My phone rang. I let go of Sam and scrambled to pick it up, praying it was Ben. It was Jane.
“Hi,” I said.
“Holy shit, Ella. I called you three times last night. Where have you been?”
“I slept through it. Sorry, I was exhausted.”
“Did you see the news?”
“Yeah.”
“The story I wrote is being published tomorrow.”
My fingers tightened on my phone. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t call the editor and ask him to postpone it again. He’ll know something’s up. He’s a reporter, after all. And he wouldn’t do it even if I begged. The timing is too perfect for him to delay.”
“Do you think it’s going to make this worse?” I asked, voice small.
Jane sighed. “Yes. Because with Ben already in the spotlight, it’ll probably turn the ongoing media frenzy into a dogpile.”
“I don’t know whether or not I should warn him.”
“Does he have CTE?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him yet. Either way, this is horrible timing. I don’t want to make him more stressed than he already is. But would knowing this is coming ahead of time be better? Or is he so out of it that there’s a chance he might miss it completely?”
“I’m sorry, Ella. I don’t know what to tell you. The article wasn’t supposed to be published until Thursday, but they want to jump on the bandwagon and put it out there while the story is relevant to current headlines.”
I had to take several deep breaths before responding. “Sometimes I fucking hate the kind of people you work with.”
“Trust me, so do I. Again, I’m so sorry. Can I do anything else? Do you need anything?”
“I don’t think so…” I began, then changed my mind. “Actually, yes. Come help me get these open orders done. I’m closing down the shop for a while.” I needed to be ready to drop everything in case Ben called.
“I’ll be there in thirty,” she told me.
We hung up. I checked my other messages. Nothing from Ben. I tried not to panic.
Jane pulled into my driveway just as the sun broke over the mountains. Together, we printed and put together my open orders, carefully packaged them, and put them into boxes and mailers. She ran them tothe post office for me on her way home while I went through the long process of putting all my storefronts on vacation mode.
And then I waited for Ben to call.
One day passed. Nothing.
Day two, the media frenzy over Jane’s story hit. It was so bad I had to delete my news apps.
Ben still didn’t call.
Three days passed. I applied distraction techniques to keep my mind occupied. I bundled up and took the dogs snowshoeing, careful not to overdo it this time.
I’d read a study a while back about how two hours a day in nature could cure you of everything, and while I thought that was a bit inflated, it definitely helped me a little. Once I was back inside, I got a fire going and focused on staying positive. I read articles about young engineers solving the world’s problems. A kid still in high school discovered plastic-eating bacteria that might clean up our oceans. Another found you could kill the invasive kudzu vines eating the entire south using helium.
Four days passed. Not even those feel-good articles or exercise helped my mood. I broke down and called Jack.
“Is he home?” I asked.
“He is, kiddo,” Jack answered. “But I only know because his dad came by to tell me when they got back from Boston yesterday. I still have the dogs, so I’m guessing they’re a little preoccupied.”
