“I can be sometimes. But don’t let that sweetness fool you. I can be pretty tough sometimes too.”
Dad turned his gaze upon Mom’s face. “Reckon a little bit of sweetness and spiciness go together real well. Never is good to have all one or the other.”
Mom leaned down and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. He lifted their intertwined hands to his mouth and kissed her hand just as gently.
Kinsey had paused and was watching the couple.
Tyler braced a shoulder against the doorframe. He was used to the displays of affection. But what did she think?
As if hearing his unasked question, her gaze darted his way before returning to the IV pump, where she began to press buttons.
Dad followed Kinsey’s look to Tyler and raised his brow as though to question Tyler. But about what?
Tyler shrugged in what he hoped was nonchalance.
Dad narrowed his eyes in a silent rebuke. “I’m real blessed to have found the love of my life.”
“You are blessed.” Kinsey’s voice held sincerity.
Dad squeezed Mom’s hand. She squeezed back before kissing him on her way out of the room.
After she was gone, Kinsey made quick work of inserting the IV in Dad’s arm.
“Do you know something else?” Dad asked when she finished.
“What’s that?” Kinsey tore off a piece of tape and placed it over the spot where the tube entered Dad’s vein.
“I keep hoping and praying my kids will find the love of their lives.” Dad’s voice held a tinge of regret. “But none of them have yet.”
“I’m sure they will eventually.” This time Kinsey’s answer felt more like a platitude, as if she didn’t quite believe the words, probably because she didn’t believehewould find someone.
“Reckon with my getting cancer,” Dad continued, “all my kids would be open to moving things along more quickly so that I can see them all happily married before I die.”
“Da-ad.” Tyler pushed away from the doorframe. “Come on. You’re not dying anytime soon.” At least, he hoped not.
“We don’t know how long I have.” Dad pinned him with a hard look. “And I want to see you happy before I die.”
“I am happy.”
“You don’t know what true happiness is—not until you find that special someone you can’t live without.” Dad’s face lit with a life and energy that hadn’t been there in weeks—not since before the cancer diagnosis.
Even though Tyler wanted to object again, he bit back his protest. If his dad found hope in thinking about his children getting married, then Tyler wasn’t about to say anything to crush that hope. He couldn’t. In fact, he’d do just about anything to keep that hope and his dad alive, even if that meant facilitating a relationship with a woman.
Tyler took a deep breath. “You’re right, Dad. I haven’t found someone I can’t live without. If my finding a wife will keep you fighting for life, then I guess I need to start looking.”
“You have to do more than just look.”
“Fine. I’ll get married if you promise to get better.”
“I can’t promise I’ll get better any more than you can promise you’ll fall in love. Neither is guaranteed.”
“But we can both agree to do our best.”
His dad was halfway sitting up, the conversation obviously important to him, as if Tyler getting married was the ultimate cure for his cancer.
Tyler knew that wasn’t really possible. But maybe there was something powerful about hope. What if hope was a stronger drug than anything a doctor could prescribe?
“All right,” Dad said.
