“I want to try making plans beyond the next few weeks, few months. I want to stay at Hope Elementary next year and I want us to make this wedding venue thing happen. And I want us to try being married. For real.”
“I was wondering when you’d start taking this marriage seriously.”
“I drove an ATV through a storm for you. At night,” I added. “How’s that for serious?”
“Sounds more like you need to be taken out to the barn again where I’ll—”
“All right! It looks like someone here needs a few X-rays.” We glanced up to find a nurse waiting in the doorway. He motioned to the wheelchair in front of him. “We’re going for a ride,” he said.
“I can walk,” Noah said.
“No need when we’ve got wheels.” Another pointed gesture to the chair. “Let’s get this over with, big guy. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can get you patched up and out of here.”
“Go on,” I said to him. “I’ll be right here.”
He brushed a kiss over my lips. “I love you, wife.”
“I love you too, husband.” A smile forced its way across my face and tears pricked at my eyes as I spoke those words. I pressed my fingers to my mouth. “Wow. That’s what it feels like.”
Leaning close to my ear, he whispered, “Just imagine how much better it will feel when I’m inside you.”
* * *
It was almostmidnight when we returned home with a cast on Noah’s arm and four stitches on his forehead. No concussion but a stern warning to take it easy for the next week. He was tired and sore all over, and even more grumbly than usual. I didn’t think I’d ever loved his growling more than I did at that moment. It served as a fine distraction from the fact this accident could’ve been much, much worse.
When we stepped inside, we found Gennie seated at the kitchen table, her iPad playingPirates of the Caribbeanand every marker and colored pencil in the house spread out in front of her. “What happened? Are you okay?” she asked. “Did they have to amputate anything?”
“No amputations necessary,” Noah said. “Just this boring old cast for a little while and these stitches.”
Gennie beamed. “You’re gonna have a badass scar.”
“I guess that’s the bright side of wrecking an ATV.” He glanced around. “Wait. Why are you awake? And where’s Bones?”
“I’m not tired and Mr. Bones is asleep,” she said, still focused on her coloring.
“Isn’t that wonderful,” Noah said. “I’m going to kill that guy tomorrow. And then I’m going to fire him.”
“No, you’re not,” I said. “None of those things are happening.”
“And no dismemberment,” Gennie added.
“Debatable,” he muttered.
Gennie looked up from her coloring, glancing between us expectantly. “While you were gone, I decided we need some house rules.”
“Is that so?” Noah asked as he opened the freezer.
“I made a list,” she went on. “Do you want to hear it?”
As I retrieved Noah’s prescriptions from my bag, I said, “Yeah, since we’re all awake, go ahead and read it to us.”
She held the paper up in front of her. “Number one, no more ATV driving at night.”
“That lesson has been pounded into my head,” Noah said. He grabbed a spoon before ducking into the pantry. “Actually and truly pounded. Won’t make that mistake again.”
“Number two, Shay and Noah have one date night every week.” She looked up from the paper. “And I promise not to get into any trouble when you leave me with a babysitter.”
“An important clause.” Noah sat down at the table and made a small clearing in the art supplies. “Thank you for that addition.”
