Instant Gratification

“Yes, but Mom—”

“Did the best she could.”

She stared at him, grateful beyond words that he wasn’t asking her to make a choice between him and her mom’s memory. More than that, he didn’t want her to. She’d grossly underestimated him, and that was her own shame, but like him, she wouldn’t look back.

But she could fix the now.

And the future. “I’m actually going to miss this place.”

He looked up, startled. Hopeful. “You are?”

“Dad,” she started regretfully, and he squeezed her hand.

“It’s okay, Emma. It’s all going to be okay.”

But it wasn’t. She was leaving, and she didn’t know what that would mean for them. Would they go back to being polite strangers?

Would he really be okay without his clinic?

Suddenly she didn’t think so, and she started to say something but he rose to his feet, a little slow to straighten. He creaked and groaned, then shot her another little smile. “Getting old isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. I don’t recommend it.”

He was giving her a moment, letting her skip over the big elephant in the room. But if she’d learned one thing from being here, from Stone actually, it was that sweeping emotions under the carpet never worked. We both know I wasn’t exactly in my element here, that I never planned to stay.”

“Yes.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “You’ve mentioned a time or two.”

“Or a thousand.” She sighed at herself. “I planned to hate every single day and be resentful while I was at it.”

“Which seemed to work for you for a while.”

She had to smile. “I know. I really did pull that off for a good long time, didn’t I?”

He cocked his head. “Is that a past tense I hear?”

She paused. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t fit…”

“You look like you fit to me.” He looked her over. “You’re not nearly as pale as when you first got here, which means you’re not all work and no play anymore. You sure as hell aren’t as edgy and in such a hurry as you were, which means you’ve learned to let your hair down.” He smiled. “I’d say you fit in just fine.”

“Let’s just say that this place and I have come to an agreement. Of sorts.”

“Which is?”

“I stopped taking myself so seriously, and it stopped mocking me. People don’t care where I got my degree, or that I run an ER, or even what my specialty is. They care that I open the Urgent Care at eight sharp, that I’m flexible when it comes to payment…” She shot him a long look that had him choking out a laugh and scratching his head with a wry/guilty expression. “But mostly, they care about you, Dad. And they care about each other.” She shook her head. “It’s truly the oddest place I’ve ever been, and honestly?”

He grinned. “You will. You’ll miss it.”

“Yeah. And you. I’ll miss you.”

“Same goes, Emma. Same goes.” He cleared his rough throat. “I have something for you.” He pulled a small gift bag from a pocket of his jacket.

“What’s that for?”

“A good-bye present.”

Her gaze flew to his. “I don’t need a going away present.”

“It’s not a going-away present. It’s a good-bye present. There’s a difference.”

There sure as hell was. “I’m not pulling a mom here, Dad. I’ll come back. I already figured out the weekends over the next six months where I could grab three days in a row. There’s at least one every other month.”

“Look at you, with all your careful plans.” He smiled. “I’ve made my own careful plans.”

“You don’t know the meaning of the word,” she teased joking around the ball of emotion in her throat.

“I didn’t, no. But you’re not the only one who could block out dates.” He reached into a different pocket and pulled out a small calendar, flipping through it, revealing several highlighted weeks. “I’m going to try to work two to three days a week. Here’s the weekends I can get to you. We won’t be strangers again. Now open the bag.”

He’d sent gifts over the years. Sometimes a medical book, sometimes a piece of jewelry. She’d liked everything while secretly wishing for his presence instead. She opened the gift bag and pulled out a T-shirt, which read: I SURVIVED THE SIERRAS.

She stared at it for a moment, and then looked at him. There was a sparkle in his eyes as his mouth slowly curved, and she laughed.

Laughed with her father.

And in that moment, she felt a new inner peace. She could leave, it was going to be okay. He was going to be okay.

The question was, was she?

That night, Stone knocked on Emma’s door, feeling both anticipatory and a little off his game knowing this was, in all likelihood, their last night.

She opened the door looking a little unsettled herself.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey. I didn’t know what to wear for our…training session.”

Ah, yes. Not a date. A training session. Interesting that she felt the need to play word games with herself to keep from jumping in with both feet.

As for the attire, she’d settled on a simple white t-shirt, denim shorts and sandals. She looked good enough to eat, and his evening, spent on paperwork, was most definitely beginning to look up. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Emma.”