Her father cocked one brow. “I’m not sure that’s the way these things work, young lady.”

The nurse pointed at the pamphlet her father had left on the table in the middle of the waiting room. “Mr. O’Reilly, you’ll need to read this all the way through before we can even really begin. I’m required to get informed consent, so that means going through everything twice. Once on your own, the second time with me talking and talking and talking some more.”

Dad picked up the pamphlet and grumbled good-naturedly, “Darn women telling me what to do. It’s the story of my life.”

###

It was early in the morning, not much after nine a.m., but Kathy had already been up for hours. The smell of roast beef permeated the house while Kathy was busy peeling potatoes.

Mom retrieved a carving knife from one of the kitchen drawers and uncovered the roast that had been resting on the countertop. “Kathy, after you get those potatoes peeled, please try to dice them evenly this time. And check them! I don’t want any mushy or raw potatoes in the potato salad. It’s your father’s favorite.”

Ignoring her mother’s nagging, Kathy glanced at Jasper, who sat patiently underneath Mom’s cutting board. Mom began thinly slicing the roast beef for sandwiches, and Jasper stared up at every move she made. Every once in a while, when Mom didn’t like how she’d cut a slice, she’d drop it to the floor and Jasper would snatch it out of midair and down it with a gulp. “Mom, you know he’s going to get fat if you keep feeding him like that.”

“Your father needs to put on some weight anyway.”

Kathy laughed. “I was talking about Jasper.”

Mom glanced down at the large dog and blew him a kiss. “Your father’s got four more days at the hospital and he’s dropped more than enough hints about how terrible the food is over there. The least I can do is prepare some roast beef sandwiches and potato salad for him while he’s there.”

Tires crunched on gravel outside, and Kathy looked out the window. A taxi pulled into the driveway and as soon as it stopped, one of the rear doors flung open. Dad struggled out of the car. She dropped her potato peeler and got up from her chair. “Oh no.”

She rushed to the door and opened it just as her father struggled up the steps to the porch, his arms full. His face held a determined expression.

“Dad! What in hell’s name are you doing here?”

He walked in and dropped a bag of clothes down on the floor. He then set a large box-like contraption on the dining room table and said, “I’m not staying in that place another second.”