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it started in the liver, but they weren’t sure.  It had metastasized and spread through his body.  His lungs were dripping with the stuff, and when the doctors realized it had spread through his lymph nodes, they told Karen’s mom there wasn’t much that they could do.  It had been too long.
    Parker Richardson didn’t have a good reason why he hadn’t gone to the doctor earlier, but the surgeons seemed to think it wouldn’t have made much difference anyway.  It was spreading fast and had been for a long time, possibly longer than he was aware.
    What caused it?
    Nobody had a clue.  He didn’t drink much, didn’t smoke, ate healthier than most people, and had no particular risk factors in his family history.
    “He’s just an unfortunate random choice,” said one doctor.  Karen heard him say that, and from his voice, he seemed to be trying to be sympathetic, but the words had the opposite effect on her.  They made her angry.
    She had been a churchgoer all her life, not every Sunday, but two or three times each month.  None of her friends went to church, and when she was younger they used to tease her; but there was something vaguely reassuring about believing in some crazy old man who lived in the sky and made things happen just on a whim.
    Karen once believed those whims were mostly good, but no longer.  After her dad went into the hospital, she never entered a church again.
    She doubted God cared.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Within a month, her dad had deteriorated into a flimsy excuse of a man.  He’d lost weight, so much that his cheeks looked hollow.  Karen couldn’t believe that she hadn’t noticed that he was sick before that night.
    Surely Mom noticed . 
    But she never asked her mother.  That would only lead to guilt of one kind or another.
    Time stopped for Karen once in that month, and when it did, she stepped away from watching The Bachelor with her mom.  Chris Harrison was frozen on the screen, a huge smile on his face as he talked to the man who was picking the most eligible girl in America to be his wife.
    “Stupid show,” Mom said.
    “I know,” Karen said.
    They never missed an episode.  Now, though, in Karen’s private time, she wanted to see Dad.
    In his semiprivate room, he was on his back, his eyes staring into empty space, his mouth wide as he gasped for breath.  His lungs didn’t work very well, and he couldn’t seem to get a good deep breath.
    She sat on the edge of his bed and put one hand on his cheek.
    “Hi, Daddy … .”
    She reached down to hold his left hand with her right.
    “It’s been a long time since I called you Daddy, hasn’t it?  Sometimes I miss that.  I miss how close we were when I was a little girl and you were my hero.  You were always there to chase the monsters away from under my bed and to sneak me a cookie when Mom said I’d had enough treats for one day.  You helped me with my homework when I couldn’t figure out how to multiply or couldn’t remember the names of Christopher Columbus’s ships.”
    She thought back to those days, memories flooding through her.  Daddy helping her to build sand castles, teaching her how to fish, and even how to hopscotch.  None of her friends had a father who would jump rope with them.  Only she had that.
    “I miss you, Daddy.”
    Karen leaned over and hugged her dad, wishing that he could give her a hug in return.  She knew she’d never be able to do this when time wasn’t standing still; they hadn’t hugged for many years.  Now there was an additional gulf separating them—the box in the closet.
    “I’ve got a secret, too, Daddy.  I wish I’d told you about it, but I knew you’d never believe me.  Who in their right mind would believe it?  But with your love for science, I just wish I could have told you and convinced you it was true.
    “Maybe if I told you about finding your secrets—the gun and the magazines, and … you know, the other thing.  Maybe if I told you about what Mrs.