Joe sighed and scratched at his thinning red hair. “It
almost seems like it’s too late.”
“What do you mean, too late?” Judith was taken
aback. “Mike’s over thirty, he’s matured, he ought to
know because you and he have never had that fatherson intimacy. You’ve been buddies, period.”
“That’s what I mean,” Joe said, ducking his head.
“He’s a grown man. He doesn’t need a father.”
“Oh, Joe!” Judith put her hands over her mouth
and stared wide-eyed at her husband. “I was still in
my teens when my dad died, and I miss him every
day. Your father lived much longer, until you were—
what?—almost forty. How can you say such a
thing?”
“Because,” Joe said slowly, “I wasn’t there for Mike
when he needed a real father. When Dan died, Mike
was about the same age as you were when your dad
passed away. I missed out on all those years. And I still
marvel at how well Mike turned out. Maybe I owe Dan
something, too.”
Judith bit her lip. “You can’t do this to me. Not after
92
Mary Daheim
all the agony I’ve been through and the guilt and
the—”
Joe cut Judith off with a wave of his hand. “Stop.
This isn’t the time for a family crisis. You need to concentrate on getting well. Let me think it over.” He
stood up. “I don’t know why the hell a preschooler
needs a family tree. He’d be better off if I built him a
tree house.”
“Do it,” Judith said, forcing a small smile. “That’s
what grandpas do. If you weren’t around for Mike,
you’re here for Mac.”
“Right.” Joe’s shoulders slumped. “Got to go. Hey,
Bill—let’s hit the pavement.”
Bill, who had been plucking food particles from
Renie’s sling and other parts of her person, stood up.
“Okay.” He turned back to Renie. “Joe picked me up at
the Toyota place downtown. I left Cammy there to
have new windshield wipers put on, just in case it
snows.” Bill bent down to kiss his wife on the one spot
on her face that wasn’t covered with mayonnaise, butter, or bread crumbs.
The husbands, who seemed to exit at a rather brisk
pace, hadn’t been gone for more than five minutes
when Judith glimpsed a patient being rolled down the
hall.
“Who’s that?” Renie asked, following her cousin’s
gaze.
Judith didn’t answer right away, listening to see if
she could hear anyone speak. “I couldn’t see, but I
wonder if it’s Addison Kirby. I’m almost sure they
