A Mile in My Flip-Flops (9 page)

“I’m thinking about just putting it on the market as is.”

“As is?” Holly frowns. She’s already seen the house. And even though it was somewhat cleaned up by then, she was still pretty shocked by how bad it was. “What if you lose money on it?”

I consider this, then shrug. “It doesn’t seem to matter now…”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

“It seems pretty minor in light of Dad’s health.” Well, other than the fact that the security of his home is hinged to the loan for that house. But I don’t want to think about that now. I notice Holly looking at her sleek Gucci watch, the one Justin got her for their one-month anniversary. I can’t imagine what he’ll get her for one year.

“I hate to leave,” she begins with a worried brow. “And I don’t expect you to make it now, but tonight is Tina’s—”

“Tina’s bridal shower!” I slap my forehead as I remember that Holly’s younger sister is getting married in a couple of weeks. Naturally, Holly is Tina’s matron of honor and hosting a shower for her tonight. “I totally forgot, but I do have a gift for her. It’s all wrapped and everything. It’s at my—”

“Forget about it. I’ll tell Tina what happened. She’ll understand.”

“I’m sorry, Holly. I was supposed to help you too.”

“Don’t give it another thought. I just wish I didn’t have to go. Tina will have a fit if I don’t pull this off.”

I nod. Tina, who used to be a fairly sweet girl, has turned into a real Bridezilla. I even suggested to Holly that she should call that TV show and see if they want to feature Tina the Terror for their next June episode. I’m just thankful that Tina has never really liked me that much. So far, other than being invited to the wedding and a couple of showers, I’ve gotten off fairly lightly.

“Good luck with the shower tonight,” I say to Holly.

“I’ll need it.” She sighs. “The truth is, I would rather be here with you, Gretch.”

Holly gives me a sad smile and a little finger wave as the elevator door closes.

But as I walk back over to ICU to check on my dad, I know that I would gladly endure the worst of Tina and endless showers if only Dad were healthy. I peek through the window to see that he’s still resting quietly. Then I check with the nurse before I slip back into the room. It’s amazing how in just one day everything’s beginning to feel so familiar. The slightly raised mechanical bed so the medical staff can easily help him and observe him from the nurses’ station, the various machines, the sound of the ECG, the soft lighting, the tubes, the smell, which is kind of stuffy—a strange mixture of cleaning supplies and something more organic and human.

“I love you, Dad,” I whisper again, gently holding his hand, which is quite cool and completely lifeless. I can see by the slight up and down movement of his chest that he’s breathing, but if not for that, it would be hard to tell he’s alive. “Holly told me that she knows you’re going to be fine. She’s praying for you. I’m praying too. I need you, Daddy. Please hang in there and get better.” Then I just stand there with tears streaming down my cheeks. What if he doesn’t get better? What if he doesn’t make it through the night? Should I have insisted on the emergency bypass surgery? Does the doctor really know what’s best?

I feel a gentle nudge on my shoulder, and the nurse nods toward the clock. “I hate to disturb you,” she says, “but time’s up.”

“Sorry.” I look back down at Dad, smoothing his fuzzy eyebrows with a forefinger. “I love you, Daddy… I’ll be back in a little while.”

It’s after six when I return to the waiting area, and I suddenly realize that Riley has been home alone all day. I tell myself that he’s
probably okay. As always, I left him with a big bowl of dry kibble and water and his toys. And he has his doggy pad to relieve himself on if need be, which he has probably used by now, although he prefers to go outside. I feel sorry for him, but it’s Dad who concerns me; most. Riley will be okay.

“Gretchen?” I hear someone calling my name. Thinking it might be the doctor and fearing that something has changed with Dad, I turn to see. But it’s not the doctor. It’s Noah Campbell. What is he doing here?

“How’s your dad?” he asks with what looks like real concern in his eyes.

“Not so good,” I admit.

“What happened?”

I quickly explain about the heart attack and the need for bypass surgery. “How did you hear about him?” I ask curiously.

“I happened to be driving by your house in Paradise—”

“Happened to be?”

“Well, I was driving out there not too far from the subdivision, and I wondered how it was going.”

“And?”

“I saw your dad’s pickup there, and—”

“Dad was at the
house?”
I demand.

“No, he wasn’t there. But the front door was open, and the radio was on, so I assumed he was inside. I went in and called for him and looked around, but I didn’t see him.”

“Dad was at the house?” I repeat my question, trying to wrap my mind around this surprising fact. Why was Dad at the house? Hadn’t we agreed to take a week off? What was he doing there anyway?

Noah gives me a curious look but simply nods. “Hank had definitely been there. Looked like he’d been working in one of the bathrooms. His tools were still there, and my guess is that he’d been fixing some of those rotten floor joists.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“Why not?”

“We’d agreed to take a break this week—until school ended for me.”

“A break?” Noah looks somewhat confused. “When there’s so much that needs to be done?”

“But I didn’t want Dad doing it.”

“Right…” Noah almost seems to be biting his tongue now.

“So Dad had been at the house,” I repeat, trying to act like that was just fine. “But he was gone?”

“Yes. I went outside to look around, and a neighbor lady came over and told me what had happened.”

“What happened?”

“She said she was getting her mail when she noticed your dad by his pickup. He was clutching his chest, and she went over to see if he needed help. Then she realized it was a heart attack, so she ran back to the house and called for help.”

“So an ambulance picked him up?”

“Yes. The woman—I think her name was Marsha or Martha—said she stayed with Hank until help arrived, but she was sorry that she didn’t know CPR or anything. She said he was in a lot of pain. She asked me to let her know how he was doing.”

“Thank God for that neighbor calling for help. That’s just one reason I wish Dad kept his cell phone with him.” But even as I say
this, using a slight scolding tone, all I can think is,
Dad was working on my stupid house when he had his heart attack. If it hadn’t been for me and my impossible plan to flip a house. Dad might be perfectly fine right now
. And once again I feel tears coming. I choke back a sob, quickly excuse myself, and dash for the rest room, where I turn on the faucet and just cry and cry. This is all my fault. If Dad dies, I can only blame myself.

A
re you okay?” asks Noah when I finally emerge from the rest room with a swollen red nose and puffy eyes. I had assumed he’d be gone by now.

“Not really,” I say in a somewhat uptight voice, possibly a hint that I don’t need his help with this, that I wish he’d leave me alone.

“Want to get a bite to eat?”

“Not really,” I say again, sounding I’m sure like a recording.

“Come on,” he urges. “I’ll bet you haven’t had dinner yet.”

“No, but I—”

“No arguments,” he says firmly, actually taking me by the arm and guiding me toward the elevator. “I know your dad would agree with me on this.”

Well, I can’t argue with that, so I let him take charge, and before long we’re sitting in the cafeteria, and there’s a bowl of chicken-noodle soup sitting in front of me. I don’t even remember if I ordered it or not, but I take a hesitant bite, and it’s not bad.

“For what ails you,” he says with a nod, “my grandma was always a firm believer in chicken-noodle soup.”

“Thanks.”

Then to my utter surprise, he actually takes my hand, bows his head, and prays. Not just a blessing for the food either. He prays for
the doctors to have skill and wisdom and for my dad to have a quick and complete recovery. I murmur a quiet but heartfelt “amen” and actually feel a tiny bit better.

We both eat quietly, and although the soup revives me a little, I also am beginning to feel self-conscious. I look down at my lap and notice the grass-stained knees on my khaki Capri pants from playing with the kids and taking photos at the picnic. Was that today? It seems like a week or more ago. “This has been a long day,” I say finally as if to explain something, although I’m not sure what.

“Was it the last day of school?”

I nod. “We were just finishing up the kindergarten picnic when I heard about Dad… Fortunately I had helpers there. They told me to go, and Marion gave me a ride, … and I didn’t even get to tell my students good-bye.”

“That’s too bad, but I don’t blame you. Obviously, you needed to be here.” His eyes get cloudy now, as if he’s remembering something. “If the worst had happened, and you weren’t here, well… I never got to tell my dad good-bye.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was in college—about to graduate and obsessed with my own life. I hadn’t seen him in months.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah. Anyway, it’s really good that you’re here.”

A wave of fear washes over me again. “Do you think he’s going to die?”

“No no, that’s not what I mean,” he assures me.

“How did your dad die?” I ask cautiously.

He glances away uncomfortably, like he doesn’t want to say.

“Was it a heart thing too?”

“It’s the number one cause of death for men in that age group.”

“Really?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.” His face brightens. “But medical science is improving every day.”

“I talked to Dr. Fontaine, and he told me that Dad’s chances for recovery are good…with bypass surgery.” I lean my elbow on the table and hold my head, which feels heavy. “But I’m worried… What if they wait too long? I mean, he said they could do the surgery today if needed, but he wants to wait. How does he know that Dad will be okay in a day or two? What if he needs that surgery right now?”

“Hank is being carefully monitored. This is a good hospital. I think you can trust that they will do whatever is best for him.”

“Where was your dad when he died?”

“In Central Washington … a small hospital. Nothing as good as this one.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again.

“Hank reminds me a lot of my dad.”

“How’s that?”

“My dad was a building contractor too. He never took on big projects like Hank has done. Mostly it was single-family homes. But he was really good at it. He believed in quality and was respected by the community.”

“In Washington?”

“Yes, that’s where I grew up.”

“What brought you down here?”

He sighs. “It’s a long story.”

“Oh…”

“And I’d be happy to tell you the whole thing, but I need to go take care of something.”

“Of course,” I say quickly. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“I’d stay if I could.”

I wave my hand. “No no, that’s okay. There’s really nothing that can be done.”

“Do you need a ride or anything?”

“No … I can’t go home.”

“Right… But what about your dog?”

“Riley…” I forgot again. “He’s probably destroyed my apartment by now.”

“Why don’t I go and get him for you?”

“Oh, I can’t ask you—”

“It’s no problem.”

“But you said you have something you have to—”

“Yes. I just need to pick up my daughter … at her mother’s. But she and I could go by and take care of Riley.” He smiles. “We could even take him home with us … if that’s okay.”

“Seriously?” I look up at his eyes, which are acutely caring. “Riley is a sweetheart, but he can be, uh, well, a little destructive. My dad nicknamed him Demo Dog.”

“My place is on the beach. We could probably wear Riley out so much that he won’t want to destroy a thing.” He grins. “And, trust me, there are few things at my place that I’m worried about.”

“No designer shoes?”

He looks puzzled.

“Riley has a thing for devouring expensive shoes—but never the
whole pair. He always leaves one shoe for me to remember them by, and he seems to prefer the flavor of the left shoe. But he never bothers with cheap knockoffs. He’s too sophisticated for that.”

Noah laughs. “You girls and your fancy shoes. I just don’t get that.”

I’m starting to think I don’t either. Really, what’s the point? “You’re sure you want him?” I ask as I reach in my bag for my apartment key.

“I promise to take excellent care of him, Gretchen. I know he’s your baby.”

I take the key off the ring and hand it to him, telling him where the building is and my apartment number, which he jots down on the napkin.

“Oh yeah,” he says. “I had to leave the house in Paradise unlocked since the lock on the doorknob was broken and there was no key for the deadbolt. But I locked your dad’s toolbox inside his truck since it was still open. Hopefully the tools will be safer there.”

“He won’t need those tools anytime soon…” And I’m thinking he may never need them again. “Although it would be a shame for them to be stolen. And I suppose I could use them.”

“If you’ll give me your deadbolt key, I’ll go by and lock up the place,” he offers, “in case you’re worried about vandals or anything.”

“I doubt there’s much they could hurt.” But I pull out the key and hand it to him. “Still, I appreciate it.”

“Anything else?” he offers. “How about your dad’s cats?”

I slap my forehead as I remember Mowzer, Wowzer, and Bowzer. “I totally forgot about the cats.”

“Want me to go—”

“No, I think they’re okay. Dad has those continuous feeders and a self-cleaning kitty-litter box. I’m sure the cats will be fine for a day or two anyway.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Yeah. Dad leaves them home alone for up to three days without being checked. I’m sure they’re just fine.” Then I look at the clock to see that it’s been forty-five minutes since I’ve been with Dad. “I think I should check on him now,” I say, standing.

“Give him my best.” Then he hands me a business card. “Here… in case you need to see how Riley’s doing, or if you want me to check on the cats. Also, I’d appreciate hearing about Hank’s condition.”

“Thanks…” I slip the card into my already overloaded bag, which is bulging with my camera and other things I’d brought along for today’s picnic. I stand straighter as I adjust the strap on my shoulder, smoothing down the front of my rumpled cotton shirt. “Thanks for everything.”

Noah heads for the front exit, and I trudge back to the elevators again, preparing for what I know will be a long night. But it’s a vigil I must make. Dad seems to be the same—cool and pale—but I suppose that should be encouraging. At least he’s not worse.

“I’ll be in the waiting room all night,” I explain to the nurse in ICU when visiting hours are officially over. I write down my cell phone number and ask her to call if anything changes.

“I wish I could offer you a place to sleep,” she says, “but we’re full up right now.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I noticed a couch that I can curl up on. Hopefully I can sleep.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to go home?” she asks now. “We would call you if anything—”

“No,” I say firmly, remembering how things had been strained between Dad and me last week. How we’d disagreed over the stupid house. “I want to be here if he wakes up or anything.”

“I understand.” She nods. “And there’s a chapel on the third floor … in case you need a quiet place to meditate.”

Visiting the chapel sounds like a good idea, so I go to the third floor and into the little room. But I don’t meditate. Instead, I pray. I beg God to make Dad well again. I even bargain with him, which I know is ridiculous, but I can’t help myself. I just don’t want to lose my dad. Not like this.

I sleep off and on during the night. Every time I wake up and look at the clock, it seems that only thirty minutes or so have passed. At 3:47 a.m. I check my cell phone for missed calls, and when there are none, I decide to just walk into the ICU. I stand by the window and look into Dad’s room, making sure he’s still here, still okay.

Finally it’s morning, and after a quick cleanup in the rest room, I go to check on Dad. Nothing has changed; he is still sleeping, but the nurse tells me that his ECG is looking better today.

“Does that mean he can have surgery sooner?” I ask hopefully.

“That’s for the doctor to say, but it’s definitely a good sign.”

So, feeling slightly hopeful, I go down in search of coffee, but what I find is disappointing. The coffee has definitely been sitting in the pot all night. Even after adding cream and sugar, which I normally don’t do, it’s barely palatable. Still, I think I need the caffeine today. I’m taking a sip when Holly calls on my cell phone.

“How is he?” she asks anxiously.

“About the same … maybe a little better.”

“Oh, good.”

“How was the shower?”

“Don’t ask. I’m actually on my way back from Tina’s final fitting for the wedding dress, and she was in a serious snit because she’s gained a whole pound.”

“Poor thing,” I say with sarcasm. Tina, like Holly, is long and lean and wouldn’t look bad carrying an extra pound or twenty.

“Anyway, I’m not far from your place, and I still have your apartment key and thought I could check on Riley and—”

“Actually, Riley’s being taken care of.”

“That’s cool. One of your neighbors?”

“No … just a friend. Riley’s not even home right now.”

“Oh, that’s probably good. But I could still pop in and get you some things, Gretchen, like some fresh clothes or whatever.”

I look down at my sad outfit, which is not only grass-stained but hopelessly wrinkled and frumpy, and I’ve just dripped coffee down the front of my white shirt. “That would be awesome, Holly.”

“Any specific requests?”

“You’d probably know better than me right now,” I admit. “I’m pretty groggy from a bad night’s sleep.”

“How about some Starbucks too?”

“Oh, you’re an angel!”

“See you in about an hour.”

I’ve just checked on my dad again when Holly gets here. In typical Holly style she’s brought me à choice of clothes and more cosmetics than I normally use. We go to the rest room where Holly decides what I will wear and then lectures me about not using face
moisturizer. Instead of resisting like I might normally do, I give in, and by the time Holly’s done with me, I actually look much more refreshed than I feel. And I even look somewhat stylish.

“Thanks,” I tell her. “You should dress me every morning.”

“That’s the truth.”

“Where did you find this shirt anyway?” I ask as I check out my image more carefully in the mirror. The soft aqua blouse brings out the color of my eyes. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve been crying so much.

“In the back of your closet, which is a total mess by the way. And what’s the deal with those chewed up shoes? Your dog has expensive taste.”

“Tell me about it,” I say before taking a sip of my hot and delicious mocha grande.

“And your apartment, Gretch. It’s such a mess.”

“I know…” Then I feel a small shock wave going through me as I realize that Noah was in my apartment too. “Oh no…”

“What?” Holly’s eyes widen.

I wave my hand. “Nothing.”

“What?” she demands again.

“The guy who picked up Riley for me at the apartment,” I explain. “It’s just kind of embarrassing to know that he was in there.”

She nods. “I’ll say. If I were you, I wouldn’t let anyone in that place.”

“Considering the circumstances, I didn’t have much choice.”

Holly grabs the oversized bag she brought, and we go out to the waiting area again. “Hey, who picked up Riley anyway? Someone from your school?”

“Do you remember the guy that my dad tried to set me up with?”

“At the Christmas party?”

“Yeah. Noah Campbell.”

“I remember that he was seriously beautiful.” Her face brightens. “He has Riley?”