Thelma stopped the car at the hospital entrance, and Katie helped Sam out. As their mother drove off to park, Katie appraised Sam, pausing a moment to lick her thumb and wipe a smudge off his face like their Mom would always do.
Sam’s face screwed up at the wet feeling. “Katie, please. I’d like some dignity.”
“You’ve been awful distracted,” she said, lacking the playful look she might have had the previous day after such a comment from him. “Just what have you been seeing, Sam? Is it scary?”
“If you tell her, she’ll believe you,” Young Sam commented, from his position a few feet away.
I know, thought Sam, and that’s exactly why I shouldn’t tell her.
“It’s just people who aren’t real, talking to me,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s something I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring over the years. Had some practice. So don’t worry about it.”
“‘Cause of that hologram thing? But how do you know it’s not another one of them?”
Sam smirked, casting a look at his younger self. “Believe me, it’s not.”
Young Sam placed a hand on his hip. “Well, if you could just let me fill that role for a minute and listen to what I’m telling you…”
As Sam spotted his mother returning from the parking lot, he turned to the doors of the hospital. “Come on, let’s go see Dad.”
He heard Young Sam heave a sigh as Katie led him in, keeping a firm hand on his arm.
* * *
Doctor Marshall awaited at John Beckett’s bedside, as Thelma, Katie, and Sam entered. Sam propped himself against a wall, the solid surface providing him some equilibrium.
As he peered over at the bed where his other self lay, he frowned as he saw the ghostly figure sitting on the side of the bed. Young Sam was looking down at himself, taking in the sight with what appeared to be genuine grief.
“So he’s going to be prepped for surgery at ten, and then the operation will take place over the following three to six hours,” Sam heard Doctor Marshall explaining to Thelma.
“And what happens if something goes wrong?” asked Thelma, tightly gripping the hand of her husband.
“Then we’ll do as much as we can. But your husband’s heart was weakened by the last heart attack, and there are no guarantees here, I’m afraid.”
“Let’s just get this over with,” said John. “I’m worried about the cows. Have they been getting water?”
“Don’t worry about them, honey,” said Thelma. “You know Henrietta Barkley, who works at the hairdressers? I called her up and got that husband of hers to take care of things. He just recently retired, so he’s got the time.”
“You mean Larry?” John sighed. “That man couldn’t pick a cow out from the middle of a flock of sheep.”
“Alright, Mister Beckett,” said Doctor Marshall, noting the increase in the man’s heart rate on the machine, “no sense worrying about things like that now. We need you nice and calm.”
He looked around. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said, before lowering his voice, and glancing at Thelma. “I suggest you make the best of this time with him now. Just in case.”
He gave a final smile as he left the room, and Sam exchanged an anxious look with Katie. She sidled up to him, taking his hand.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“Me too…”
“Me three,” said Young Sam, who had moved to the other side of him against the wall. Sam didn’t look at him.
“If there’s anything you have ever wanted to say to him,” Sam told his sister, “you should say it now.”
“You too,” she replied.
“What can I say?”
“I don’t know… but you shouldn’t say nothing. What if it’s the last thing you’ll ever be able to say to him?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Katie led him to the bed. “Daddy…”
John smiled up at her. “Katie, sweetheart, you sure have grown up lately, haven’t you?”
Katie took a seat on the edge of the bed, and hugged her father. “I love you, Dad. And I know Sam would say the same thing if he could.”
She stole a glance up at Sam, then at the bed where the other Sam lay.
A third Sam, who she couldn’t see, took a seat at the opposite side of the bed and placed a hand on his father’s.
“I don’t know if you can feel this, Dad,” he murmured, “but I’m here. And I love you.”
As Sam watched, he felt the old guilt return; guilt that he hadn’t been there the first time around.
John’s hand pulled away from the ghost’s touch with a shiver. “Boy, I think someone just walked over my grave. Got such a chill just now.”
Young Sam stood. “Ghost stuff,” he said, throwing Sam a look as he backed away from the bed.
Okay, fine. I can’t explain that so easily.
Sam moved to sit on the bed. “Mister Beckett…”
“Ah, I think I should be on a first name basis with my guardian angel,” John said, taking his hand. “Please, call me John.”
“John…” Sam said, and realised that it felt even more wrong to call his father that than ‘Mister Beckett.’
“I’m glad I was there for you when you needed help. And I’m sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances.”
“Yeah,” John said. “Not the most ideal family gathering, is it? For what it’s worth, I think Sammy here would be thankful for all you’ve done for us.”
“I am,” Young Sam said sincerely. “Really.”
Sam blinked back tears. “You make it out of there in one piece, alright?”
“If the Good Lord wills it,” said John.
“Yeah…” Sam leaned in, giving his father a hug. “Guess there’s no telling what he’s got in store.” He ignored the ghost’s protestation at this statement.