Page 91 of Inevitable Inheritance

Derrick went over to his father and sat on the bed. Slowly Simon moved his hand toward Derrick’s, and he grabbed it.

His eyelids rose just slightly. “My boy,” he said and smiled. “That is what I said to you when I met you for the first time. You know that?”

Derrick shook his head at his father. Derrick had always prided himself on having a quick wit, the right joke, perfect comedic timing, but he couldn’t find any comment or remark for this situation. All he could do was study his father’s face, absorb the warmth in his hands, and record the sound of his voice.

“I have never seen you so quiet for so long,” Simon said.

Derrick shrugged. He didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to ruin or taint this moment with something stupid.

“I love you, Derrick,” Simon said to him, and a tear fell out of each Fletcher’s eye. “I want you to be happy. Are you happy?”

“Yes, Dad,” Derrick replied instantly.

“Really?” he pushed. His eyes had fallen shut by this point, but he squeezed Derrick’s hand to let him know he was listening.

“Yes, Dad. I am very happy,” Derrick assured him. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” Simon said, “but I am comforted more by knowing my children are happy and will be happy when I die.”

His dad was still pushing, but Derrick didn’t know what he wanted him to say.Well, no. To be honest, Dad, I wish you weren’t dying, that Taylor trusted me, and that I wasn’t going to be handling Fletcher Enterprise without you.But how could he lay all of that on him now?

“Daddy, we are happy, but we are not happy about this,” Marty said, sitting on the other side of the bed and grabbing Simon’s other hand. “We don’t want this for you.”

“I love you, Marty,” Simon whispered to her.

“Please don’t go, Daddy,” Marty begged him.

Simon could only squeeze her hand in response.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Taylor got up and opened it partway to see who was there.

“Hello. I’m Frank, Si’s oncologist,” said the man at the door.

Taylor opened the door more to let the doctor in.

“Hi, um, Frank. I am Taylor Preston. These are Simon’s children,” she said, gesturing to the bed.

Frank came over and shook Derrick’s hand and patted Marty on the back. He looked very relaxed, not tense like the other hospital staff Derrick had seen when they had come in. He was in jeans and an Ohio state T-shirt. “Could I speak to the two of you please?”

“Hi, Frank,” Simon said, his eyes still shut.

“Hey, Si, I’m just bringing them up to speed, like I told you I would.”

Simon nodded and released his children’s hands.

Derrick knew he needed to take the lead on this one, so he walked around the bed and helped Marty up and met the good doctor over in the far corner of the room. In their absence, Taylor had pulled up a chair to Simon’s bedside. Derrick watched as Simon motioned her closer and spoke to her so quietly that Derrick couldn’t even hear sound.

“Your father,” Dr. Frank said, interrupting Derrick’s thoughts, “is, as I know he has told you, terminal in his cancer stage.”

Derrick took it in. Marty rubbed the tears off her cheeks, but held back her sobs for the moment.

“He has told me he has spoken to you both and made you aware that he wished to be made comfortable when the time came. Unfortunately that time is here.”

Derrick nodded. He heard him, but he wasn’t sure he absorbed it. “What do we do next?”

“I recommend a continuous medication drip to help his pain and make him the most comfortable, and to have his family at his side.”

“How long does he have?” Derrick asked.