively, “he makes trips here all the time. . .we can make the phone call and schedule him a trip up here in the morning or so.”

“Thank-you,” I give him a small smile as a small amount of tension slowly leaves me, “can we see him?”

“Well…it’s past visiting hours,” he looks around the empty waiting room before his brown eyes come back to me, “only one or two of you for now…but one at a time.”

“You go Uncle Jesse,” Luke smiles at me as I motion for him to go. I smile appreciatively at him before I slowly nod at Dr. Hirsh who slowly begins to lead me down the right hall way.

Following the tall doctor down the brightly lit hall way I am surrounded by painful memories of the several occasions of awaiting long anxious hours in the waiting room, awaiting for word on Bo’s health. I fight back the clear horrid flash backs as Dr. Hirsh abruptly comes to a stop in front of a closed light brown wooden door and silently takes me in. “Here’s his room,” he places a caring hand on my shoulder as his brown eyes searches for comforting words, “it’s never easy.” He pauses as his hand returns to his deep pockets in his coat, “I will be around here if you need me.”

“Thanks,” I slowly answer as I watch him slowly walk back out towards the waiting room before I glance at the closed door that stands before me, searching for strength to enter. Reaching the cold handle, I slowly open the heavy door to be welcomed in by loud, slow, and irregular beeping of the monitors. The room’s lights are brightly turned on in anticipation for visitors and reflects off of the white linoleum flooring as I slowly walk over to Bo’s hospital bed. “Bo,” I softly say as my heart comes to an abrupt stop at seeing how ashen his skin has grown. A thick gauze is wrapped around his head with a dark black bruise escaping from the edges on the right half of his forehead. His thick blond bangs slightly cover the bandage over his forehead while his side and back hair is caught in the gauze around his head.

I slowly pull the unfolded metal chair closer to his bed and I slowly sit down as I take in his heart monitor and his breathing monitor, both showing how weak and bad it is. “Bo, it’s going to be ok,” I slowly speak up as I take in the air tube that is placed up each nostril and leads around his neck where the tubes are attached and led to the air tank. Four IVs are taped into his skin, two needles in each arm as a hospital gown hangs loosely on his thin body, wires are suctioned to his chest that monitors his heart. “I’m right here.”

The only answer I receive is from the irritating monitors and the slow cautious dripping of the IVs, dripping slowly into Bo’s still and quiet body. Reaching over the silver metal railings of his bed, an fearful chill rushes over me at the feel of his deathly cold skin. Forcing my hand to remain on his ashen colored icy cold skin, I slowly and silently fall into prayer for my nephew’s health as I am reminded of his fearful past.