Repairman Jack [07]-Gateways by F. Paul Wilson Page A

her. He looked and saw a tiny dog head with huge dark eyes poking over the edge of the straw shopping bag.
    “That’s Oyving,” she said. “Say hello, Oyv.”
    The Chihuahua yipped again.
    “Oyving? How do you spell that?” Jack said.
    She looked at him. “I-R-V-I-N-G. How else would you spell it?”
    He released her hand. “Oyving it is. I didn’t know they allowed dogs in hospitals.”
    “They don’t. But Oyv’s a good dog. He knows how to behave. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. And if they find out, fuck ’em.”
    Jack laughed at the unexpected expletive. This didn’t seem like the kind of woman his father would hang out with—she couldn’t be more unlike his mother—but he liked her.
    He told her so.
    Her bright dark eyes fixed on him as she smiled, revealing too-bright teeth that were obviously caps.
    “Yeah, well, I’ll probably like you too if you hang around long enough for me to get to know you.” She turned back to the bed. “I do like your father. I’ve been sitting with him for most of the day.”
    Jack was touched. “That’s very kind of you.”
    “That’s what friends are for, hon. The benison of a neighbor like your father you don’t take for granted.”
    Benison? He’d have to look that up.
    He cleared his throat. “So…he’s mentioned me?”
    Jack was curious how his father had depicted him but didn’t want to ask.
    He didn’t have to.
    “He speaks of all his children. He loves you all. I remember how he cried when he heard about your sister. A terrible thing, to outlive a child. But he speaks of you the most.”
    “Really?” That surprised Jack.
    She smiled. “Perhaps because you so vex him.”
    Vex…another word you don’t hear every day.
    “Yeah, I guess I do that.” In spades.
    “I don’t think he understands you. He wants to know you but he can’t get near enough to find out who you are.”
    “Yeah, well…”
    Jack didn’t know what to say. This conversation was sidling into uncomfortable territory.
    “But he loves you anyway and worries about you.” Her eyes bored into his. “Sad, isn’t it: The father doesn’t know his son, and the son doesn’t know his father.”
    “Oh, I know my father.”
    “You may think you do, hon,” she said with a slow shake of her head, “but you don’t.”
    Jack opened his mouth to correct her—no way this woman who’d met Dad less than a year ago could know more about the man he’d grown up with—but she held up a hand to cut him off.
    “Trust me, kiddo, there’s more to your father than you ever dreamed. While you’re here, maybe you should try to get to know him better. Don’t miss this opportunity.”
    Jack glanced at the still form pressed between the hospital sheets. “Maybe I already have.”
    She waved a dismissive hand at the bed. “Thomas will be fine. He’s too tough for a little bump on the head to put him down.”
    More than a little bump on the head, Jack thought.
    “The doctors don’t seem to think so.”
    “Doctors.” Another dismissive flip of her hand. “What do they know? Most of them have their heads up their tuchuses . Listen to Anya. Anya knows. And Anya says your father’s going to be fine.”
    Foyn? Jack thought, taking on her accent. He’s gonna be foyn because you say so, lady? Let’s hope so.
    She looked up at him. “Where are you staying tonight?”
    “Not sure. Passed a Motel 6 on the way—”
    “Nonsense. You’ll stay at your father’s place.”
    “I…I don’t think so.”
    “Don’t argue with Anya. He’d want you to. He’d be very upset if you didn’t.”
    “I don’t have a key. I don’t even know how to get there.”
    “I’ll show you.”
    She walked over to the bed and took his father’s hand. “Jack and I are going now, Thomas. You rest. We’ll be back tomorrow.” Then she turned to Jack and said, “Let’s go. Where’s your car?”
    “In the lot. Where’s yours?”
    “Oh, I don’t drive. Trust me, hon, you wouldn’t want to be