Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(83)

“Did you talk to her?”

“No. I saw her though. At a church picnic.”

My dad scoffs, and I laugh. “Church welcomes sinners and saints.”

Dad nods. “They sure do.” He tries to adjust himself, but there’s really not another position for him to move to. He grimaces and gives up. “So, did you go there with a plan?”

“In my head I had a lot to say. But when I saw her, the words disappeared. Maybe if she’d looked sad, or regretful, it would have been easier to lay into her.” In my mind I’m seeing her pulled back shoulders, her easy step, the way her fingers gripped the basket she carried. No sign of a past life anywhere on her. “She looked carefree. Happy. After everything she did, everything she took from me, you’d think I could’ve been strong enough to take a piece of that happiness from her by confronting her.” My shrug feels heavy. “I couldn’t.”

My dad leans his head back, so the pillows support his neck, but his eyes remain on me. “It’s not in your nature to be vindictive. Children are born loving their parents. It’s automatic. Biological. You love her, Aubrey, and that’s why you couldn’t confront her. Deep down, you don’t want to hurt her.”

I turn my head, not wanting to absorb his words, but I know he’s right. Through all the layers of betrayal, hurt, and anger, there was yearning and warmth. That feeling you feel when you love someone.

“Well, now you know where she is, so you can go talk to her when you’re healthy.” I clear my throat, needing desperately to move this conversation off me.

“Oh, I’ll be up there, somewhere in the mountains, but I won’t be seeking her out. Maybe I’ll hunt with someone else from here on out though.”

“You’re going to keep hunting? Dad, that’s ridiculous. Look at yourself.” I gesture from his head to his toes.

“Of course I’m going to keep hunting. It was one bad fall. Do you think I should never go out there again?” He makes a disbelieving sound. “Can’t let falling down keep you from getting up.” He levels me with another pointed look.

“I’m getting the feeling you’re not just talking about hunting.”

“You need to let him in. If he’s not the one for you, then fine. But I think he is. And I think you know it too.” His words are slow, measured.

“When did you start thinking so much about this?” And when did he get so wise?

“I had a lot of time on my hands in the past day.”

“Oh, Dad. I can’t stand thinking about what you’ve gone through.” I push down the great big heave my chest wants to make. At this point, I’m certain that would embarrass both of us. Isn’t it enough to know the feeling is there? Do we really have to show the emotion to feel it?

“Everything’s all right now, Aubs.” His fingers brush the hand I’ve laid on his bed.

“Excuse me?” A women’s voice speaks up behind me. My dad peers beyond me, smiling, and I follow his gaze.

“Hi, I’m Cheryl.” A middle-age woman in scrubs approaches me, her hand out. “I’ve been with your dad since he came in last night.” I shake her hand and introduce myself. Cheryl has shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and a round, inviting face.

She steps around me, smiling warmly at my dad. “My shift will be ending soon. Is there anything you need right now?”

“No, we’re good,” I say.

At the same time my dad says, “Actually, I’m ready for a nap.”

“Dad, I’m sorry,” Quickly I step back from his bed. “I didn’t know.”

“Knock it off, Aubs. You’re never an imposition.” He raises his arms, and Nurse Cheryl frowns. How much pain does this one action cause him? According to him, he doesn’t feel much, but I’m not inclined to believe he feels nothing.

Gently I fold myself into his waiting arms, careful not to squeeze. I only linger a few seconds. Pulling myself upright, I say “Let me know what you need. I can run home and grab stuff for you.”

“Maybe some clothes.” He scratches his jaw. Cheryl is checking monitors and bags hanging on the other side of his bed. “I don’t think I can wear what I came here in.” He glances at Cheryl, and she smirks.

“Not unless you can sew.” They laugh together at her joke.

“I’ll bring you clothes. Shorts. For your cast.” I grab my purse from where I left it on the ground. “Anything else?”

He shakes his head no. “Cheryl’s taking good care of me.”

“OK. I’ll see you soon.” I go to leave, but he calls my name and I turn back. His eyes are on me, and they look full, with emotion or words or maybe some combination. They both live inside him, but they don’t often make any sort of grand appearance.

“You’re a person worth loving, Aubrey. I’ve always known that.”

I’m so overcome I can hardly manage a nod. His words deserve my full acknowledgment, but I’ve never been good at receiving compliments.

“I love you too, Dad,” I say on my way out the door. The air I’m leaving on feels immensely different than the frightened, sad air I walked in on.





I grabbed more than clothes for my dad. I took everything he would like to have but wouldn’t think to ask for. And I added cologne to the bag. Nurse Cheryl is cute.