And maybe worked from home if they had other things going on.
“I think he hid it well. I had no idea either. I’m going to talk to him more tonight, get him some clothes soon. It will be a while before they get him a room.”
“I’ll go with you,” he said. “Or do you need more space?”
“I don’t need space,” she said. “We need to talk more, make no mistake, but right now, I’m just happy not to be doing this alone.”
38
NOT THIS TIME
“How are you feeling, Dad?” Nora asked the next morning as she stepped into his hospital room.
“Better.” He glanced up from the tray table. “I see you don’t have your guard dog with you.”
“Don’t start,” she said, keeping her voice even. “I don’t want to get worked up, and you don’t need to either.”
His vitals on the monitor were steady, his heart rate and blood pressure both nearly normal. Physically, he was improving.
Emotionally? She wasn’t so sure because she could never get a read on him.
Last night, she’d spent hours talking to her mother. Then more hours researching.
Atrial fibrillation. Prostate cancer.
Everything her father had said lined up, but it didn’t sit right.
He was still hiding something. She could feel it...like a shadow behind every clipped word and tight smile he’d given her her whole life.
She wasn’t here to play nurse or daughter-of-the-year anymore. She wanted the truth.
Why he’d reached out after all these years.
Whether it was guilt or just mortality whispering in his ear reminding him time was running out.
Because if that was the only reason he wanted her back in his life, she wasn’t sure she could forgive that.
Forgive the fact that he dismissed her so much in her life and the one time she thought he was there for her, it might have been more his own personal reasons.
“You’ve got something on your mind. Why don’t you speak it?”
“I don’t want to fight. Don’t think that. But I was up all night. Eight months ago you asked me to move here. I thought it was because you cared for me. That you were worried about me being alone. That it was the trigger for you to have us try.”
“It was,” her father said.
“Really? Make me believe it. Because you’re telling me you knew about your Afib a year ago and then the cancer right around the time you called me. It makes me think you’re trying to absolve your guilt over your treatment of me. That this was more about you than me.”
Her father held her stare. He’d always been good at pinning her in place with that unblinking, quiet authority until she broke first.
Until she dropped her gaze, mumbled something to smooth it over, and let him win.
Not this time.
She met his eyes, steady and unflinching, letting the silence stretch.
Letting him feel what it was like to be the one under pressure for once.
Because she wasn’t that timid girl anymore. She was stronger than she’d ever been. And she was done backing down.
