But she assures us that hospitalization isn’t our only option and recommends hiring a home health company to oversee his care for the next few days.
In hours, I’ve signed a contract for a home health agency. Ridge insisted, telling me I shouldn’t waste a second worrying about the cost.
There’ll be time for that later, I guess, but for now...
I’ll swallow my pride and put Dad’s health first.
The RN arrives later. We transfer Dad to the cabin, get him situated in bed with a portable oxygen condenser and an IV of saline solution and antibiotics. He’s out, sleeping relatively peacefully in no time.
Big relief.
It’s all been such a whirlwind that I’m dizzy, but also so thankful it hurts.
Dr. Abrams is an amazing woman. She promises she’ll be back to check on Dad the day after tomorrow, and we’ll go from there. She has a small clinic in Dallas, but she only works a few days a week.
Tobin had seen her last fall—more to scope her out as a suitable care option rather than for any real issue, I suspect—and put her on retainer as their private on-call doctor.
It’s easy to think of everything when you’ve got a full-time valet, apparently.
Tobin knew they’d eventually need a doctor out here, though, and he was right.
Now for the hard part.
I owe Ridge so flipping much, including an apology for thinking he’d been behind those media lies.
For thinking he’d ever be so ugly, so selfish, when he’s proven otherwise today a dozen times.
“He’s sleeping like a baby,” Nurse Jackie Owens says, smiling as she steps out of the bedroom.
She’s an older woman with dark curly hair, bright-green eyes, and so far hasn’t taken one bit of crap from Dad the few times he worked up the energy to fuss.
I give it a day. He’s never liked being coddled.
“I can take him, easy,” she assures me with a wink. “I’ve knocked sense into country boys from around here missing fingers and toes and still insisting all they need is a Band-Aid and a shot of Jack.”
I hope she’s right. I’m glad she’s been a nurse for thirty years and swears she’s seen it all.
“Thank you.” I truly don’t know what more to say.
It’s all coming down on me like an avalanche right now.
This day. This week. This year.
This life.
“Why don’t you get some shut-eye yourself, young lady? Sure looks like you could use it,” Jackie says, patting my shoulder. “He’s in good hands.”
A burning ache scratches my throat.
Sure, with her looking after him, Dad will be all right. But for how long?
I pinch my lips together and nod.
Needing a bit of air, I say, “I need to go check on our horses.”
And I do. I haven’t been to the barn since this morning, when Dad collapsed and Ridge nearly carried him into the house.
I put on my coat and head outside, into the darkening purple glow of evening. A somber day for the sky to look so beautiful.
Zipping my coat, I head for the barn.
“Hey,” a gruff voice calls.
The ache in my throat burns hotter as Ridge shuts the door to his house behind him, rapidly striding my way on those powerful legs.
“Hey yourself,” I answer.
He’s been back and forth between the house and the cabin all day, the same as Tobin.
Tears burn my eyes and I turn, starting for the barn again.
Not now. I’m so not ready to face him again.
“I was just going out to check the horses,” I say, fighting hard to control my pitch.
“I’ll join you.”
Of course he will.
Lovely.
But I can’t say no. In fact, I have a whole hecking lot I need to say to him.
Starting with I’m sorry.
I’ll wait until we’re inside the barn, I guess, with the horses between us. An emotional barrier of sorts. I need one bad right now.
Cornelius struts out the door, his head bobbing, as we walk around the corner of the barn. I think nothing of it until I don’t hear Ridge’s footsteps and turn, seeing he’s fallen back.
“Was the door open all day?” he asks.
“I haven’t been here since this morning,” I admit. “Haven’t even had a chance to look out the window.”
“Me, neith—Shit!”
“What’s wrong?” I step up, heart banging in my chest, and look around him into the empty barn. “Oh, no. No, no, nooo!” I shoulder around, racing into the barn, praying to everything holy that this isn’t happening. My luck can’t be this