Instant Gratification
This damn town. It’d sneaked up and snatched her damn heart when she hadn’t been looking. Not good. Not good at all.
She needed out.
At lunch, she drove to see her dad. She wanted his damn medical records and an ETA for his return to work, and the subsequent return to her life—a life that did not include nice but busy-body patients who knew all her business, a life that didn’t include one certain tall, sexy Wilder brother who was starting to haunt her every waking—and sleeping—moment.
She found her father in front of his cabin, tending to a fire pit and cleaning the trout he’d just caught in the lake. He still wore his vest and hat, and the distinct smell of fish.
“Perfect timing,” he said with a smile. “I’m going to barbeque these up for lunch right now. State your preference; medium or well-done?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t really have time for lunch. I was hoping to see those medical records of yours, and get an ETA for your return.”
“Ah.”
That was all he said, just “ah”. She looked at him for a long moment, finding herself asking a question she hadn’t meant to ask at all. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that you came to see me in New York?”
He froze, then looked down at his fish. “Medium. No one likes well-done fish.”
“Dad.”
“Hey, that’s good.” He poked at his low burning fire. “You do remember what to call me.” He nudged a chair in her direction. “That’s a great start. Now why don’t you take it another step and have a seat.”
She gave him a long look, walked past him and into his cabin. On his square wood kitchen table sat two thick files. She opened the top one, saw that it was indeed his medical records and grabbed them, going back outside, where she sat in the chair next to him.
He began preparing the fish to be cooked, but as she opened and flipped through the first file, his hands fell still. As she read, she felt him looking at her.
After less than a moment, she knew why. She raised her head, unable to keep the accusation out of her voice. “You said it was a minor heart attack. As in minor.”
“I don’t believe I ever used the word minor, no.”
“You were hiking. You called TJ for help, but he was out of town. Stone came.” Her voice shook on her next line. “By the time he got to you, you weren’t breathing. He gave you C.P.R.” Why Stone had never mentioned it, she couldn’t imagine. “You were air lifted to South Shore. They’d resuscitated you twice.”
“Yes.”
“You almost died.”
“Yes.”
She closed the file. “You’re not going back to work any time soon.”He hesitated while she held her breath, literally and figuratively. God. God, she didn’t want to hear his answer because it was going to change her life and she knew it.
“No,” he admitted, very quietly. “I’m not going to be going back any time soon.”
She surged to her feet and paced the length of the porch, the wood creaking beneath her feet. “You should have told me.”
“Should’ve, yes.”
“Dad.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes, then dropped her hands to her sides. “What was your plan? That I’d just stay? Forever?”
“Well…” His smile was self-deprecating and pretty damn irresistible, except she couldn’t—wouldn’t—be charmed.
“A man could hope his only offspring would want to take over his business.”
Oh, no. No, no, no…This was so much worse than she’d thought. She stared at him, stunned. “Dad.” At a loss for words, she turned in a slow circle. It was quiet. No traffic sounds, not even the hum of anything electronic, nothing but a light wind and the occasional bird cry.
So different from home. “I never intended to move here.”
“I realize that now.”
He was disappointed, and sad, and pretty much ripping out her heart because she could only imagine the pain of his realization—that he wasn’t going to go back to work, at least not fulltime, not for a while anyway. “Dad, have you thought about selling?”
He didn’t say anything to that and her gut sank. “I could make sure you get a great price for it,” she assured him. “You could fish the rest of your life, or whatever you wanted.”
“I know. Listen, Emma, it’s okay. Don’t you worry about it. I’ll figure it out.”
“Not to rush you, but how? How will you figure it out?”
“Well, I don’t know exactly.”
“It’ll just come to you? You have to make plans, Dad, and figure it all out.”
“No,” he said very gently. “That’s you. You like plans, you like to have everything all figured out.”
“Okay, fair enough. But do you expect me to continue to stay here until you come up with something?”
He turned from her, giving himself away. “Of course not.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out at the sparkling lake. “As you’ve mentioned a time or a thousand, you have a life. I don’t wish to keep you from it. Let’s just both cut our losses now.”
Goddammit. “Dad.”
He turned and looked at her, and for the first time, he looked his age. Worse, he looked sad, which just about killed her. “It was wrong of me to bring you out here like this, and even more wrong to try to keep you. I just thought I’d try to do things differently with you this time.” He smiled, though it was a heartbreaking one. “It’ll be okay, Emma, you can stop looking at me like that. I appreciate what you’ve done. It means so much to me that you were willing to come out here and spend so much time, but reality has set in and it’s over now. I understand, I really do. It’s time to sell.” He moved to the small fire and set a grate over it for the barbeque.