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“Char. You smell like flowers and waffles. No man smells like flowers and waffles. Even Dallas said you smelled like a girl.”
This was insulting, and I plopped down in the chair, feeling worse than I did before Mushu paid me a visit. “Right now, I find nothing about this situation funny. All I wanted to do was find out who shot my father and I fear if I continue, I will end up being the butt of everyone’s jokes. Oh, ha ha, Chief’s daughter is mocking the Alaska Dog Boys; shame on her for dishonoring her father.”
“The men don’t have any idea it’s you. But you need to chill. You were a bit over the top.”
This was advice I would not argue with. Out of the blue, I burst out laughing. “I had fun messing with Austin. But I have more of that where it came from.”
TWELVE
CHAR
I’d been away from the hospital for almost a week and there was still no change in my father. The doc told me they had to pull him off the respirator within two days, for fear he was already brain-damaged. I encouraged him to give it another week. He countered that within three days. Outside, I was brave and accepting of my father’s fate. Inside I was stomping my feet, whining why I had to be the one to make this tough decision. As much as I could sit here and tell you, I couldn’t lose my father. I’ve already lost my father, and it was killing me, but I had to accept it and had to move on. Yet, what I needed to do was avenge him for shooting a man with no cause but a bitter rivalry that had been brewing for the last seven years.
The water in the tub nearly overflowed as I was lost in my thoughts. I thought nothing of the deed to the house or his will—nothing because I’d rather think of how my daddy is going to open his eyes and tease me about my short hair or something of the sort. I prayed I’d go into that ICU and he’d be sitting up and smiling through his eyes since a tube would still be lodged down his throat. It had been well over a year since I had seen my father, and this would not be the last time I’d seen him.
After slipping my robe off, one toe barely touched the water before my phone rang. It was an unknown caller and if it was important, they’d leave a message. Most of the time, it was someone trying to extend my car warranty or sell me a time-share in Mexico. But before I got comfortable in the tub, I waited to see if a voicemail was left. Sure enough, my phone pinged with a voicemail, and I groaned, but begrudgingly listened to it, anyway.
“Hello, Miss Dixon. This is Saffron, Registered Nurse, in the Intensive Care Unit. Please call us as soon as you can.”
She told me nothing except for the phone number to the direct line where she could be reached. My heart pounded furiously as I squeezed my phone to keep it from slipping out of my trembling hand. It was ten at night and no good news could come at this time of night. But then again, there was always hope, and I looked up, closing my eyes, praying it was good news.
“Mountain View ICU, this is Saffron?”
“Um, hello, Saffron?” Answering hesitantly as my voice quivered. “This is Charlene Dixon?”
“Oh, Miss Dixon. I’m so sorry to call you so late, but this couldn’t wait until morning. Your father opened his eyes. His vitals are good. He’s speaking - pretty articulately, I might add.”
I couldn’t keep my cheers stifled and I’m sure the people in the room next to me weren’t too happy to be jarred awake by my celebration. Saffron’s pleasant laugh could be heard on the phone that was at my side, while I controlled the hysteria going on in my chest. “I-I’m sorry. Oh my God. You do not know how much I needed to hear this news.”
“I have every idea, Miss Dixon. The first thing that came out of his mouth was, of course, ‘where the bleep am I?’ and then he asked about you. I’m sure you’ll be here first thing?”
“Oh, you know it. Thank you for making my night - my year even. Good night Saffron.”
It was a tremendous relief - HUGE - that my father fought through this. I knew he would, and I had more belief in him than the medical staff did.
No sooner had I disconnected from this wonderful call, my phone rang immediately and it was Dallas.Dallas? Why was he calling me? I guess I could be nice and answer to give him the great news or I could blow him off for fear of slipping and blurting something out about the new prospect. Eh, what would it hurt? “Hello?” I slipped off my robe and took the phone into the tub with me.
“Hey, Char. I mean, Charlene. It’s Dallas Marquez.”
I leaned back as the hot water blanketed me, calming my frenzied nerves. “Yeah, I know. Your name showed on my phone. I haven’t talked to you in a while. How are you?” How generic was this conversation-starting out to be? I didn’t know Dallas on any level and it had been over four years since we’d seen each other—in a manner of speaking.
“I went by your house this afternoon and you weren’t home. So, I figured you were in Anchorage. How’s your father doing?”I screamed out with excitement, catching him off guard. “Um? Is that a good scream, or did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No. Not at all, just enjoying what is supposed to be a tranquil bath. But, no, I'm sitting here with water up to my neck, chatting with you.” There was silence on the other end, a really long silence, and I looked down at my phone to see he was still on the call. “Dallas?”
“Sorry, yeah, I’m still here. Austin is bugging the piss out of me. Um, how’s the Chief?”
I bit my lower lip and, of course, Dallas couldn’t see the grin on my face. “I just got a call from the nurse and he’s awake.”
There was cheering in the background, so it was safe to assume he may have been at the club with the other guys.Why wasn’t I told about Wednesday meetings? Oh, yeah, duh, because Mushu already knew I was coming up to Anchorage. Suddenly, the call went dead. Rude! He hung up, but I was good. I needed this time to myself to think of seeing the smile and the glimmer in my father’s eyes. Most importantly, work on the mystery of who shot this dear man and why.
THIRTEEN
The medical staff timed this perfectly. Just as I arrived, they wheeled my father down to the washrooms to give him a proper bath. In order to spare myself any embarrassment and give my father an ounce of dignity, it was best I stay behind. The nurses urged me to get breakfast, advising me that sometimes these baths could take up to an hour. Not to mention another hour to see the doctor in private, while the doctor examines the wound.
Boredom quickly set in, but rather than go back to the hotel, I lingered around the hospital. Scrolling through social media and playing games on my phone didn’t help, because neither held my interest.
Feeling mischievous, maybe a little flirty, I texted Dallas.You hung up on me last night, you tool.
