is my favorite photo of him. Whew!” She fans herself dramatically. “What I wouldn’t give to trade places with you, honey.” She laughs, a pleasant trill of joy.
“Can I hold on to this? I’d like to show it to Dad when he wakes up.”
“Certainly.” She pats my shoulder, heaving to her feet and stepping over to his bed, checking his lines and recording in his chart in clear, precise writing. It is one of the things I appreciate about this place. His records are kept clean, orderly, his blood work easy to read, his tests occurring when they should, according to schedule. That alone is a Godsend, never mind the daily delivery of fresh flowers, the delicious food, or the endless patience of the doctors. There are only sixteen patients in this entire complex that employs five doctors, twelve nurses, and round-the-clock support staff. Here he is a name, not a number. And here, he is actually getting better.
They still don’t know what is wrong. But they have been able to determine what helps. He is on a cocktail of drugs and antibiotics and is slowly responding, the digital figures on his charts improving. And slowly, tentatively, I am beginning to have hope.
He wakes at two, his eyes watching me before I am aware of it. I glance over, surprised to see his peaceful stare, a smile on his face. I set aside my book, standing and stepping to his side, placing a soft kiss on his check before adjusting his bed. “How you feeling, Dad? Are you in any pain?”
He shakes his head. “I’m good, Candace. Sit down. They fuss enough over me as it is, you don’t need to do it also.”
I hold out a cup of water, waiting until he takes a sip before I sit.
“What are you reading?”
I hold up the book. “John Grisham.”
“I thought you would have read all of his by now.”
I grin. “I have, but I’m out of material. This one’s a loaner from Pam. I’m going to swing by the bookstore tomorrow to get a fresh stack.”
“What’s that?” He points to the magazine, still open on the table. I stand, folding over the page, and pass it to him. I have reviewed it carefully, making sure that my new name is not mentioned. Thankfully, any references ignore my first name, mentioning only Nathan in their descriptions.
He studies the pictures, glancing up at me occasionally. “This is from your trip a few weeks ago?”
“Yeah, when we went to California.”
I’m not sure what I expect. Admiration at my celebrity, at Nathan’s success, at our happiness shown clearly in full gloss before him? My father has been less than enthusiastic at my announcement of a husband. I had waited until my second visit to spring it on him, waiting until after the courthouse ceremony in case something fell through. I had gushed and raved about Nathan, creating a picture of a loyal, faithful, loving husband — a fantasy that he probably wouldn’t live long enough to debunk. I think he is hurt that Nathan hasn’t visited, didn’t ask him for my hand in marriage, hasn’t made any effort whatsoever at a relationship. So I hope these photos help — hope they support my façade, soothe his concerns, and cause him to beam and squeeze my hand, falling asleep a happy man.
I don’t expect the magazine to be carefully set down, a pinch in his face as he turns to me. “And you’re happy, Care Bear?”
The childhood nickname causes my throat to stick, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. A sudden, irresponsible urge flows through me. The current almost causing my mouth to open, raw, unfiltered truth to come out. I swallow hard, smiling brightly, and instead of the clean, smooth flow of truth, dirty, filthy lies spew out.
CHAPTER 9
Word: 9 letters, sixth letter is ‘D’
Clue: contraband, and, at one time, fruit
I have angered Drew with too many questions, which is a common mistake I make. But my workout is over, two mind-crushing hours with Beth, the bitch who won’t stop ‘til I vomit, the one who thinks soy is delicious and sweat
“Can I hold on to this? I’d like to show it to Dad when he wakes up.”
“Certainly.” She pats my shoulder, heaving to her feet and stepping over to his bed, checking his lines and recording in his chart in clear, precise writing. It is one of the things I appreciate about this place. His records are kept clean, orderly, his blood work easy to read, his tests occurring when they should, according to schedule. That alone is a Godsend, never mind the daily delivery of fresh flowers, the delicious food, or the endless patience of the doctors. There are only sixteen patients in this entire complex that employs five doctors, twelve nurses, and round-the-clock support staff. Here he is a name, not a number. And here, he is actually getting better.
They still don’t know what is wrong. But they have been able to determine what helps. He is on a cocktail of drugs and antibiotics and is slowly responding, the digital figures on his charts improving. And slowly, tentatively, I am beginning to have hope.
He wakes at two, his eyes watching me before I am aware of it. I glance over, surprised to see his peaceful stare, a smile on his face. I set aside my book, standing and stepping to his side, placing a soft kiss on his check before adjusting his bed. “How you feeling, Dad? Are you in any pain?”
He shakes his head. “I’m good, Candace. Sit down. They fuss enough over me as it is, you don’t need to do it also.”
I hold out a cup of water, waiting until he takes a sip before I sit.
“What are you reading?”
I hold up the book. “John Grisham.”
“I thought you would have read all of his by now.”
I grin. “I have, but I’m out of material. This one’s a loaner from Pam. I’m going to swing by the bookstore tomorrow to get a fresh stack.”
“What’s that?” He points to the magazine, still open on the table. I stand, folding over the page, and pass it to him. I have reviewed it carefully, making sure that my new name is not mentioned. Thankfully, any references ignore my first name, mentioning only Nathan in their descriptions.
He studies the pictures, glancing up at me occasionally. “This is from your trip a few weeks ago?”
“Yeah, when we went to California.”
I’m not sure what I expect. Admiration at my celebrity, at Nathan’s success, at our happiness shown clearly in full gloss before him? My father has been less than enthusiastic at my announcement of a husband. I had waited until my second visit to spring it on him, waiting until after the courthouse ceremony in case something fell through. I had gushed and raved about Nathan, creating a picture of a loyal, faithful, loving husband — a fantasy that he probably wouldn’t live long enough to debunk. I think he is hurt that Nathan hasn’t visited, didn’t ask him for my hand in marriage, hasn’t made any effort whatsoever at a relationship. So I hope these photos help — hope they support my façade, soothe his concerns, and cause him to beam and squeeze my hand, falling asleep a happy man.
I don’t expect the magazine to be carefully set down, a pinch in his face as he turns to me. “And you’re happy, Care Bear?”
The childhood nickname causes my throat to stick, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. A sudden, irresponsible urge flows through me. The current almost causing my mouth to open, raw, unfiltered truth to come out. I swallow hard, smiling brightly, and instead of the clean, smooth flow of truth, dirty, filthy lies spew out.
CHAPTER 9
Word: 9 letters, sixth letter is ‘D’
Clue: contraband, and, at one time, fruit
I have angered Drew with too many questions, which is a common mistake I make. But my workout is over, two mind-crushing hours with Beth, the bitch who won’t stop ‘til I vomit, the one who thinks soy is delicious and sweat
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