Callie

I called one of the girls I'd gone to school with. We'd probably have been better friends if I hadn't spent all my time with Michael.

"Deb, I need help."

"What's wrong?"

"It's my dad. He's collapsed and is in St. Mary's. I need someone to watch Josiah. Could you do it? Could I bring him over? He's really no trouble... just a few diaper changes and feed him food from jars. A bottle at bedtime."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Callie. Of course, I'll be glad to watch him. Look, stay put and I'll drive over. I'll get his car seat and bring him home with me and then you can go and be with your dad for as long as you need to. It's no problem. Geez, the other girls would love to take turns."

"No, Deb, please. None of the others." Josiah looked too much like Michael for me to risk it. "Deb, please, he's not great with strangers and there's that bug going around. Could you just take him yourself, quietly, for a day?"

"Of course. Don't give it another thought. I'm on my way."

Deb pulled up in her new SUV and was transferring Josiah's car seat from my truck when I came out, holding his diaper bag and a second bag with toys, blankets and extra food. I hugged her and loaded it in the back of her vehicle, then returned and put in the portable crib / playpen we had for taking him outside. He could sleep in it. Finally, I brought out Josiah, kissed him soundly, and handed him to Deb, who cooed and loved on him as she buckled him into her car. "He'll be just fine, don't you worry. Mom and I will take good care of him, and I won't let anyone else around. I promise."

"Thank you, Deb. You're a lifesaver." I made sure she had his medical information and my phone number and then waved good-bye. I stopped up at the Smithfields' main house and talked to them, telling them I was headed back to the hospital and that they'd better find someone to cover for Dad a few days longer. They exchanged glances, and I knew what they were thinking, but I didn't want to go there yet. I just couldn't.

I called Mrs. Tarrington and let her know what was going on. She wasn't generous in her well-wishing, but told me to come back as soon as I could. As for classes, they'd have to wait until I knew what was going on.

I was already exhausted. I still had yet to find out what was wrong with Dad, and that was what would tell me what sort of arrangements were next up on the list.

I walked into the family waiting room at St. Mary's and stopped cold.

Michael was sitting in a chair, paging through a magazine.

"What are you doing here?" I asked when I approached.

He looked up. "I'm here because you need me."

I don't know where they came from, but the tears began a trek over my cheeks. My arms went limp and I dropped my purse where I stood. Michael stood and put his arms around me, tucking my head beneath his chin, against his chest. All the tension, the hurt and the fear about what might happen streamed out of my eyes and down his shirt. He led me to one of the private conference rooms and took me inside. "Shh... now, they won't tell me anything because I'm not family, but now that you're here, we can find out what's happened. I'm here for you, lassie. No matter what. You can count on that."

I let the shuddering cry finish out and stepped into the adjoining small bathroom to wash my face and straighten my clothes. If Dad was conscious and I was able to see him, I didn't want him to see me so shook up. I came out and nodded to Michael, took his hand and went up to the information desk. "I'd like to see my father, Andrew Tucker. I'm his daughter."

She tapped her keys, and my father's life appeared on a computer. "He's in ICU. Hold on and I'll see if you can go in and see him a few minutes. At least the doctors will talk with you."

I waited nearby, watching family after family enter the area, looks of grief or concern twisting their features. How would I look when I returned?

"You can go up to the fifth floor. Hit the red button on the door and someone will come to let you in." She looked at Michael and said, "Immediate family only. There's a room up there where you can sit and wait, though."

Michael nodded and took me by the elbow to the elevators. When one opened, he took me inside and immediately hit the "close door" button. "I want you to know that no matter what the doctors say, Callie, we're going to get him the best care possible. You and, well, the baby, aren't to worry about a thing."

I didn't answer, but nodded, as the elevator was opening and I was facing the door with the red button. There was a small room to the side where Michael went and sat, giving me a thumbs-up as my door opened and I was admitted into the strange world of blinking lights, beeps and tubes with gushing air. I was shown to a small patient room that was separated from the nurse's station by an open window. Dad was lying in the bed, and I felt my knees buckle at how pale and lifeless he looked.

"He's going to need a long recovery, but he'll be okay." I turned and saw a man in a white lab coat. "Dr. Greene," he said, holding out his hand.

I shook it briefly and stepped closer to the bed. Dad was on a ventilator. "He's had a major stroke, and we've got him in a mild coma so his body can recover. He could breathe on his own if he were conscious, so don't let that worry you."

"How long?"

"Hard to say. Once he's rested, we'll bring him out and put him in a normal room. They'll do more testing to discover the extent of the damage. Then we'll start physical and occupational therapy. If I had to guess, he'll be with us for three months minimum. Then he'll need to move to a rehab center for maybe another six months."

"Oh, my God," was all I could say. Dad had minimal health insurance coverage with the Smithfields, but that would end since obviously he couldn't go back to work there.

"If you're worried about insurance, when his runs out, they'll flip him over to Medicaid. You shouldn't have much in the way of bills."

"Can I stay a few minutes with him?"

"No more than five. We have him under so he can rest."

I nodded and watched the doctor go on to the next room and the next life that was probably equally in shambles.

I leaned over the bed rail and kissed Dad on the forehead. "Hey, Dad, it's Callie. I'm here and everything is going to be okay. I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I will take care of things, don't worry. I'll figure it out. I have to leave now. They won't let me stay. They want you to rest. You're in St. Mary's. I'll be back when I can. I love you, Dad. Remember, I will never leave you."

I was sobbing as I exited through the door with the red button. Michael leapt up from his chair and wrapped me in his arms. "C'mon, let's get out of here," he said, guiding me down the hallways, into the elevator and outside into the cooler and much fresher evening air. "You're exhausted," he said. "Leave the truck here and I'll bring you back tomorrow to pick it up. I'm taking you to a hotel."

I didn't argue; I just followed his instructions mutely. Right now, whatever had happened between us was forgotten. Michael was here, and I was content to let him take care of me.