Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I hustle to the hospital gift shop as fast as my sore body will allow, possessed by the need to have something tangible to give to my grandfather to show him how much I need him to stick around. I settle on a stuffed lobster wearing a t-shirt that says “You’re Claw-some” and head for the elevator.
As I’m stepping off, Weaver’s voice message pops through. I listen to it, relief flooding my body, but before I can respond, Cathy is at my elbow, talking a mile a minute.
“Your dad just called!” she says, beaming. “The charges were dropped. Weaver must have changed his mind, thank God. Leon asked me to come pick him up. Can you keep an eye on everyone here while I go? Murray and Steven need to eat something and Henna needs someone to watch the kids while she runs Jennifer’s baby present over to the maternity ward. Poor Jen. The baby kind of took a back seat in all the worry over your grandad.”
She heaves a heavy sigh, laughing as she pats my good arm and leads me toward the waiting room our clan has taken over. “But all’s well that ends well. The baby wasn’t born until one a.m. Did I tell you that? So, Aunt Sue is happy. And Jen had a boy so David is happy, too.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever, David. How is it okay to say shit like that anymore? He should just be happy to have a healthy baby.”
Cathy shoos my concerns away with a flick of her heavily-ringed hand. “Oh, come on. It’s normal for a man to want a son.”
“Is it? Why?” I grumble. “Because they’ll ‘have more in common?’ What if his son turns out to be an artist who doesn’t want to set foot on a boat? Or hates football? Or likes to dress up in vintage ball gowns and kiss boys? What’s he going to think then?”
Cathy stops a few feet from the waiting room, turning to shoot me a concerned look as she hisses, “What’s eating you all of a sudden? We’ve got nothing but good news here. Dad’s out of surgery and doing well, your father’s not going to jail, and Jen has a healthy baby. All reasons to be happy and grateful.”
“Where does Dad want you to take him after you pick him up?’ I ask, ignoring her questions. “Because he left me a message a couple hours ago about wanting to go to rehab. I can call around now, try to find him a bed before you go get him. That way he can go straight to the facility before he has a chance to get cold feet.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Cathy says, plucking at the collar of her cowl neck sweater. “He didn’t say. I was assuming he wanted a ride home or…a ride here, if that was okay with you.”
I snort. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She lifts her hands in mock surrender, even as she lobs her next volley. “I don’t know, Gertie. I don’t know what you’re thinking lately. First, you’re getting involved with the man who ruined your family. Now, you don’t want your dad around when—”
“He sent me to the ER, Cathy!” I say in a voice too loud for her liking. She shushes me, trying to drag me farther from the waiting room by my good arm. But I pull away, adding in an only slightly softer voice, “I’m in a sling for a week because of him, and I’ll be out of work for at least twelve weeks. Maybe more if my shoulder doesn’t heal as quickly as expected since I have a pre-existing issue in that joint. Unless Dad’s planning to get on the boat and do mine and Gramp’s work for us while we’re out of commission, I don’t see that he has anything worthwhile to offer this family. Certainly nothing better than going to rehab.”
Cathy’s lips turn down hard at the edges. “That’s not what family’s about. It’s not about what you can take, it’s about what you give.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” An outraged laugh bursts from my chest. “All he’s done is take, Cathy. And take and take and take. Even if he wanted to take over on the boat for us, he couldn’t. He’s too sick. The best thing he can do for everyone is go to rehab. And the best thing you can do for him is help him get there.” I tug my cell from my purse. “I’ll start calling places now. Text Dad and tell him you’ll touch base about picking him up in a little while. And tell him that he’ll be going straight to treatment, do not pass go or stop at the pub for a farewell whiskey.”
Her lips press into a puckered line. “I don’t know if he’s going to go for it, Gertie. He wanted to see Dad. He loves your grandfather as much as you do, you know.”