Free Whisper by Kathleen Lash Page B

The house was at capacity with his three brothers, Heather, Nomad, Christy and the rest of the band, which consisted of three of Corey’s friends. Yes, the house was full. And silent.
    A few more days in the hospital might’ve been a sound idea. Maybe if he’d handled the crutches with 66

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    more finesse, they wouldn’t all be silently staring at him. He made it to the dining room table, and sat.
    Corey took the armpit mashers and placed them in the corner. He’d come down for breakfast, not a funeral. The mourner’s filed silently in and took places around the table to either stare or look down.
    He wondered what would happen if he had a beer with breakfast.
    Having enough, he rolled his eyes and asked,
    “Who died?”
    “Apparently you almost did.” It surprised him Corey piped up.
    “Not even close,” he said.
    “How bad is it? Your leg?”
    “It’s broken.”
    “You missed a call a week and a half ago. Billy mentioned strange people in the background when you called after that. How long were you in the hospital?”
    He would’ve chewed a hunk of the kid’s ass, but didn’t because of the look on his face. They were scared. All of them. He wouldn’t lie. “I got out yesterday and headed home.”
    “You were in the hospital the whole time?” It was Mark’s turn to sound irritated and scared.
    He wondered then what he’d expected. It sure as hell wasn’t what came from the kids. “Look, if there was a real problem, I would’ve said so.”
    “You don’t stay in the hospital that long for a broken leg.”
    Whisper walked from the kitchen to bring him a cup of coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”
    “Both. Thank you,” he replied.
    As she brought the items over, she casually said,
    “Maybe if you start from the beginning and explain, they wouldn’t be working so hard to fill in the rest with imagination.” As she headed toward the kitchen, she said, “Breakfast in five minutes. Anyone 67

    Kathleen Lash

    else still hungry?”
    No one said a word and she left. They sat and stared and he didn’t like it. He glanced at Billy who sat the furthest away, at the opposite end of the table. His wide blue eyes held tears. Billy kept swallowing like the tears were leaking down the back of his throat. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe they should’ve known.
    He concentrated on the coffee and stirred in cream and sugar. He took a sip, placed the mug down and leaned against the chair. Immediately adjusting his posture, he took the pressure off his back. Hunched over the table with his forearms resting against it, he began slowly turning the coffee cup. He mulled over what they needed to know.
    “How bad is your leg?” Corey asked, except quieter this time. When did the kid stop hating him?
    Glancing around, nothing had changed. He started talking to end the silence. He couldn’t stand it. “One of the machines hit unstable earth. It all caved in. I was up front, under a piece of jammed up equipment when the ceiling came down. It opened a pocket of gas in the process, something they didn’t expect to hit for fifty feet. Some of us got chewed up.” He tasted the coffee. The tears started rolling down Billy’s face and he wouldn’t look in that direction again. He figured it was best the kid hear it now, rather than bits and pieces later. He’d get it out and deal with the loose ends head on.
    “So they dug me out.”
    “Were you conscious?” Mark asked.
    “Yeah.” Somewhat.
    “Scared?” Nomad asked. That surprised him.
    The homeless, black haired, blue-eyed, chick magnet, didn’t get wrapped up in other people’s bullshit. At least that was Nomad’s self-proclaimed motto.
    “Not really. I heard them working to get me out right after it happened.” Or at least right after he 68

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    came to. He could leave out a detail or two.
    “So they got you right out?” Mark asked.
    “Sure, but they had to move the equipment that landed on top. It shifted and caught my leg.”
    “How