Page 29 of Bales and Brawn

“What are you making?” I ask, and he spins round and comes over to the bed.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He gives me a concerned smile.

“Slightly less shit.” I move to sit up and Devin helps me. I want to tell him to stop, that I can manage, but I don’t have the energy right now.

“It smells good, what is it?”

“Chickenless soup. I wanted to make chicken soup. My mum’s recipe is the best. But of course, no chicken. Actually, we don’t have most of the ingredients, so I’ve improvised and it will at least be edible. Can I get you anything? A glass of water. A cup of tea?”

“Water, please,” I say, and he nods, bringing me a glass and placing it within reach. He goes back to his stirring and I close my eyes again. Then I hear him start singing quietly.

“I didn’t know you liked Dolly,” I say, and he stops abruptly.

“No, don’t stop.” He comes over and sits in the chair.

“I love Dolly. When I moved here, I discovered your country music radio stations and I loved them. Dolly became my favorite.”

“Did you sing while I was asleep?” I ask, and he gives a self-effacing shrug.

“I thought I’d heard some. My mom used to sing me that song when I was little. Dolly’s my favorite too.”

“I went to Dollywood last year, when my brothers came over to visit.”

“Was it good?” I ask, and I see his face light up from the memories. “Tell me about it, please?”

I rest and let his voice wash over me while he talks. It’s soothing, but I can also tell how much he enjoyed it.

“Maybe I’ll get to see it someday.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“I need to pee,” I say and try to sit up. The dizziness returns and Devin is at my side.

“I can manage,” I say.

“Sure you can,” he replies, but he fetches my boots and helps me up anyway. He holds me until I stop swaying and can focus on the door, then he lets go and steps away.

“Thank you,” I say, as much for him helping me as for also stopping. Now I’m upright, I don’t feel too bad, and I manage to make it outside and back though it takes all my energy.

“The soup’s ready. Would you like it at the table or in bed?”

The table’s closer, so I opt for that, sitting while he ladles soup into two bowls.

“That was delicious,” I say, spooning up the last mouthful.

“You sound surprised.” Devin smiles.

“I know what supplies we had, so I have no idea how you managed to make something that good.”

“I’m a decent cook. But this was nothing. I’d like to make you proper chicken soup one day.”

“I’d like that.” I mean it, and I catch Devin’s pleased smile as he removes the bowls. Now I’ve had some food, I feel able to make the short distance back to bed, and I’m proud that I manage it on my own while Devin goes out to put the horses away for the night.

“Thank you for looking after them,” I say when he returns.

“I’m getting used to them. Yesterday they crowded round me for their food, but today they didn’t try to knock me over.”

“We’ll turn you into a horseman yet.”