“Maybe,” she said. Maybe that was supposed to matter.
“I’ll text you if anything changes.”
“Thanks.”
Sleep barely touched her all night. She wasn’t a basket case though. She cried not one tear as she lay staring into the dark. No telling what that meant, no telling even what she wanted it to mean.
The next morning she announced before breakfast, “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Let’s go for a walk,” Maggie said as if Kelsey hadn’t spoken. Good. They literally would not talk about Trevor. Not today.
Not unless Ezra texted that he was worse.
“A lap, you mean?” Kelsey paused in setting up the coffeemaker.
“No, a real walk. I want to walk to the mailbox and back.”
“That…might not be the best plan?”
“Come on, Kels. I’m losing my mind in here. I can make it to the mailbox.”
The morale boost might be worth the risk. Maggie had been steady on her feet, hardly needing the cane, for the last thirty-six hours. Kelsey sighed for effect and fetched her aunt’s canvas slip-on shoes, and Maggie sat on the couch while Kelsey got them onto her feet.
“Good?”
She flexed her toes. “Great. Oh, it’s great to have shoes on again. Let’s go.”
Maggie baby-stepped her way down Trevor’s ramp, and then they headed off on a quest for the mailbox. Halfway down the drive she paused to lift her face to the sunshine and breathed deep.
“Mm, taste that delicious lack of humidity.”
“Fall is in the air. Maybe to stay this time.” One could hope, though Tennessee never made such promises.
“You must miss the outdoors too, Kelsey, holed up with me for almost two weeks.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Oh, stop that. I’m not saying you mind, and I’m not saying it’s a tragedy, but you’re allowed to miss things you enjoy too.”
Kelsey smiled, and her face felt stiff, as if she hadn’t in a while. “There’s ornery Aunt Maggie. You must be feeling better.”
“I really am.” Maggie turned a halting circle, arms outspread, very slow motion, and sang, “The hills are alive…”
“Oh stop,” Kelsey laughed. “Come on. Mailbox ahoy. Maria von Trapp impressions have not yet been approved by your caretaker.”
By the time they returned up the ramp to the house, Maggie was a little winded, a little wincing, yet she beamed. “That was wonderful. I want to walk to the mailbox every day.”
“We can do that.”
“Next I want to try eating at the table. Maybe tomorrow.”
Kelsey tried to settle herself; brought Maggie a breakfast of buttered English muffins, bacon, and coffee; checked her professional social accounts and replied to a few comments. Yet the emergence into the sun had awakened her desire for a good long run. She didn’t ask if Maggie would be okay. She simply put on her pink workout top and purple performance capris, tied on her bright-blue running shoes, and headed for the door.
“Good for you,” Maggie said when she saw her. “All athletic and colorful.”
Kelsey laughed, then bent over to pull her hair into a high ponytail. “I’ll be about thirty minutes.”
“Take all the time you want. Go check out the railroad tracks.”
