“I’m sure we can do both,” Winnie said matter-of-factly. “Let me look at my calendar.”
She flipped over the phone—which was a huge mistake—as she now had missed calls from her mother, Taylor, and Brad. Her mouth turned dry and her stomach swooped. She had eaten far too much Mexican food for that to be comfortable, but she tapped on her calendar and slid it from April to May.
“The eleventh is a Thursday,” she said. “That’s perfect—your day off.” She grinned at him. “I’ll take that day off too, and we can spend the whole day together, and you can go out on the weekend with your friends.” She looked at him, her eyebrows raised. “What do you think?”
“Yeah, that sounds fine,” he said.
“And your parents….” Winnie let the words hang there, waiting for Ty to tell her they didn’t need to set anything up with them. When he didn’t, she added, “What about just next Thursday? You’re always so tired on Mondays and Wednesdays, and I teach on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so it would give us an out. We’d have to be done by six-forty-five.”
Ty looked at his phone. “Yeah, we’ve got to be done here in about fifteen minutes.”
Winnie was suddenly so glad that he’d driven so she could check texts and find out what was going on with her father as he drove them toSigns for Successfor her evening sign-language class.
“I’ll tell them about next Thursday,” he said. “And see if that works. It probably will. They don’t do much.”
Winnie nodded, the texts about her father already consuming her while Ty asked for the check. She read that her father was getting an MRI and would be attached to an IV for stronger pain meds to deal with his back.
Taylor’s text was a lecture that Winnie had not answered her phone. She ignored it and texted her brother:I’m getting all the messages. I’m just busy tonight. It’s Thursday, remember? I’m teaching.
Oh, sure, got it,Brad said.Don’t worry, Win. We’ve got everything handled.
Do you?Winnie asked.Because Taylor seems like she’s about to lose her mind.
Brad sent a few laughing emojis and then:When does Taylor not act like she’s about to lose her mind? Daddy’s fine. He’s in the hospital, and they’re administering pain medications. I’m taking Momma something to eat, and I’ll be able to talk to the doctor.
Thank you so much, Brad,Winnie said.
Of course. I live right here. Don’t let Momma guilt you into coming up here. They’re fine. They have doctors who know what they’re doing.
He was right, of course, but Winnie couldn’t help the guilt that streamed through her.
Love you, sis. We’ll keep you updated.
Love you too, Brad,she said, and Winnie thanked the Lord above for her brother, because it seemed like the two of them were the only ones who didn’t completely freak out when something went wrong.
She looked up and reached for Ty’s hand, grateful for him too.
“Everything all right?” he asked, and she tucked her hand safely and securely inside his.
“It is now,” she said, as if holding his hand made all the difference, because to her, it did.
31
Ty sat on Winnie’s back deck listening to the river roll over the rocks, late-afternoon spring sunshine soaking straight into his soul. This was the kind of life he wanted, but he frowned, keeping a tight grip on the knife in one hand and the wood he was whittling in the other.
It was an exercise Winnie had asked him to do to build strength in his fingers. And the reason he couldn’t seem to find even a vein of happiness was because his next physical therapy appointment would be with someone else.
“It’s fine,” he muttered to himself.
Salmon lifted his head at the sound of Ty’s voice. He loved being outside more than Rocky and alerted on every bird and movement in the backyard. Winnie had told Ty a dozen times she enjoyed coming home to find him in her house, but he still felt a little strange about it.
So, on evenings when he hadn’t planned to cook, he sat on the deck with the cats, read his scriptures, texted family and friends, did his physical therapy, or, like today, he whittled.
Winnie had told him he could stay at the house to take care of thecats—another reason for his grumpiness: She was leaving that evening to drive the three hours home to her parents’ house.
“Home is not the right word,” Ty grumbled as he reached down and stroked Rocky’s back.
The cat rubbed against his ankles and then settled at his feet, leaving Salmon to do all the reconnaissance work of keeping the backyard safe for the three of them.
