Page 19 of Lucky Cowboy

“Now, if you’d like. He’s pretty out of it and groggy, but once I explained that I was here for you, he allowed me to hang out with him.”

Mark showed her into the room, and although her dad looked noticeably pale, when he saw her, his face lit up. “There’s my girl.”

Relieved past comprehension, she forced her mouth to smile as she stood at attention and saluted him. “Mother hen, reporting for duty.”

Her dad waved her over, and she wanted to collapse and press him tightly to her. She couldn’t, though. She didn’t dare. Not after major surgery. So she gripped onto his IV free arm like it was a lifeline.

“I’m okay,” he told her as she rubbed at that arm with both hands.

“You scared me half to death,” she informed her dad, not holding back now that she knew he was okay. “Tell me what happened.”

“I wasn’t feeling so good, you know. Thought it was indigestion until I got all sweaty and my left arm started to hurt. Then, I dialed 911.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” she whispered, feeling about an inch tall.

“You couldn’t be, honey. You’re our bread and butter.” She gaped at him. Not once had he ever referred to her like that, even if the description was accurate. “You have been for years now. I’m not ignorant to that fact, and I’m man enough to admit it. Even when I was managing you, it was your spectacular riding abilities that brought home the paychecks. Not me. Not for a long time now. I told myself it was okay because you loved doing it so much.”

“I do love doing it. But I love you more.”

There was the shuffling of feet on tile nearby and when she peeked up, she noticed that Mark was no longer in the room. He was giving them some privacy, and she so appreciated him for recognizing their need for it.

“I have a worn-out ticker,” her dad said. “But they just gave me a tune up. Think I should be good for the next several years after this.”

“I’ll tell Mitzi to come home with Maybelline. I’ll stay nearby from now on.”

“Not necessary, honey.”

“I think it is,” she argued. “It was torture finding out you needed me when I wasn’t here. Sheer torture.”

“It’s up to you, then.” To her shock, he merely shrugged, but the movement made him wince. “This is your career, not mine. But now that I’ve had this bypass, I should be good to go.”

“Bypass surgery? That’s the kind they gave you?”

“Quadruple bypass, apparently.”

“Four of your blood vessels were blocked? But you see your doctor every six weeks. How did they miss this?” She felt appalled they hadn’t noticed how bad off he’d become.

“We’ve updated his cholesterol medication and put him on some additional prescriptions,” a man in a white coat said as he entered the room. “I’m Dr. Smith, your father’s cardiothoracic surgeon. Also, he’ll need to get a bit stricter on his diet. No more fried, fast, or processed foods. And he’ll need to greatly limit his red meat consumption.”

“Those are his favorites,” Val explained to the doctor.

“That’ll need to change, I’m afraid. More fruits and vegetables. Lean meats. We’ll send him home with a proper nutrition plan. I thought we’d already done so.”

Val squinted her eyes at her father, who suddenly looked sheepish. “Have you been hiding your doctor’s recommendations from me?”

“I didn’t think a burger now and then would hurt,” he said, his tone rebellious.

“Well, it obviously did hurt. Look at you.” She pointed at her dad accusingly, then dropped her finger. She’d been so overwrought about this, but the last thing her father needed was unkind accusations. Even if they were true.

She’d just need to do a better job observing him.

The surgeon stepped closer and checked his vitals. “One thing that helps sometimes is to sign up for one of those meal delivery plans. Some come prepared ahead of time so that all you’d have to do is pop it in the oven or microwave. Heart-healthy meals are an option. The Mediterranean diet is also a good choice. Very flavorful. Most of my patients who try it end up loving it. That is, if you’re looking for recommendations.”

“But red meat includes steak,” her dad groused. She might’ve empathized had he not nearly died.

“You can have steak on your birthday. How about that?” she said, glancing at Dr. Smith. The surgeon nodded. All right, then.

“In the meantime, take it easy and after a few days we’ll get you out of here,” the surgeon said. “Follow the rules and with any luck, you’ll stay out of here.”

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