I follow her inside, my head spinning with questions I dare not ask in front of my father.
I’m damn certain the hospital wouldn’t have sent in-homesupport, and the only people who know about my dad’s health are Hallie, Vivienne, Shane, and…Fiero.
The hairs along my arms bristle. I haven’t exactly managed to go a whole day without thinking about Fiero since that night, but I had just reached the milestone of only thinking about him once every ten minutes, and now that’s shot to shit.
The nurse is just the beginning.
Over the next week, more people arrive unannounced, all with folders, bright smiles and the same line: “It’s already been paid for.”
First came a man who fixed all the alarms, adding new ones to the kitchen, bathroom and my father’s bedroom.
Then came a man who switched out the kitchen cabinet doors for fresh ones in a different color, and another who re-tiled the floor.
It took me a few days of shock afterward to realize the whole area looked entirely different from when I used to be backed into a corner and touched against my will.
Someone else patched up the water stain spreading across the kitchen ceiling. Another fit rails in the bathroom and checked the boiler.
Two more weeks pass and I come home from the grocery store to hear Dad laughing. Then Elena’s voice regaling some story that has him in fits.
I stand in the kitchen doorway listening to the sound with my hand pressed over my mouth because I can’t remember the last time I heard Dad laugh so hard.
Then my own smile falls, because I know who’s doing this. But he doesn’t call, doesn’t text, doesn’t show his face—ever. And that makes all this so much harder to accept.
Three days later, my car starts on the first turn of the key.
I turn it off in surprise, then try it again. It starts—I don’t even need to pray. There are no weird clangs or coughing sounds. It sounds like the entire engine has been replaced.
I collect the cookies Gayle made from the hardware storeand return home to find Dad scribbling something down on a piece of paper.
“Oh, there you are, Fi. Someone just called for you.”
He holds out the note. He’s taken down a number and the name ‘Casey’.
“Okay, thanks.”
I take the note and dial the number, almost dropping the phone when the person on the other end answers with, “Good afternoon, you’ve reached Hudson Vale Hospital, Casey speaking. How may I help you?”
“Um, Casey… This is Pfeiffer McAllister returning your call.”
I hear the brightness of her smile.Another one?What is with all these people coming into our lives with bright smiles and happy voices?
“Pfeiffer. I’m so pleased you got back to me. We need someone to cover some agency shifts at the hospital and you’ve been highly recommended to us.”
“What?” I glance up at Dad who’s beaming at me despite having no idea of the nature of our conversation. Though, he does that a lot these days—beams.
“You want me to work for you?” I ask, just to be sure I’m not imagining things. “As a nurse?”
Dad gives me two thumbs up before grabbing a bag of chips and heading into the living room.
When I hang up, I sink into one of the newly replaced kitchen chairs and remain there motionless for a few minutes.
Fiero Bellucci isn’t here, but he’s rebuilding my life, quietly, from afar. Piece by piece. Without asking for anything. And here I am thinking he’d already ruined me.
Another week passesand another shock arrives at the door. In person this time.
I open the door and my limbs stiffen. “Remo.”
Part of me wishes I had the nerve to slam it in his face, but that’s not me. That’s never been me. So, instead, I invite him inside and thank heavens Dad is at the store.
