Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
I looked at my father’s large, protruding belly. It strained the material of his hospital gown.
He played Santa at the company Christmas parties every year. Kids loved him.
My mother released my father’s hand and shot him a glare. “I told you he said you needed to lose weight,” she hissed.
Dad scoffed, folded his arms across his chest, and looked back to the doctor, brows pinched together in irritation.
“On top of your pressure being elevated, your cholesterol is high as well. We’ll need to bring that down. The weight loss will help with that, but I’m going to start you on some medication for it for now, as well as for the hypertension. That really should’ve been started already.”
“Daddy,” I scolded, turning to look at him. “You haven’t been taking those?”
“I was getting to it,” he returned. “Just got the prescription a few days ago, goddamn it. You and your mother need to relax. You heard him.” Dad jerked his chin at Dr. McCade. “I didn’t have a heart attack. I’m good to go, right? Get my meds and then I’m outta here.”
I looked back to Jamie’s brother, catching the shake of his head.
“You’ll be here through Monday, Mr. Rivera,” he informed my father. “I’ve ordered you a stress test. That’ll let us know for sure if this is heart disease. I don’t want you leaving without getting that done.”
“And they can’t do that today?” Dad gestured toward the door, face tensing even further and turning red behind his salt-and-pepper beard. “Got all these doctors and nurses here. What’s everybody doin’? Get ’em in here. Let’s go.”
“John,” Mom cautioned.
“Daddy, what’s the rush?” I asked. “If you’re here, they can at least keep an eye on you. That’s not a bad thing.”
“Princess, I don’t like hospitals,” he scoffed, leaning back against the pillow and folding his arms across his chest again.
“You need to fast for that test, sir,” Dr. McCade advised him. “Monday will be the soonest we can do it.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Dad shook his head, jaw clenched tight. “Well, I tell you what, if I’m gonna be here for two days, starvin’ to death, I’m puttin’ on my pants.”
“Oh, my God,” I moaned, hand coming up and covering my eyes.
That was my father’s biggest worry. That his ass would show if he stood up. Not that he could have serious heart problems. This was so embarrassing.
Dr. McCade let out a chuckle. Hearing that, I dropped my hand and turned to look at him.
“You can put on your pants,” he said, grinning at Dad and popping out those glorious McCade family dimples. Sheesh. “Just keep the gown on so we can access the leads on your chest.”
Dad made a noise in his throat, a grunt in compliance, before shifting his attention to my mother. “You’re gonna have to call Cal and let him know I’m not coming in on Monday. Give him a heads-up.”
Cal was my father’s second in command at the factory. He kept things running smoothly there when Daddy actually put time in at the office.
“I’ll take care of it,” Mom said sweetly, patting his shoulder. “You just focus on getting healthy.”
“Right,” he muttered, looking away as if he was irritated at her, too, but reaching up and grabbing hold of my mother’s hand.
I smiled. Fighting and loving. They did it better than anyone.
Although Jamie and I seemed to be getting pretty good at that as well.
“I’ll be in later to check on you,” Dr. McCade said, meeting my eyes when I turned back around. He grinned at me, jerking his chin. “Legs,” he said as a farewell.
My cheeks warmed. Jamie told his entire family my nickname.
I totally loved that he did that.
After Dr. McCade stepped out of the room, I walked over to the side of the bed, leaned down, and gave my daddy a kiss on the cheek, getting a “love you, princess” paired with an arm squeeze in return. Then rounding the other side, I received a bone-crushing hug from my mother, waiting until after she was finished before I asked if I could borrow her phone.
“Of course. Let me just make a couple calls first,” she replied, spinning around and digging through her purse where it hung on the back of the chair. “Tillie and Georgette are probably going crazy through all this waiting.”
Tillie and Georgette were my father’s sisters, both living out West, Tillie in California and Georgette in Arizona. They adored my father more than anything in the entire world. His name wasn’t John to them. It was Johnny, or Baby Brother. Baby Brother especially when they were doting on him, which happened nearly every time they came out to visit and absolutely every time they got him on the phone.
I swore they thought he was still ten years old sometimes the way they mothered him.