Page 46 of Hearts of Wealth

Timothy

––––––––

IT HAD BEEN A WEEK since John’s heart attack, and while he was on the road to recovery, Catherine seemed more stressed than ever. I could only imagine the toll it was taking on her, having to care for her father while dealing with the aftermath of everything that had happened with Henry. She was a tough chick, but damn, she was taking on a lot. I wished she would let me hire her some help, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She was handling her father’s recovery like it was a job. She had a plan, and she was going to make it happen on her timeline.

Spending time with John the last couple of days, I saw the same stubborn streak in him that his daughter had inherited. He was doing his best to play down the severity of his heart attack, brushing off the doctors and even Catherine’s concerns with a casual flick of his wrist. He was a stubborn dude, but he had raised an even more stubborn daughter.

The love they had for each other was obvious. She was busting her ass to take care of the man. Today, I was bringing them a load of groceries. She wouldn’t let me help in any other way. It was frustrating that I had the means to help her and she just didn’t want to take it.

When I arrived at the house, I found Catherine in the kitchen making a salad for her father. The way she was chopping lettuce had me concerned she might lose a finger.

“Hey,” I said, putting the bags down. “How are you?”

“Irritated,” she muttered. “That man is so stubborn. He drives me crazy. I’m trying to help him and he’s bitching that he can’t have a sandwich.”

“This is why a nurse would be helpful,” I said. “Let her be the bad guy. You shouldn’t have to be nurse, daughter, and mother.”

“My dad would never accept help from anyone else,” she said with a sigh. “I thought I was going to have to shackle him just to get him to come home with me.”

“He doesn’t like being needy,” I said. “Neither do you,” I added, meeting her gaze.

She huffed out a breath, and I could tell she was holding back tears. “Catherine, it’s okay to need help.”

“There’s so much to do,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I can’t—”

“Catherine,” I said, softly interrupting her. I took a step toward her and put my hands on her shoulders. “You have been amazing. Beyond amazing. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know that,” she mumbled, not looking at me.

“Do you?” I asked, tilting her chin up to look at me. Her eyes were glassy, shimmering on the brink of tears. “You’ve been so strong, Catherine, but even the strongest among us need someone to lean on.”

“He’s just being so difficult,” she whispered. “I almost lost him, and he doesn’t seem to understand how serious it was. He’s making light of it.”

“That’s his coping method,” I said. “He’s a strong, independent man. It’s hard for him to admit he might not be as tough as he thought. He’s been taking care of you all his life, and now the tables have turned.”

“It feels like I’m not doing enough.”

“Enough?” I echoed incredulously. “Catherine, you’ve done more than enough.”

She shook her head. “I just feel helpless.”

It was clear that the tension between them was taking its toll, and I knew I needed to step in before things escalated further.

“Why don’t you go get some fresh air? I’ll try to talk some sense into your dad. I’ll take him the salad. If he gets mad at me, so be it.”

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with gratitude and exhaustion. “Thank you. If he attacks, I’m sorry.”

I laughed. “I can handle him.”

She walked out of the house, leaving me alone with her old man. I finished the salad and carried it into the bedroom, where John was propped up in the bed Catherine had had delivered before he came home.

“Timothy,” he said. “I’d get up and shake your hand, but I’ve been chained to this damn bed.”

“You don’t need to get up,” I said.

“Where’s Catherine?” he asked. “She too afraid to bring me that rabbit food she’s trying to force me to eat?”

“She went for a walk,” I said. “I think she needed a break.”