Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(117)

“No, thank you,” said Mr. Patel, stepping inside. One bodyguard followed him in, the other remained on the porch. “We will not be here long.”

“That’s too bad. Alex is out with my daughter. I’m sure she would have loved to see you, Amita.”

Amita clapped her hands to her mouth. “Alex? From the bank? Oh my God, are you two…?” She squealed and hugged me again. “I can’t believe it. How wonderful! So lovely to know something good came out of something so terrible.”

“Yeah,” I said. I thought of Alex, at her new job, doing family law in Lilah’s firm, easing the pains of broken families and always being home in time for dinner with us, her family. It’s more than good, I wanted to tell Amita. It’s absolutely extraordinary.

I guided them to the kitchen table where they sat across from me, the bodyguard looming over us.

“I will be short, Mr. Bishop,” Mr. Patel said, lacing his pudgy, ringed fingers together on the table. “When I learned that my youngest daughter was caught in that bank robbery, I flew from Mumbai at once. When it ended and Amita was free, she told me everything that had happened during that ordeal. Needless to say, I immediately sought for a way to reward your heroism and courage.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “Mr. Patel…”

He gave me a look that said he wasn’t used to being interrupted and I fell silent.

“I am very fond of a great many things about your country—the police and the …”

“S.W.A.T. team, Father,” Amita supplied.

“Yes, the S.W.A.T. Very excellent. Not so excellent is your country’s lack of health care services to its citizens in need. I therefore endeavored to erase any medical debt you may have had, only to discover that you had none.”

“Uh, right,” I said. “I’m fine. Really. I don’t need—”

“However, my debt to you remains and so I have come here to be relieved of it.”

“Relieved of it?” I asked. “No, no, that’s not necessary…”

Amita made a negating gesture with her hand and then smothered a grin as her father continued.

“You risked your life to protect that of my daughter, and, I have heard, the lives of others. You must tell me how the debt is to be repaid.” Mr. Patel sat back in his chair. “I will wait.”

I blinked and looked helplessly to Amita.

“I told him you’d resist,” she said, smiling. “But he’s serious. So unless you want a houseguest indefinitely…”

I looked back at her father. “Anything?”

Mr. Patel nodded. “Anything you choose. Name it, and it’s yours.”

I want Callie’s pain to disappear. But that was, apparently, the one thing Mr. Patel couldn’t give me. My eyes strayed to the notice on the refrigerator that said I had passed my GC exam. Callie had stuck it on there with a magnet, the way I did her schoolwork.

“What kind of business are you in, Mr. Patel?”

“All kinds.”

“Investments?”

“Of course.”

I nodded. “I just want to go on record saying that you don’t owe me anything, but there’s no getting around this, is there?”

“No. There is not.”

I nodded again, and heaved a breath. “Okay. Then this is what I want…”

#

The administrator greeted Alex and I at the door to New Horizons, which did more to increase my dread than the phone call that morning. He’s very far gone, Mr. Bishop. What did that mean? The nurse wouldn’t explain over the phone. Now the administrator himself, Mr. Carlyle, extended his hand to me, and gave Alex a polite greeting. The man’s face was professionally sympathetic.

“Mr. Bishop, I apologize if we’ve alarmed you, but I’m afraid Nurse Pauline found your father in a rather distressed state this morning, and attempts to bring him to the present time have been unsuccessful.”

I fought to keep the pain that gripped my heart from showing itself on my face. “Can I see him?”

“Of course,” Mr. Carlyle said. “It is the policy of New Horizons to keep our guests’ families abreast of any changes immediately.” The three of us walked to the elevator. “In your father’s case, I’m afraid the changes appear quite significant. It is likely he might not know who you are, but moreover, this sort of rapid slide…Well, to be frank, Mr. Bishop, this sort of hasty decline is typically a final stage in the disease’s progress.”

The elevator door shut. I stood staring straight ahead. “You mean, he’s going to die.”

Alex gave my hand a squeeze and I held on. I’m too late. One goddamn day too late.

Nurse Pauline met us as the doors opened. She smiled wanly. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, even if he can’t articulate that.”

In room 414, I found my father bedridden, staring at nothing, unmoving, like a puppet with its strings cut. I gripped Alex’s hand tighter as memories rose up to challenge what I was seeing; memories of my father hale and hearty, his muscles strong as he cut wood to make a tree house when I was a kid, or as he carried lumber over his shoulder when we had a business, his face tanned and full.

Not this, I thought, my chest constricting. This is not him.