It wasn’t lost on me that my father hadn’t been so concerned that he had stopped me from working with Elias.

But he wouldn’t have been able to stop me.

Still, he had accepted the fruits of my labor before. So how was now any different?

But I couldn’t ask him any of that, couldn’t voice any of it.

Instead, I said, “Don’t worry about it. You just focus on getting better. And I’ll see about getting you some health insurance,” I said.

“Kayla, I—”

I shook my head, then looked at him, and he thankfully trailed off.

“Daddy, I don’t want to talk about it. You don’t need to talk about it. And here comes Mama,” I said.

Saved by the bell.

My mother walked toward the car, her hands laden with a bag of prescriptions and a few items to help my father be more comfortable.

I could see the wear on her and felt that worry kick up a notch.

I wasn’t sure if she had slept more than two consecutive hours since my father’s heart attack.

When we got him home and settled, I’d pull her aside and remind her that she needed to take care of herself too.

“Do you need to stop anywhere else before we go home?” I asked.

“No,” my mother said as she settled in the back. “Let’s get him home, and then I’ll see what we have in the house. Maybe run and get some groceries later.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I said as I pulled out of the parking lot.

The ride home was quiet, but it wasn’t tense.

That was a nice change.

I worried about his health and had been dreading this conversation, but I took the ride home to reflect on how happy I was.

The doctor had assured my father that he would make a full recovery. And my mother and I were determined to make sure that he’d take it easy and take care of  himself.

“Wait a minute, Daddy,” I said as I got out of the car.

I circled quickly then pulled the door open.

“I’m not so feeble that I can’t open my own car door,” he said.

“No, you’re not, but just let me do it anyway,” I said.

He smiled, and I resisted the urge to help him out and then watched as he got out of the car.

I could see that he was still weak, but I didn’t comment on it.

Instead, I made sure he got inside and settled into his chair.

“Is that comfortable enough for you?” I asked.

He’d had that recliner since I was in high school.

“This recliner is one of the things that I can rely on,” he said.

I gave him a look of false hurt. “Gee, thanks,” I said.