“Are you . . . Do you need something? Are you okay?” Keep it simple, LeVon had said over and over. “Dad. Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Do you need something?”

“No.” His eyes, once the same seaglass blue as mine with a burst of gold around the iris, seemed faded and tired, but his gaze was steady on me.

My heart was pounding. He was trying to tell me something. Not just a word, but something important.

“Do you want us to leave, Mr. Frost?” Noah asked.

“No.”

“Um . . . are you worried about something, Dad?”

His face muscles worked as he tried to get the word out. “Bahr.”

“Barb? You worried about Mom?”

He didn’t say no. My shoulders relaxed. “Mom and Jules are in Boston. They’re having a little girl time. Here.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and showed him the picture. “See? They’re at a spa. Don’t they look happy? But I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

He sat for a minute, looking peeved. Then he got up out of his chair, struggling a bit, and Noah passed the baby to Mickey and was by his side in a flash. “Where are we headed, Mr. Frost?”

Dad walked to the stairs, listing a little.

“I guess he wants to go to bed,” I said. “I’ll take care of this. You guys stay put and relax. I’ll be right down.”

Dad was halfway up the stairs, and I ran to catch up. He went to his old room, the one he’d shared with Mom. I steered him to Juliet’s old room, where he’d slept for years because his snoring kept mom awake. The bed there had rails for him to grab, and to keep him from falling out.

“You’re doing great, Daddy,” I said. “I’m so proud of you. I know you’re trying really hard, and you’re getting there.” There was a sick feeling in my stomach, though, and I didn’t know why.

I helped him get into his pajamas and put toothpaste on his brush. He knew how to brush his teeth. When he first had the stroke, he couldn’t even breathe on his own. Of course he was getting better.

He got into bed, and I secured the railing, then bent over and kissed his forehead. “I’m here for you, Dad. I know you’re in there, and I want you to know that however long it takes, I’ll be here. I love you.”

He closed his eyes.

Maybe he was just tired. That was probably it. Mom got him ready for bed most nights. He’d probably been trying to say he was done with visiting and wanted Mom to help him. That made the most sense.