Home for Christmas: Return to Promise / Can This Be Christmas?. Debbie Macomber

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       Chapter Four

      Jane stood at the foot of her father’s hospital bed reading his medical chart. Dr. Roth had allowed her to review his notes as a professional courtesy. She frowned as she studied them, then flipped through the test results, liking what they had to say even less.

      “Janey? Is it that bad?” her father asked. She’d assumed he was asleep; his question took her by surprise.

      Jane quickly set the chart aside. “Sorry if I woke you,” she murmured.

      He waved off her remark.

      “It’s bad news, isn’t it?” he asked again. “You can tell me, Jane.”

      His persistence told her how worried he was. “Hmm. It says here you’ve been making a pest of yourself,” she said, instead of answering his question.

      He shook his head, but wore a sheepish grin. “How’s a man supposed to get any rest around here with people constantly waking him for one thing or another? If I’d known how much blood they were going to draw or how often, I swear I’d make them pay me.” He paused. “Do you have any idea what they charge for all this—all these X rays and CAT scans and tests?”

      “Don’t worry about that, Dad. You have health insurance.” However, she knew that his real concern wasn’t the expense but the other problems that had been discovered as a result of his broken hip.

      “I want to know what’s going on,” he said, growing agitated.

      “Dad.” Jane pressed her hand to his shoulder.

      He reached for her fingers and squeezed them hard. For a long moment he said nothing. “Cal wants you home, doesn’t he?”

      She hesitated, not knowing what to say. Cal had become restive and even a bit demanding; he hadn’t hidden his disappointment when she’d told him she couldn’t return to Promise yet. Their last few conversations had been terse and had left Jane feeling impatient with her husband—and guilty for reacting that way. In retrospect, she regretted the entire conversation and suspected he did, as well.

      “Your mother and I have come to rely on you far too much,” her father murmured.

      “It’s all right,” Jane said, uncomfortably aware that Cal had said essentially the same thing. “I’m not only your daughter, I’m a physician. It’s only natural that you’d want me here. What’s far more important is for you and Mom not to worry.”

      Her father sighed and closed his eyes. “This isn’t fair to you.”

      “Dad,” she said again, more emphatically. “It’s all right, really. Cal understands.” He might not like it, but he did understand.

      “How much time do I have?” he shocked her by asking next. He was looking straight at her. “No one else will tell me the truth. You’re the only one I can trust.”

      Her fingers curled around his and she met his look. “There are very effective treatments—”