“What happened?” Kyle asked as they sped along the road back into town.
“Margaret said he just couldn’t stop coughing,” Juliana said. “He passed out and they called the paramedics. You don’t think …?”
“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Kyle said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. “He’s a tough guy, your dad. I’m sure he’s got a bit more fight in him.”
Juliana was grateful for the words, but she didn’t agree. Her father was tired and in pain and it was unfair to wish he’d live longer. Heaven knew her head understood that, but her heart was more stubborn than a mule, and it refused to accept he was going to die.
The hospital was small, more a glorified clinic, though it served the purpose. Kyle dropped her at the automatic glass doors by the entrance and went to find parking. Juliana rushed into the reception and found the emergency waiting room where her mother and sister sat, holding hands.
When they saw her, they rushed to her, both throwing their arms around her.
“He just wouldn’t wake up,” their mother said in a voice thick with tears. “What am I going to do without him?”
“He’s not gone yet,” Margaret said firmly. “We’ve had scares before. Dad will be fine.”
Juliana looked over their mother’s head and saw Margaret’s face. Her expression was one of stolid determination, as though she could keep their father in this world by sheer force of will.
“What does the doctor say?” Juliana asked.
“He’s in there now, checking your father,” her mother said.
Just then, a doctor appeared. He was middle aged and his hair was blond and thinning. He walked to them in his white coat and smiled soberly.
“Mrs. Bailey, your husband is alive,” the doctor said. His voice was oddly deep, much more than his frame would suggest. “But we need more tests to see what’s going on. We’re going to admit him.”
Their mother burst into tears.
Margaret took over speaking to the doctor and nurses, finding out which forms needed to be filled in while Juliana held her mother and wondered what to do.
“Oh, Jules,” her mother said into her shoulder. “I’m sorry things have worked out like this. It’s all my fault, being such a wretched mother that you felt your only recourse was to run away. I’m so sorry you missed the last six years of his life. He has always loved you so much.”
“Oh, Ma!” Juliana said and hugged her mother. She had lost a lot of weight, too, Juliana realized as she felt her mother’s bones through the skin. “It’s not your fault. Well, it’s not only yours. I also behaved badly. I screwed up in so many interesting ways …”
“That you did,” her mother agreed and smiled, wiping her tears.
Juliana nodded. “I’m sorry, too.”
They hugged and cried for a while, until Margaret came back, looking harassed and tired.
“What are you two crying about?” she demanded. “He’s not dying today. Come on. He’s been taken up already. We can see him before they take him for the tests.”
They went up in the elevator and came out on a sterile floor. The walls were a sort of faded peach color and the whole place oozed the smell of disease and disinfectant. Juliana remembered why she had always hated hospitals. It was that smell, and the knowledge that Death practically had his office here.
Her father was in a private room. He lay in the hospital bed like a shriveled version of the strong man he had been all her life. Once he had been a tall, strapping man, who could lift her and Margaret in his arms and swing them both around like they were feathers. In those days, his skin had tanned a nut brown in summer, his hair highlighted to blond in some patches, and his eyes had shone with laughter. She could see that man smiling at her, and somehow couldn’t quite connect the emaciated skeleton in the bed with that vital, thriving man he had been.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, he smiled at her and took her hand. “Hey, Jules,” he said. “Why you looking so sad?”
“Daddy,” she said. “You’re in the hospital.”
“I know that,” he said. “I’d hate to think your mother was poking at me like that.” He indicated the IV drip in his arm. “Do me a favor.”
“Sure, Dad, anything,” Juliana said, leaning in close to him.
“Take care of your mother.”
“Dad!”
“You and Margie have to do it together.”
“Yes, Dad.”
He kissed her hand. “I’ve loved you since forever,” he said.
“Me, too,” Juliana said, and in a flash, he was gone, wheeled out of the room by an orderly in avocado-green scrubs.
Juliana walked to the waiting room to find Kyle. He was handing out paper mugs of coffee and had brought a box of baked goods from his store.
“The hospital is pretty good at coffee,” he said, “But their snacks suck. I went and got some stuff from the store, in case it’s a long night.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you,” Margaret said. She turned to Juliana and took her hand. “Peter’s on his way. He had to wait for the sitter, his mother. She’s complaining, but frankly, tonight she can go and eat lemons if she thinks I care about her opinion.”
Juliana kissed her sister’s cheek. “It’s okay, sis.”
She took a cup of coffee from Kyle and was about to put sugar in, when he stopped her. “Whoa, there! I’ve done it already for you.”
“You remembered how I like it?”
“Two sugars and cream,” he said, and smiled.
She sipped the coffee and felt the warmth spread through her.
“You don’t have to stay,” Juliana said. “It’s not a great ending to a first date.”
Kyle shrugged. “There have been worse endings, believe me. This one, although not great, is kind of nice, because I have a great excuse to spend more time with you.”
Margaret and their mother looked at them and then at each other. Their looks spoke volumes about the brownie points Kyle had just earned himself.
They settled down for a long night of waiting. To pass the time, they spoke about things that had nothing to do with their current dilemma. Though it preyed on their minds, it was easier to talk pie-in-the sky ideas, rather than what to dwell on whether this was the end. Kyle was great at this. With his helpful suggestions, soon Juliana and her mother were speaking excitedly about opening a diner together on the land Emily’s family had owned for ages. It was great to feel hopeful again.
“So, you can tell old Perkins you’re not selling for anything,” Juliana said.
Her mother smiled and nodded. “Let’s just get your father better. He’d love to taste your cooking, I’ll bet.”
Just then, the doctor reappeared. He looked tired, drawn, and sad.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Your husband died during the procedure. We did everything we could, but the cancer had spread. I’m very sorry.”
Juliana’s face fell and she held onto Kyle’s hands as though they were lifeboats and she was drowning.