Chapter Twenty: Fathers of Daughters

Less than a week after I decided I wanted to ask Tony for Casey's hand, we were back in the hospital. Casey was throwing up blood and shivering uncontrollably, no matter how many blankets the nursing staff gave her or how often the hot water bottles she clung to were changed out. She could not warm up. I felt strangely powerless over it all, and I had to admit that there were times when I would watch her and feel like I was a thousand miles away. In all honesty, I think it was the first time that it had really sunk in that there was nothing I could do to save her. One day, I was going to lose her. For all the treatments she could undergo considering money was not much of an object these days, they would do nothing but extend her shortened life. They could not cure her. She was going to be stuck in and out of hospitals like this the rest of her life whether that was one year, five, or fifty. No wonder she kept asking me to stop suggesting that the testing was okay.

It wasn't.

Not for her, not any more.

As I sat beside her in the hospital bed, her hand curled in mine, I wondered what had changed about my thinking. Was it because I was seeing the millionth needle slide into her arm in the not quite two years we had been together? I saw the vacant look in her eyes when the nurses started the IV drips and drew blood and injected medicine. For the first time, I had seen the look in her eyes that plainly told me she did not want it. I think it was in that moment which I had suddenly been able to understand her running from us – me, her parents, her siblings. I had thought I had understood before, but I had been wrong.

The treatments for her were becoming more painful than the diseases. It made me wonder exactly where the happy Casey that had drawn me out of my shell had changed, fallen prey to something darker. But, the look had been for only a heart beat. She blinked, and she was smiling at me again, ready to take on the world no matter how chilled to the bone she was feeling. She gave my hand a squeeze and told me that we would still make it to the opera on the weekend. I had managed to hold it together until she fell asleep courtesy of medication. Then, I had to take a walk.

Standing in the middle of the hospital courtyard in the early afternoon sun, I dialed a number I had long ago memorized but, sadly, did not call as often as I should have.

"Daddy?" I whispered as my elderly father picked up the other end. He was distant most of the time since my mother passed. I did not blame him, but I had not fully understood. Even standing there knowing the woman I loved would die all too soon, I did not fully understand.

"Alex, honey, what's wrong?" my sixty eight year old father asked me. I burst into tears. "Baby, talk to me. What happened? Is it a case?"

It made me sad to think that until Casey, so much of my life had been about my career. The career I was planning on terminating because I could not feel the devotion any more. I had never called my parents about boyfriends or girlfriends – and they had been accepting of either. But, if I lost a case or the victim just got to me, I called them. I cried over them. I had never cried over me.

"I fell in love," I said, understanding that the tears made no sense to a third party who had not even known I was dating.

I could hear the confusion in my father's voice, too, when he asked me, "What's so terrible about that, sweetheart?"

"Can you meet me for coffee?" I asked, wiping away my tears with the back of my free hand. "I'm in midtown, but I could come up."

"It's okay, darling. Give me an hour, and I'll meet you. What about Paris?"

He was talking about a little cafe known for its miniature Eiffel Tower out front. I could never remember the name, but as a child, I had called it Paris. "Yea," I said. "See you in an hour."

I checked back in with the charge nurse and asked her to call if anything changed in Casey's status, including if she woke up. My eyes were still red from crying, but none of the nurses asked questions. They were all accustomed to me and Casey being there. It seemed as if at least once a month, we were somewhere in the hospital. After the charge nurse promised to call, I snuck in to the room and gave Casey a quick kiss on the cheek. "I love you, Firefly," I whispered.

I beat my father to the cafe because it was only a few blocks from the hospital. But, he came in, tall and regal as ever. Looking at him, I would not have guessed he was almost seventy. He had aged well and still had his faculties about him. I knew I was not his genetic daughter, but I had long hoped I would age gracefully as well.

"Hey, sweet girl," he said as he hugged me. I hugged him back, my arms tight about him. "Uh oh, something's very wrong. You don't hug like that when everything is going well."

Sitting back down, I shook my head. "I told you on the phone I fell in love," I said, my voice hushed.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" he asked. Most of my exes were men. Casey had been my first real girlfriend, and it turned out that had meant more to me than I had realized.

I shook my head. "No, no. Nothing like that. Actually, Casey's a woman. She's been nothing but fantastic to me, Dad. I -" I sucked in a deep breath. "I want to marry her."

"I would say congratulations, Alex, but those don't look like tears of joy. What's going on?" he pressed, reaching over and wiping my cheek of an errant tear I had not even realized had slipped.

Licking my lips, I looked across the table at him. "She's dying," I said. "It's a congenital disease. The doctors are amazed that she lived this long. On top of that, because her systems are in such disrepair, she's developed diabetes and chronic anemia. I have to give her shots every day now. There's no way to cure it, it's just making sure she's relatively healthy until her systems shut down entirely."

I saw a ghost of something flicker across his face. I knew he was thinking about Mom. Still, I also knew he would do his best to help me. I just feared he would try to talk me out of marrying her. But, he asked me only one question. "Why do you want to marry her? Honestly, Alex."

I did not even hesitate. "I love her. I could not imagine not being with her. Even if we only date until the day she dies or I do, I would be happy with that. But, I want a wedding. I want something that says that I unquestionably love her. She's Catholic. And, I want that. I want her to know that I'm not just the girlfriend. She doesn't have to worry about me running away when things get tough or we get into an argument. I want to be the wife that says we may disagree about something, but come to bed anyway; we'll figure it out in the morning because we'll both still be there."

"You'll be a very young widow," he said.

"Daddy, I'm not that young. I'm not old, either, but my world came alive when I let her into my life. I saw things in ways that I had never seen them before. She's an attorney, like me. We met at the DA's office. But, she sees the world like an artist does, and I feel like I've got a whole new set of colors to see things as. It's – she's my penguin."

My father smiled at me, the first genuine smile I had seen cross his face since I returned from Witness Protection. He reached across the table and cupped my cheek, stroking my skin. Despite my troubled youth and tendency to refuse attachment, it was a gesture that had always made me feel safe when it came from him. I had known that this father would not attack me. "Then, go get her, Alex. I would never change my decision to marry your mother, even knowing by how much I would outlive her. As long as you are loving people for the right reasons, that love will only make your life more meaningful."

I returned his smile feeling as if I had suddenly accomplished quite a great deal. It was so strange how it felt right; I felt right. I wanted to ask; now, all I had to do was convince her father to let me. And, that, I knew, was going to be rough. "Thank you," I murmured, covering his hand with both of mine and relishing in the sense of paternal protection. So often, I had pushed it away thinking I needed to be Supergirl.

"Ah, I was not planning on this being quite the conversation we would be having, so I brought something for you just in case." He held his other hand out to me, and I took a small box from him, puzzled. Ordinarily, this would have been the part in the movie where I found out it was my mother's ring, but Eliza Cabot had never worn a ring. "It's exactly what you think it is," he coached.

Carefully, I opened the box to find a gorgeous rose gold ring set with two small lavender sapphires and a slightly larger light blue sapphire. It was not traditional by any means, but it was beautiful. "I don't understand," I whispered, picking it up between my fingers and looking at it. It was old, I knew that. It had a feel of it, like it had been worn on the fingers of women in past generations. "Mom never wore a ring. She said she refused to let you buy her one."

He smiled. "That's your mother's," he said. "Your birth mother's. That belonged to Alexis. Her mother, your grandmother, recovered it from evidence. She told me when we adopted you that Alexis used to let you wear it and that it would not have made her smile more if you wore it one day, too. It's been on the maternal side of your family for generations. I think, given the circumstances, she would be just as delighted to see it on the finger of the woman you love."

I ran my finger over the gold band, feeling the bumps beneath my finger. I was hesitating. My mother had lived a life of misery and pain at the hands of my father. She had been so adamant that it would resolve itself and be better, but it never had. It made me wonder if Casey would want to wear it or if she would feel cursed.

"Your mother loved you, Alex," my father broke my thoughts. "You were the light of her life. When you were first fostered with us, you ran away to see her all the time. She used to sneak you candies before taking you back to the social worker, and you would come home with little Kisses. She may not have had the strength to leave your father, but she had a great strength about her because she lived and breathed for the love she had for you. I don't think I would be wrong to think that it is that love which is being passed on, not the hatred and fear."

Nodding, I looked down at the ring. I had never thought of it like that. I could not remember the ring from my childhood, but it would have been so like me to parade around with it on. I had always loved subtle jewelry. And, the ring was certainly not flashy, but I think my father was right – my mother had genuinely loved me, and I genuinely loved Casey. If I could spread that idea of love, then, it would be perfect no matter what.

"Thank you," I whispered, standing and wrapping my arms around him. "Thank you, so much."

After a few minutes, I left to return to Casey. The nurse had not called me which meant that she was likely still sleeping, a good thing, all things considered, but I still wanted to check in on her. It would not matter if she were home or in the hospital, I would always want to make certain that she was okay.

I trailed my fingers up her arm and back down again. I felt a lot better having spoken to my father. We had always gotten a long, but we had not really ever discussed much more than my career in terms of my future. There had always been the understood idea that I could talk to him, but given that I was in my forties, that hardly seemed like the typical conversation I would be having.

"Hey," Casey mused as she looked up at me, rolling onto her back. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Beautiful," I mused, kissing her cheek. "How did you sleep?" I could feel the ring in my pocket. It was strange, as if now that I had made the decision to do so, it was the only thing I could think about.

"Good, I guess. I don't really remember." She smiled up at me. "The drugs -"

"Yea," I answered, brushing her hair with my fingers. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

She smirked, a glint catching her eye. "Not today," she teased.

"I love you," I whispered. "If I could, I would give you the world."

She gave me a genuine smile. "You already have."

Casey stayed in the hospital nearly four days. It was halfway through the fourth day that she was released with appointments for blood work and various testing throughout the course of the next two weeks. She had accepted that this was her fate with a kind of grace I rarely witnessed from anyone and that I thought rarely even existed in the world. It was how I knew she was starting to feel better, to become healthier again, at least for a little while. It was as if she could accept that things were bad, but she refused to examine them as if they, themselves were bad.

"I learned," she once told me, "when I was disbarred that nothing is bad, only how I view it." She might have been on to something, but I had many more lifetimes to live before I became that enlightened.

I called her father that night and asked him if I could call on him the following day. In truth, I think he assumed that I wanted to talk about Casey's health care. Despite her many protests that I pick up the bill in her health care visits, she was receiving better over all care. Her primary care physician was also mine and came highly recommended. He started her on a medication regiment that, while it did not solve everything, was starting to stabilize her except in the instances when she simply fell through the cracks. She had been seeing him and the specialists he worked with since her tumble in the subway, and even the doctors at the hospital had noticed the difference. Despite being ill enough to be hospitalized, Casey had not needed many of the typical medications and adjustments she had become accustomed to while being hospitalized. I took it as a good sign. It did not make her problems go away, but at least it eased the symptoms. Her parents were more than grateful that Casey now fell under my medical coverage. Casey had no reason to refuse care since she could afford it, and it was making her life mildly easier.

"Other people could use the money to receive medical care," Casey protested that same evening when I got off the phone with the hospital billing, her most recent stay already covered – and at considerable discount considering how quickly and completely it was paid.

I twisted in the chair slightly and glanced over at her. She was sprawled over the couch, a blanket draped over her. What amused me was the glass of orange juice she had. It had to be her favorite drink by far, though I had recently turned her on to cranberry and orange juice mixed. "Fine," I said with a smirk. "For every dollar of your medical bills you let me cover, I'll donate that money to a charity of your choosing."

More than anything, she looked floored. "Oh, my God," she breathed, "you're serious." I nodded. She barely hesitated. "Safe Space."

"What's that?" I asked.

"It used to be Center for Children and Families."

I nodded. I knew that place from when I was a child. I had no idea that they had changed their name. Because of the number of children my parents fostered and the fact that they adopted me, I had always made sure to give back financially to children's aid programs. Time was amazing, and I had nothing but respect for volunteers. But, economic donations were just as useful, especially since time was something I often had precious little of. "Okay. I'll call them tomorrow and set up something."

She smiled at me. I had expected her to choose a medical research fund or a housing fund or something else that she was passionate about like that, but in many ways, I was less surprised by her choice. In a round about way, investing in children was investing in a future of medical research and ending homelessness. Education helped both.

The next day, I told her I had errands to run. It was mostly true. I would go grocery shopping on my way back, but I was meeting Casey's parents for lunch. They were aware that I was not bringing Casey with me, that she would be staying home and resting.

I was nervous as Hell.

There were no butterflies in my stomach. I was one giant mass of swarming butterflies, from my racing heart to my nausea and headache. I had not been this nervous since my first trial, and in truth, I had been less nervous then.

While Casey had been in the hospital, I had procured a nice, small box for the ring my father had given to me. It was sitting pretty in my bag, and it took everything I had not to fiddle with it as I pulled up outside of the Novak home.

Margaret answered the door. "Alex," she said, giving me a big hug. "Are you doing okay?"

I hugged her back. "Never better, Mrs. Novak," I responded. It was automatic. I felt strange calling her Margaret while asking her and, especially, her husband for permission to marry their daughter. I felt her stiffen. Even Tony looked at me a little sideways.

"What's going on?" she asked me, leading me into the kitchen. "Is everything okay?"

"Casey's doing better," I said. "The vitamins seem to really be helping, even with her diabetes. The optometrist said she's seeing at about a 20/200 in both eyes, though, so they've changed her glasses prescription. She's still episodically blind. But, her blood sugar is being maintained much better, and her energy is up. I mean, I'm no doctor, but I haven't seen her this good in weeks. I really am incredibly thrilled."

Margaret smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. How are you?"

"I'm good," I answered. "I'm going to be putting in my resignation with the DA in a couple of days. I want to talk to Casey about it first. I need her to know it's not because of her. I'm just not as interested in criminal law any more. I want to take some time to explore new options. When I leave, my father will expect me to actually pitch in a little more with the family companies, but that will be relatively easy. Who knows, I might like corporate law better. Even if I don't, it's at least something to do."

Tony's eyes narrowed just slightly, but I caught it. "And, you and Casey?" he questioned. "Forgive me, Alex, but you've been through a lot with her -"

I bit my lip. "Actually, I did want to stop by because of that. Our relationship, the one Casey and I have, I think is – changing. I don't really know how else to describe it, and I hope you can forgive my awkwardness, but I really have no idea what to do in this situation."

I paused. Poor Margaret looked so concerned, I thought she might cry.

I exhaled. "So, here goes. I know that Casey's medical history is not perfect. I know that, medically, her future is going to be a roller coaster ride. And, yes, I am very well aware that even as good as she is doing right now, it takes only one virus or bacteria to make her so ill that it's fatal. If I could change it, I would. But, that has not changed the relationship I have had with your daughter the past two years. There is not a single person on this planet that I would rather spend every day with than her. The beauty she sees in everything, in the world, in the good, in the bad, in me, is astounding. I aspire to be like her. There is nothing in her, there is nothing about her, that I do not love. And, with your permission, I want to ask her to marry me."

I had been staring Tony in the eye the entire speech, but I chanced a glance to Margaret, and I found that she was, indeed, crying. I looked back at Tony for confirmation, denial, anything. He just stared at me like my third head had sprouted horns. I wanted to say more, but I had long practiced biting my tongue and shuffling my feet. And, that was what I did there, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

"Who are you asking her for?" Tony asked me, his words slow and careful. I could see the confusion on Margaret's face, but I understood what he meant perfectly.

And, so, I answered with equally careful words. "Honestly? Me. I want what makes her happy because it makes me happy. I want what makes her happy because it makes her happy. But, I'm not asking because I think she needs to get married. I'm asking because I -" I placed my hand on my chest to emphasize. "Want to marry her."

Margaret looked to Tony expectantly. I think we were both heart-stopped waiting for his answer. It had not been quite like I planned it, but I felt a lot less nervous that I had said something.

"I hope she says yes," Tony said after carefully regarding me.

I could not help but to grin madly. Were it not that I thought it would be inappropriate, I would have leaped over and hugged him. As it was, he pulled me close to him, firm and authoritative. "You have to promise me you will take care of her and love her unwaveringly."

I nodded. "That'll be the easiest promise I ever make, I assure you, sir," I said. "And, I will do everything in my power to show her how much I love her constantly and to let her know that no matter what happens, I am here for her."