Chapter 9 - The Long Drive BackThe leather seat of the black town car felt softer than it had a week ago, but the rhythmic hum of the tires against the asphalt highway leading back into Chicago did little to calm the storm raging inside my chest.
I clutched my duffel bag tightly to my lap, my thumb rubbing against the edge of the thick manila envelope buried inside. Ten thousand dollars in cash. Enough to secure the deposit for Tommy’s experimental trial. Enough to buy my family a second chance at life.
Yet, as the dense evergreens gave way to the familiar concrete sprawl of the Chicago skyline, my mind kept drifting back to the dark stone mansion in the woods. To the smell of iodine and old leather. To the fierce, broken man who had tried to push the entire world away, only to let a stubborn nurse open his blinds to the sun.
When the car pulled up outside the entrance of the children’s hospital, the driver—a silent, broad-shouldered man named Tony—hopped out and opened my door.
“Mr. Mercer sends his regards,” Tony said gruffly, handing me a small, sealed business card along with my bag.
I took it, my fingers brushing the heavy cardstock. On the front, embossed in elegant silver lettering, was a private phone number and a single word: Call.
I didn't wait. I rushed through the automatic sliding doors of the hospital, my heart hammering against my ribs, and practically sprinted down the familiar linoleum hallway to Tommy’s room.
My mother was sitting in the plastic chair beside his bed, holding his impossibly thin hand. When she looked up and saw me burst through the door, her tired eyes welled up with tears.
“Sweetheart,” she whispered, standing up and wrapping her arms around me. “Where have you been? What happened?”
Without a word, I pulled the manila envelope from my bag and laid it gently across the hospital tray table.
May you like
When my mother unsealed the flap and saw the dense stacks of cash, her hands flew to her mouth, and she let out a choked, disbelieving sob. Even Tommy turned his head slowly on the pillow, his pale lips parting in a weak, hopeful smile.
“We can pay for the trial,” I whispered, burying my face in my mother’s shoulder as tears finally spilled over. “Tommy is going to live.”
