Dad shakes off his coat and drapes it over the back of an overstuffed chair before he sits down and lets out a sigh…
…and that leads to another cough.
God.
He’s still getting worse.
Soon there’ll be no choice. I’m going to have to convince him to see a doctor. No easy task when he comes armed with a thousand excuses.
The first time, it took me two days of arguing, and even then, the only reason he finally caved is because I said we couldn’t leave for Montana until he got checked out.
I wish like hell we’d had time for that follow-up in Milwaukee with the cardiologist. The specialists there are no doubt a lot more common and skilled than whatever’s out here in these podunk North Dakota towns.
But Clay and his goons made sure time was a luxury we didn’t have.
It just hurts.
Even when you know you made the right decision, fleeing practically overnight, it’s no real relief when you’re watching your own father fall apart in front of you.
“Everything okay? You seem kinda anxious,” I say, forcing myself to look him in the eyes. It’s harder than it sounds when I don’t want to focus on that bleary redness around his pupils.
“I told Ridge we’ll be leaving tomorrow,” Dad says once his latest coughing subsides.
Boom. A nice, searing slap across the face.
I mean, it’s not like it’s a total surprise.
I figured that’s why he’d stuck around at the house after supper.
And I also know darn well we won’t be leaving tomorrow.
Not with the way he’s coughing and rubbing at his eyes.
I’ll humor him, though, for now.
I’ve learned to do that over the years, throw him a carrot to keep his spirits up and let him down easy later.
Hard part is, I’ve never learned to like it.
“Hmm. I suppose maybe we’ve overstayed our welcome. We’d better keep moving, after all. With the drubbing Ridge gave Jackknife, I bet he’ll be back next time with friends.” I stand up.
“Yeah. That was really something. Damn nice it went our way for once.” Dad gives me a tepid smile and melts back into his chair. Probably relieved that I’m not putting up the fight he expected. “You need my help tying up your odds and ends?”
“I’m good. I’ll go pack up the things I found in his shed today, once I’m finished. It’s the least I can do for our host.” Patting Dad’s shoulder as I walk past, I add, “Hey, they’re clean now. They can use them if they want to.”
“Aw, Grace. I’m sorry about that, getting you roped into things here. Don’t know what I was thinkin’.” Dad looks down, staring at his work-worn hands folded neatly in his lap. “Dummy me. I shouldn’t have said nothing to Ridge about your decorating.”
“It’s fine. This way, we can give back for them taking us in.”
We trade a knowing smile.
Even in his weakened state, my dad’s a proud man to the end. He’s independent to his core and stubborn as a bull when it comes to taking help.
I walk into the kitchen area that opens to the living room.
I’d carried in the other box from the porch after supper, washing everything carefully before I’d picked up my phone to research some ideas and started snooping everything Ridge Barnet instead.
He’s had an interesting life…to put it mildly.
Sure, the tabloids embellish the mundane and create entire scandals every time someone famous burps without covering their mouth.
But behind every piece of clickbait, there’s often a grain of truth, however tiny.
I can’t let myself replay that now, though.
“I think he appreciates you, Gracie,” Dad says, his voice crackling like a fire across the room. “The man’s a hard nut to crack, wouldn’t take my money or the…other stuff I offered to trade him for having us. You’re good at what you do. When this is all over, you can tell everybody you worked on a movie star’s house. Imagine the business that’ll bring in! You’ll be rolling in it,” Dad says, sounding excited for my sake but also very sad.
I’m sad, too, but hold true and don’t push the issue.
That can wait until morning. If it’s anything like yesterday, he’ll stay up longer than he should with that merciless cough and sleep through his alarms.
“We found a lot of antiques today. Even an old harness that’ll be quite handsome once it’s cleaned up with some saddle soap,” I tell him.
“Gracie, I…there’s something I ought to come clean about. I tried to give him Rosie and Stern for letting us stay here.”
I stop mid-stride, my face heating.
“I know, I should’ve talked to you first, but…” Dad pauses. “He wouldn’t take ’em, anyway. Not permanently. So don’t worry about that. He did offer to keep them happy here until we’re in a position to pick them up again. I got to thinkin’, that’s not such a bad idea when we’re gonna be on the road for God knows how long. We’d all be better off with them settled, out of harm’s way, but it’s only right I get your blessing. They’re your horses, too.”