A Thousand Little Blessings by Claire Sanders Page B

breath awaiting his response. His left eyebrow slanted down and his mouth twisted like a gasping fish. “Arg..doo…nee…” His left arm and leg flung out, overturning the small table and sending the dinner dishes crashing to the floor.
    Etta sprang to her feet. “All right, Papa. All right.”
    He collapsed onto the pillows, his chest heaving from the exertion.
    Etta went to his side. “I’m sorry.” She wiped his brow with her handkerchief. “I’m sorry, Papa.”
    Henry exhaled loudly and turned his head away from her.
    Rosa’s quick footsteps pounded up the stairs. “Mija! ¿Qué pasó, mija?”
    Etta squatted and began to pick up the dishes. “It’s all right, Rosa. You can come in.”
    As before, the housekeeper sidled into the room, her gaze averted. “What happened?” she asked as she bent to help Etta.
    “Nothing. Just an accident.”
    Rosa clucked her tongue and shook her head but kept her opinions to herself as she reloaded the tray and carried it out of the room.
    Etta straightened, closed her eyes, and sent a prayer heavenward. What had she done to upset her father? Was it the bank, the horses, or her plan for helping him recover? “Lead me, Lord,” she whispered. “Show me the right thing to do.” She took a fortifying breath and turned to face her father.
    His eyes were closed, and his chest moved with steady breaths. Perhaps sleep was the best thing for him now.
    Etta lifted her father’s leg and placed it on the bed. “If a convalescent home is the best place for Papa, Lord, please let me know. It’s hard to see him suffer, but sending him away doesn’t feel right.” She straightened her father’s covers and turned out the bedside lamp.
    If only her mother were here.
    Her mother had always known the right thing to do.
     
    ****
     
    The gray clouds blanketing the sky matched Etta’s mood the next day. The nurse had departed before dawn, leaving Etta to coax her father into eating breakfast. But he’d refused her assistance, pushing her arm away and flinging oatmeal onto the bedroom wall. She’d been near tears when Charlie Simpson arrived, a battered suitcase in one hand and a brown herringbone cap in the other.
    Charlie’s smile had never faltered. “Looks like old Charlie’s arrived just in time,” he said with a wink. “You go on now, Miss Davis. Your papa and me will figure things out.”
    After introducing Charlie to her father, Etta had driven her father’s car to town. She hadn’t managed to pin down Uncle Carl yesterday, but discovering which accounts he was overseeing was on top of her list today.
    The enticing aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls from nearby Hoffmann’s Bakery greeted her as she exited the car. Perhaps Papa could be cajoled into eating if she brought his favorite treat. She hurried into the nearby store.
    “Oh, Miss Henrietta,” Mr. Hoffmann greeted her. “So nice to see you back in town. I heard you returned to work yesterday. How is Mr. Davis? Better?”
    “Yes, thank you for asking.” Over Mr. Hoffmann’s shoulder, Etta saw Carl seated at a small metal table. A woman wearing an emerald green toque and matching dress sat with her back to Etta.
    Mr. Hoffmann walked around the counter and patted Etta’s shoulder. “Good, good. So glad to hear it. What can I get for you today? Have you had breakfast? We have lebkuchen. I know how partial you are to those.”
    Etta glanced at the honey cakes she’d favored since her girlhood. “I’ll take a few, Mr. Hoffmann, and six cinnamon rolls.”
    “Your uncle’s here having coffee with a lady friend. Shall I pour a cup for you?”
    “No, thank you. I’ll just say good morning to Carl and then take my pastries with me.”
    “Fine, fine.” Mr. Hoffmann returned to the counter where he began putting the treats into a white box.
    Etta approached the table. Who was the stylish woman with her uncle? “Good morning, Uncle Carl.”
    Carl’s cup rattled loudly as he dropped it into the saucer and jumped to