Callie

I was on my way back from Mrs. Tarrington's, headed home to make dinner and study, when my phone beeped that a text had come through. I had a rule about texting while driving - I simply wouldn't do it.

So I didn't pick up the phone until I got home and was ready to pull the key from the ignition in the old truck.

MICHAEL: Callie, it's Michael. Can we text?

I dropped the phone onto the seat in surprise. My heart began pounding and I felt a panic similar to what horses triggered beginning to surface. Why was Michael suddenly contacting me? Did he suspect something about Josiah?

I tossed the phone into my purse and zipped it closed, almost as if nothing could get to me if it wasn't visible. I hugged Josiah and Dad as usual when I went in, but went straight to the kitchen and started dinner. Dad must have sensed something, because he came in behind me, holding the baby.

"Callie, somethin' wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost. Is it one of your spells?"

I stopped what I was doing, but kept my back to Dad. I'd never lied to him, well, never any real lies, and I wouldn't start now. "I got a text from Michael."

I heard him pull out a chair at the old Formica table, and the chair creaked as he sat down. Josiah was peaceful for the moment, thank God. Dad sighed. "What did he say?"

"Wanted to know if we could text."

"What did you say back?" Texting technology was a strange world to Dad, although he got the gist of it.

"Nothing... yet. Tell you the truth, it took me off guard and made me a little panicked."

"Why's that?"

I whirled around. "Dad, face it. The whole Clayton thing was an awful, unfortunate circumstance, but it did give me a break. I don't tell people anything that isn't true about Josiah, but then I don't correct their assumptions, either. He comes first."

"Course he does. You always put your children first, Callie."

"So, when I left Michael last, it wasn't a pretty thing. It was the day Clayton died. I called Michael for help, and when he came and heard the news, all he could do was think about how it affected him. Now, you know what I went through, and while I don't want any awards for it, it wasn't easy. I did what I had to do."

"That's right, we do."

"Michael and I had an argument over his attitude."

"Callie, Michael's always had stuff given to him. You know that. He's the golden boy as far as this county is concerned."

"Sure, I know, but we all have to grow up sometime, don't we?"

Dad was silent. We both were thinking of Mom and then the mess with Clayton. Now Josiah was here and I didn't have any choice about growing up. I lifted my chin and continued, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't regret Josiah - how could I?"

"Callie, have you thought that just maybe Michael's beginning to grow up a little, too? Isn't he allowed to do that, or are you goin' to hog it all to yourself?"

"Dad! That wasn't fair."

"Life ain't fair, Callie girl."

"So, you think I should answer him?"

"Well... I think just maybe he's growed up a bit, and that's why he wants to reach out to you; sort of let you know that he's changed his thinkin' a bit. I don't necessarily think it means he's out to hurt you or Josiah."

"I know. That occurred to me, too. But, Dad, what if he wants to start up again?"

"Girl, you got a boy here in my lap that don't have no daddy. At least, not one who's takin' the responsibility. You're goin' to school, and I'm proud of you for that, but then you're also workin' and helpin' out here, and enough is enough. You're gonna end up an old lonely woman, dried up and gray-haired, and never have the chance to be what a young woman ought to. I think you owe it to yourself, if not this boy, to look at these things with an eye to maybe finding life again. Michael's not a bad boy, just spoiled."

"You know what I'm really glad about?"

"What's that?"

"I'm glad I've got a dad who's so wise. Just maybe, one of these days, some of that will rub off on me. You think?" I crossed the room and gave him and Josiah a group hug.

"Well, then you won't have need of me, Callie girl," Dad chuckled and stood up. "I think we're needin' to have some drawers changed here. I'll take care of that and you finish up dinner. I'm getting' mighty hungry."

They left the room and I turned back to my cooking. Dad always made things feel so much more manageable. He knew how to put a good light on things. I was chopping vegetables for a salad and could hear him talking to Josiah. Whomp!

I froze, trying to place the sudden noise. All the while, my brain was trying to deny that it came from the direction of Josiah's crib in my room. I dropped the knife and sprinted in that direction.

Dad was on the floor, not moving. Josiah was lying in his crib, diapers off and kicking as he waited for the replacement. I fell to my knees and felt for a pulse. Dad was alive and seemed to be breathing, barely. I ran for the phone and dialed 9-1-1. I felt again for a pulse. It was still there. Trying to stay calm, I grabbed a diaper and finished up with Josiah and then pulled up the crib rail and give him some toys to play with. Grabbing his diaper bag, I began stuffing in diapers and changes of clothes. Once again, I felt for Dad's pulse, which was still there. In the kitchen, I pulled jars of baby food out and threw them in the bag. Then I made sure the stove was off and ran back to the bedroom. I could hear the siren approaching, and with Josiah in my arms, I met the EMTs at the door and pointed to my room.

"My dad's in there. He's still alive and I don't know what happened. He was changing the baby's diaper and I was in here cooking. I heard him hit the floor."

They were already past me, and while two techs were opening their cases and checking his vitals, a third took me aside as a gurney was wheeled in. "Ma'am, I need to know your dad's name, his doctor and any medications he's on. You need to give me any information about his health that you can think of, even if it's nothing more than having a tooth filled last week."

I suspected the EMT was trying to keep me busy as much as he was trying to get information that would be helpful for Dad. My heart was racing and I was drawing mental blanks when questioned. "I'm sorry. I get, sort of, panic attacks and I can't think."

"Yes, ma'am. Can you point where your dad keeps his medicines?"

I pointed to Dad's nightstand. "There, next to his bed. I think there are three bottles because we were just talking about figuring out where we were going to keep our meds now that the baby is getting around."

The gurney came out of my bedroom. Dad was on an IV, covered with a blanket to his chin.

"Where are you taking him?"

"To St. Mary's in Lexington. I'm afraid the baby can't ride along, ma'am."

"No, no, I know. We'll follow in the truck. I need to put a few things together quick and we'll be right along."

The EMT scooped up Dad's meds and his wallet from the kitchen table. "Just checking for his ID, insurance card and maybe any drug or emergency information," he informed me as he quickly went through it. "Okay, we're out of here," he said and followed the others into the ambulance. I watched as they pulled away and the tears started.

Now, you have to keep a grip on yourself. He's going to be okay, I just know it. Probably just had a fainting spell from not eating dinner yet. Keep it together. Get the diaper bag and call the Smithfields to let them know they've got to find someone to cover for him in the morning. I kept telling myself what to do, hoping it would keep me from getting a spell. Josiah sensed the disruption and began to cry. I hugged him to me and kissed his fat, wet cheek. Grabbing the bag and my purse, I pushed the kitchen door open with my hip and headed to the truck. I buckled Josiah into the car seat and got behind the wheel.

We arrived at St. Mary's and parked outside the emergency room. I clutched Josiah and threw my purse over my shoulder, sprinting for the double doors that opened automatically in front of us.

I asked for Dad at the receptionist window, and she directed me through the next set of doors, to cubicle four. There were voices inside, so I stood next to the curtain and listened. A man in a white coat pushed the curtain aside and came out. He looked at me.

"I'm his daughter, Callie Pierce."

"Follow me, please?" I did as requested, and we ended up in a small room with glass walls and side chairs. There was a plastic model of the human body on a table - the kind you'd expect to see in a biology lab that came apart to show different sections of the body's insides.

"How is he?" I asked, almost afraid to hear.

"We've ruled out a heart attack, Mrs. Pierce, but he hasn't regained consciousness yet, so we haven't had a chance to talk to him. I'm suspicious that he may have had a stroke, and we're sending him upstairs for some scans to see if we can detect any damaged areas in the brain. He's breathing comfortably on his own, but we're monitoring closely. Not sure how comfortable you'll be with the baby, but you're welcome to stay in the family waiting room and we'll let you know when we have more information." He stood up and left the room quickly. His job was at Dad's side, not entertaining me.

Josiah was becoming fussy. I fed him, but he kept it up. I knew he was tired - it was past his bedtime. There really wasn't anywhere to lay him down. I made the decision to do what I could for the person I could help best, and that was my son. Dad was in better hands than mine. I left my number and name with the receptionist, who assured me they would call with any information, and I got into the truck and headed back to the farm.

I rolled the window down as I drove, gulping in huge breaths of fresh air to stay calm. If Dad was in a bad way, that meant he maybe couldn't work for the Smithfields anymore, which meant we'd be out of his income, and just as importantly, out of the house his job included. Josiah fell asleep on the ride back, and I put him straight into his crib when I walked through the door.

I felt so alone and afraid. Dad was always the one to calm me down. I'd grown distant from my girlfriends, wanting to avoid talk about Josiah.

I pulled out my phone.

CALLIE: Yes, we can text, and I'm in trouble.