Robert’s eyes grew troubled like the Georgia sky before a tornado. “Love you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Love you too.” She hugged him tight.
“Don’t stay up too late, peanut.” He moved towards the door.
“I won’t,” she promised, as she gathered papers off the printer.Just one more read-through.
His head hung low as he headed down the hallway.
Cindy only watched him for a moment before returning to her desk. Being part of a family meant making sacrifices—she sacrificed cookies in the pantry for Patricia’s no-carb, no-fat, no-taste wafers, and her father sacrificed his pride and wore a sparkling bow tie. No family was perfect, and hers could be a lot worse.
A moment later there was a thump and a groan in the hallway.Odd. The cleaning crew wouldn’t come in for another hour.
“Dad?” She hurried to the hallway. Sitting against the wall, his short breaths were accompanied by a garbling sound that sent her heart to her toes.
“Daddy!” Cindy yelled and flew down the hallway.
“Robert!” Patricia screeched from the front desk. She yanked up her dress and sprinted in her high heels.
They got to him at the same time, Patricia on his right and Cindy on his left. Patricia pressed his face between her hands. “You can’t leave me, Robert. Don’t leave!”
Cindy pushed aside her annoyance at Patricia’s theatrics. Daddy couldn’t die; he had a checkup three months ago and got a clean bill of health. But if they didn’t act quickly, whatever this was could turn into something serious. Cindy pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket and dialed 911.
She gave the operator directions. Her dad waved his hand as if trying to grab something only he could see. Cindy grasped his thick fingers in her own, dropping the phone to the floor. “Help is on the way.” She tried to calm her racing heart. Patricia sobbed, her head on his shoulder.
Daddy’s face didn’t go pale, it went gray. The phrasethe shadow of death passed over himwent through her mind. “No,” she whispered. Her dad was healthy. They’d just had a conversation and he’d been fine. This wasn’t happening.
She rubbed up and down her dad’s arm to try and keep him alert. “Talk to me, Daddy.”
With some effort, his eyes lifted to meet hers. “Tell Miranda I love her.”
Cindy and Patricia gasped at the mention of Cindy’s mother, who had died in childbirth.
“You look so much like her.” Robert coughed once, then again, then the life went out of him, and he slid to the side like a sack of potatoes.
Patricia wrenched her hands away. “Miranda.” She breathed the name as if it were an oath used to conjure an evil spirit. She scrambled away like a crab.
“Dad!” Cindy tugged him flat, his body heavy and uncooperative. She ripped his shirt open, the buttons popping off. They were no match for the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Positioning her hands over his breastbone, she began CPR. “Help me,” she begged Patricia. The woman pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Cindy’s arms pumped, the shock of each compression straining her wrists. She breathed, her lungs struggling against the band of fear around her chest. And she prayed with all her heart that she was doing this correctly. The CPR training at Camp Wallakee was ages ago.
Stepmother threw her arm over Dad’s stomach. “What will become of us now?”
Cindy didn’t bother to answer. There was still a chance this was all just a short-lived nightmare. Tomorrow morning they could be delivering flowers to Dad in a hospital room while he begged for a carton of chocolate marshmallow ice cream. Sweat gathered under her bra and at her hairline. Her back ached, but she wouldn’t stop, couldn’t.
The paramedics arrived and took over, nudging Cindy out of the way. She fell back, watching in horror. Daddy wasn’t breathing. Someone handed Patricia to her as if the woman were a distraught child.
The strangest thing happened. Her father’s spirit passed through her. There was overwhelming love, andherspirit recognizedhisspirit—and then he was gone. Just like that.
She held Patricia close, needing comfort but forced to dish it out instead.
Daddy’s body was placed on a stretcher. A large man still pumped his chest while a short woman squeezed a plastic thing to help him breathe.
Patricia suddenly pushed Cindy away, sending her against the wall. “I’m going with him. I’m his wife.”
“I’m coming too.” Cindy jogged to keep up with the stretcher.
“No!” Patricia spun on her bedazzled heel. “There’s no room for you.” She hiked up her gown, the tulle and glitter spilling out the back of the ambulance. The fabric was caught in the door and dragged behind as the sirens started.
