Secretly Hers (Sterling Canyon)(43)

 

 

 

Can’t make it tonight. Flying to Denver. Dad had a heart attack and is having surgery. Not sure when I’ll be back.

 

 

 

He put the phone in airplane mode and shoved it in his jacket pocket before buckling his seat belt and staring out the small window. Despite the wide beige leather seats, Trip had always felt cramped in the cabin. He glanced around at the burled wood and five empty seats.

 

It had been several years since he’d stepped foot on this plane. The last time had been six years ago, when he’d flown back from Mason’s Caribbean wedding with his father and Deb. Trip had tried to keep out of Deb’s way by reading and sleeping and listening to iTunes, but he couldn’t avoid her entirely without appearing rude. So he’d suffered through her recitation of every remarkable thing about Mason’s wedding: the ideal weather, the exotic floral arrangements, the phenomenal band, the delicious food, and the perfect bride.

 

Trip couldn’t help but snicker at the thought that Deb probably didn’t consider Jen to be the perfect bride any longer, then immediately derided himself for being petty at a time like this. He had to set aside his battle with Deb and Mason, at least while he was in Denver.

 

Trip didn’t spend much time worrying about death, especially considering the risks he took on the mountain. But he’d faced losing a parent before. Although most memories of his mother’s death were blurry and indistinct, a few sharp images tightened his throat: the one and only time he ever saw his grandfather cry, clutching his mother’s hand as she drew her last breath, his new dad squeezing his shoulder while Trip walked out of his childhood home for the last time—crying—with his suitcases in hand.

 

Now, as the jet hurtled across the sky, his father was going under the knife for some kind of heart surgery. He could die before Trip had the chance to sit with him, man to man, to talk about why they never quite connected.

 

He pinched his nose to stop the tingling, then wiped the tear from the corner of his eye. Thirty minutes until landing, and then another forty-five or so before he could reach the hospital. Closing his eyes, he reclined his seat and prayed.

 

 

 

He entered his father’s hospital room, where his old man lay in bed, hooked up to monitors, with his eyes closed. Mason and Deb sat together holding hands and talking quietly. Trip hadn’t seen Deb in years but she hadn’t aged much. Botox, most likely: that and auburn hair dye.

 

He’d never considered her brittle kind of beauty appealing. Today her uncharacteristically splotchy face and red-rimmed eyes shocked him.

 

How bad was his dad?

 

Mason looked up, as if hearing Trip’s thoughts. His weary eyes barely flickered their normal resentment. “You made good time.”

 

Trip nodded. “Thanks for sending the jet.”

 

“Dad wanted you here.” Mason glanced at Trip and then to the floor. “Sorry we couldn’t get you here before the surgery. We were really caught off guard.”

 

Trip stood across from Deb. “What have the doctors told you?”

 

Deb straightened up and donned the detached expression she’d always used with him. “It’s better news than we’d anticipated. They inserted a stent in the collapsed artery. Fortunately, his heart muscle didn’t sustain overwhelming damage from the heart attack and he didn’t need a bypass. He’ll go home tomorrow, but be on medication from now on, and will be in cardiac rehab therapy. The good news is that the recovery from this procedure is relatively quick. After a few days of taking it easy, he can slowly start to resume normal activities.”

 

“Thank God.” Trip briefly closed his eyes and blew out a deep breath. Now he had time to work things out with his dad. Not in the next few days, but in several weeks, once he’d recovered more fully. “Sounds like the best-case scenario under the circumstances.”

 

His dad’s eyelids fluttered open. “Gunner?”

 

Trip moved to the edge of the bed and touched his dad’s arm. “Right here, Dad. Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

 

“You’re here now.” His dad flashed a weak smile then winced when he tried to shift in the bed. “Help me raise the bed.”

 

“Dad, can’t you just lie still for a while?” Mason asked. “Consider it practice for slowing down and working less.”

 

Before addressing Mason, Trip shook his head and winked at his dad. “Dad won’t slow down until it’s over. Nothing wrong with that, though.”

 

“Nothing wrong with ignoring the concerns of his wife, children, and grandchildren who’d like him to stick around longer?” Mason rubbed his hands on the arms of the chair, muttering to himself. “Not that you’d miss him.”