27

When Emily entered her father’s room, she noticed his color looked better, and the IV was no longer hooked up. He held a mug of hot tea on his lap and was no longer wearing pajama pants, but a pair of sweatpants and a wool sweater. His pensive face was fixated on CNN. A good sign.

“Cathy wants to get rid of me already,” Robert said, looking up at his daughter.

“That’s ridiculous. She loves you.”

“She told you about her plan?” Robert said.

“She did. She thought it would be best for you to have more consistent care than she can provide right now.”

“She’s casting me off to an old people’s home. I might as well be one of those drooling, urine-soaked, wheelchair invalids,” he growled.

“It’s not that kind of place. It’s fifty-five plus. An active community.”

“I can be active and healthy in my own home and my own property,” he said.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, you know. If you get the bypass and work hard at rehab, then you can live at home eventually.”

“You two conspired together on this, didn’t you?” Robert said.

“It’s not a conspiracy against you.”

“I’m just a burden to her now,” Robert said.

“No. You’re not. But you can’t expect Cathy to just up and leave her business,” Emily insisted.

“I’m not asking her to give up the funeral home,” he said.

“You need to be in a place where she knows you’ll be safe and taken of when she’s not there,” Emily said.

“It’s adult day care. Not how I envisioned us growing old together.”

“You gave her practically no choice by refusing to have a surgery you desperately need,” said Emily starkly.

Robert held a stare on Emily. A flicker of concern crossed his face.

“Why am I surprised? You were always an insistent and strong-willed child.”

“Got it from you,” Emily said.

“Well, your mother had a strong streak too. So I suppose we’re both to blame.”

“Or thank. I think both have served me pretty well.” Emily tried to soften the moment.

“Sometimes I feel I didn’t do the best I could with you after she died.”

You let our family dissolve to nothing, Emily wanted to shout as her frustration mounted. But then, she asked, “What did you mean the other day about Mom deserving the truth?”

His gaze moved once again to the TV screen, and he and Emily remained quiet for a moment.

“How long are you staying in town?”

“Long enough to help you and Cathy get the house and practice in order,” Emily stated.

“In order for what?”

“Dad, please. You can’t hang on to them anymore. It’s time to start thinking about what you’d like to keep, sell, or give away.”

“Emily, you should know that I didn’t agree to go to Birch Acres. I will not live in that place.”

“I realize it’s a big shift in your plans right now. So, let’s just do this one step at time,” she said. “We should start with the barn and the yard. Get them cleaned up and cleared out. All those tools and machines are strictly off limits to you. And you’ll need a lawn service.”

“I’ll agree to that. Call Mike Sneller. He and his boys do yards,” said Robert. As he said it, Emily remembered when she and Anna spent Saturdays in the fall raking and bagging for a few bucks of allowance money. “And he plows the driveway in the winter. His number’s in the book.” Oh, yes, the yellow pages phone book. No need for Yelp in Freeport.

“Do you know what he charges?” Emily asked.

“I have the money. It won’t be a burden on you or Cathy,” he said and drew quiet.

“Dad, stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I think I need a little rest, if you don’t mind.” She knew it was his way of getting her to leave.

“Fine. I’ll check in later,” said Emily. There was no use arguing any more. She had made a little headway. And it looked like she would be sticking around for longer than the weekend.

Emily exited the hospital the way she came in, making sure there were no lingering reporters. As she pulled onto the city street, her mind began compiling a list of things she would have to do to transition her father from work life to residential life. Would Dad want to sell his home or rent it out? She would need a realtor. Maybe a property manager. Would the place need remodeling to fetch a better price? It was tidy and in good repair, but nothing had been updated in twenty years. Maybe they should hire movers to remove everything to a storage unit until they could make a better decision about the next steps. A housekeeping team could provide a thorough cleaning of the home. Carpet cleaners could sanitize the rugs. And the place probably needed a fresh coat of paint.

Emily sighed audibly and rubbed her hand across her brow as if to prime her brain. And how in the world did one shut down a medical office? There were hundreds of patients to contact. Equipment to sell. Outstanding bills to pay and bank accounts to close. Dad could sell the practice to a newly minted doctor—but how to go about finding that person? It would require hiring a recruiter and an attorney. The list blew her mind.

As she got into her car, she drew in a few deep breaths. Pressing her eyes closed, she took a moment to visually prioritize the massive load of tasks, but she found that she had a hard time processing the list. And then, there was a wedding to plan. Or was there? If she didn’t step in soon, Brandon’s mom would have it taken care of, down to matching strings of pearls for her bridesmaids and those miserable candy-coated almond table favors. Emily wagged her head and released the tension from her shoulders down to her wrists. She shook it off and tried to gain a proper perspective on her wedding problems. These were nothing compared to what the Dobsons were suffering. A daughter’s life cut short—and seemingly without motive.