Life Lines

4: Chicken and Stars

My father and I got home at the same time. We had the war of who would pull into the driveway first. Both of us sat on either side of the end, waiting for the other to pull in. I could see his smile from the security light across the street.

He picked up his phone and put it to his ear.

Mine rang where it sat in the cup holder. I put the car in park and picked it up.

"I'm not supposed to talk on the phone while I'm driving."

That got a bigger grin from him. "You're not driving. The car is in park."

"Just pull in already. My feet are killing me."

Like a master at one handed driving, my father pulled in and I hung up on him. I followed after, parking in my usual spot next to his. I suppressed a cough as I got out. It was getting really annoying.

My father caught my face change and frowned at me.

"Please tell me you're not getting sick."

"Just a cold. It was chilly this morning when I went out." I hugged him tightly as he did me. "You missed dinner. I hope it was important."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. They want to tear down the old Hillman garage and put in some new..." I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "But you don't really care, do you? I'm sorry. I tried to get out of the meeting, let Jeremy handle it but..."

"Excuses are bad for you."

He sighed and hugged me tighter. "Then all I can do is apologize."

"Pretty much. No excuse is the only good excuse."

"You sound like your mother."

I let out a deep sigh. "I really miss her. Especially today."

He kissed the top of my head. "I should've been at dinner. You're right, there is no good excuse for missing it. I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I understand."

"You shouldn't have to." He pulled away but kept an arm wrapped around my shoulders. "It's getting cold out here. How about we go inside?"

"Sounds like a plan. I'm starving."

*

As the last couple of days of the week passed, the cough got worse. By Friday, I'd withdrawn my name from the tournament and replaced my practice time that day with a doctor's appointment. I wasn't overly excited. I hadn't been to the doctor's since I went there right after Cecil became Elite. I'd literally begged Dr. Wilson to tell me I had The Sickness. They had to call my father when I became hysterical because he wouldn't tell me I was sick. Even after he got there, I refused to leave, locking myself in one of the exam rooms and refusing to come out.

"Ah, Natalie Abernathy. Six pounds, nine ounces. 19 inches long. Small since you were two days over cooked."

He smiled at me, his Einstein mustache making him look comical. He'd delivered most of the babies in our small town and remembered each and every one of us.

"It's good to see you again. Well, you know what I mean. I would rather see you at church or downtown then in my clinic."

"I promise not to freak out on you this time," I joked.

"No need to worry, my dear. It's water under the bridge. Now," he opened my folder and looked over my complaint sheet, "it says here you have a cough."

He stood up and walked over, feeling under and around the top of my throat where my glands were. His hands were warm, strangely. They always were, making the 'doctors always have cold hands' rumor completely false. He concentrated on one in particular, nodding after a few moments.