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Mr. Rodriguez raises his hand, and they pause in the doorway. “He’ll be in my prayers, Ana.” His voice wavers. “It’s been so good to reconnect with him after all these years. He’s become a good friend.”

“I know.”

And with that they leave. Christian and I are alone. He caresses my cheek.

“You’re pale. Come here.” He sits down on the chair and pulls me on to his lap, folding me into his arms again, and I go willingly. I snuggle up against him, feeling oppressed by my stepfather’s misfortune, but grateful that my husband is here to comfort me. He gently strokes my hair and holds my hand.

“How was Charlie Tango?” I ask.

He grins. “Oh, she was yar,” he says, quiet pride in his voice. It makes me smile properly for the first time in several hours, and I glance at him, puzzled.

“Yar?”

“It’s a line from The Philadelphia Story. Grace’s favorite film.”

“I don’t know it.”

“I think I have it on Blu-Ray at home. We can watch it and make out.” He kisses my hair and I smile once more.

“Can I persuade you to eat something?” he asks.

My smile disappears. “Not now. I want to see Ray first.” His shoulders slump, but he doesn’t push me.

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“How were the Taiwanese?”

“Amenable,” he says.

“Amenable how?”

“They let my buy their shipyard for less than the price I was willing to pay.” He’s bought a shipyard? “That’s good?”

“Yes. That’s good.”

“But I thought you had a shipyard, over here.”

“I do. We’re going to use that to do the fitting-out. Build the hulls in the Far East. It’s cheaper.”

Oh. “What about the workforce at the shipyard here?”

“We’ll redeploy. We should be able to keep redundancies to a minimum.” He kisses my hair. “Shall we check on Ray?” he asks, his voice soft.

The ICU on the sixth floor is a stark, sterile, functional ward with whispered voices and bleeping machinery. Four patients are each housed in their own separate hi-tech area. Ray is at the far end.

Daddy.

He looks so small in his large bed, surrounded by all this technology. It’s a shock. My dad has never been so diminished. There’s a tube in his mouth, and various lines pass through drips into a needle in each arm. A small clamp is attached to his finger. I wonder vaguely what that’s for. His leg is on top of the sheets, encased in a blue cast. A monitor displays his heart rate: beep, beep, beep.

It’s beating strong and steady. This I know. I move slowly toward him. His chest is covered in a large, pristine bandage that disappears beneath the thin sheet that protects his modesty.

Daddy.

I realize that the tube pulling at the right corner of his mouth leads to a ventilator. Its noise is weaving with the beep, beep, beep of his heart monitor into a per-cussive rhythmic beat. Sucking, expelling, sucking, expelling, sucking, expelling in time with the beeps. There are four lines on the screen of his heart monitor, each moving steadily across, demonstrating clearly that Ray is still with us.

Oh, Daddy.

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Even though his mouth is distorted by the ventilator tube, he looks peaceful, lying there fast asleep.

A petite young nurse stands to one side, checking his monitors.

“Can I touch him?” I ask her, tentatively reaching for his hand.

“Yes.” She smiles kindly. Her badge says KELLIE RN , and she must be in her twenties. She’s blonde with dark, dark eyes.

Christian stands at the end of the bed, watching me carefully as I clasp Ray’s hand. It’s surprisingly warm, and that’s my undoing. I sink on to the chair by the bed, place my head gently against Ray’s arm, and start to sob.

“Oh, Daddy. Please get better,” I whisper. “Please.” Christian puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“All Mr. Steele’s vitals are good,” Nurse Kellie says quietly.

“Thank you,” Christian murmurs. I glance up in time to see her gape. She’s finally gotten a good look at my husband. I don’t care. She can gape at Christian all she likes as long as she makes my father well again.

“Can he hear me?” I ask.

“He’s in a deep sleep. But who knows?”

“Can I sit for a while?”

“Sure thing.” She smiles at me, her cheeks pink from a telltale blush. Incongruously, I find myself thinking blond is not her true color.

Christian gazes down at me, ignoring her. “I need to make a call. I’ll be outside. I’ll give you some alone time with your dad.”I nod. He kisses my hair and walks out of the room. I hold Ray’s hand, marveling at the irony that it’s only now when he’s unconscious and can’t hear me that I really want to tell him how much I love him. This man has been my constant. My rock. And I’ve never thought about it until now. I’m not flesh of his flesh, but he’s my dad, and I love him so very much. My tears trail down my cheeks. Please, please get better.