I reached for the phone.
He stopped me with one raised hand.
Then he pointed at himself.
Vanessa was still talking.
She was explaining the funeral arrangements, the house renovations, and how she and Grant planned to sell Dad’s truck.
She had no idea he was listening.
She had no idea he was sitting beside me.
And she certainly didn’t know what had happened during the previous forty-eight hours.
Dad stood.
The chair scraped sharply across the floor.
I whispered, “What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer.
He tightened the belt of his robe and walked toward the phone while Vanessa continued celebrating everything she believed she had stolen.
Then Grant said the one sentence that changed my father’s expression completely.
“She never cared about him. She only came back because she wanted money.”
Dad stopped beside the speaker.
His hand hovered above it.
For the first time, Vanessa’s voice sounded uncertain.
“Natalie? Are you still there?”
I looked at Dad.
He leaned toward the phone, his shadow falling across the kitchen table.
Vanessa kept talking, unaware that the man she claimed was dead was standing inches away.
Then Dad opened his mouth and said—
“Then I suppose you should come and collect my body.”
The silence on the line was so complete that I heard the refrigerator click off.
A small sound came from Vanessa’s throat.
“What?”
Dad picked up the phone.
His fingers shook once before becoming still.
“You heard me,” he said. “I’m alive.”
