laughter is the best medicine.” She laid her coat over a chair by the door and took in her Dad’s new digs. There was a large window with the shade drawn so the light didn’t bleach out the television picture. The bed wasn’t anything special, except that it had a rail to keep Dad from falling out like a toddler. The blanket was light blue, and the walls were cream. He had a dresser and a nightstand and didn’t have to share with anyone. All in all, it wasn’t a bad situation for him to recoup. Not only did he get three warm meals a day; he had a standing appointment with a physical therapist, control of the remote, and a nurse to check in on him.
She took a deep breath and let the remaining resentment against her father for picking this place float away and disappear. He was in the best place for him right now. She had to be here to see that, but that was her issue, not his.
The bigger problem was letting go of her own pride and expectations. Huh. How many times had she expected something out of her dad and he’d let her down? She didn’t know, nor could she come up with a number. She did have a number for how many times she’d told him about her expectations: zero. The man was an only child. How would he know what a daughter expected of her dad?
She rubbed her forehead. The revelations were just pouring in this holiday season.
“You okay?” Dad asked.
She dropped her hand and sat on the edge of his bed. “Better than I deserve. We inoculated the reindeer yesterday against the flu Dunder has.”
Dad’s eyes lit up and he sat up taller. Turning off the television, he folded his hands in his lap and asked, “Tell me about it?”
His interest was too intense, and she leaned back. “It went fine. The animals aren’t what I expected.”
Dad slapped his leg as he laughed.
She grinned. “I know. You’ve been telling me for years they’re something special. I just didn’t expect so much personality.” Moving up on the mattress edge, she talked with her hands as she described the way Apples planted his front hooves and shook his head until Caleb bribed him with an apple. “I couldn’t believe that he’d had this apple in his pocket the whole time, like he expected to run into this problem.”
Dad tapped the side of his nose. “The reindeer is named Apples for a reason.”
She laughed, tipping her head back. “I guess I should have seen it coming. I thought it was because of his red pelt.”
Dad chuckled.
She settled back into place. “I think this is the best conversation we’ve ever had.”
He patted her hand. “I wish it had happened years ago.”
“Why didn’t it?” She glanced down at their hands. “Why didn’t you tell me about them—all of them?” She didn’t like the accusation in her voice but wasn’t sure what to do about it.
He sighed heavily and his body sank into the mattress as if she’d laid a heavy burden on his chest. “I tried.”
She thought back to his phone calls, the short times they’d spent together at the diner. “No, you didn’t. I don’t remember you ever telling me about Dunder or Sparkle or McJingles.” The reindeer who liked to wear bells and pull the sleigh around town had pranced into the chute like he was a dandy ready for grooming. A compliment on his regal bearing got her anything she wanted from the pretentious stud.
Dad patted her hand absently. “Reindeer were a sore spot in our conversations.”
Faith bit her lip, not wanting to say anything bad about her mother, who’d sacrificed so much for her; but she needed to understand. “Mom hated the reindeer—she said you chose them over us.”
Dad ran his hand down his face. “There are two sides to that statement. Yes, I liked being on the ranch; it was a good place to get away from your mom. She thought marrying a veterinarian was her ticket to easy street.”
Faith scoffed. She made a comfortable living, enough to support a family, but not the kind of money that would set her free financially. A memory popped up. “She didn’t want me to be a vet—said it was a dead end. It was only after you offered to pay tuition that she relented. She said the student loans would have overloaded me.”
“She’s right. I was still trying to dig my way out