A Treasure Worth Keeping by Kathryn Springer Page A

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    “I thought of a name. I’m going to call him Rocky.”
    “Rocky?” Sam laughed. “Like the boxer?”
    Faith nodded. “I watched the movies with Dad on cable last year. He said he liked Rocky because he never gave up.”

     
    Sam’s throat closed.
    Dan was giving up. The last time Sam had seen his brother, Dan had ordered the entire family to leave the room. When they’d hesitated, he’d thrown a pitcher of ice water at them. Along with a stream of angry words.
    The man lying in the hospital bed had been a stranger, not the twin brother he’d wrestled, competed against and laughed with over the past thirty-two years.
    Fortunately, Faith hadn’t been there to witness her father’s rage.
    Moments before, the doctor had reminded Dan how lucky he was to be alive. But Dan had looked at him as if he’d just been given a death sentence.
    Sam couldn’t blame him.
    Dan had been at the height of his career and the sole supporter of the family he loved. And he’d just been told he was facing months of painful rehab with no guarantee he would ever fully regain the use of his legs.
    Responding to the doctor’s meaningful look, they’d left Dan alone and gathered together in the family lounge. Sam had never seen Jacob look so defeated. And he’d never felt so helpless in his life. Even when Natalie, their mother, had died, he and Dan had stuck together. Leaned on each other. Found strength in their bond as brothers.
    But not this time. Nothing Sam could say or do could change the reality of the situation. And he didn’t know what to do with that.
    Rachel, as emotional as Dan was easygoing, had clung to him. It would have been better if she’d been able to cry. At least tears could be dried. Sam had had no idea how to comfort a heart totally emptied by grief.
    He had lain in bed that night, despair lapping at the edges of his soul. He’d tried to pray, but it had felt hypocritical. He wasn’t sure if God would even recognize his voice. It wasn’t as if they talked on a regular basis.
    A week went by and Dan had still refused to see them. Faith had started to blame “the adults” for not allowing her to visit her father. Her close relationship with her mother had deteriorated, and she’d alternated between outright defiance and long, stubborn silences.
    The hospital had transferred Dan to a private care facility to start rehab, and the doctor warned them that Dan’s attitude would be a pivotal part of his recovery. The hospital social worker had told them Dan was battling depression and had compassionately suggested they give him a few weeks to adjust to his new surroundings before visiting again.
    Jacob had reluctantly returned to Cooper’s Landing. Sam used up more vacation time and had stayed longer, watching in disbelief as Dan became verbally abusive to the nurses and refused to cooperate with his physical therapists. His bitter tirades had kept Rachel on the verge of tears.
    Sam had always been able to encourage his brother. Even to bully him, if the situation called for it. But for the first time in his life, Sam had sensed his presence was causing more harm than good. The bitterness in Dan’s eyes every time Sam visited had weighed him down with guilt. He was able to walk while Dan was confined to a wheelchair, and Sam couldn’t find a way to break down that barrier between them.
    When Rachel had overheard him talking to Jacob on the phone about taking the boat out for a few weeks, she’d begged him to take Faith along. Torn between meeting the needs of both her daughter and her husband, she’d said she needed time to concentrate on Dan and encourage his recovery.
    Sam had balked. He’d wanted to be alone. His world had shrunk to the size of the hospital and he was tired of sterile white walls, the hum of machines and plastic tubing that kept a man alive but couldn’t make him want to live. He struggled between feeling selfish for leaving Rachel alone with Dan and the overwhelming need to