walked over and peered into the shadows at all the sleepy, quietly clucking ladies. Linden gently closed and latched the door. “Thanks, Henry. You are a big help.”
22
C allie slipped quietly into her dad’s room. A nurse was taking his blood pressure, but when she heard Callie come in, she looked up and smiled. Callie was surprised to see the curtains open and the evening sun filling the room with its warm, friendly light.
“Hey, Dad,” she said softly.
Ben opened his eyes. “Hey there, kiddo.”
“How’re you feelin’?”
“A little tired,” he replied honestly.
The nurse finished jotting down his numbers and said she’d be right back with his dinner. Ben nodded and turned to Callie. “I’m sorry to put you through all this.”
“Don’t be sorry, Dad, you’re not putting me through anything.”
“Yes, I am,” he said, reaching for her hand. “And you already have enough going on.”
“It’s okay, really. We’re managing.”
Ben tried to look around the room. “Hey, where’s my pal?”
“Little kids can’t come into intensive care.”
“Oh.” He paused. “That’s a dumb rule. Where is he then?”
Now it was Callie’s turn to pause. Finally, she said softly, “He’s with Linden.”
Ben’s brow furrowed, and Callie wondered if that was where Henry had inherited that trait.
“Linden?”
Callie nodded and recounted their unexpected encounter in the hardware store, and then again outside the hardware store.
Ben nodded solemnly. “He’s a good guy, Cal.”
“I know, Dad, but I don’t know how he can ever forgive what I did.”
“You might be surprised.”
Callie was quiet, lost in her own thoughts and still worried about leaving Henry. They talked for a bit, but when the nurse came back with his dinner she said, “I think I’m going to go. Can you manage?” He nodded, and she turned on the television for him. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m just worried about him.”
“Of course. Go. And don’t feel like you have to come every day. I know you have your hands full.”
Callie nodded and then hesitated. “Dad, I hate to ask you this, but would it be possible to borrow some money?”
Concern swept across Ben’s face and, without hesitation, he said, “Of course. In the back of my closet. Take whatever you need—it’s all yours anyway.”
Callie frowned. “Not yet, it isn’t.”
Ben smiled. “I’m keeping you guys in my prayers.”
Callie hugged him. “I’m praying for you too,” she whispered.
Callie walked down the hall and silently said a prayer for her dad to get better. As she murmured amen, she wondered how many people actually remembered to say a prayer after saying they would. She shook her head. If they’re anything like me, they forget! She walked to her car, still thinking about it. And, if they’re anything like me, they start off praying but end up thinking about what they’re going to have for breakfast and then not even get to amen before they’re getting out a cereal bowl. Her dad had often said, “Prayer takes focus,” and Callie knew it was true. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she wondered if what her dad had said about Linden forgiving her might also be true.
She thought back to the first Thanksgiving after her mom had died, when the only thing in the world she’d wanted was her dad’s forgiveness. She’d stayed in Vermont that fall, even though she knew her dad was lonely. She ached to see him too, but she just couldn’t face him. She was afraid of his reaction, of his anger; but more than anything, she was afraid of seeing the sadness in his eyes. The first time she’d seen disappointment in her dad’s eyes, she was in second grade and had come home from school with a new pencil case. He’d asked her where she’d gotten it, and she’d stumbled over her answer, not knowing her teacher had called; not knowing he already knew the truth; not knowing that “I found it” was not the answer he was hoping for. But
22
C allie slipped quietly into her dad’s room. A nurse was taking his blood pressure, but when she heard Callie come in, she looked up and smiled. Callie was surprised to see the curtains open and the evening sun filling the room with its warm, friendly light.
“Hey, Dad,” she said softly.
Ben opened his eyes. “Hey there, kiddo.”
“How’re you feelin’?”
“A little tired,” he replied honestly.
The nurse finished jotting down his numbers and said she’d be right back with his dinner. Ben nodded and turned to Callie. “I’m sorry to put you through all this.”
“Don’t be sorry, Dad, you’re not putting me through anything.”
“Yes, I am,” he said, reaching for her hand. “And you already have enough going on.”
“It’s okay, really. We’re managing.”
Ben tried to look around the room. “Hey, where’s my pal?”
“Little kids can’t come into intensive care.”
“Oh.” He paused. “That’s a dumb rule. Where is he then?”
Now it was Callie’s turn to pause. Finally, she said softly, “He’s with Linden.”
Ben’s brow furrowed, and Callie wondered if that was where Henry had inherited that trait.
“Linden?”
Callie nodded and recounted their unexpected encounter in the hardware store, and then again outside the hardware store.
Ben nodded solemnly. “He’s a good guy, Cal.”
“I know, Dad, but I don’t know how he can ever forgive what I did.”
“You might be surprised.”
Callie was quiet, lost in her own thoughts and still worried about leaving Henry. They talked for a bit, but when the nurse came back with his dinner she said, “I think I’m going to go. Can you manage?” He nodded, and she turned on the television for him. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m just worried about him.”
“Of course. Go. And don’t feel like you have to come every day. I know you have your hands full.”
Callie nodded and then hesitated. “Dad, I hate to ask you this, but would it be possible to borrow some money?”
Concern swept across Ben’s face and, without hesitation, he said, “Of course. In the back of my closet. Take whatever you need—it’s all yours anyway.”
Callie frowned. “Not yet, it isn’t.”
Ben smiled. “I’m keeping you guys in my prayers.”
Callie hugged him. “I’m praying for you too,” she whispered.
Callie walked down the hall and silently said a prayer for her dad to get better. As she murmured amen, she wondered how many people actually remembered to say a prayer after saying they would. She shook her head. If they’re anything like me, they forget! She walked to her car, still thinking about it. And, if they’re anything like me, they start off praying but end up thinking about what they’re going to have for breakfast and then not even get to amen before they’re getting out a cereal bowl. Her dad had often said, “Prayer takes focus,” and Callie knew it was true. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she wondered if what her dad had said about Linden forgiving her might also be true.
She thought back to the first Thanksgiving after her mom had died, when the only thing in the world she’d wanted was her dad’s forgiveness. She’d stayed in Vermont that fall, even though she knew her dad was lonely. She ached to see him too, but she just couldn’t face him. She was afraid of his reaction, of his anger; but more than anything, she was afraid of seeing the sadness in his eyes. The first time she’d seen disappointment in her dad’s eyes, she was in second grade and had come home from school with a new pencil case. He’d asked her where she’d gotten it, and she’d stumbled over her answer, not knowing her teacher had called; not knowing he already knew the truth; not knowing that “I found it” was not the answer he was hoping for. But
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