Her Single Dad Hero

by Arlene James

  After he finished the welding, Ann and Donovan returned to help him finish installing the mixing pan. They formed an efficient team. Donovan had worked with his father long enough to know each tool by name and which one was used for which job. He passed the correct tool to Ann, who handed it up the ladder to Dean, saving Dean many steps and much time. As a result, the job was finished sooner than expected. Donovan was jubilant.

  “We get to go fishin’ after, right, Dad?”

  “That was the deal,” Dean confirmed, stowing the last of his gear in the toolbox in his truck bed. “If we finished early enough, we’d go fishing.”

  “Ann helped so she can go, too, can’t she?” Donovan suggested happily.

  Hope and excitement leaped inside Dean, but he kept his face impassive. “Sure. If she wants to.”

  Ann grinned and ruffled Donovan’s bright hair, saying, “I’d like that, but I need to be here for my dad so my sister can take care of some errands.”

  Dean told himself that it was just as well and his disappointment was entirely out of proportion to the situation, which highlighted his personal foolishness where Ann was concerned. He wasn’t fourteen anymore, after all. As a boy, he’d learned that wishing didn’t make a thing so. It was past time that he gave up this juvenile fantasy of him and Ann Billings.

  “If you’ll come to the house, I’ll write your check,” she was saying. “The amounts were all spelled out in your agreement with Rex.”

  Nodding, he lifted a hand to indicate that she should lead the way. Donovan and the dog fell into step beside him. Ann walked backward much of the time, chatting with Donovan about what sort of fish he hoped to catch and whether he baited his own hooks.

  “’Course I do!” Donovan declared, glancing up at Dean.

  “He tries,” Dean clarified. “He’s certainly not squeamish about it. The only question is whether or not there’s enough of the worm left to stay on the hook.”

  Ann wrinkled her nose. “Gotcha.”

  “They squish real easy,” Donovan muttered, and Dean bit his lip to keep from laughing while Ann delicately shuddered.

  They reached the porch, and Dean pointed to the cushioned porch swing, speaking to his son. “Why don’t you and Digger enjoy the swing while I go inside with Miss Ann?”

  “Aw, Da-a-d,” Donovan whined.

  Ann ruffled his hair again. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, “but my father is very ill, and he can’t be around too many people right now. Or dogs.”

  Donovan’s eyes widened solemnly. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “It’s called cancer.”

  Frowning up at her, Donovan asked, “You’re not going to get it, are you?”

  “No, no.” Ann smiled. “No one can get cancer from someone else, but cancer patients can get all sorts of illnesses from other people while they’re getting treatment. He’ll be better before long, then you can visit him. In fact, I’m sure he’d like that.”

  Mollified, Donovan crawled up onto the swing. Digger hopped up next to him, and Donovan began to swing them both as Ann and Dean went into the house.

  “I won’t be long,” Dean promised.

  They headed straight into the office, Ann hanging her cap on a peg in the entry hall on the way. Dean swept off his own cap and stuffed the soft part into his hip pocket. She went to the desk, checked something on the computer and got out the checkbook.

  “You know,” she said, scribbling away, “I wouldn’t mind seeing your business plan.”

  Shocked, Dean chuckled. “Business plan? What business plan?”

  “Surely you have one,” Ann commented, signing the check. “Everyone does these days.” She began carefully tearing the check out of the book. “I don’t mean to be nosy. It’s just that I find what you do fascinating, and I’d like to see how it all works. I mean your agreement with Rex is very finely drawn.”

  Dean hung his thumbs in his belt loops. “Jolly, Rex is a lawyer. He drew the agreement. Seemed fair to me, so I signed it. The closest thing I have to a business plan is a budget.”

  She leaned back in the old desk chair, staring up at Dean. “Seriously?”

  He shrugged. “Unless you consider prayer a business plan.”

  “Dean!” she exclaimed, rocking up onto her feet. “You’re smarter than that.”

  “Apparently, I’m not,” he admitted testily, yanking his thumbs free. “There wasn’t time for things like business plans and market studies when I started. I didn’t expect to be a father at twenty, but that didn’t change the fact that when Donovan was born, I had to make money as quickly as possible. I had land but no equipment because Grandpa had bought all the machinery on time-share and it all went back to the manufacturer when he got sick. I had no credit of my own, so I sold most of the land, bought some equipment and went to work farming for others. It’s just that simple.”

  “I understand,” she told him, handing over his check. As he folded the check and slipped it into his shirt pocket, she said, “But it’s not too late, you know. A good business plan could grow your business significantly.”

  He shook his head. “Look, I’m not like you. I didn’t finish college, so I work with my hands. Grandma and I stretch every dollar as far as it will possibly go. And too often it doesn’t go far enough. But we manage, and at least I don’t have any debt.”

  “I think you could do better than manage,” Ann suggested gently. “Who carries your line of credit?”

  Exasperated, he snorted. “Haven’t you been listening? I don’t have a line of credit, and I don’t care to. I may not be making lots of money, but at least I’m not in debt.”

  “A line of credit isn’t about debt,” she pointed out patiently. “It’s about leveling out your monthly income and normalizing your budget so you don’t get caught short. You have more than enough of a track record now to apply for a line of credit, so if you want, I could take a look at your books, help you draw up a business plan and secure that line of credit so you don’t have to worry about months with no income.”

  Thunderstruck by both the implications and the offer, Dean’s first instinct was to refuse. He’d been operating on his own for five years now, and he was who he was, a simple, hardworking man. If that wasn’t good enough for her, well, when had it ever been?

  On the other hand, how stupid would he be to turn down expert help just because his pride had been pricked? And if there was a way to even out his monthly income so he didn’t find himself completely broke at the worst time of the year, he owed it to his son to at least investigate the possibilities. Besides, as foolish as it seemed, when he came right down to it, he wasn’t sure he could refuse the opportunity to spend more time with her.

  He swallowed his refusal and his pride with it. Nodding, he said, “I’ll, uh, be on another job for a few days. Then I’ve got to get that sorghum cut for the Straight Arrow. Will you be available after that?”

  She nodded decisively. “I will.”

  He felt a rush of relief. “Great. Thank you.”

  She put out her hand and he took it, shaking to seal the pact. She smiled suddenly, and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms for a hug. Instead, he dropped her hand like a hot potato and turned toward the door.

  “Okay if I look in on Wes before I leave? I won’t get too close.”

  “Sure. Go on back,” she said. “He might be asleep, though.”

  “I’ll be quiet,” Dean promised, “just in case.”

  He strode away, passing Meredith as she came down the stairs, the strap of her handbag on her shoulder.

  “All done for the day?” she asked.

  “Yep. Just going to say hi to your dad before we head out.”

  Mindful of Donovan waiting on the porch, Dean didn’t pause. He journeyed on down the hall, tiptoeing up to the open doorway of
Wes’s room. He found the older man in his bed watching television. The grayness of Wes’s skin troubled Dean, but he put on a cheery smile and hailed Wes from the doorway.

  “How you doing, Mr. Billings?”

  The other man cleared his throat. “It’s Wes. And I’m doing fine.”

  He didn’t look fine, but Dean said only, “Good to hear it. The mixing station is all done. I think you’re going to be real happy with it.”

  “I’m sure we will be. We’re always happy with your work.”

  “I appreciate you saying so. I’ll get started on that sorghum by midweek.”

  Wes gave him a tired smile. “We’ll look forward to seeing you then.”

  “If you need me before that, you just call. Ann knows how to reach me.”

  Wes nodded wearily. “Good of you.”

  “I’ll let you rest,” Dean said, turning away.

  “See you soon,” Wes rasped.

  When Dean looked back, the older man’s eyes were closed as if he’d fallen asleep. Dean stood there a moment longer, until he was sure that Wes’s chest rose and fell in regular breaths, before he slipped back down the hall to report to Ann.

  “He’s sleeping now.”

  “Did you get to speak to him?” Ann asked.

  “A bit. You’ll call me if I’m needed, won’t you?”

  She nodded, smiling slightly. “I wish Rex would get back. If Dad falls or collapses...”

  “You just call me,” Dean stated flatly. “Anytime. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I’ll come. You have my word on it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Save it for when—if—I actually do something.”

  “I feel better just knowing I can call on you if I need to,” she told him.

  “Anytime.”

  He meant it. Anytime Ann called, he’d come, no matter why or when. Even if he was fishing.

  That said something sad and rather pathetic about him, but so be it. He could fight his attraction to Ann and his disappointment that she would never feel the same way about him that he felt about her. He could tell himself that he was being foolish and unrealistic. He could pray for wisdom and strength. But he couldn’t change who and what he was; in truth, he wouldn’t want to try.

  One thing being Donovan’s father had taught Dean was to be himself. Only by being his authentic self could he help his son grow into his true self. Knowing one’s true self was a necessity. Sharing one’s true self with another was a gift, an act of love and trust.

  It saddened Dean to think that Ann would never know the deepest, truest parts of him, but she was meant for another.

  He stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door of the ranch house closed behind him. “Let’s go catch some fish.”

  His son’s bright smile lightened his heart.

  It was enough. It had to be enough.

  Chapter Eight

  Ann had known difficult days but nothing like those immediately following the construction of the mixing station. That very evening after Dean left, Wes ate something that didn’t agree with him, and within the hour an unrelenting nausea set in. Several times Ann picked up the phone to call Dean, but in truth he could do nothing that Meredith wasn’t already doing. Just because having Dean there would make her feel better was no reason for Ann to call him over to the house, especially as she had no right to the comfort and support he offered.

  In fact, having Dean around was dangerous. She’d come to realize that he was dangerous to her heart, as well as her peace of mind. That didn’t keep her from hoping that he’d stop by to check on Wes.

  In a very real way, she missed Dean. She’d sort of gotten used to seeing him on a daily basis. Yet, her father was so ill that Ann didn’t feel comfortable leaving Meredith alone with him and going to church on Sunday.

  By Sunday evening both sisters were worn to frazzles, and Wes seemed no better. Meredith had already consulted Dr. Alice Shorter by telephone, and she called the doctor again, as instructed, very early on Monday morning. Dr. Shorter drove out to the ranch straightaway, bringing intravenous medications with her.

  On the plump side and fiftyish, with long, straight, thick blond hair, Dr. Shorter had a dry, ready wit, remarking to Wes, “If you wanted to see me, Billings, you didn’t have to go to such extremes. You could’ve just invited me to dinner.”

  Wes chuckled then clutched his loudly rumbling belly with one hand. “Don’t even...mention...food.”

  “Sorry. Let’s get you comfortable.”

  While Meredith set up the IV, Dr. Shorter conducted a routine examination before announcing, “Well, you’re dehydrated. No surprise there. We’ll get some fluids and medication in you and calm this down.” She nodded at Meredith, adding, “At least your nurse knows her stuff.”

  “She’s good,” Wes managed with a smile. Meredith didn’t even look up from securing the IV in her father’s arm.

  Watching from the foot of the bed, Ann said, “We’re lucky to have her.”

  “Blessed,” Wes corrected. “I’m blessed...with both...my daughters.”

  Ann smiled at that, glad she could at least be here to help run the ranch while Rex was gone. She couldn’t care for their dad the way Meri did, but at least she could contribute in some ways. And to think that in the beginning she had secretly resented having to put her life on hold to come here and do this. The selfishness of that shamed her, and she was deeply, deeply grateful for this time with her father and sister.

  “What set you off?” the doctor asked.

  Wes made his face, flattening his lips in a stubborn expression that she knew all too well, so Ann answered for him.

  “Catfish. He had an intense craving for it. We thought it would be mild enough for him, so we brought it in from the diner.”

  “The fish, maybe,” the doctor said. “The grease it’s fried in, probably not.”

  “I should have thought of that,” Meredith said guiltily. “Callie would have.”

  “Callie had training, if I’m not mistaken,” Dr. Shorter pointed out. She poked Wes in the chest with a gloved forefinger then, adding, “And so did you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Sounded...so good.”

  The doctor turned to her kit and found a syringe. “Doesn’t feel so good now, does it?”

  “Nope.”

  His poor stomach rumbled so loudly that the doctor handed him the basin sitting on the bedside table. “Need to puke?”

  Wes gritted his teeth, swallowed and closed his eyes. “No.”

  Alice Shorter shook her head and injected medication into his IV tube, muttering, “Men and their pride.”

  “Not pride,” Wes ground out. “Self-respect.”

  She patted his shoulder. “I forgot. Christians are forbidden pride. Have it your way.”

  “You know... I will,” Wes said, one corner of his mouth hitching up in a smile.

  Ann could tell that he was already beginning to relax. To her surprise, the doctor reached down and squeezed his hand. Even more surprising, he grasped her hand and held it for several long seconds. The three women—Ann, her sister and Dr. Alice Shorter—stood quietly around his bed until he began to breathe easily and slipped into peaceful sleep. Meredith’s hands trembled as she smoothed her light golden brown hair back from her face and twisted it into a long rope.

  “It’s different when it’s family, isn’t it?” Dr. Shorter said softly, and Ann recognized the sound of experience in her voice. Meredith nodded.

  Abruptly, the doctor began packing up her bag. A few seconds later she stripped off her gloves and dropped them in the trash can. Then she was heading for the door.

  “He’ll sleep for a while. Call me if you need me.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Shorter,” Meredith murmured, following the older woman from
the room, Ann on her heels.

  They picked up the pace in the hallway, but the doctor was out the door before they could catch up to her. Wandering back into the kitchen, where her sister went to the refrigerator for the tea pitcher, Ann brought her hands to her hips and thought over all that had just happened.

  “Do you know,” she said after a moment, “I think Dr. Shorter might have a crush on Dad.”

  Meredith looked around, taking an ice tray from the freezer, and she raised her eyebrows. “Don’t be silly. I’ve heard that she’s an atheist, and you know Dad’s a very outspoken Christian.”

  “He’s also a very attractive man, even ill.”

  Meredith shook her head, cracking the ice tray over the sink. “Doesn’t mean anything. He would never be interested in her.”

  “No? Meri, Mom’s been gone since 2012. What would be wrong with Dad finding someone else?”

  “Nothing.” Meredith dropped ice cubes into glasses. “I hope he does. Once he’s well again.”

  And what if he’s never well? Ann wondered. Doesn’t he deserve every moment of happiness he can find, well or not?

  The house phone rang, and Meredith reached out to answer it.

  After greeting whoever was on the other end and a moment of chatter, she said, “Ann’s right here. Want her to take this in the office?” She held the telephone receiver away from her ear and said to Ann, “It’s Rex. I’ll bring your tea to you.”

  “Thanks, sis.”

  Ann hurried to the office and picked up the cordless receiver there. She listened while Meredith filled in Rex on their dad’s most recent health issues. Then Meri hung up on her end, and Ann and Rex got down to business. Rex had been going over the books online and had some questions. Ann had paid a couple of bills he hadn’t expected to come in for several weeks yet, and he wanted to see the statements. Meredith brought her iced tea while Ann was scanning up and emailing the billing statements. As soon as her sister left the room, Ann took the opportunity to ask Rex about Dean, shading her question in tones of concern.