A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace (28 page)

There was one last phone call, to her sister on the East Coast.

“How serious is it?” Beth had not been close to their father since before her divorce twelve years earlier. Now, though, there was concern in her voice.

“It’s bad, Beth. Get on a plane, quick.”

Abby, Nicole, and Sean piled into the van, and the drive that usually took fifteen minutes took ten. They hurried inside and Abby saw that Kade and John had not yet arrived.
Don’t blow this one, John
. He hadn’t been in to see her father in more than a month.

She banished the thought. There was no time for negative feelings now, not with her dad fighting for his life down the hall. “Nicole, stay here with Sean and watch for your dad and Kade. I’ll go see Grandpa first.”

Nicole nodded, her eyes damp, face drawn and filled with sadness. She had always been close to her grandpa. Especially in the eight years since he’d given up his home in Wisconsin and moved closer to them. It was the same way with the boys. He’d been a part of their lives almost as far back as they could remember.

Abby hurried down the hallway and quietly opened the door to his room. What she saw brought tears to her eyes. Her father lay prone and utterly still, his face slack, hands motionless as though he’d aged twenty years overnight. A nurse stood nearby taking his vital signs.

“Should we call an ambulance?” Abby was at her father’s side immediately, taking his hand, shocked at the way it hung limp in her own.

The nurse shook her head as she adjusted his intravenous needle. “He’s stable now. There’s nothing more they could do for him. We’re giving him a medication to undo the damage done by the stroke. It’ll take time, though.”

“To work?”

“To know if it did any good. Sometimes a major stroke can set off a series of strokes. With someone as ill as your father, the chances of him recovering without damage are slim, Mrs. Reynolds.”

She tightened her grip on her father’s hand. “But it’s possible, right? I mean he could come out of this and be the way he was before the stroke, right?”

The nurse looked hesitant. “Not very likely.” She finished working on him and straightened, leveling a sympathetic gaze at Abby. “We think it’d be best if the family came now, Mrs. Reynolds. Another stroke could be the end for him, I’m afraid.”

More tears filled Abby’s eyes and she nodded, unable to speak. The nurse took the cue and left them alone. Abby waited until the woman was gone before she found her voice.

“Dad, it’s me. Can you hear me? We’re all here, Dad. The kids are in the other room.”

Her father’s eyelids fluttered and his mouth, dry and cracked, began working without sound.

“Dad, I’m here. If you wanna talk I’m right here.” Tears spilled down Abby’s cheeks, but her voice was stronger than before. “I’m listening, Dad.”

His mouth worked some more, and this time his eyes rolled back in his head three times, as though he was trying to focus on her, trying to see her one last time.

“Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry . . .” Her voice broke and she laid her head on his chest, allowing the sobs that had built in her heart. “I love you, Dad.”

“John . . .”

The word startled Abby, and she lifted her head, searching her father’s face for signs of life. His eyes opened slowly and he caught Abby’s gaze. Again his mouth worked and he repeated the same word he’d said a moment earlier. “John . . .”

“You want John, Daddy?” Abby didn’t understand. John hadn’t been to see him in weeks. Why now, when he couldn’t move, could barely speak, would he want to talk to John? Especially when he knew the truth about their troubled marriage.

There was a pleading in her father’s eyes that was unmistakable, as though whatever he had to tell John was, in that moment, the most important, most pressing thing in his life. Abby remembered how strong her father had looked that day at the Michigan football game when her family had greeted John outside the team locker room. The year she was just seventeen. Later that week her father had winked at her and confessed something. “John’s always been like a son to me, Abby. The only son I ever had. I kinda hoped he’d wait for you to grow up.”

Abby looked at her father now and squeezed his hand. “All right, Dad. I’ll get him.” She started backing away. “You hang on now, okay. I’ll be right back.”

Tears still spilling down her cheeks, Abby rushed down the hall, relieved to see John and Kade with Nicole and Sean in the waiting room. John hurried to meet her with the others close behind.

“How is he?” John’s face was a mask of concern, and Abby wanted to spit at him.
Sure, care about him now . . . now that he’s dying
. She hung her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Abby, how is he?” John’s voice was more urgent.

“He’s . . . he’s . . .” The sobs overcame her, and her body shook with the force of her emotion.
Don’t take my dad, Lord. He’s all I have. My only friend. Please . . .

Her family circled in closer, and John put his arms around her, holding her in a loose hug that probably looked more comfortable than it felt. “Honey, I’m sorry. We’re here for you.”

Abby reeled at the feel of his arms around her. How long had it been since she’d stood in his embrace? And how come it still felt like the most right place in the world? She thought about his words and she wasn’t sure if she should hold onto him tighter or kick him in the leg. How dare he lie and call her honey at a time like this? Was it that important to look good in front of the kids? He hadn’t been protective of her for years. Why would now be any different?

And why did it feel so good to have his arms around her? She cried softly, keeping her warring emotions to herself.

“He’s . . . still alive right, Mom?” Nicole’s expression was racked with fear.

Abby nodded, realizing that she hadn’t explained the situation. “He can’t move; he can barely talk. He . . . he looks like a different man.”

Nicole started crying, and John circled her and Sean and Kade into their hug. The five of them hung on to each other, and Abby realized that she wasn’t only losing her father. She was losing this— her family’s ability to grieve together, to suffer life’s dark and desperate times under the strength of her husband. In a few months she would be on her own, forced to shoulder every major setback and milestone by herself.

From where he stood near the back of the huddle, Kade began to pray. “God, we come before You as a family asking that You be with our grandpa, Mom’s dad. He loves You very much, Lord, and, well . . . You already know that. But he’s real sick, God. Please be with him now and help him not be afraid.”

Abby tightened the hold she had on Kade’s shoulder. He was such a good boy, so much like the man his father had once been. The thought of his leaving for college in the fall was enough to send another wave of sobs tearing through her gut. Then she realized that Kade had not prayed for healing.

Almost as if God were preparing them already for the inevitable.

The sobs subsided after a few minutes, and Abby remembered her father’s request. She lifted her head and found John’s eyes. “He asked for you.”

Was it her imagination or did John’s eyes cloud with fear the moment Abby told him? “Me?” The word was barely more than a whisper.

Abby nodded. “It seemed urgent.”

John drew a steadying breath and nodded toward the waiting room. “You guys wait for me. I’ll be back.”

Without hesitating, he led the way down the hall while Abby stayed close behind him. They entered the room together, and Abby took up watch on the far side of the bed. Her father’s head was moving about restlessly on the pillow, and when he heard them his eyes opened, searching until they found John.

His mouth started working again and finally the sound followed. “Come . . .”

John moved close to the bed and took her father’s lifeless hand in his stronger ones. “Hi, Joe.”

It broke Abby’s heart to see her dad struggle so hard to speak. Clearly he couldn’t move, and she realized the nurse had been right. The stroke had left him paralyzed—at least for now.

Once more he began opening and closing his mouth, but this time his eyes were more alert, more focused. Never once did they leave John’s face. “Lubber . . .”

What was her father saying? Abby couldn’t make it out and the expression on John’s face told her he couldn’t either.

“It’s okay, Joe,” John’s voice was low and soothing. “Don’t struggle. The Lord’s here.”

Oh, please . . . you of all—

Abby stopped herself. This wasn’t the time to harbor resentment toward John. “Dad . . .” She spoke loudly so he could hear her from across the room. “Say it again, Dad.”

Her father kept his gaze glued to John’s face. “Lub-ber . . .” His words were slurred, running together so that it was impossible to understand. Abby closed her eyes and tried to hear beyond his broken speech. “Lub-her . . . lub-her . . .”

“Lu . . .” John tried to repeat the beginning of whatever it was her father was trying to say. “Can you say it once more, Joe. I’m sorry.”

Abby willed her father the ability to speak clearly. Just this once when whatever it was he wanted to say was of such importance to him.
Please, God . . . give him the words
.

Her dad blinked twice, and his eyes filled with desperation as his voice grew louder. “Love her . . . love her.”

“Love her
.” The words hit Abby like a tidal wave, washing away her determination to be strong. “
Love her.”
In his most pained moment, when death itself might be only minutes away, his single message to his son-in-law was this: Love her. Love his daughter Abby for now, forever. Love her.

Abby looked across the room at John and saw that he, too, understood. Tears trickled down his rugged cheeks, and he seemed to struggle for the right words. When none came, he nodded, his chin quivering under the intensity of the moment.

Her father didn’t let it rest. He blinked again—the only action he seemed to have left—and this time said it even more clearly. “Love her . . . John.”

Guilt and remorse worked their way into John’s features and he cocked his head, gazing across the bed at Abby. Then without speaking, he held up a single, shaky hand in her direction, beckoning her, begging her to come to him. Silently he mouthed the word, “please.”

Two quick breaths lodged in Abby’s chest, and she moved toward him. No matter that he’d fallen out of love with her, regardless of the ways in which he’d betrayed his wedding vows, despite Charlene and everything she represented, Abby came. John held his arm out to her until she was nestled underneath it, snug against him, side by side. A couple, facing her father as one.

Even if only to appease him in his dying hour.

“She’s here, Joe. See . . . she’s here.” John’s tears fell on her father’s hand and bedsheets as Abby remained at his side, one arm clinging to her husband, the other stroking her father’s kneecap.

Her dad’s eyes moved from John to Abby and his head began to bob ever so slightly, up and down, as if approving what he was seeing between them. He nodded this way for a while then let his eyes settle on John once more. “Love her.”

“I will, Dad.” John had never called him that before. But since his own father had died, he hadn’t had a man to fill that role. Over the years John had grown too consumed with his increasingly separate life to spend much time with her father. And now . . . by calling him
Dad
, John was conveying his regrets.

“Love her . . . always.” Her father’s words were getting weaker, but his message was exceptionally clear and repetitive.
Love Abby. Again
and again. Love her now. Love her forever.

Two short sobs escaped from deep in John’s heart, and he blinked hard so he could see clearly. Tightening his grip on Abby he nodded again. “I’ll always love her, Dad.”

A peace came over Abby’s father, and his entire body seemed to relax. His eyes moved slowly until they found Abby again. “Kids . . .”

John was quick to pull away, nodding to Abby. “I’ll get them.” He returned with all three in tow in less than a minute. They filed in, Nicole taking up her position opposite the place where Abby stood, and Kade and Sean falling in beside her.

Her father shot a questioning look at John, and in response he immediately resumed his place at Abby’s side.

“Hi, Grandpa.” Nicole cried unabashedly, indifferent to the way her makeup ran down her cheeks. “We’re praying for you.”

As if every bit of motion required the effort of a marathon, Dad turned his head so that he could find his grandchildren. “Good . . . good kids.”

Sean started to cry and Kade—his own eyes wet—put an arm around his brother, pulling him close, letting him know that tears were okay in times like this. Sean leaned forward and threw his arms around his grandpa, holding on as though he could keep Abby’s father from leaving them. “I love you, Grandpa.”

The sounds of gentle sobs filled the room, and Abby noticed tears in her father’s eyes as well. “Jesus . . .”

Sean stood up slowly and crowded close between Nicole and Kade.

Abby thought she understood, but it grieved her all the same. “Jesus . . . Dad . . . you want to go to Jesus?”

In response, another wave of peace washed over his features and the corners of his lips lifted just a fraction. “I . . . love you . . . all.”

A flicker of concern flashed once more in her father’s eyes, and he turned with excruciating slowness back to John and Abby. Before he could say anything, John tightened the grip he had on Abby, fresh tears spilling from his eyes. “I will, Dad.”

His shoulders sank deeper into the bed and his smile grew until it filled his face. “God . . . is happy.”

Abby’s body convulsed with sobs, hating how they were tricking him into believing everything was okay, and yet wishing with all her heart that John meant what he said. That he actually might still love her, that he always would love her . . . that they would love each other. And that somehow by doing so they might actually make God happy again.

With the five of them holding on to him, each hoping that somehow it wasn’t his time to go, he closed his eyes and breathed three more times.