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“Wait, what do you mean, He’s on his way to the hospital?” Smith asks. “I never heard an ambulance.”
“He wouldn’t let us call one.” She covers her face with her hands. “Silvia drove him. Everyone except for Martin left. He and I stayed to find you two, and honestly, I kind of wish he was the one that found you both.”
“I can call us a car,” Smith says. “Penny, go get changed.”
I’m out the door before he’s finished giving me the direction. For the second time tonight, I race across the street. My feet thud against the pavement so hard it makes my teeth rattle. Just as I make it to my parents’ driveway, my phone buzzes, and this time I answer it.
“Penny.” Phoebe’s voice is frantic. “Penny, oh my god, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Where the hell have you been?”
“What’s wrong with Dad?”
“I don’t know.” She sobs into the phone. “We’re at the ER and some nurses just took him back. He wasn’t breathing right, and his skin was all gray and clammy. Where are you?”
“I’m at home. I just need to change and I’ll be there. OK?”
“Penny, I need you now.” She gasps. “I’m in the bathroom having a complete fucking breakdown. I can’t be the one to hold everything together right now.”
A car pulls in front of Smith’s house.
“I’m on my way, Phoebe. Right now. I promise.”
Chapter 22
It takes us just under seven minutes to get to the hospital. Smith and I pick up Martin, who was halfway down the street looking for us, and our driver broke nearly every traffic law imaginable to get us to the hospital fast. I’d like to think that he was in such a hurry because he could tell how concerned we all were, but I suspect that my lingering odor may have played a large part in his expediency. We make it into the waiting room just as the doctor assigned to my father arrives.
“Are you OK, ma’am?” The doctor waves her finger over me. “Have you been in an accident?”
“I’m fine,” I say. “It’s just a little manure. How’s my dad? Is he going to be OK?”
“Carter’s suffered a heart attack.” Dr.Vance delivers the news so delicately that it almost takes the sting out of her message. Almost. “I know that sounds really scary, but the good news is that he’s stable.”
“Oh, thank the Lord,” my mother breathes. “Can we see him?”
“In a few minutes,” Dr.Vance says. “But then we’ll need to take him back for a procedure.”
“A procedure for what?” Phoebe grips my hand. “You just said he was stable.”
“He is right now, but he’s going to need a few stents put in to increase the blood flow to his heart and make sure this doesn’t happen again. Your dad was very lucky he got here so quickly. Whoever thought to give him baby aspirin before putting him in the car was very smart. You likely saved his life.”
“That was you.” My mother kisses Falon’s cheek. “I thought he was having a stroke, but Falon insisted we give him the aspirin.”
“Well, good work,” Dr.Vance says. “Not many kids get to say they saved their parent’s life.”
“Oh, I’m not his daughter.” A mauve blush blooms across Falon’s cheeks. “At least not yet.”
“Then everyone is lucky to have you.” Dr.Vance glances down at her watch. “I’m going to get prepped for surgery. I’ll let Nurse Harper know that you’ll be in to visit; however, I would like to keep it to no more than two visitors at a time. We don’t want to overstimulate Carter. Why don’t you all decide among yourselves who goes first?”
“Mom, why don’t you go in first by yourself,” I say. “Phoebe and Falon can go next, and I’ll go with Nana Rosie.”
“Actually, ma’am.” Dr.Vance makes a face. “I hate to do this, but I can’t let you go back into that room covered in manure. It just wouldn’t be sanitary.”
The thought of not being able to see my dad before heart surgery breaks me. I know she said he’s stable and the procedure is small, but people die all the time going under. What if something happens to him? I’ll never be able to forgive myself.
“Is there a gift shop where I can buy something to wear?” I ask. “Maybe I could shower in an empty room?”
“I’m sorry, but the gift shop isn’t open, and unfortunately, this isn’t a hotel, so I can’t just let you shower here without being admitted.” She offers me a sympathetic look. “I promise he’ll be fine. Go home. Get yourself cleaned up, and you can see your dad after surgery.”
I feel completely powerless. I can’t exactly argue with the woman who’s about to perform surgery on my father’s heart, and the last thing I want to do is stress my family out. If I get upset, they’ll be upset. So I do the right thing, which also happens to feel the most unnatural.
