Must Love Flowers(66)

What color remained on Roy’s face quickly disappeared. “I have to give up beer?”

“Yes, Dad, if you want to live, you’re going to need to abstain from all alcohol.”

Roy looked deep in thought and then shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was emphatic. “I’d rather be dead.”

“Dad!” Maggie’s shoulders slumped with defeat.

“Got nothing else to live for,” her father said. “Your mother’s dead, and you’ve left me. The only friend I’ve got is Al and he’s a jabbering fool. My one pleasure in life is beer and Wheel of Fortune.”

“You enjoy Jeopardy!” Maggie knew those were the two television programs her father continually watched.

“Right!” he declared. “Except I don’t come up with the answers as fast as I once did.”



* * *



—

“I’m releasing your father,” Dr. Lael said, as he wrote out the prescription and handed it to Maggie. “See to it that he takes this every day. It will help some. If he continues drinking, his disease will likely advance to cirrhosis of the liver.”

Maggie felt a lump growing in her throat. “I’ll do my best.”

She waited with her father while the hospital prepared his release paperwork.

“This mean I can go home?”

“Yes, but you need to remember what Dr. Lael said. You’ve got to wean yourself off beer, but Dad, you’re going to need help.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t you worry none. Just fine.”

“No, you won’t,” she insisted. “I’m going to search for clinics where you can get the help you need. You’ve got to stop drinking.”

Roy crossed his arms as if he’d had his final say on the subject. Maggie fought down the frustration. She couldn’t force him to stop drinking any more than she could get him the help he’d need to get and stay sober.

Roy Herbert was a stubborn cuss. Always had been and likely always would be, and there was little she could do to change him.

The nurse helped her father off the gurney and into a wheelchair. She handed Maggie the release papers and the prescription Dr. Lael had written out. He’d also included the names of several rehabilitation clinics in the Seattle area. It went without question that these places would be far and away from what Maggie or Roy could afford. But first she had to get her father to agree that he needed help.

As they moved into the waiting room outside the ER, Al stood with his ragged-edged baseball cap in his hand.

“Al,” Maggie said, recognizing him.

“I got here as fast as I could. Was here when you arrived, but you didn’t see me and then they let you in right away. I tried, but they said I couldn’t go in unless I was family.”

“You could’ve lied,” her father grumbled. “If you’d been thinking, you’d have said you were my brother.”

“I’m Black, Roy,” Al reminded him.

“Oh yeah, right,” Roy said.

The exchange amused Maggie when little else had since entering this hospital. “I’m taking Dad home. Would you like a ride, Al?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate it.” He set the cap atop his head and followed them outside.

“It’s no trouble. Would you mind staying with Dad while I get his prescription filled?”

“Be happy to.”

“He’ll talk my ear off,” her father grumbled. “I could be dying, and I don’t want the last thing I hear to be Al talking about his time working for the railroad.”

“You’re dying, Dad, but it won’t be today, so you should be appreciative that you have a friend as good as Al.”

“She’s right,” Al said with a hard nod. “Listen to your daughter.”

Maggie had one more request of her father’s only friend. “And while I’m gone, make sure he doesn’t have any beer.”

Her father huffed like there was no way Al would be able to stop him.

“Dad, I’m warning you…”

“Or you’ll what?” he flared. “Move out and leave me to my own devices? You already have, and good riddance.”

“He don’t mean that,” Al said under his breath. “He misses you something fierce. Tells me every day he’s sorry you’re gone.”

“Don’t tell me what I mean and don’t mean,” Roy snapped, glaring at Al.

Maggie left Al with her father while she collected her car. She brought it around to the area where she could pick him up. She climbed out and opened the passenger door while her father continued to grumble. Because he was light-headed, she wrapped her arm around his waist, supporting him as best she could. He didn’t protest, which told her he was worse off than she’d realized. This diagnosis was serious. Either her father changed his drinking habits or he would soon fall victim to his disease. If he continued on this path, he would be signing his death warrant. It was true, Maggie and her father had their share of differences over the years, but he was her father, her only living relative.

“I’m not an invalid,” he complained, “no matter what that doctor said. I can manage to get inside a car without the two of you fussing over me. A man can’t breathe with the likes of you crowding around me.”