A Texas Christmas Wish. Jolene Navarro
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this is not going to be easy, but I need you to stay calm and not start any fights.”
Stepping into the garage, he saw a frail man struggling to get out of the SUV and leaning heavily on the door. That could not be his tall, robust father.
“Dub, I asked you to wait until I got help.” John’s easygoing voice sounded exasperated.
“I. Am. Not a...kid.”
Tyler heard some other words mumbled, but he couldn’t make them out.
“Dad?” That man could not be his father.
He had been on an international flight when Maggie, their neighbor, had called him with the news. She’d told him it was only a small stroke. When his father had gotten on the phone, he hadn’t even wanted Tyler to come home. He had sounded almost normal during that conversation. “Is everything okay? Has something else happened?”
Dub grunted and John sighed. “When he gets tired, it’s harder for him to speak or move.” John gave Dub a pointed look. “It’s been a long day, and arguing about everything doesn’t help. Rest, Dub, you need to rest.”
Turning away from Dub, John pointed to the back of the ranch vehicle. “Tyler, there’s a wheelchair in the back. Can you get it out?”
“Sure.” He moved without much thought, the cold concrete on his bare feet keeping him in the present. This weak man could not be his strong, hearty, stubborn father. Was he worse than he had been led to believe? Was he going to die sooner rather than later? He had been told his mom had a year. A year that turned into three months.
He glanced over the backseat as he pulled out the wheelchair. What if his dad didn’t get better? Thunder rumbled in the distance, the storm passing on to the east.
“What’s...all the...mud?”
“Sorry, Dad. I’ll clean it up. Karly’s car got stuck. I helped her out. I took off my boots before I went in, so I didn’t track mud in the house. I’ll get her car washed and the floor cleaned.” He wasn’t a twelve-year-old anymore, so why did he start acting like one around his father?
“Karly is... She’s...she’s a good girl.” Dub made some growling noises. “Be...be nice.”
The subject of the conversation appeared in the doorway. Miss Sunshine herself.
“Welcome home, Mr. Childress.” She glanced around the garage, appearing nervous.
This wasn’t going to work out—they needed a professional nurse if they were going to get his father healthy again.
Tyler unfolded the chair next to the passenger’s door. His father shook his head and pointed, his fingers shaking. “I...ain’t sitting...in...that.”
John took a deep sigh, but his voice was firm. “Dub, I don’t have much time. I told the girls I would pick them up from 4-H. If you fall, think how embarrassed that will make you feel.” He glanced up to Tyler. “The doctor said falling might be the biggest danger to his recovery.” He cut his gaze back to Dub. “Remember, we had a deal. If I brought you home early, you’d let Karly help you. That’s why she’s here. If you don’t let her help, she won’t have a job.”
She came up behind them. “Is there anything else I need to do? All the equipment that was ordered has been placed in his room. I made the bed. Pastor John said you’d be ready to rest and build up your strength.”
John held Dub’s arm and eased him into the black seat. Tyler just stood there, useless. Once Dub was settled, his son-in-law went back into the vehicle. “Here are some premade dinners Maggie packed for y’all. With moving and getting everyone settled, she was worried you wouldn’t have time for cooking. Here, Dub.” He placed the bags on Dub’s lap. “You can drop this off as you go through the kitchen.”
“Tell her thanks.” Karly smiled at John before leaning forward. “Ready, Mr. Childress?”
“Karly, Tyler, the occupational therapist is scheduled to be out here for the first home visit Thursday. That was the earliest they could get out here on short notice. I have a folder with all the instructions and tips. Things to look for.”
Karly nodded, then smiled at his dad. Bending low, she whispered close to his ear. He mumbled something and she laughed. “I’ll take him in to check out his room.”
Tyler couldn’t form a word. He knew he had words, lots of them, but they had all left.
John spoke again. “Thanks, Karly. Behave, Dub.”
“Tyler, the doctor said—” John started, but he couldn’t let him finish. How had his dad convinced them to bring him home without a medical professional?
“He can’t stay here. He’s too weak. We have to get him in assisted living.”
“Really?” John’s eyebrow shot up. “I wish you well with that move. I couldn’t even get him to live with me in the house he grew up in, right here on his ranch.” John reached inside the SUV and pulled out a red folder. “Here’s all the information the hospital gave us. The contact numbers for the speech therapist, physical therapist and the occupational therapist. You’ll need to set up times for the PT and speech. The speech therapist can also help with any eating problems he has.”
“We need a professional nurse. Karly can’t handle all this medical stuff, and I gotta leave in a few weeks.”
“Karly will be fine. Besides, we tried to talk your dad into a home health nurse, but he didn’t want a stranger in his house. He agreed to Karly, and I trust her. She also needs this opportunity to get her life on track. It’s a win-win for everyone, Tyler.” John reached over and gripped Tyler’s shoulder. “I know it’s hard seeing your dad like this, but you need to rely on your faith. God’s in control, Tyler. There’s a plan.”
Head against the wall, Tyler stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t look at John, the pastor his sister had married. His sister’s husband, who would soon be married to someone else, to their old neighbor, Lorrie Ann Ortega. “What if I don’t like the plan?” Too many of his plans had been ripped apart. “You can’t just blindly fumble through life waiting for God to answer prayers. Dad needs more medical care than Karly can provide. When I talked to Maggie, she said it wasn’t that bad.”
“For a stroke, he’s fortunate, but it’s still a stroke. The doctors said there is no reason he won’t have a full recovery, but they won’t be sure for some time as to permanent damage. If he does fully recover, it could take up to two years. And there’s also the broken bones. They just need rest and time to heal.”
“Two years? I don’t have that kind of time.” He pressed his back against the garage wall, sliding down to the floor. He buried his fingers in his damp hair. His grip tightened, wanting to pull all the strands out of his scalp. “Sorry, that was completely selfish. I just want my dad back. What about the horses? The ranch? What am I going to do?”
John sat next to him. “For now we have to take it one day at a time. With work and focus, the doctors believe you can have your dad fully back. The fear of losing him, any part of him, was hard to deal with today. Seeing him was a shock.” John put his hand back on Tyler’s shoulder. “That stubbornness of his can help him get better. It’s also that pride that can get in the way of his recovery. He’s not going to change his mind about where he lives or who lives with him. In Isaiah, we’re reminded, ‘For I hold you by your right hand—I, the Lord your God. And I say to you, “Don’t be afraid. I am here to help you.”’ You’re never alone, Tyler. God is here. I’m close by if you need anything.” He patted his should a couple of times and stood. “The girls want their uncle over for dinner soon. They miss you.” With that, he left.
Tyler’s throat was dry. He needed something to drink. How did John manage to stay so positive? His sister’s husband had more reasons to doubt the promise of a happy ending than anyone else.
Making his way to the master bedroom, a fog