Page 8 of Jolene's Justice

“I’ve been doing just fine on my own for many years, lass,” came the gruff voice of a man with a heavy Scottish accent.

“You’ve never had a heart attack before,” the woman reasoned.

“How bad could it have been? I feel fine.”

“That’s the pain medication talking, Mr. Pritchett.”

“Pfft. Yer bum’s oot the windae,” Jolene’s dad said, his accent so thick Finch had trouble understanding.

He wasn’t the only one. “What?” the nurse asked.

Jolene stepped through the door, saying, “He thinks you’re talking nonsense.”

“There’s my bonnie lass.” The moment his eyes fell on his daughter, the man’s face lit up with pure joy. He shifted in the bed, attempting to sit up straighter, and the nurse quickly approached to help, but he waved her off. It was as if he was determined to project strength and hide any weakness from his daughter. Finch could respect that in a man, but he hated that he would hide things from Jolene.

“Hi, Da,” Jolene greeted in a hushed tone, her voice carrying a soft and warm timber that filled the quiet room. She bent to hug her father, squeezing him gently, conscious of all the wires monitoring his heart. Straightening, she asked, “How are you feeling?” As she spoke, she sank into the chair beside his bed and reached out to touch her father’s arm. With a nod, the nurse left the room and closed the door behind her. Finch hung back, giving them a little privacy.

As he leaned against the doorframe, Finch studied the man before him. The steady beeping of the heart monitor provided a constant soundtrack, while the sterile scent of hospital antiseptic overwhelmed the faint aroma of flowers on the windowsill. His leg was propped up on a pile of pillows, wrapped in a temporary cast.

“What happened to your leg?” Jolene asked.

“Broken. Fell when the attack happened.”

“Da,” she replied, the shock evident in her response. From where he stood, he observed Jolene as she scrutinized her father for any other missed injuries.

Jolene’s eyes were a mirror image of Mr. Pritchett’s, leaving no doubt of their relation. His glimmered with the same jade green light that shone in hers. Despite his age, his hair was still thick and full, though now more silver than red. His complexion may have been pale, but he had a robust and muscular physique. His energy and vitality were reminiscent of his daughter’s, who had once been just as lively as he was now.

He couldn’t help but notice that she had lost some of her spark recently, and he suspected that she was keeping something to herself. There had to be more she was struggling with than just their falling-out. She was too strong-willed to be brought down by the mistakes of a man. His desire to regain her trust once more may be futile, since he was no longer in her good graces, but he wouldn’t give up.

“A’m fine,” her father replied.

“Da,” Jolene scolded. “You are allowed to feel less than fine. You just had a heart attack. Not to mention the broken leg. Are you in pain?”

“Dinnae fash yersel. Ah’ve got a gammie heart, but I’m not dying.” Translating Mr. Pritchett’s words once again proved to be a challenge for Finch.

“I am worried, Da. A heart attack is serious. What does the doctor say?” Jolene placed her hand on his arm, and the sight of it resting there was a small but tender moment. A gesture of comfort and connection. Through that touch alone, Finch could see the deep connection between the pair. Some of the tension left her shoulders when her dad covered her hand with his.

“A’m fine. The doctor wants to keep an eye on me for a few days. A’m a wee bit knackered. Nothing a few days of rest won’t cure.”

Jolene’s skepticism was clear in her voice as she said, “I’ll have to hear that from the doctor himself.”

“Would I lie to you, my own bairn?”

“Lie? No. Fudge the truth to get your way? Absolutely.”

“Haud yer wheesht. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jolene laughed. “If maw taught me anything, it was to never hold my tongue around you. She always called you out on your shit.”

“Och, she taught you too well.” While the two shared a private moment, Finch recollected that Jolene’s mother had died before she arrived in Lake Haven. It was evident from the way they talked about her that they missed her greatly.

Mr. Pritchett’s eyes narrowed as he studied his daughter. “Yer looking a bit peely wally. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Da. Just worried about you.”

As he squinted, focusing intently on his daughter, the corners of his eyes crinkled with a mix of love and concern. His gaze was intense, as if he could see through Jolene’s façade and uncover the truth behind her words. Finch straightened from his slouch against the doorframe, hoping Jolene would cave under her father’s scrutiny. He wasn’t the only one who was worried about her.

His movement drew her dad’s attention away from his daughter. “Hullo. Whit’s yer name?”

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