said that to me after Floyd’s heart attack. It’s the truth, of course, but I’m not buying. “So you had a climax inside my mother at the right time. You made me. She had a significant part in it as well, and she stuck around. There’s a hell of a lot more to being a father than fertilizing an egg.”
A few more moments of silence, and I’m about ready to stand and leave when—
“Please.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I push my hand through my hair. “Fine. Dad. You satisfied now?”
A gurgling sound, and then he produces a sputtering cough. I’m about ready to call the nurse when he stops.
“Sorry about that.”
“No problem. You want to tell me why I’m here now?”
“Yes. There’s a reason why I tried to find you and your brother, and it wasn’t about your money.”
“All right. I’ll give you that much. Though my dad paid for your rehab.”
“He did, and I appreciate it. I told him he didn’t have to. Turns out I spent all of a day there.”
“My father is a great man. The kind of man you’ll never be. He takes care of people who matter to him.”
“And I matter to him?”
“Apparently.”
“He’s a good man.”
“Yes. I know that. I believe I just said it. None of this is why I’m here. Let’s get on with it.”
“I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Which is a good reason for getting on with it.” My voice is tight, full of tension. Yes, I should be sympathetic to the fact that Floyd is dying, but I can’t bring myself to be.
“I had an uncle,” he says.
“Yeah? I have three uncles. Great.”
“It’s difficult for me to talk. Just let me get it out. Please.”
I huff. “Fine.”
“I had an uncle. My father’s brother. Your great-uncle. His name was Frederick Jolly.”
He pauses then. Am I supposed to say something? He told me to let him get it out. I stay silent.
“He was an attorney in Denver. He was my father’s older brother.”
“What was your father’s name?” I ask, not sure why. For some reason, I want to know my birth grandfather’s name. I could have researched it before now, but I didn’t, and I want to know.
“Robert. And your grandmother’s name was Michaela Johnson Jolly.”
“Why didn’t you marry my mother?” I ask.
Again, I’m not sure where the question is coming from, except that this man is dying, and I may never be able to find out this information again.
“She didn’t want to get married,” he says.
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth.”
“You couldn’t even remember her name. You couldn’t remember my name.”
“We were together for four years. You and your brother are three years apart. I’m not lying.”
“How could you forget our names?”
“The booze and pills,” he says. “It fucked up my brain.”
“No shit.” I shake my head. “Go on, then. Tell me what I came here for.”
“So I needed money.”
“For booze and pills?”
He sputters out a cough again, and again I think about calling someone, but he gets it under control.
He makes a gurgling noise and then continues. “I was homeless. On my last dime, and I had this rich uncle. Fred Jolly. My own parents were gone.”
“Dead?”
“Yeah. They died when I was twenty-five. A year or so before this.”
“So you had no one to bail you out.”
“I did. I had Uncle Fred.”
“The rich attorney. Tell me. What does all of this have to do with me?”
He coughs again, and this time, one of his machines starts beeping.
I can’t help an eye roll. This is getting tedious. I don’t really care what he has to say. I already gave him his last wish. I called him Dad, even though he doesn’t deserve it.
Hell is obviously summoning him. So take him, why don’t you? I literally look to the ceiling and then realize my folly. Hell, if it exists, is down, not up. I hold back a laugh as a nurse hurries in.
“Mr. Jolly? Doing okay?” She fidgets with the machines. “You bent your arm again. Try to hold it still, okay? I’m going to reset everything.”
A few minutes later, she leaves. He coughs again.
Finally, I rise. “I don’t have any more time for this.”
“Sit down,” he commands.
And his voice, when he takes that tone, is familiar to me.
It’s…
It’s so like my own.
Scary as hell.
What’s scarier? I sit. I fucking obey the man.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Ashley
After Dale leaves, I walk to the main house. It’s Saturday, and though I’ll go work the harvest, I want some orange juice, and Dale’s out of it. Maybe I’ll run