Carly makes her way over, slipping into the empty seat beside Woody. Now he's nearly touching me, the heat radiating off his arm onto mine. My breath shudders.
“Sorry. It took me a little longer than I'd hoped. Clocked out as fast as I could.” She exhales, brushing hair back from her forehead, then smiles tiredly at me. “Thanks for grabbing them.”
“Of course,” I say, meaning it. “They’ve been angels.”
Luke beams, a Sprite moustache already forming above his lip. Sanders elbows him with a grin. “Best night ever.”
She clears her throat. “I don’t even know where to start. The hospital called today about Luke’s pre-transplant workup.” Her voice wavers. “For the first time, I didn't stress over how we would manage this.”
Hope sparks across her features, warring with fear.
“Oh, Carly. I can't even imagine,” I say quickly, leaning forward. “I'm just so tickled this has all come through for y'all.”
Her eyes dart down to her hands, then back up. “Thank you. I still pinch myself that this is really going to work. I'm still not clear on how to manage it all, but I guess I just go with it and trust it will all work out. I only have three sick days left, definitely not enough for surgery and then post-op, staying close to Duke.”
My heart twists. I reach across the table, brushing her hand lightly. “I think you'll have more than enough tocover you for Luke's recovery. Have you seen the donations today?”
"No, I haven't really looked at it at all. I don't want to get my hopes up."
"Carly. You've raised enough to take time off for Durham, and some time after you get back to Wilmington to help Luke recover. Where are we, Woody?"
He pulls out his phone, taps around, and then says, "At this moment, we are at $81,067."
“Six, seven," Luke and Sanders say in unison.
I roll my eyes because I still have no clue what that means. Sanders repeats it no less than ten times a day. I stopped asking. It's a preteen inside joke I'll never get.
Carly covers her mouth and tears well in her eyes.
Beside me, Woody shifts, his shoulder brushing mine when he reaches into his back pocket. He slides a folded paper across the table toward Carly.
“That’s a contact at GoFundMe,” he says, his voice calm. “Funds won’t release all at once, but they’ll walk you through it. Once it hits my account, I can wire it to yours. I just need the account number and ACH.”
Carly stares at the slip of paper like it’s a lottery ticket. Her lips part, eyes going glassy. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Eighty thousand dollars—” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen that many zeroes in my life. I don’t want to screw it up.”
“You won’t,” I assure her. “You’ve already kept your kids afloat this long. Managing this money is just another part of that. And it’s not just you. We’re here to help you.”
Woody exhales, leaning back. “I almost thought about spacing it out,” he admits. “Staged transfers, so you wouldn’t feel the pressure. But it’s not my place. It’s yours to manage. You tell me how you want me to do it.”
I glance at him, startled. For amoment, I catch the flicker of humility in his profile, that rare acknowledgment he doesn’t have all the answers. Something in my chest loosens, though I’m not ready to give him credit aloud.
Carly folds the paper carefully, tucking it into her bag like it’s made of gold.
“I can’t believe this. You don’t know what it means.” Her voice breaks, and she wipes at her eyes with the heel of her hand.
I grab her hand across Woody and squeeze.
“Thank you both. Luke wouldn’t have this chance without you.”
I squeeze her hand again. “Don’t thank us. Sanders and Luke did all of this. Thank every stranger out there who believed in your precious son. We’re just organizing the chaos at this point.”
She lets out a laugh, and I realize how young she is, carrying a weight that would flatten anyone twice her age. If I had to guess, she's not much older than twenty-five, doing all of this with two children on her own.
After the emotional start, we get through dinner on lighter subjects. We all get excited about our trip to New York tomorrow, and talk about all we have to do in a short time.
The kids are literally vibrating out of the booth as they plan more than any human could do in three days in New York, on top of the interview, dialysis, and travel.
When we finally finish our dinner and Woody pays the check, Carly pulls me into a hug. Her arms are strong despite how frail she looks, and I hold on tight.
