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My throat tightened with emotion. It was so long ago that we’d lost her, but still that wound could feel so fresh at times. He gave my hand another squeeze.
“So what I’m saying is we have to just keep moving forward. Things happen for a reason, okay? And there isn’t a damn thing that can be done about it.”
I gave him a sad smile, one I hoped reached my eyes, but when he squeezed my hand again, I knew I’d failed. He closed his eyes, and I sat there silently for a second, just thinking about my father and all he’d gone through, how he stepped up and raised a little girl who lost her mother. And he was right, of course. Sometimes you either got slugged in the gut from life, or you managed to dive out of the way just in the nick of time. That was just the way the dice rolled.
I reached into my purse to grab my phone and send Sharon a text, knowing she’d want an update. She’d been so worried when I’d shown up at the hospital to relieve her. I couldn't thank the woman enough. She’d really been there for us, and if she hadn’t heard my dad, I don’t know how the night would have played out.
When I had my phone, I saw the black screen and realized it was turned off. In my haste to leave Bishop’s place and come here, I accidentally shut it off. I turned it on, and a moment later there was text after text from Bishop. So many missed calls I could sense his panic as he tried to contact me. Before I could call him back—though I didn’t even know what to say and didn’t want to leave my dad—my cell started ringing.
It was Bishop, and I felt this warmth fill me.
“Ah, so it’s a guy calling.” I snapped my head up, knowing my expression was surprised. “Sweetheart, I’m your dad. I can tell when my little girl is in love.” I felt my eyes widen at that. All my father did was chuckle and shake his head. “Answer it. Don’t let the boy hang on the line. But,” he said, his voice going deep and stern, “I want to meet him at some point when I am up and healing. I want to make sure he’s treating my daughter right and that he knows if he messes up, he’ll deal with me.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. “Deal,” I whispered, not bothering to deny anything he’d said. I did love Bishop, but I guess I hadn’t allowed myself to really realize it until it was thrown right back at me.
My cell stopped ringing, but I felt it vibrate with a couple incoming texts. Then it was ringing again.
“Answer it, honey. And don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll be fine.”
I stood, leaning down to kiss his knuckles, then left him alone to rest in his room. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, the hallway on this floor of the hospital quiet this time of night, or early morning, or whatever time it even was. I was so turned around I didn't know up from down.
I slid my finger over the screen, answering the call and putting the phone to my ear. For a second I couldn't say anything, and there was this silence that was thick and suffocating.
“Korrie?” Bishop prompted, urgency in this voice. I could practically hear him running his hand through his hair, stress surrounding him. “Baby,” he said, and I closed my eyes at the deepness of his voice, the sorrow that was thick in it. I also felt something warm and real at the endearment he uttered.
He felt relieved to hear my voice.
“Korrie?” His voice was a little more strangled, as if he were afraid the connection had been lost.
“I’m here,” I croaked, then cleared my throat. “I’m here, Bishop.” I exhaled, heard him do the same, and again I could envision him pacing back and forth. “I’m sorry I just up and left without saying anything.”
He exhaled again. “Baby, that's fine. It’s fine. I’m not even thinking about that, so don’t you worry.” I could hear him pacing, the sound of his heavy boots hitting the ground somehow coming through the receiver.
Overhead, I heard a doctor being paged, but then my brows knitted as I heard the echo of the same page come through the receiver… as if Bishop was here in the hospital.
“Bishop?” My heart was thundering. “You’re here? How? Why?” My mind was racing, and I turned and looked back at my father. He lay still in the bed, his hands clasped on his chest, his eyes closed, a relaxed expression on his face. It made me feel relieved, even though I knew he had a hard, long road of recovery ahead of him.
