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“Too Third World,” he said. “Better to stake out the blood donor clinic, figure out who’s a match, then run them over in the parking lot.”
She managed a watery smile. “Great idea.”
“The challenge is not to kill them,” he mused, “but to get them into the hospital close enough to death for the kidney to be available stat.”
“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”
The nurse stuck her head around the door again. “Ms. Wyatt, you can see your father now. Ten minutes, just one of you.” She spoke to Merry, but looked at Lucas.
Merry jumped to her feet. “At last. Thank you.”
Lucas put a hand on her arm, stalling her. “Merry…if the doctor’s right, and your father doesn’t have much time, you probably need to tell some people. Folks who want to say goodbye. I could leave now, go make some calls.”
The room swam for a moment and she grasped the back of the chair she’d just vacated. “His friends,” she murmured. “Old navy buddies. If we ask your father and a couple of others to pass the word along… Dad will tell me who to speak to. I’ll text you.”
“Family?”
She shook her head. “He has cousins in England, but it’s only the younger generation left. We’re not in touch.”
It sounded so lonely. So sad. Yet it hadn’t been, not when there’d been the two of them.
But in a few days, it would be only Merry.
* * *
MERRY’S FATHER’S ROOM was a hive of monitors, wires, tubes. He took up most of the length of the bed, but little of the width. His eyes were open, unblinking, and for a horrified moment she thought he—
“Merry-Berry,” he rasped.
She rushed forward, looking for some part of him she could hold on to without ripping out a tube, or hurting him. There was nothing, no part of him untouched, except for the callused fingers of his right hand.
She sandwiched them between her palms. “Dad, you…” Slow down, don’t upset him. “You gave me a scare.”
His chuckle sounded like air leaking out of a balloon…but at least it was there. Maybe the doctor was wrong.
“When you get out of here, I’m going to monitor every dialysis session, whether you like it or not,” she vowed.
“Yes, dear,” he said with a faint smile. But his eyes said he knew he wouldn’t be getting out of here.
To her horror, a tear leaked out of the corner of his right eye and ran onto the pillow. “Dad, please…”
His fingers twitched between hers. “Merry…the lawyer has a copy of my will.”
“The doctor says you’ve moved up in the transplant points,” Merry said. “You could get a new kidney any minute.”
“It’s pretty straightforward. Everything to you, except for a small bequest to the VVA.” Her dad was a longtime supporter of the Vietnam Veterans of America.
“We’ll get you through this,” she said. “I’m not letting you go, Dad.”
“I’m not worried about you financially,” he persisted. “You’ll do nicely by selling the business. But…Merry-Berry, I think I made a mistake.”
She blinked away tears. “Dad, it’s so hard to avoid infection when you’re on dialysis, anyone could—”
“Not that,” he said. “After your mother died, I should have— Maybe I should have married again.”
Merry straightened, shocked. “No, Dad. You always said you could never love anyone else.”
“Maybe I should have tried. Then I wouldn’t be leaving you alone.” John tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I wish I had met someone else, like Dwight did. But I didn’t even try.”
“I never wanted a stepmother,” Merry said. She thought about Lucas’s brother, Garrett, who until recently had considered Stephanie his enemy. A stepmother she hated would have been far worse than no one at all. “I’ve loved it being just you and me. And I love your stories about Mom, and about how you two met and fell in love.”
Her father’s chin quivered. Barely noticeable, but it was there. Amazing that the memory of her mother still had the power to affect him like that.
“I hate the thought of you being alone,” he said. His fingers fluttered in her grip. “Merry, this has been on my mind for a while.”
If he’d been thinking about it, he’d obviously sensed he was sicker than he’d let on. Was his worry about her future the cause of those “trances” she occasionally found him in? The reason for the stress that had sent his high blood pressure over the edge?
“I’ll be just fine.” Her attempt at reassurance came out thin and unconvincing. Her dad was everything, everyone, to her. She had friends, boyfriends…but no one who put her first in their life. “I—I love you, Dad. So much.” She dug in her pocket for a tissue, blew her nose. “Please, don’t worry about me, just concentrate on getting better.”
A stupid thing to say.
He nodded. But another tear leaked onto his pillow, and then another. And now her tissue was all snotty.
“You’ve been wonderful, the way you’ve looked after me,” he said. “Never interfering or pushy, but making sure I was doing my dialysis, getting regular checkups.”
“I haven’t done anything,” she said. “You wouldn’t let me.”
He smiled, and it felt like a gift. “I was mad when you wouldn’t go away to college, but I’ve been so grateful to have you here with me. A lot of parents, their kids go away to school, they meet some guy or girl on the other side of the country, and that’s it. Gone.”
“I couldn’t leave you, Dad.”
“Instead, I’m leaving you,” he said. “Who’ll look after you, Merry, if you get sick? Who’ll fix your car when that starter motor plays up again?”
“My doctor and my mechanic,” she said, and this time she managed the necessary lightness.
“Who’s going to comfort you when I’m gone?” he asked. “Be at your side, through good times and bad? Not just next week, but for the rest of your life.”
It struck her that during all that time in the waiting room, she hadn’t once thought of calling Patrick.
“There’ll be someone.” She tried to sound confident. “Dad, I don’t want you worrying about me. Think of something that makes you happy.”
“I’ll tell you what would make me happy,” he said with a surge of energy that sent her hopes soaring. “It’d stop me worrying, too.”
“Whatever it is, I’ll make it happen,” she said instantly. “Uh, I don’t have to ‘hang, draw and quarter those idiots who made Fisher Street one-way,’ do I?”
Her father gave a raspy chuckle at one of his favorite threats. “Nothing so drastic, Merry-Berry.” He patted her hand. “I’d like you to get married.”
She laughed, louder than the joke deserved, but if he felt well enough to kid around…
Wait a minute.
He wasn’t smiling.
He was giving her the same look he had when he’d said, “I’d like you to promise me you’ll never get in a car with a boy who’s been drinking.” And, “I’d like you to never smoke marijuana.” No problem with the second, but she couldn’t say she’d obeyed the first a hundred percent. As for this one…
“Dad, no! I can’t just get married out of the blue.”
“What happened to ‘whatever it is, I’ll make it happen’?” He lifted his tubed-and-wired left hand a few inches off the blanket, agitated.
“I can’t work miracles,” she said. “Patrick and I have only been dating for—”
“Patrick!” John’s face turned red. “I don’t want my daughter ending up with that lemon. You need to marry Lucas.”
Merry’s chair scraped harshly against the linoleum as she jerked backward. “Dad, that’s crazy.”
“Think about it,” he said. “You’ve dated on and off for years, so there’s obviously something strong between you.”
A strong desire to shut their fathers up. “More off than on,” she said. “Dad, we’re not—”
“You both know that Dwight and I always hoped you two… But that’s not a good reason,” he said. “What is a good reason is that you suit each other. It’s obvious to everyone.”
“Dad, Lucas and I aren’t that close.” Damn those stupid exaggerations she’d fed their fathers. “Let alone soul mates, which is what you’ve always said I should look for.”
“How do you know you’re not soul mates?” John said. “You’ve never given each other a serious chance.”
“You and Mom knew instantly,” she reminded him.
“We met when we were in our twenties. Chances are, if I’d known her since I was three years old, like you’ve known Lucas, it might have taken me a little longer to see the treasure right before my eyes.”
“Dad, I’m not Lucas’s treasure, and he’s not mine.”
“I think you are,” he said obstinately. “Lucas told me when he was ten years old that he planned to marry you.”
Her jaw dropped. “No way.”
John managed a grin. “Where do you think Dwight and I got the idea?”
“You can hardly hold Lucas to a ten-year-old’s crush.” She wondered if he remembered. Reminding him could be fun....
An alarm beeped on one of her father’s monitors, and she jumped. “What’s that? Dad, are you okay?”
A nurse, older than the one from the waiting room, bustled in, just in time to stop Merry hitting the panic button. “Time for a top-up, Mr. Wyatt.” With deft movements she removed an empty IV bag from its hanger and replaced it with a full one.
Merry didn’t speak until the monitor was chugging along in what she assumed was a normal fashion. Then she said, “Dad, it’s sweet that you’re worried about me....”
“It’s not sweet,” he growled. “It’s hell.”
That silenced her. Momentarily. “Even if I was willing, Lucas doesn’t want to marry me.”
“Have you even asked him?” her dad demanded.
“Of course not.”
“Merry…” Her father briefly closed his eyes. “We both know I’m not going to make it. It would mean more than I can say to know you’re married to Lucas. A man who’ll look after you.”
“He wants to go back to active duty,” she reminded her father.
“That’s his job. The navy will take care of him. And of you, when he’s away.”
Men like her dad and Dwight—and Lucas—considered arguments about the mortality rates in the services irrelevant.
“I know Lucas cares for you,” John said. “If it’s at all possible, please, could you ask him if—if he cares enough to marry you?”
Not in a million years.
Another monitor started beeping. This time, Merry didn’t panic. But this time it was serious. Two nurses ran in, followed by a doctor. Merry found herself out in the hallway, the door closed in her face.
She leaned her forehead against it and prayed for her father’s survival. For a miracle cure.
What if there is no miracle? Would she let her father die worrying about her, deprived of the peace a man should have in his final moments? When just maybe, she had the power to give him that peace?
CHAPTER FOUR
MERRY PUSHED OPEN THE DOOR to Pete’s Burger Shack. She couldn’t have been thinking clearly, to have suggested this place to Patrick when he’d texted to confirm their date. Of course I wasn’t thinking clearly. The only thought in her head had been how she might ease her dad’s fears.
Pete’s might be a New London institution, but it wasn’t the setting for important occasions. It had been the venue for Merry’s second annual Date With Lucas.
At first glance, she couldn’t see Patrick in the happy-hour crowd. She was about to text to ask if he was here when her cell phone buzzed. A message from Lucas: WHERE ARE U?
She texted back: PETE’S
He probably wanted contact information for the people he should notify about her dad. But since she hadn’t been allowed back into his room, she didn’t have it. Ah, there was Patrick, waving to her from the back corner booth.
She pushed her way through the happy drinkers. Patrick already had a glass of red wine and a bowl of peanuts in front of him; he stood as she arrived.
“Hi, sweetheart.” One hand settled on her hip as he leaned to kiss her. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” She slid into the seat opposite.
Patrick had the kind of looks any woman would like. His brown hair was slightly long and flopped over his forehead. He was slim but well-proportioned with a ready smile. His two passions—animals and peace—seemed to Merry the ultimate in caring. She felt a rush of affection for him.
Most parents would be thrilled to have their daughter bring him home…so long as those parents weren’t navy personnel and committed militarists.
Merline, Pete’s wife and longtime waitress, came over. “Merry, honey, I’m gonna need to see some ID.” She still made Merry do this every single time. Merry’s second date with Lucas had been her first visit to Pete’s; she must have been eighteen going on nineteen, with him twenty-one. She’d produced a fake ID to buy a drink, and he’d told Merline that Merry was underage. For her own safety, he’d announced sanctimoniously.
Now, she handed over her driver’s license for Merline to hold up to the light, align the photo next to Merry’s face and generally make a production out of inspecting it. At last, she consented to take her order for a glass of chardonnay. She was chuckling as she walked away.
“What was that about?” Patrick asked.
