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Kate stroked Max’s head, her hand pausing to play with his ear, rubbing the tip. He pushed his head against her hand signaling his need for more. He’d always liked his ears stroked. It made her smile. Just for a moment. From her perch on the living room sofa, she watched Tom through the arched entrance to the dining room, calling out measurements to Ethan. With phone in hand, Ethan made notes of the numbers.
Tom was disheveled, his T-shirt half tucked in his jeans. Strain showed around his eyes and his whole air was anxious, in contrast to Ethan, who exuded a quiet calm. A calm that reached Kate in the living room. Ethan’s voice, even when repeating the mundane numbers as he noted them down, was reassuring and his body language exuded strength. Regardless of his undeniably handsome looks Kate would still find her gaze gravitating toward him for that reassuring air.
The afternoon light poured in through the windows, filling the dining room with light and creating a warmth that only fall could bring to this room. Cozy. Familiar. The bookcases, spines faded in the strength of the light that shone in during this season and late summer, somehow reassured her too. The dining room was the best. Her father would feel that same comfort. He’d be able to look out of the window in the evening. Eventually. For now, it just made sense. Fewer stairs. The downstairs bathroom, though lacking a tub or shower, could still work.
Tamzin stood at the kitchen entrance off of the dining room, leaning against the wall, her arms folded, frowning. She’d arrived about ten minutes before, not long after they’d arrived from the hospital.
“Are you sure about this, Tom?” she asked. “Surely he’d be better at a hospice, where they have all the equipment.”
“It’s decided,” said Kate. “And we’ll get the equipment.”
Tamzin gave her a dark look. Max had crawled up onto the sofa. Somehow Kate couldn’t bring herself to order him off.
“But you have a life in Rome,” said Tamzin. “It will all be on Tom’s shoulders. And that’s too much.”
Tom called out another measurement to Ethan and then fixed his gaze on Tamzin. “Tamzin,” he said, his voice firm. “It’s been decided. End of story.”
“I’m staying,” said Kate.
Tom looked over at her. “What?”
“I’m staying. I’ll look after Dad.”
She’d thought about it on the way home from the hospital, even after Tom had explained what he thought should happen. Even after her dad said he’d be fine, that he didn’t need anyone looking after him yet. The collapse had been nothing. A blip. But to her it had been a warning. A signal that time was running out. And she wanted to spend that time, whatever was left, with her father.
“No, Kate. It’s fine. I can do it,” said Tom. “But if you want to stay a few days while we set up the bed, and all that and be here for him when he gets home, that’s fine.”
She shook her head. “It’s my choice. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“She’s right, Tom,” said Tamzin. “It makes sense. And besides, you have enough going on looking after the store and preparing for your own show.”
Tom frowned at Tamzin. “The show doesn’t matter, Tamzin. None of that matters.”
“I can help out, too,” said Ethan. “Look after the store a few hours even, if you want. Or do grocery shopping, prescription runs, or just be here at the house when Kate can’t.”
Kate gave Ethan a grateful look. His eyes were filled with kindness and compassion. And something else. Sorrow. “Thanks, Ethan. You don’t have to, but we appreciate it.”
“Yeah, man. That’s really decent of you,” said Tom. He looked over at Tamzin. “Tam, it’ll be fine. We’ll get through this. And if the show doesn’t happen, well, it doesn’t happen.”
“But Tom,” she began, but Tom held up a hand and shook his head.
“Not now, Tam,” he said with a sigh.
On the side table beside her, Kate’s phone rang. She glanced at it and could see Giancarlo’s name come up. She picked it up, rejected the call, and replaced it on the side table. She’d have to call him later. After she’d showered and maybe had something to eat. Suddenly, the most appealing thing in the world was the thought of curling up on the sofa with a bowl of cereal watching a mindless film.
Ten
Kate stared at the phone, taking deep breaths. The house was quiet, with just the sound of Max’s faint snore as he lay curled up beside her on the bed. Outside she could hear a distant leaf blower, an ordinary sound that somehow seemed both wrong and comforting at the same time. The words she’d rehearsed early this morning seemed to blend with the whine of the leaf blower. She braced herself and hit the phone icon below Giancarlo’s name on her phone.
Giancarlo picked up on the first ring. She didn’t even have time for a sip of her coffee before he was launching into a stream of Italian, expressing his concern that something had happened to her. Hadn’t he received her brief text last night, she wanted to ask him. She admitted to herself it was a bit cowardly to send it after she was sure he’d gone to bed, but she didn’t want him to phone her immediately. She hadn’t had the words. She’d wanted to just put everything aside for a few hours, to let her brain catch up, to allow her mind to settle down.
“I’m fine, Giancarlo,” she said soothingly. “There’s a lot going on. I didn’t have time to phone. I think I said that in my text. Did you get my text?” She spoke in English. She just couldn’t muster up the energy to speak in Italian. Not now.
“Yes, yes,” he said, switching to English. Maybe he could sense her mental state. Her inability to cope with much. “But you didn’t say anything more. How is your father? What happened with him?”
She took a deep breath and explained as calmly as she could what had happened. Laid out the facts. She’d rehearsed it in her head beforehand, hoping he wouldn’t interrupt her, because his sympathy would undo her, and she wasn’t ready for that.
He didn’t interrupt her. He let her finish, but that was when his sympathy emerged.
