“Frustrated,” Amy said. “He can’t get his words out, he hates using a walker, and he growls at all his therapists.”
“Poor Mr. Laurence.” Of course he’d rather lick his wounds in private.
“Trey keeps saying it’s temporary.”
“What do the doctors say?”
“They don’t talk to me. I’m not ‘family.’” She put air quotes around the word.
“Anything I can do?”
“You could come with us to see him. You always were his favorite.”
“I can handle the fencing,” Dan said. “If you want to go.”
“No, I told Momma I’d help. Besides, I need the exercise.”
Amy gave me a sharp look. But all she said was, “We’re not leaving until this afternoon. Around three? We can pick you up.”
“Well... If you’re sure I won’t be in the way.”
Her blush deepened. “In the way? No. Absolutely not. Why would you say that?”
“I just thought... If Mr. Laurence has rehab scheduled...” I said.
“Oh, right, okay. So, I’ll text you. When it’s time to go.” She put her mug in the dishwasher. Kissed my cheek. Waggled her fingers at Dan. “Three o’clock. Bye!”
I scraped my plate into the garbage.
Healthy forage makes healthy goats,” our mother liked to say.
It’s not true that goats will eat anything, but they liked kudzu. Also poison ivy. Slogging through the brush was hot, slow going.
The sun beat down. After a couple hours moving portable fence, I was damp with sweat. Dan had stripped off his T-shirt, leaving him in jeans, work boots, and gloves. I caught myself sneaking glances at his torso.
He looked strong. Not like a gym addict, but like he lifted 150-pound goats all day. Broad shoulders. Flat stomach. No fat anywhere.He had a battlefield cross tattoo—helmet, rifle, and boots—on one shoulder, and another, dog tags filled with the flag, on his arm.
“Aren’t you worried about sunburn?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“Or bug bites?”
“I’m not that sweet.”
He unspooled another section of fencing. I balanced the roll as he jammed a support pole into the ground with his boot heel. It had rained the day before, and the soil was soft.
A mosquito whined in my ear. I swatted it away. “I don’t know what to say.”
“About how sweet I am?”
My face was hot. “To Mr. Laurence.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” Dan glanced at me, the creases deepening at the corners of his eyes. “Reckon your sister will do all the talking.”
I smiled back hesitantly. Amydidchatter, especially when she was nervous. “She’s very good with people. And she cares.”
Dan paced off another length of fencing. Sweat gleamed on his shoulders. “You’re good with people. With animals, too.”
