18. Hold Your Water
EIGHTEEN
Hold Your Water
TARA
Giving her mom a break after her dad’s knee surgery, Tara took the morning shift at the hospital to see her father while her mom opened the shop. Tara wished they could just close up shop for a week or two while her dad recovered; but as it was their primary source of income, not keeping the shop open, even while her dad was in the hospital, wasn’t an option.
“Hey, Dad.” Tara beamed a big smile from her father’s hospital room door. “Good morning.”
Ken Bailey’s face lit up. “Tare Bear! You’re a sight for sore eyes. How are you?”
Tara leaned in to kiss her father’s cheek. “I’m great, thanks. You look better today.” She stepped back as a gray-haired nurse typed in notes on a tablet she held as she checked his vitals. He seemed to have fewer wires and tubes sticking out of him today, though the IV for his pain meds still seemed a constant.
“I’m feeling better,” he breathed out as he attempted to find the button to raise his bed.
“I’ve got it, Mr. Bailey.” The nurse raised the bed so he could sit up.
“Thanks.” He grimaced slightly as he adjusted the pillow behind his back. Tara tried not to look worried as he struggled.
“He’s not causing you any trouble, is he?” Tara joked with the nurse.
“No more than usual,” she mused.
“Everything still hurts, but not nearly as much as it did a few days ago.”
“That’s good to hear, Dad. It seems you’re on the mend.”
“Well, I’m all finished here, Mr. Bailey. We’ll bring your breakfast up in a little while.”
“Thank you,” he grunted out.
Tara laughed when her dad rolled his eyes at her after the nurse disappeared into the hall.
“Breakfast, my ass. I think they use the food here to keep us sick so they can keep padding their bills.”
Tara stifled a giggle when the nurse reappeared with the medicine she expertly plugged into the IV tubes. “There you go, Mr. Bailey. Just an anti-inflammatory. You’re good to go.” She glanced to her left as someone walked in with a small pushcart. “And here’s your breakfast.”
Tara’s dad forced a smile. “I can’t wait.”
The nurse tossed him a sardonic smile but left as the attendant set his food on the tray she rolled across his bed.
“Here you go, Mr. Bailey. Scrambled eggs and toast. Oh, and you get some jello as well.”
“Best part.” He smiled up at her.
Tara pressed her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing. “I suppose now wouldn’t be the time to tell you about my breakfast at Baba’s this morning?”
“Not if you want to live,” her dad muttered under his breath while still forcing a smile. He thanked the attendant, who left the room as quickly as she arrived. “They disappear so fast, and it’s a different person every time. It’s as if they don’t want to be found.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got to eat. It’s not as if you can order a western omelet, home fries, and a side of grits.”
Her dad closed his eyes with a mock frown. “Mmm. That sounds so good.” Opening his eyes to see the hospital food hadn’t magically transformed into something more delicious, he directed a stern look at his daughter. “You’re supposed to respect your elders, Tare Bear, not torture them by speaking of delicious food you know they can’t eat.”
Tara sighed. “No more mentions of Anna’s Bulgarian donuts or the mocha lattes from Celeste’s shop. Got it.”
“My daughter, the sadist,” he laughed, then grabbed his bandaged ribs. “Ouch. It hurts to laugh.”
“You’ll be back to the good stuff soon enough. Go ahead and eat.”
After receiving a friendly glare, Tara pushed the tray closer to him. She helped him as needed since his strength was down, but for the most part, being two days out of his most recent surgery, he was doing well. Slow going was much better than not going at all.
“Your mother said you’ve been a big help with the shop. Thank you,” he said between tiny bites of eggs.
“Of course. I’d forgotten how much I loved working with customers.” She spread some strawberry jam on his toast and set it back on his plate. “I went through the books this week and paid some bills that were coming due.”
“Thank you.” He picked up the toast and bit off a corner. “Got a bit derailed.”
“I know.” She sat for a moment while he chewed. “Dad, I went through everything. You’re cutting it close on a few things.”
“Yeah. I know that, too.” He paused. “Things have been tighter since a couple of our business tenants moved out.”
Tara did her best to hide the sinking feeling in her stomach. “Does Mom know?”
“I don’t like to worry her about things; but yes, she’s aware. I don’t keep something like that from her, but I’ll get more tenants when I’m back. Don’t worry about it.” He grabbed the orange juice. Seeing his hands shake a little bit, Tara reached up and helped support his drink while he took a few sips.
“No, Dad. I can take care of it.”
“But honey, you don’t have to.”
“Dad.” She smiled, her confidence shining through every pore. “It’s what I do, remember?”
“I remember,” he confirmed with a proud smile. “Don’t worry. It’ll still be around when you and Theo are ready to take it over.”
“I sure hope so!” Tara said. “Though, I’m not sure Theo wants to run the shop.”
“True,” her dad said. “But you do.”
Tara smiled longingly. “Yes, but I think I’ve got a few years to go before I can do that. I’m not going to rush you!”
“Well, in the meantime, don’t worry about a thing.”
“I love the shop, but I especially love you and Mom. So… let me help, okay?” She refilled another cup with the small water pitcher on his nightstand and set it on his breakfast tray. “I can’t help you heal. Fortunately, the doctors and nurses are doing a great job of that, but I can help the shop. I even have a few ideas, too.”
Her father’s eyes twinkled at hearing the excitement in her voice.
“A lot of ideas, actually, so please trust me to take care of you both when it comes to work. That way, you can concentrate on getting better.”
He reached his hand toward her. She met it with her own and gave it a squeeze. “I trust you. Just make sure it’s still a bookshop when I get back.”
“Bummer. I was really hoping I could convert it to a dispensary and bar,” she said, sticking out her lower lip. “Because the local Girl Scout troop wanted to set up a table outside to sell cookies after the new year. They’d probably make a killing.”
His laugh turned into a slight cough. “Stop making me laugh.”
“Sorry.” She pressed her lips together in an attempt to look serious.
It didn’t work.
“But while I’m here,” she reached into her bag and pulled out a book that she waved to get his attention. “I brought the latest Dan Silva novel. Mom said you hadn’t read it yet.”
“Oh, sweetie. I don’t think I’m up to reading. I can barely hold my water.”
Tara’s brows shot up to her hairline; her eyes met her Dad’s.
“That’s… not what I meant.” His lip curled up on one side. “Hold my glass of water,” he clarified.
“Glad to hear,” she snorted, “but that’s why I’m going to read it to you. I haven’t read it either.”
“You’re going to read to me?”
“Why not?” Tara said with as much indignation as she could muster. “You read to me as a kid. Can’t I return the favor?”
Upon seeing his smile, Tara started reading the book to her father, doing her best to imitate the characters’ voices. Near the end of the first chapter, an attendant came in and removed the breakfast tray. After two chapters, she called it quits with a promise to come back for dinner to read one or two more.