A Month of Summer by Lisa Wingate

Author:Lisa Wingate
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.

CHAPTER 15

Rebecca Macklin

After a traumatic exit from the nursing center, during which Teddy temporarily melted down about having to leave Hanna Beth, we stopped by the hospital to check on my father again. He was awake, calmly watching a rerun of Big Valley and consuming the food on his supper tray. Dr. Amadi wasn’t available, and the nurse had little information, other than the current regimen of medications and what they were for. When we entered the room, my father greeted us warmly and gave us details about the oil field accident that had caused his broken ribs. I played Marilyn, and Teddy hung out by the door, looking uncertain. My father wanted me to call his office, let his boss know he’d be out for a few days, but he would be phoning in for updates on the core samples from the exploratory drilling in the Garner-North field. He didn’t intend to let this little medical emergency sideline him.

As I turned to leave, he reached for my hand, awkwardly catching my wrist first, then sliding to my fingers. Lifting his face, he met my gaze. His eyes narrowed upward, a contemplative network of wrinkles forming around the corners. For an instant, I thought he saw me—not Marilyn, but me.

“Tell Rebecca not to be scared,” he said, and an unwanted tenderness gathered in my throat. I swallowed hard. He searched my face, looking for something. Bringing my hand to his lips, he kissed it, then cupped my fingers between his and held them against his chest. I felt his heartbeat, a slow, steady rhythm that drew me back to a day when we’d lain on a beach beneath a towering palm in Moorea. I’d rested my head on his arm, gazed into the swaying branches overhead, felt a steady pulse against my ear. My eyes drifted closed, and he stayed there while I slept.

I’d let go of moments like that one. It was easier to believe they’d never existed. But now, watching him in the bed, I saw the eyes of the father who waited patiently while I dreamed away the afternoon on the beach.

“Tell Rebecca her old dad’s gonna be fine,” he whispered, his lashes drifting closed.

Emotion overcame me. Pressing a hand over my mouth, I pulled away from him, turned and ran from the room.

Teddy followed me. In the elevator, I tried to rein in my feelings, gather them up, put them in a box and clamp the lid down tight.

Teddy patted my shoulder awkwardly, which seemed an odd turnabout, considering that a short time before I’d been the one trying to calm him as we prepared to leave the nursing home. “It okay, A-becca. It soo-kay. Don’ cry, A-becca.” The wall between me and the tears burst, and they tumbled forth, raw and pure. I stood sobbing in the elevator as we reached the ground floor. I wasn’t even sure why. Amid the crushing tide of anxiety, some logical part of me was echoing Teddy. It’s okay. He’s resting comfortably.

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