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“I heard that,” Dad grumbles over his shoulder as the nurse helps him back into his room.
Mom leans up and kisses my cheek. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
We say our goodbyes, and Doe and I head to my truck.
“I’m glad your father is doing better.”
I glance her way as I fire the ignition. “Me too.”
“It’s strange. Seeing someone in the hospital like that. Did I look that way? Like I wanted to get out?”
“No, Doe,” I reply gently. “You didn’t look like you wanted to get out. You looked like you wanted to stay because you were terrified of what was on the outside.”
She turns her head to the window. “I rather like the fresh air. I think if I ever went back to the hospital, I’d be like your father and want to leave immediately.”
I chuckle and reach for her hand, grabbing onto it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. As my hand slides over her marred one, I come back to reality and quickly release it. “Hospitals are a good thing. They save lives. My dad’s just a stubborn old man who thinks he knows better than the well-educated doctors. In reality, he’s probably scared out of his damn mind.”
“I would be too.”
“Mmmhmm.”
After a short drive from the hospital, I pull my truck at an angle to the curb. A few other vehicles dot the street, and some people wander the strip of concrete in front of the businesses here. The smell of salt and ocean assails us with the warm breeze as we step out of the truck.
Doe’s eyes are wide with wonder as she takes it all in. The line of short, one-story businesses, many with tables of their wares set out front, a food truck proclaiming authentic Argentinian cuisine, and beyond it all, a football field length of sand stretching to the massive Atlantic.
“Come on, let’s have a look around.”
She snaps out of wherever she was and follows me onto the concrete walkway. Every few feet, she stops, pausing when something catches her eye. A puka shell necklace, soaps, lotions, handwoven items. I offer to buy things for her—a trinket of her own—but each time, she refuses.
We step into a small gift shop near the end of the block. Immediately, we’re assaulted with various smells of aromatherapy oils, soaps, bath toiletries, and the like. Once again, Doe stops a few times. I nearly talk her into letting me buy a coconut shampoo that she’s in love with, but in the end, she refuses. I’m about to suggest we move on to somewhere else when she stops in front of a glass jewelry case.
After what feels like minutes of perusing, she finally waves down the clerk. “Can I see this one here?”
From my position behind her, I can’t see what she’s pointing at, but the clerk smiles and nods, her hands immediately moving into the case. She pulls out a tray of rings and sets them on the counter in front of Doe.
“If you’re in town for a while, it can be resized in a few days,” the woman says in a heavy South African accent.
“Can I try it on?” Doe asks timidly.
“Of course, of course! Give me your hand.”
Her eyes shoot to me in question, and I can see the fear there. With a small smile, I give her a subtle nod. She visibly relaxes with my approval.
“Well, well, well! It looks like a perfect fit!”
The clerk pulls her hand away, and I get my first glimpse of the shiny ring Doe picked out. It’s a chocolate cubic zirconia ring. A thick, rectangular, brown stone surrounded by a silver band. And it does fit perfectly. It looks nice on her finger.
Doe looks down at the piece of jewelry, and there’s not a single doubt in my mind that I want to buy it for her. The pure look on her face, a look of admiration, is one I can’t afford to let her pass up. While Doe appreciates the sparkly ring, I slip my credit card to the clerk, who walks away to complete the transaction.
“It looks lovely.”
She startles at the sound of my voice. “I think so too.”
“It’s yours,” I tell her, not even bothering to ask this time. She’d say no, and I’d have to argue. I want to do this one small thing for her. And when she looks up at my face with tears brimming her eyes, I know I made the right choice.
“Thank you.”
The clerk hands me back my card, and we make our way outside.
