And then his cane clanged into something metal. He skirted it. The cane clanged again. A swing set maybe? An older one, like he'd had when he was a kid.
And then, finally, his cane connected with the wooden boards of what must be Jilly's porch.
Everything was silent except for the sounds of his and Lindsey's breathing.
"You go in and go back to bed, okay?" he said.
"Meow."
She pressed the travel mug into his hand. And then his coat. He pretended her silence meant thank you.
He waited until the door opened and closed before carefully turning around.
Now, to head home. Swing set. Plowed field. Gate. Driveway.
Going home meant facing into the biting north wind, and he hurried his steps, cursing Jilly under his breath. Didn't she have a lock for the door? Why didn't she use it?
Of course, he'd been roaming his neighborhood at about the same age. A locked door had never stopped him.
He missed the gate at first but found the barbed wire fence and followed it several yards until he found the gate. Winter was coming and there were no night noises like there would be during the summer. Only his footsteps crunching in the gravel.
Mom had been nagging him for years to find an apartment near her in the city. She constantly talked about proximity and public transit, but after what had happened with Karla, he wasn’t interested.
He didn't live out here in the boonies because of his blindness. He'd bought the place because the land was a steal and because he wanted to be left alone.
He was content out here. And as long as he was alone, nobody could get hurt.
Except, somehow, Jilly's kids kept finding their way onto his property. This had to stop. Even if Lindsey's visit hadn't been malicious… What had she wanted, anyway? Had she been wandering and gotten lost? In any event, it couldn't happen again.
He had to find a way to enforce theno trespassingsigns posted all over his property.
The doorbell rang as Jilly,hauling a pile of clean laundry, was heading for her downstairs bedroom.
Glad for the interruption, she tossed the laundry on the couch. How could three kids create such a mountain of laundry?
She answered the door and found her sister outside.
Iris was somehow both glowing and a little green.
"Come in—"
Jilly didn't get the words out before Iris was nudging past her and sprinting toward the downstairs bathroom.
Jilly closed the door and went to the laundry. This was normal, right? Iris was twelve weeks along with her first baby, and her morning sickness was turning into family legend.
Jilly got a kind of perverse pleasure out of seeing Iris sick. Her sister had been there every step of the way as Jilly had battled her cancer. Iris had seen Jilly at her worst. Some days, she couldn't get out of bed, couldn't keep any food down, couldn't shower.
All the while, Iris had been cool and collected and beautiful. There were days Jilly hated her.
Now, the shoe was on the other foot. Iris was sick as a dog most mornings. The doctor was aware of the morning sickness, and regular checkups showed the baby was healthy. There was nothing to worry about.
And maybe Jilly's feelings weren't exactly pure, but the cancer had taken so much from her. She didn't quite have it in herself to get past the jealousy.She'dwanted a baby. Someday. Eventually.
The cancer had stolen that dream from her.
She'd folded three of Casey's shirts and knocked several socks to the floor when Iris emerged from the bathroom, one hand pressed against her still-flat stomach.
"All right?" Jilly asked. "There are saltines in the kitchen if you need them."
