by Ashlee Price
Dad was silent. We both were thinking of Mom and then the mess with Clayton. Now Josiah was here and I didn't have any choice about growing up. I lifted my chin and continued, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't regret Josiah - how could I?"
"Callie, have you thought that just maybe Michael's beginning to grow up a little, too? Isn't he allowed to do that, or are you goin' to hog it all to yourself?"
"Dad! That wasn't fair."
"Life ain't fair, Callie girl."
"So, you think I should answer him?"
"Well... I think just maybe he's growed up a bit, and that's why he wants to reach out to you; sort of let you know that he's changed his thinkin' a bit. I don't necessarily think it means he's out to hurt you or Josiah."
"I know. That occurred to me, too. But, Dad, what if he wants to start up again?"
"Girl, you got a boy here in my lap that don't have no daddy. At least, not one who's takin' the responsibility. You're goin' to school, and I'm proud of you for that, but then you're also workin' and helpin' out here, and enough is enough. You're gonna end up an old lonely woman, dried up and gray-haired, and never have the chance to be what a young woman ought to. I think you owe it to yourself, if not this boy, to look at these things with an eye to maybe finding life again. Michael's not a bad boy, just spoiled."
"You know what I'm really glad about?"
"What's that?"
"I'm glad I've got a dad who's so wise. Just maybe, one of these days, some of that will rub off on me. You think?" I crossed the room and gave him and Josiah a group hug.
"Well, then you won't have need of me, Callie girl," Dad chuckled and stood up. "I think we're needin' to have some drawers changed here. I'll take care of that and you finish up dinner. I'm getting' mighty hungry."
They left the room and I turned back to my cooking. Dad always made things feel so much more manageable. He knew how to put a good light on things. I was chopping vegetables for a salad and could hear him talking to Josiah. Whomp!
I froze, trying to place the sudden noise. All the while, my brain was trying to deny that it came from the direction of Josiah's crib in my room. I dropped the knife and sprinted in that direction.
Dad was on the floor, not moving. Josiah was lying in his crib, diapers off and kicking as he waited for the replacement. I fell to my knees and felt for a pulse. Dad was alive and seemed to be breathing, barely. I ran for the phone and dialed 9-1-1. I felt again for a pulse. It was still there. Trying to stay calm, I grabbed a diaper and finished up with Josiah and then pulled up the crib rail and give him some toys to play with. Grabbing his diaper bag, I began stuffing in diapers and changes of clothes. Once again, I felt for Dad's pulse, which was still there. In the kitchen, I pulled jars of baby food out and threw them in the bag. Then I made sure the stove was off and ran back to the bedroom. I could hear the siren approaching, and with Josiah in my arms, I met the EMTs at the door and pointed to my room.
"My dad's in there. He's still alive and I don't know what happened. He was changing the baby's diaper and I was in here cooking. I heard him hit the floor."
They were already past me, and while two techs were opening their cases and checking his vitals, a third took me aside as a gurney was wheeled in. "Ma'am, I need to know your dad's name, his doctor and any medications he's on. You need to give me any information about his health that you can think of, even if it's nothing more than having a tooth filled last week."
I suspected the EMT was trying to keep me busy as much as he was trying to get information that would be helpful for Dad. My heart was racing and I was drawing mental blanks when questioned. "I'm sorry. I get, sort of, panic attacks and I can't think."
"Yes, ma'am. Can you point where your dad keeps his medicines?"
I pointed to Dad's nightstand. "There, next to his bed. I think there are three bottles because we were just talking about figuring out where we were going to keep our meds now that the baby is getting around."
The gurney came out of my bedroom. Dad was on an IV, covered with a blanket to his chin.
"Where are you taking him?"
"To St. Mary's in Lexington. I'm afraid the baby can't ride along, ma'am."
"No, no, I know. We'll follow in the truck. I need to put a few things together quick and we'll be right along."
The EMT scooped up Dad's meds and his wallet from the kitchen table. "Just checking for his ID, insurance card and maybe any drug or emergency information," he informed me as he quickly went through it. "Okay, we're out of here," he said and followed the others into the ambulance. I watched as they pulled away and the tears started.
Now, you have to keep a grip on yourself. He's going to be okay, I just know it. Probably just had a fainting spell from not eating dinner yet. Keep it together. Get the diaper bag and call the Smithfields to let them know they've got to find someone to cover for him in the morning. I kept telling myself what to do, hoping it would keep me from getting a spell. Josiah sensed the disruption and began to cry. I hugged him to me and kissed his fat, wet cheek. Grabbing the bag and my purse, I pushed the kitchen door open with my hip and headed to the truck. I buckled Josiah into the car seat and got behind the wheel.
We arrived at St. Mary's and parked outside the emergency room. I clutched Josiah and threw my purse over my shoulder, sprinting for the double doors that opened automatically in front of us.
I asked for Dad at the receptionist window, and she directed me through the next set of doors, to cubicle four. There were voices inside, so I stood next to the curtain and listened. A man in a white coat pushed the curtain aside and came out. He looked at me.
"I'm his daughter, Callie Pierce."
"Follow me, please?" I did as requested, and we ended up in a small room with glass walls and side chairs. There was a plastic model of the human body on a table - the kind you'd expect to see in a biology lab that came apart to show different sections of the body's insides.
"How is he?" I asked, almost afraid to hear.
"We've ruled out a heart attack, Mrs. Pierce, but he hasn't regained consciousness yet, so we haven't had a chance to talk to him. I'm suspicious that he may have had a stroke, and we're sending him upstairs for some scans to see if we can detect any damaged areas in the brain. He's breathing comfortably on his own, but we're monitoring closely. Not sure how comfortable you'll be with the baby, but you're welcome to stay in the family waiting room and we'll let you know when we have more information." He stood up and left the room quickly. His job was at Dad's side, not entertaining me.
Josiah was becoming fussy. I fed him, but he kept it up. I knew he was tired - it was past his bedtime. There really wasn't anywhere to lay him down. I made the decision to do what I could for the person I could help best, and that was my son. Dad was in better hands than mine. I left my number and name with the receptionist, who assured me they would call with any information, and I got into the truck and headed back to the farm.
I rolled the window down as I drove, gulping in huge breaths of fresh air to stay calm. If Dad was in a bad way, that meant he maybe couldn't work for the Smithfields anymore, which meant we'd be out of his income, and just as importantly, out of the house his job included. Josiah fell asleep on the ride back, and I put him straight into his crib when I walked through the door.
I felt so alone and afraid. Dad was always the one to calm me down. I'd grown distant from my girlfriends, wanting to avoid talk about Josiah.
I pulled out my phone.
CALLIE: Yes, we can text, and I'm in trouble.
Chapter 12 - Michael
I stared at the phone, collecting my thoughts. I hadn't thought she'd text back. I'd figured she was done with me, couldn't trust me again.
MICHAEL: What's wrong?
CALLIE: It's Dad. He collapsed tonight.
MICHAEL: What's wrong with him?
CALLIE: Don't know yet. He's in St. Mary's.
MICHAEL: What can I do?
CALLIE: Pray, I guess.
MICHAEL: I mean for you?
I waited and waited, but she didn't respond. I guess I'd pushed one button too many. I couldn't imagine what she must be going through. I knew if something bad happened to Mr. Tucker, he'd lose his job and the house that went with it. I felt helpless. I called my dad.
"Hello?"
"Dad, will you be in town anytime soon? I'd like to have a talk with you."
"Sounds serious."
"Maybe. I'm not in trouble, but there's something I have to take care of."
"I can come in tomorrow. Meet me at the Galt House at one in the dining room."
"Thanks, Dad. See you then."
The Galt House was a Louisville legend, built in the early 1800s and overlooking the Ohio River and most of the downtown activity. It was strictly old money and boasted the flamboyance of an era that no longer existed.
Dad was waiting at his usual table. I shook hands with him and sat down. He'd already ordered a cola for me, although we both understood I'd probably rather have some bourbon in it. We ordered lunch and waited for it before getting down to the meat of what I was there to talk about. Until then, we talked football, the weather, the farm, Mom and money.
"You know, son, you'll come into your trust next birthday," he reminded me.
"Yes, sir, I'm aware of that."
"Are you in any way prepared to handle your investments?"
I looked up at him in shock. That was a defining moment; I realized my dad had absolutely no faith in me beyond my ability to throw a football. The waiter interrupted me, but only until he disappeared.
"Dad, let me ask you something."
"Go on, ask."
"What do you see me doing with my future?"
"Your future? Well, son, you'll help me on the farm, of course. What did you think?"
"Dad, I'm taking pre-law. Are you aware of that?"
"Fffft... that's just for show. You're worth more than any damned lawyer." His tone was condescending and dismissive. I saw the flash of his diamond pinkie ring in the sunlight that filtered through the blinds behind him. He's all about the show!
"So, let me understand you. If I spend the entire seven years needed for a law degree, you're expecting me to work alongside you at the farm?"
He looked up from his Derby club sandwich and must have seen the amazement on my face. "Well... I guess it might come in handy." He dabbed his napkin at the juice running down his chin and now staining his custom-made shirt. "I could get rid of a couple of the ambulance chasers I have on retainer, I suppose."
"You suppose? Just how many ambulance-chasers do you have on retainer, Dad?"
"Hell, I don't know. Ten, twelve."
"So, not only would I be your assistant, but there would be attorneys in charge of our affairs who would outrank me?"
"What's the matter with you, Michael? You've got all the money you could ever want. Why the hell does it matter who's in charge of what?"
I put my sandwich down and wiped my mouth with my napkin, setting it beside my plate. "It matters to me, Dad, and it should matter to you. I'm not another one of your employees or the means for you to relive your youth and the football games you didn't get to play. This is my life, and even though I may be young, do not make the mistake of underestimating me." I stood up and walked out of the Galt House, got into my car and left.
Dad lost control of me that day. What's more, he lost my respect, because he had none for me. Memory after memory washed over me. All the times I'd done things his way because he was my father. He didn't control my inheritance - that came from my grandfather. In fact, once I thought it over, Dad really hadn't earned anything on his own. He hadn't completed college. He'd started out working for my grandfather as a stable boy, advancing slowly as he learned the ropes. Did he think I would pass the bar just to become his new stable boy? My eyes were open and I was going full steam ahead.
Chapter 13 - Callie
I called one of the girls I'd gone to school with. We'd probably have been better friends if I hadn't spent all my time with Michael.
"Deb, I need help."
"What's wrong?"
"It's my dad. He's collapsed and is in St. Mary's. I need someone to watch Josiah. Could you do it? Could I bring him over? He's really no trouble... just a few diaper changes and feed him food from jars. A bottle at bedtime."
"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Callie. Of course, I'll be glad to watch him. Look, stay put and I'll drive over. I'll get his car seat and bring him home with me and then you can go and be with your dad for as long as you need to. It's no problem. Geez, the other girls would love to take turns."
"No, Deb, please. None of the others." Josiah looked too much like Michael for me to risk it. "Deb, please, he's not great with strangers and there's that bug going around. Could you just take him yourself, quietly, for a day?"
"Of course. Don't give it another thought. I'm on my way."
Deb pulled up in her new SUV and was transferring Josiah's car seat from my truck when I came out, holding his diaper bag and a second bag with toys, blankets and extra food. I hugged her and loaded it in the back of her vehicle, then returned and put in the portable crib / playpen we had for taking him outside. He could sleep in it. Finally, I brought out Josiah, kissed him soundly, and handed him to Deb, who cooed and loved on him as she buckled him into her car. "He'll be just fine, don't you worry. Mom and I will take good care of him, and I won't let anyone else around. I promise."
"Thank you, Deb. You're a lifesaver." I made sure she had his medical information and my phone number and then waved good-bye. I stopped up at the Smithfields' main house and talked to them, telling them I was headed back to the hospital and that they'd better find someone to cover for Dad a few days longer. They exchanged glances, and I knew what they were thinking, but I didn't want to go there yet. I just couldn't.
I called Mrs. Tarrington and let her know what was going on. She wasn't generous in her well-wishing, but told me to come back as soon as I could. As for classes, they'd have to wait until I knew what was going on.
I was already exhausted. I still had yet to find out what was wrong with Dad, and that was what would tell me what sort of arrangements were next up on the list.
I walked into the family waiting room at St. Mary's and stopped cold.
Michael was sitting in a chair, paging through a magazine.
"What are you doing here?" I asked when I approached.
He looked up. "I'm here because you need me."
I don't know where they came from, but the tears began a trek over my cheeks. My arms went limp and I dropped my purse where I stood. Michael stood and put his arms around me, tucking my head beneath his chin, against his chest. All the tension, the hurt and the fear about what might happen streamed out of my eyes and down his shirt. He led me to one of the private conference rooms and took me inside. "Shh... now, they won't tell me anything because I'm not family, but now that you're here, we can find out what's happened. I'm here for you, lassie. No matter what. You can count on that."
I let the shuddering cry finish out and stepped into the adjoining small bathroom to wash my face and straighten my clothes. If Dad was conscious and I was able to see him, I didn't want him to see me so shook up. I came out and nodded to Michael, took his hand and went up to the information desk. "I'd like to see my father, Andrew Tucker. I'm his daughter."
She tapped her keys, and my father's life appeared on a computer. "He's in ICU. Hold on and I'll see if you can go in and see him a few minutes. At least the doctors will talk with you."
I waited nearby, watching family after family enter the area, looks of grief or concern twisting their features. How would I look when I returned?
"You can go up to the fifth floor. Hit the red button on the door and someone will come to let you in." She looked at Michael and said, "Immediate family only. There's a room up there where you can sit and wait, though."
Michael nodded and took me by the elbow to the elevators. When one opened, he took me inside and immed
iately hit the "close door" button. "I want you to know that no matter what the doctors say, Callie, we're going to get him the best care possible. You and, well, the baby, aren't to worry about a thing."
I didn't answer, but nodded, as the elevator was opening and I was facing the door with the red button. There was a small room to the side where Michael went and sat, giving me a thumbs-up as my door opened and I was admitted into the strange world of blinking lights, beeps and tubes with gushing air. I was shown to a small patient room that was separated from the nurse's station by an open window. Dad was lying in the bed, and I felt my knees buckle at how pale and lifeless he looked.
"He's going to need a long recovery, but he'll be okay." I turned and saw a man in a white lab coat. "Dr. Greene," he said, holding out his hand.
I shook it briefly and stepped closer to the bed. Dad was on a ventilator. "He's had a major stroke, and we've got him in a mild coma so his body can recover. He could breathe on his own if he were conscious, so don't let that worry you."
"How long?"
"Hard to say. Once he's rested, we'll bring him out and put him in a normal room. They'll do more testing to discover the extent of the damage. Then we'll start physical and occupational therapy. If I had to guess, he'll be with us for three months minimum. Then he'll need to move to a rehab center for maybe another six months."
"Oh, my God," was all I could say. Dad had minimal health insurance coverage with the Smithfields, but that would end since obviously he couldn't go back to work there.
"If you're worried about insurance, when his runs out, they'll flip him over to Medicaid. You shouldn't have much in the way of bills."
"Can I stay a few minutes with him?"
"No more than five. We have him under so he can rest."
I nodded and watched the doctor go on to the next room and the next life that was probably equally in shambles.
I leaned over the bed rail and kissed Dad on the forehead. "Hey, Dad, it's Callie. I'm here and everything is going to be okay. I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I will take care of things, don't worry. I'll figure it out. I have to leave now. They won't let me stay. They want you to rest. You're in St. Mary's. I'll be back when I can. I love you, Dad. Remember, I will never leave you."