A rustle behind her, the curtains parting as the surgeon walked in.

Dr. Sung was a petite woman with sharp eyes and a firm manner. “The surgery went textbook well,” she told Catie. “Your father is otherwise healthy and strong, which will help in his recovery.”

“Will he have to worry about long-term effects?” Catie asked.

“No. He was lucky to be so close to the hospital when he suffered the adverse event. We had him in surgery within forty minutes. He’s a lucky man.”

“Always a gambler, eh, Dad,” she said after Dr. Sung had left.

Gloria, having returned at the tail end of the doctor’s visit, laughed a little wetly. “Isn’t he just?” She brushed back Clive’s hair.

“Why were you two so close to the hospital? Are you staying nearby?”

“No. I talked him into coming to the emergency room when he complained about feeling off,” Gloria explained. “No pain, but he wasn’t feeling like himself. Normally Clive would brush that off—you know your father.

“But he was sweaty and shaky and couldn’t really argue with me when I bundled us into the taxi for the drive here. He had the heart attack as the taxi turned onto this street. Or maybe he was having it all morning. I don’t know. The doctor will know. I just—”

“It’s okay.” Catie reached over to take Gloria’s hand. Throat thick, she said, “You probably saved his life by bringing him here. Thank you.”

Eyes swimming with tears, Gloria whispered, “I love him so much.”

“Me too.” She knew never to rely on him for anything, but she did love her father and always would.

When her phone buzzed in her pocket, she was glad of the distraction from the sight of Clive so quiet and still. Her father was never that way. Taking it out of her pocket, she saw a missed call from Ísa.

Her sister, of course, had sprung into action to help her. She would’ve flown over with Catie if little Connor wasn’t sick with a bad stomach bug. Catie, herself, was worried about her nephew. She couldn’t imagine the stress Ísa was under, seeing her baby in such distress.

“I’ll just step out to call my sister,” she said to Gloria.

Once in an open hallway far from any patient rooms, her back to a cold wall, she made the call.

Ísa said, “How’s Clive?” as soon as she answered on the other end.

“He’s okay. Not conscious yet, but the doctor says he should make a full recovery.”

A jagged exhale. “Oh, thank God.”

“Connor?” Catie asked, fingers clenching on the hard plastic of her phone case. “Is he any better?”