Before I could answer, the paramedics arrived. Dad agreed to be examined after I assured him that going to the hospital didn’t mean he was being committed to a psychiatric facility.

As they helped him onto the stretcher, he caught my hand.

“Your brother’s going to be angry.”

I leaned close enough that only he could hear me.

“You don’t have to make decisions based on whether Garrett gets angry. Not tonight.”

At the emergency department, Dr. Whitmore examined Dad and ordered imaging of his legs and lower back. The bruising was extensive, and his left wrist was swollen. Dad kept insisting he’d be fine after a little rest, but the doctor explained that injuries in an older adult could be more serious than they initially appeared.

While we waited for the imaging results, I sat beside his bed and asked what had happened.

Dad stared at the blanket.

“Garrett and Tanya came over after supper. They brought papers.”

“What kind of papers?”

“Something about putting the houses into a trust they could manage. They wanted me to sign over control of the accounts too.”

PART 3

“Did you sign?”

“No.” He said it with a trace of the old stubbornness. “I told them I’d have Harold Pruitt look at it first. He’s done my legal work for thirty years.”

“And what did they say?”

“Tanya said Harold was too old to be trusted. Then she said I was too old to be trusted.” He swallowed. “I stood up to go to the kitchen. She grabbed my wrist and told me to sit down and sign. When I pulled away, she shoved me. I hit the edge of the table and went down.”