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“Someday, Mom. It will happen.”
And I believe it will. Maybe that’s my downfall, because I still believe in love, and I want it again.
But there’s time, I tell myself. Now that I'm home, each moment feels abundant.
And I plan to use it wisely.
14
Hartley
I’m barely out of the plane before my phone is ringing off the hook. I have a dozen missed calls from Linda which freaks me the hell out.
I’ve always been on good terms with her, she’s good for my dad. She seems to keep him on the straight and narrow.
He said he’d never get married again, all because of his divorce with Mom, but things changed when he met Linda. She has grown kids of her own that live in Texas.
“Linda, what’s wrong?” My voice is shaking before knowing what’s happened.
“It’s your father,” she breathes in a shaky voice I’ve never heard her use before.
My heart sinks. Dread washes over me all in a matter of seconds.
“What about him? Linda!” I yelp when she doesn’t follow up.
“As you know, your father was in hospital having tests, and while they were treating him, he had what they think was a mild heart attack earlier today.”
My eyes bug. “Oh, my god. What?”
“They’re working on him now.”
My legs nearly give way. “Is he… is he going to be okay?”
“It’s early days,” she says gravely. “Where are you now, Hart?”
I notice she doesn’t answer the question. “At the airport, we just landed.”
“Good, I’ve sent Sammy over to get you.” Sammy is my dad’s trusted and loyal assistant.
“Alright,” I whisper. “But is he going to be okay?”
“He’s conscious, and breathing on his own. I just… I panicked.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure her. “I’ll be there soon.”
My heart sinks as we hang up.
My anxiety over my dad rises even more as I think about all the possibilities it could mean. I wait impatiently for my suitcases as my mind goes haywire. I’m tempted to leave the damn things, but I’m so confounded, I stand there like a zombie.
Finding Sammy easily when I step outside, I slide into the backseat alongside her.
She’s a smart young thing with a choppy ice-blonde bob and aqua rimmed glasses. Very polished for a country girl. I’ve met her a couple of times before. She’s nice and keeps my dad on his toes. He’s very lucky to have someone so competent.
We ride to the airport with minimal banter. Only because she’s madly flipping through his diary and making phone call after phone call on the way, canceling appointments.
“I’ll be able to pick things up first thing tomorrow,” I tell her.
“I’m so sorry you had to come home to this,” she says, sympathy in her tone. “I know he won’t be happy with me rearranging his schedule, stubborn old fool.”
