Toby snuggled into Anna’s side, and she leaned closer to smell his damp head. There was nothing like his little boy smell.
This was her favorite time with him. Back in London, after a long day at the office and a lengthy commute home, she wouldn’t get home until after six, usually later. Toby’s nanny was also their housekeeper and cook, and she usually had dinner waiting by the time Anna got home. She would leave and Anna and Toby would eat dinner together at the kitchen island. Afterward, she’d give him a bath and then they’d pile onto her bed and snuggle while they watched TV.
But when they’d continued their routine at Anna’s father’s house, he hadn’t understood why she and Toby always disappeared into her room to watch TV. He definitely hadn’t liked it and made no secret of letting them both know.
“There’s a perfectly fine television out here,” he would grumble.
“It’s just what we do.”
Now, as she lay with her sleeping son in her arms, she thought about how wonderful it had been these past few weeks to be able to spend more time with him, cooking dinner together, taking him to his first soccer practice. She’d missed so much of his short life. While parts of this trip had been hard on them, at least they had more time together here.
Her cell phone vibrated on the nightstand and she reached for it, surprised at the local number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?” she said tentatively.
The line was silent for several seconds before she heard, “Anna.”
One word and her stomach clenched. It was him. “Yes.”
“This is Matt. Matt Osborn.”
“I know who you are, Matt,” she said softly.
“I wasn’t sure if you remembered.”
“I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”
“I’m not calling for a trip down memory lane,” he said, his tone short. “I called about your son. Toby.”
And here it came. He was going to ask her to move Toby to a new team. She’d intended to call him—to tell Matt she was requesting a new team—she just hadn’t summoned the will to make herself do it yet. “I understand.”
He paused. “Understand what?”
“That you want Toby to go to another team. I had no idea you were the coach when I requested that Toby be on Ethan’s team, otherwise I would have switched as soon as I realized it.” She tried not to sound breathless, but her racing heart made it difficult.
“Why would I want him to switch teams?”
“Because…” Was he really going to make her say it? “Of us.”
“What happened twelve years ago is in the past. It doesn’t interfere with my ability to coach your son. Is it a problem for you?”
He was good, she’d give him that. “No. Not at all.”
“I noticed Toby’s shin guards were too big. You should consider getting another pair by practice on Thursday, but if you can’t, Ethan has an extra pair Toby can use.”
“Toby mentioned it on the way home from practice. I can manage getting him a pair and a size three ball, too. Thank you.” Her tone was short and she sat up straighter as though ready to defend herself. Her motherhood felt more tested here in her hometown, where she was working from home, than it ever had been back in London, only making her question her life choices even more.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware,” he said, his voice cool, “but Toby is good friends with my nephew. Ethan is worried about Toby’s soccer skills—not because he isn’t good enough to play, but because he’s so unsure of himself. Apparently, he told Toby that I’d privately coach him to help catch him up to speed. I’m just calling to let you know that I’m here if he needs help.”
“We come from England, the country that practically invented soccer.” What had possessed her to say that?
“If that’s your way of telling me to mind my own business, messaged received,” he said.
She panicked, suddenly terrified he would hang up. “No. I’m sorry. It’s just…this is hard.”
“It doesn’t have to be. This is for the boys. You and I are ancient history. I can keep it in the past,” he said. “Can you?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“Ethan wants Toby to come over for a playdate. I can practice with them then. Are you open to this?”
“Yeah,” she said, thrilled that Toby had been invited to a playdate. If nothing else, it would get him out of her father’s house for a few hours. She’d have to deal with her discomfort.
“If this is your cell phone, I can text you the address. Would Saturday from one until four work?”
“Yes, Toby will be there. Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
“This isn’t about you.” Then he hung up.
She didn’t know how she’d find the courage to face him.
She’d definitely been put in her place. Not that she deserved any less.
* * *
Anna dreaded Thursday’s practice, but to her relief and Toby’s disappointment, it was rained out. Matt had sent a group text, telling the parents they could practice on Sunday afternoon at a local church, but it was optional. Anna considered saying Toby couldn’t go because they had plans, but Toby would see through her deception—they never had plans here. She’d lost touch with most of her high school friends, and while her best friend, Ashley, still had an apartment in Blue Springs, she was gone over half the year with her wildlife photography job. She’d deal with it. Just like she’d dealt with everything else.
On the bright side, her father must have had some sense scared into him because he was less gruff on Wednesday and Thursday and downright pleasant on late Friday morning when she helped him walk out to his car so they could go to his doctor’s appointment.
“Maybe you’d like to stop somewhere for lunch after your appointment,” Anna said as she backed out of the driveway.
“Don’t you have some important conference call to make?” he asked, but his voice lacked his usual gruffness.
“No. I got up early and dealt with all my calls,” she said. Being seven hours ahead was equally a pain in the ass and an asset, depending on the moment. But it meant she often went to bed with Toby and was up and working by 3 a.m.
Anna pulled up to the doctor’s office entrance and parked. Her father had already opened his car door and swung his legs onto the pavement by the time she had his walker set up.
“You’re getting faster,” she said with a smile.
“I don’t plan on using this thing forever,” he grumped. “The sooner I get rid of it, the better.”
“Your therapist is working on it.”
He shot her a frown as he put his hands on the handles and tried to pull himself to a standing position, but the car seat was too low, and he fell back onto his bum, letting out a loud gasp of pain. He looked so frail and small, he hardly seemed like the man she’d left after her mother’s funeral.
“Dad, let me help you.”
He started to protest, then closed his mouth and hung his head in defeat.
She hated to see him like this, but she wasn’t sure what to do. While he was making tremendous progress, she understood why the staunchly independent man was frustrated. Without saying a word, she wrapped an arm around his back and hauled him to a standing position, making sure his head didn’t hit the roof of the car.
Once he was standing, he began his shuffle toward the entrance.
“Do you want me to open the door for you?” she asked.
“I can push the damn handicapped button.”
Sighing, she parked the car then found him in the waiting room, sitting in a chair with his walker in front of him, his mouth taut.
After she made sure he was checked in, she sat down in a chair beside him. “Would you like some ibuprofen? I have some in my purse.”
“No.” He kept his gaze on the far wall.
He was obviously in pain, and this had been an issue when he’d first come home from the hospital. He’d refused to take his pain medication and had been in too much pain to fully utilize his therapy. Finally, Dr. Martin had intervened and convinced him to take his medication as prescribed. Anna planned to address it again with the doctor today.
When the nurse appeared at the open doorway and called out his name, her father pulled himself to a standing position and shuffled over to her.
“Looking good, Mr. Fischer,” the nurse said with a grin.
He harrumphed as he hobbled past her and stopped in front of the scale.
Anna took his hand to help him climb up. He tried to shake her off, but the nurse put her hand on her hip and shook her head with a disapproving stare.
“Mr. Fischer, if you try to climb onto that scale without support, I’ll snatch that walker away and convince Dr. Martin to put you back in a wheelchair.”
Her father scowled as he let Anna offer her support. The nurse looked at the numbers with a frown. “You haven’t gained any weight since your last visit.”
“I ain’t hungry.”
She remained silent as she wrote on his chart then led them to an exam room, where she took his blood pressure. When she’d finished, she handed Anna a gown. “Help him put this on so Dr. Martin can examine his incision. He can leave his shirt on.”
The nurse walked out of the door and humiliation covered her father’s face. “I ain’t taking off my clothes in front of you.”
“Dad,” she said, giving him a sympathetic look. “I helped you to the bathroom when you came home from the hospital.”
Shame covered his face and he started to unbuckle his pants.
“Wait.” She helped him put on the gown over his button-down shirt, then turned her back to him. “Undo your pants and let them drop to your feet, and I’ll help you step out of them.” She could at least give him this dignity.
He didn’t answer, but when he said he was done, his shoulders didn’t sag as much as they had before. He’d always been a proud man. She knew this was hard on him.
After she helped him out of his shoes and pants, she held his arm as he climbed up on the table. Moments later they heard a knock, and a middle-aged man in a lab coat opened the door with a warm smile. “You ready, Albert?”
“Does it matter?” he asked, staring at the floor.
Dr. Martin took that as permission to enter the room. “How are we feeling?” he asked as he shut the door behind him.
“Ready to be rid of that damn contraption,” Albert muttered, pointing to the walker.
Dr. Martin sat in a chair at the desk and pulled up a screen on the computer. “It looks like your therapy is going well. You should be able to move to a footed cane within a few weeks. How’s your pain?”
“Good.”
The doctor swiveled his chair to face him. “Good as in you enjoy your pain, or good as in you don’t have any?”
Anna couldn’t help smiling. When she’d first met Dr. Martin in the hospital, she’d liked that he didn’t tolerate her father’s crap, instead dishing out a healthy dose of sarcasm to counteract it without insulting him.
Albert’s brow furrowed. “I don’t have much.”
The doctor turned to Anna. “Is that the truth?”
Anna smiled. “Mostly. But sometimes he aggravates his leg and refuses to take any ibuprofen to counteract the pain.”
Dr. Martin rested his hands on his knees. “Albert, soreness is fine and expected; any sharp or outright pain is counterproductive. Anti-inflammatories aren’t the same as narcotics. They actually help you heal. You’ll move to the cane faster.”
“I hate taking medicine.”
“I know, but it’s necessary.” He glanced at the computer screen. “Are you taking your blood thinner?”
“Yeah.”
The doctor glanced at Anna with an inquisitive look.
“I’m giving it to him, but he grumbles.”
“Albert, with your history, you know I’m worried about blood clots. You don’t want to go back to the hospital with a clot in your leg, or God forbid worse if you have a pulmonary embolus.”
Her father didn’t answer.
“Okay,” Dr. Martin said, rising to his feet. “Let’s look at your incision.”
Her father shot him a glare. “The surgeon looked at it last week.”
“I know, I saw his report, too, but he was worried about a pucker in the skin. I want to see it for myself.”
Her father lay down on the table, and Anna looked away as the doctor performed his examination then helped the older man back to a sitting position. “Keep up the great work, and I want to see you in two weeks.”
“All I do is go to doctors and clinics,” he grumbled.
“What can I say?” Dr. Martin said with a grin. “We can’t resist your charming personality.”
Anna laughed for the first time in she didn’t know how long.
Dr. Martin turned to her. “Annaliese, can I talk to you for a minute in the hall?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Had he found something bad? “Of course.”
Her father didn’t look happy as they both left the room.
“Is everything okay?” she asked as soon as he shut the door behind them.
“Your father is healing, but I’m concerned about what’s going to happen after he’s finished with his therapy.”
“Do you think he’ll have trouble getting around?”
“No, he’s progressing fairly well with his therapy, in spite of himself, but nevertheless, I’m worried about him living alone. Are you still planning on going back to England in six weeks?”
She stared at him in surprise.
“I have a pretty good memory,” he said with a grin and shoved his hands into his lab coat pockets. “But it helps that your father is one of my favorite patients.”
“My father?”
He laughed. “Albert Fischer is an acquired taste, but I’ve been his doctor since I got out of residency and joined this practice. I was your mother’s doctor, too. I was so sorry everything progressed so quickly. She was a good woman.”
“Thanks. She really was.” Anna was surprised at the tears that filled her eyes. It had been easy to pretend that her mother wasn’t gone while Anna was living in London. But the constant reminders hurt more than she’d expected and added to her guilt. Her mother’s illness had been short and devastating. Anna still remembered her mother’s call, as she explained in a calm soothing voice that she had cancer but she was having surgery in a week and there was no need to come home, only to sit around in a hospital waiting room. She’d encouraged Anna to wait until she was a few days out of surgery. But they’d determined her cancer inoperable and closed her back up, giving her only weeks to live. When she heard the news, Anna changed her flight to the next day, but her mother had died before Anna’s plane ever landed.
“Your father hasn’t handled your mother’s passing very well. His health and mental state have deteriorated over the last few years.”
She gasped. “Do you think he has Alzheimer’s?”
“No,” he said softly, removing his hands from his pocket and letting them hang at his sides. “I think he has a broken heart.”
That was the last phrase she ever expected to be used describing her father. But Anna had to admit that he’d loved his wife, even in his own gruff way.
“I know you have a life in England you need to get back to, but as much as it pains me to say it, I think you should consider moving him to an assisted living center before you go back.”
“What?”
Dr. Martin lowered his voice. “He was lucky he fell in his front yard and was discovered by a neighbor. If it had happened inside his house, I have no idea how long he would have lain there before he was discovered. He broke his femur this time. Next time could be worse.” He paused. “I know this is difficult. Albert values his independence. If you like, I’ll go in and be the bad guy and break the news to him.”
She shook her head and clasped her hands to her chest. “No. Don’t tell him yet.”
“The longer you put it off, the harder it will be. He needs time to prepare himself. He’s lived in that house most of his life.” When Anna’s eyes widened in surprise, he gave her a wry grin. “Like I said, I’ve been his doctor for a long time…plus he talked to me a lot after your mother died. I’ve suggested moving before, but he refuses to leave. He says he feels your mother there.”
Tears welled in her eyes. Her father had never shown any signs of sentimentality to her. “Are you sure he has to move? What about if we hire him help? Or what about those alert necklaces?”
“Annaliese, the man won’t take ibuprofen. Do you really think he’ll wear an alert necklace?” He gave her a sad smile. “And trust me, I’ve already tried to get him to wear one.”
“Okay,” she said, worrying her bottom lip. “Give me some time.”
“If you want me to break the news to him, I’ll tell him at the next appointment. But even that is pushing it. You’ll only have four weeks to get him moved and his house cleaned out before you go home.”