May your troubles be less
And your blessings be more
And nothing but happiness
Come through your door.
Opening her car door, Erin was met by a shockingly cold wind. The air carried the ocean’s salty scent. Not in a refreshing, cooling, dash-of-salt way, which is how she felt the coastal breeze in Southern California. The wind here was heavy with the brine of feisty, churned-up winter waves. Erin’s hands and nose instantly felt cold.
“I’ll take your suitcase,” Delores called out over the whipping wind. “Is it in the trunk?”
“No, it’s right here. I can get it.” Erin pulled the single bag from out of the warm car’s backseat and couldn’t believe how cold she felt. Cold and damp.
“Your father has been waiting. He’s glad you came.”
Erin took Delores’s greeting as an olive branch of peace. While Delores hadn’t greeted her with a hug or any other welcoming expression aside from coming outside in her slippers and fleece robe, she had started Erin’s visit with something positive. Her father was glad she came. All earlier tense messages from Delores were put aside. This was a good start.
Erin returned the greeting by saying “Thanks for being so understanding about my coming on short notice. I appreciate your letting me stay here.” Erin trotted quickly to catch up to Delores, who was tromping ahead through the gravel to a wooden deck. “So, how are you doing, Delores?”
“I’ve been better,” Delores called over her shoulder. “Watch your step.”
With the bright light from the garage now behind her, Erin found it difficult to see the two steps up onto the wooden deck. The deck appeared new, but the front door looked like something from a hundred-year-old fairy tale cottage, complete with an arched top and a beveled pane of glass in the shape of a half circle at eye level.
Delores called out as she opened the door, “You were right, Jack. That was her car. She’s here.”
Erin entered and found she was in the kitchen. She quickly shut the door, keeping the icy breezes outside. Then she took a quick look around and was amazed at what she saw. The cottage was adorable. The kitchen looked as if it were an Irish cottage set for a movie, complete with a big, black potbelly stove in between the kitchen and the adjoining living room. To the right a tidy table for two sat under a window that had been dressed up with green print curtains tied with a bow in the center. The cupboards had yellow daisy knobs. On the blue-tiled counter sat an espresso maker, blender, toaster, and basket neatly filled with fresh fruit.
The cuteness surprised Erin. If Delores had done the decorating, this certainly wasn’t reflective of the personality she exuded.
“Your kitchen is charming,” Erin said.
“What are you doing in there?” Her dad’s voice rumbled from around the corner in the other room. It carried its usual gruff tenor but seemed a bit wobbly. “Did you come to see me or the kitchen?”
Erin was stunned that his speech was so clear and cohesive. After the way he had sounded on the phone that morning, she half expected him still to be unable to form a complete sentence. She didn’t know enough about the effects of a stroke to know if all the symptoms went away after the initial danger passed.
Entering the moment as if nothing had happened to prompt her visit, Erin playfully said, “Well, hello to you, too, Dad. I thought you would give me a chance to at least get all the way in the door before you barked at me.”
“That wasn’t barking. You want barking? I’ll give you barking. Why did it take you so long to come see us? We’ve lived here a year and a half, you know.”
She left her suitcase and purse in the kitchen and made her way into the next room where she saw her father. He was in a recliner with a puffy blanket over him and a beanie cap on his head. Erin made a beeline for him and snuggled right up, kissing his scruffy cheek. As she pulled back, she smiled broadly.
“I’m here now, aren’t I? Isn’t that good enough for you?”
“Never good enough, you know that. I always want more. So what did you bring me?” His right eyelid drooped a bit, and his skin was more sallow than it had ever been in the Southern California climate. Other than that, he looked just as he had always looked, her dear old dad. His thick hair had turned white many years ago. Fringes of the snowy strands stuck out under the stocking cap. His high cheekbones seemed to rise with his smile when he looked at her. This wasn’t the strong, familiar image she had expected to see.
“What did I bring you? I brought pictures of Joel from his latest basketball game and a whole lot of advice. Which do you want first?”
He gave her a crooked grin. “You can keep your rotten advice. I’ve had enough of that lately.”
“You look good, Dad. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” He spoke the word quickly, as if he were irritated that she had asked. That’s when she realized he hadn’t gotten out of the chair to greet her when she arrived. It wasn’t normal for her father to stay seated and let people come to him.
“Were you able to get some good rest today? Isn’t that what the doctor ordered?”
“That’s all I’ve been getting since we came back from the hospital.” He shot a sideways glance at Delores, who had positioned herself on the sofa with her arms crossed.
“That’s good. Rest is what you need right now.” Erin tucked the blanket in around her father as if that were what she had come to do—make him more comfortable. The scenario was awkward and unfamiliar. Her father never was sick. He wasn’t a man who wanted to be coddled. Ever. Yet he didn’t protest Erin’s caring gestures.
“They have me doped up with all these drugs. I don’t like it one bit.”
Erin smiled at him. He caught her generous grin and smiled back. Erin’s eye went to the framed calligraphy on the wall behind his recliner. She recognized it as the gift she had done by hand and given to her father for Christmas when she was fifteen. The printed letters were uneven in a few spots, and there were some spacing blips.
“I can’t believe you still have that.” It pleased Erin that he had hung her gift in such a prominent place.
“’Course we do.”
Erin silently skim-read the lines she had carefully copied long ago.
An Irish Prayer
May God give you
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.
“Did you have any trouble getting here?” Delores pulled Erin away from her reminiscing moment.
“No. It took longer than I thought it would, though. The weather definitely slowed me down.”
“We’ve had a lot of ice this winter,” her dad said.
“Well,” Delores said, rustling in her seat, “things here are not at all the same as they are in California, are they? The icy roads this morning certainly made it difficult for us to get to the hospital. Interesting, isn’t it, how a person doesn’t have a full understanding of another person’s life or circumstances unless they are in the situation themselves.”
Erin took note of Delores’s pointed comment. “You’re right. And I’d like to apologize, Delores. I probably came across pretty intense on the phone this morning about getting Dad to the hospital. I don’t have a full picture of what you two are up against here with weather conditions and limited medical facilities.”
“No, you don’t.” Delores’s voice softened slightly. “You’ve not been here, so you don’t know what it’s like. But you were worried about your father.”
“Yes, I was.”
“You can put your worries to rest,” her dad said. “I’m fine, as you can see. There’s plenty of spit and vinegar left in me.”
Erin smiled at him, trying to give the appearance that she believed his words. It seemed, though, as if a chilling sea mist floated in the air among the three of them, trying to obscure the truth that not one of them believed their worries about his health could be sent sailing.
“So, what do you think of our place?” he asked, changing the topic with ease.
“It’s really nice,” Erin said. “You’ve fixed it up adorably.”
“Show her the pictures, Delores. Where’s the book? Show her what we’ve done.”
Delores went to a built-in bookshelf to the right of the big picture window that took up most of the front wall of the living room. She motioned with a nod of her head that Erin should take the open seat next to her on the sofa.
Erin took off her coat and laid it over the couch’s arm. Before sitting down she gazed out the large window. Outside everything was too dark for her to make out any specifics, but Erin was pretty sure she would be greeted in the morning with a sumptuous view of the vast Pacific Ocean as it rushed to meet the wild and rugged cliffs. Even with all the windows closed up nice and tight, the low, rhythmic bellowing of the salty waves could be heard in the not-too-far distance. Erin knew at once why her father wanted to live here. She knew this was his dream. Southern California had been Erin’s mother’s dream. This untamed place was her father’s dream.
Delores handed Erin the photo album. “We tried to keep a record of the renovations.” The album was covered with blue-and-white-checked gingham, and across the front in hand appliquéd letters it read “Hidden Cottage.”
“That’s a nice name,” Erin said, repeating the words. “Hidden Cottage.”
“That’s what this place was called when we bought it,” her dad said. “It was hidden, all right. Hidden by overgrown shrubs. Show her, Delores.”
Delores opened to the first page of the scrapbook. Erin studied the large photo of a neglected cabin with several shutters, each hanging on by a single, rusted hinge.
“This is what it looked like when you bought it?”
“Yup.” Her father held back none of his obvious pride over the transformation. “This is what your mother and I . . . I mean, what Delores and I . . . have been doing for the past eighteen months.”
Erin turned the page and was impressed. When she saw the original, neglected condition of the kitchen and living room and how it had been transformed, all she could say was “Wow! You two have been busy. This is amazing.”
“It was bad, all right. That’s why we bought the place for a song.” Her dad pulled off the blanket and pressed his legs down on the recliner’s footrest so that the chair returned to an upright position. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of our mansion, and then you can compare it to the photos. It’s better if you see it all first.”
“Dad, are you sure you’re supposed to be up like this?”
“Of course I’m supposed to be up.” His tone was indignant.
Delores immediately backed him up. “The doctor told him to resume normal, moderate activity.”
Erin had a pretty good idea that the renovations her dad had undertaken over the past eighteen months had been neither “normal” nor “moderate” activity.
“I’ll start with showing you the bedroom we added on. It’s this way.” Jack led Erin to the halfway opened door adjacent to the living room. He pushed it open. She could feel his gaze on her, ready and waiting for her exclamations of amazement.
She didn’t need to pretend she was impressed. The seashore theme of the immaculate room was definitely “ooh-able.” Delores had exceptional taste, and a keen eye for combining colors. Never would Erin have expected this hidden talent tucked away in abrupt, efficient Delores.
“Not bad, is it?” her dad said.
“It’s wonderful. Really beautiful.”
“Do you like it? Honestly, I want you to tell your old dad the truth. What do you think of the place?”
Delores was right behind her so Erin added, “You’re an artist, Delores. You and my dad have transformed this place.”
Erin couldn’t tell if Delores was smiling since, unfortunately, her smile and smirk were awfully close.
The three of them headed up the narrow stairs located to the left of the bedroom door. Upstairs was a dormer-style bedroom. In the compact space Erin recognized an old dresser topped with an amber-toned lamp that set off a soft glow when Delores flipped the light switch. A twin bed and a wicker rocking chair completed the furniture that fit in the small but lovely room.
Erin sang another round of praises for Delores and quietly slipped her hand into her dad’s. She gave him two quick squeezes. That had always been her mom’s secret code for saying “Love you.” Three squeezes back meant “Love you, too.” Erin had passed on the secret squeezes to Mike and their three sons. Those four men in her life had always responded with three squeezes. Erin waited to feel the three squeezes back from the first important man in her life.
Instead of squeezes from her dad’s large and calloused hand, all she felt was his releasing himself from her grip.
In that moment, Erin felt as if the floor had dropped out from under her. Her father had raised her to be tough enough to take a hit in the face from a football or to keep running even after she had rubbed a blister on her heel. She had always worked hard to gain his golden approval. On a few occasions she had known he was proud of her. But what she had worked even harder to receive was his fatherly affection. All she needed was three squeezes, and she would know without a doubt that she mattered to him.
Yet even now her father could not or would not give her the one thing for which her little-girl heart longed.