lease get better,” I whisper. “Please.”
Christian puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“All Mr. Steele’s vitals are good,” Nurse Kellie says quietly.
“Thank you,” Christian murmurs. I glance up in time to see her gape. She’s
finally gotten a good look at my husband. I don’t care. She can gape at
Christian all she likes as long as she makes my father well again.
“Can he hear me?” I ask.
“He’s deeply asleep. But who knows?”
“Can I sit for a while?”
“Sure thing.” She smiles at me, her cheeks pink from a telltale blush.
Incongruously, I find myself thinking blond is not her true color. Christian
gazes down at me, ignoring her. “I need to make a call. I’ll be outside. I’ll give
you some alone time with your dad.”
I nod. He bends, kisses my hair, and stalks out of the room. I sit and hold
Ray’s hand, marveling at the irony that it’s only now when he’s unconscious
and can’t hear me that I really want to tell him how much I love him. This man
has been my constant. My rock. And I’ve never thought about it until now. I’m
not flesh of his flesh, but he’s my dad, and I love him so very much. My tears
trail down my cheeks. Please get better, Daddy. Very quietly, so as not to
disturb anyone, I tell him about our weekend in Aspen and about last
weekend when we were soaring and sailing aboard the Grace. I tell him
about our new house, our plans, about how we hope to make it ecologically
sustainable. I promise to take him with us to Aspen so he can go fishing with
Christian and assure him that Mr. Rodriguez and José will both be welcome,
too . . . Please be here to do that, Daddy. Please. Ray remains immobile,
the ventilator sucking and expelling and the monotonous but reassuring
beep, beep, beep of his heart monitor his only response.
When I look up, Christian is sitting quietly at the end of the bed. I don’t know
how long he’s been there.
“Hi,” he says, his eyes glowing with compassion and concern.
“Hi.”
“So, I’m going fishing with your dad, Mr. Rodrigue
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