Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Sara
Newsflash, there is no Option C.
But ultimately Ford came up with a compromise: I’d drop all the men off at Ford’s. Then Ford and Three would drop Kenny off at his house. Then Ford could drive Three up to Northampton to drop Three off at the ER.
Yes, that’s a whole lot of dropping. But I’m used to that in Abieville.
Especially Three dropping me.
The good news? I didn’t actually have to drive Three to the hospital. Unnecessary time alone with him is the last thing I need. Plus Bristol would kill me if she found out I volunteered to do it.
So you’re probably wondering why I decided to brave the snowy roads and follow Ford’s car all the way to Northampton anyway. The answer is guilt, plain and simple. Seeing Three all fogged-up and disoriented on the kitchen floor had me kind of queasy. He looked so vulnerable and blurry-eyed and shaggy-haired. And I was to blame for any potential injury he might’ve sustained .
Am to blame, I mean.
So I just had to make sure I didn’t mortally wound Three. One quick trip to the ER, and I’d be back to isolating myself at the lake house until Christmas Eve.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Joy to the world.
That’s what I hum to myself on the drive to Northampton. All the houses on the way are decked out with lights across the rooftops and wreaths on the front doors. Most of the windows have electric candles glowing in them. They don’t do that in the city, and I kinda love that about this place.
The hospital’s waiting room is pretty holiday-centric too, which is a welcome change from the completely undecorated lake house. After all, my parents weren’t expecting anyone to be staying there until the new year.
So I’m in the waiting room now … waiting … waiting… as a lively version of “We Need a Little Christmas” leaks through overhead speakers. There’s an artificial tree in the corner loaded with twinkle lights and glittery ornaments. Poinsettias surround the check-in window, where a hulk of a man in blue scrubs sits sorting files.
Despite the holiday decor, he looks about as happy to be here on a Saturday as I am. Across from me a white-haired lady is knitting a scarf that looks long enough to stretch to the North Pole. When the song reaches the part about slicing up the fruitcake, my stomach growls. Loudly.
Oof.
I really wanted those brownies .
Craning my neck down the hallway off the lobby, I hope to spot a vending machine in case I’m stuck here for much longer. Maybe there are some down by the restrooms. I could go for a Snickers bar. Or some Goldfish crackers. Cheetos. Anything to keep me from gnawing on my fingernails if things get desperate.
After fifteen more minutes, I try asking the hulk for any update on Three, but hospital employees aren’t allowed to share information with me since I’m not family.
Thanks a lot, HIPAA.
Okay, I didn’t actually mean that. I know privacy is a good thing. I’m just hungry. Plus a little guilty. And also worried. But that’s all.
I just have to hope the doctors determine Three is okay. Soon. Then I can get back to staying as far away from the man as I can for as long as we both shall live.
While the minutes drag on, though, my insides start to turn into sailor knots of concern. Did I really injure Three that badly? I feel like I’ve been here for the better part of a week, although it’s probably only been an hour. Tapping my foot, I will my brain to stop replaying old memories of Three and me on a loop.
Good memories.
Three and me on his uncle’s boat, cruising Abie Lake at sunset.
Three and me building castles on the sand at the Beachfront Inn.
Three and me at Abie Park with a band covering songs from the early 2000s. I’d packed us a picnic that afternoon, and he’d brought along cornhole and a Frisbee. Ford was there too, cracking jokes, singing along.
We used to be friends, Ford and I. Still, being friends with Three’s cousins shouldn’t matter. I don’t want to want Three anymore. I handed him my whole heart, and he threw all four chambers of it back in my face. So recalling the good times with him is dangerous. And focusing on the end of us doesn’t make these guilt pangs feel any better, either.
When I flash back to him telling me he was never “looking for something serious” a giant, gaping pit opens up inside me. So now I’m worried and hungry and pit-y.
Bristol’s voice suddenly sounds in my head. Why on earth do you still care about this guy ?
What I need is a distraction.
Turning to the plexiglass display of medical pamphlets beside my chair, I grab the one in the first slot. Some casual reading should do the trick. Maybe I’ll learn about something useful—like all the vitamins and supplements in Betty Crocker fudge brownies. Except the pamphlet in my hand is titled “You and Your Erectile Dysfunction.”
No thank you very much, sir.
I quickly stick the pamphlet back into its slot, but the next one, unfortunately, spells out advice for “Living with Hepatitis B.”
Yikes. What’s going on here in Northampton?
Shoving that one back too, I snatch up the third pamphlet. The words “Perimenopause and Me” are stamped above a middle-aged woman grinning at the camera like menopause will be the absolute best thing that’s ever happened to her. But before I can ditch this last pamphlet, a low voice rumbles above my head.
“Sara. You’re still here?” I glance up and there’s Ford, looming over me and my perimenopause pamphlet. Are the man’s running shoes made of marshmallows? How come I didn’t hear him coming?
“Oh, hello, Ford.” I scramble to push the evidence into my purse. Who knows? Maybe he didn’t notice the subject matter.
He arches a brow. High. “Studying up on what to expect in your golden years?”
Yep. He totally noticed.
“Never hurts to be prepared,” I stammer, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. “How’s Three?”
Ford’s brow dips, and he runs a hand over his chin. “Well, the blast from that fire extinguisher really did a number on him. Then he hit his head on the way down. Took a few stitches. The doc says he’s definitely concussed.”
“Ugh.” I chew my lip, and the knots in my abdomen cinch up even tighter than they already were. “I’m so sorry.”
Ford glances over his shoulder at the door to the exam rooms. “The nurse is getting a wheelchair for Three now. He should be out soon.”
“Wheelchair?” I wince. “Oh no. He can’t even walk?”
“He probably could, but the meds have him kinda loopy. Either way, it’s hospital policy for patients to be wheeled to the curb.”
“He’s going to be okay, though?” I’m keeping my tone hopeful, like I might be able to manifest future positivity by speaking it out into the universe. If Three is, in fact, all right, Ford can take him home, and I can get on with my life.
My very Three-avoidant life.
“He’s gonna be all right.” Ford bobs his head. “He just needs to be watched closely for the next few days.”
I let out a small sigh of relief. Three’s got plenty of family in Abieville to keep an eye on him, which means my job here is done. I’m so relieved, in fact, my stomach growls again.
Loudly.
Ford’s brow hikes back up again. “Impressive, Hathaway.”
“Don’t mind me.” I cringe, pressing a hand to my middle. “Just your garden-variety alien invasion in my gut.”
Ford shrugs. “Happens.”
“I guess so. But that’s probably my signal to head out.” I glance at the door to the exam rooms and rise from my seat. Under the circumstances, I’m probably the last person Three will want to see again, and I definitely don’t want to see him again. More importantly, I don’t want Ford or Three or anyone else in Abieville to think his proximity bothers me so much.
Because it shouldn’t bother me so much. It doesn’t bother me.
Much.
Still, a lump gathers in my throat, and I swallow hard against it. “Would you just apologize to Three for me one more time?” I ask. “Please?”
Ford stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Sure thing.”
My legs suddenly feel heavy as lead. “So.” I shift my weight. “Do you think Three will just stay at his parents’ house?”
Ford’s jaw tenses. “Probably not.”
“With his sister then?”
“Doubt it,” he says grimly.
I blink. “But he and Nella used to be so close.” In fact, the way Three cared about his sister was one of the things I loved most about him. A man who’s good to his family is more attractive to me than just about anything else. And Three was already stupidly attractive even when he was nowhere near the other Fullers.
“Oh, they’re still close.” Ford scratches the scruff at his chin. “The thing is, our whole family’s supposed to spend the next two weeks on a cruise from California to Hawaii. All the aunts, uncles, cousins.”
My heart plummets as I realize Three probably won’t be cleared to travel with a concussion. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” Ford looks down at the floor, scuffs his shoe along the carpet. “We’re all booked on the red eye to LAX tonight. Then tomorrow, we’re boarding a ship in the Port of Los Angeles. Even our grandmother’s going.”
I suck in a breath. “Big Mama?” The last time I saw her, she was a rickety wisp of a thing with puffy white hair and a dry sense of humor. She must be in her nineties by now. “She was always so nice to me. I’m just so glad she’s still …” My voice trails off.
“Yeah. She’s still .” Ford lifts his gaze. “That’s why we all wanted to take this cruise with her while we could.” His eyes cloud over. “Everyone’s planning to carpool to the airport in a couple hours. Three’s folks have never even been on a plane, so there’s no way he’s gonna let them or Nella miss this trip.”
Before I can ask who’ll take care of Three, the door from the hallway opens and a perky nurse wheels Three into the waiting room. He’s got a bandage stretching from the nape of his neck up and around the top of his skull with auburn spikes poking out around the edges .
“Hello, kidsss,” he slurs at us. Then he looks up at the nurse with a sleepy grin. “Hello, Hairy.”
“Close.” She offers him a patient smile. “But my name is Mary, remember?”
“I like you, Hairy,” he murmurs.
“Oof.” Ford rakes his fingers through his hair. “How long’s he gonna be like this?”
Mary inclines her head and lowers her voice. “Every case is different,” she says. “And Mr. Fuller could seem better, then regress. Either way, you’ll likely see signs of impairment for another day or two.”
“Or Three, ” he crows, pumping a fist in the air. “That’sss my name!”
“You’re right, Mr. Fuller,” Mary tells him before addressing us again. “The doctor wants to see him back for a checkup on Tuesday, and I have his discharge papers and instructions for aftercare here.” She holds up a packet of papers. “As for this first night, whoever’s in charge will need to keep a close watch, and wake him up every few hours for a cognition check.”
“Cognition check?” I wrinkle my nose.
“It’s not difficult,” she says. “He just needs someone to ask him a few simple questions like his name. The date. If he knows where he is. The paperwork has some suggestions. If he can answer correctly, that’s a good sign his brain is healing, not regressing.”
Three looks up at me and lifts his finger, like he’s pointing at the ceiling. “I can’t go on the airplane!”
“I know,” I groan. “Ford was just telling me you’re supposed to take a cruise for Christmas.”
“Ahh. Cruise, ssschmooze.” Three’s lips twitch. “Hey, that rhymesss.”
Mary’s gaze bounces between Three, Ford, and me. “So who am I releasing Mr. Fuller to?”
“No one, sssnow-one,” Three cackles. “Ford can drop me off at home on the way to the airport.”
Mary bends down, speaking gently to Three. “Mr. Fuller, you absolutely cannot stay home alone tonight.”
“ Home Alone !” A goofy smile breaks across his face. “That’s my favorite Christmas movie!”
Ford reaches for the packet. “I’ll take those papers.” When Mary hands the stack over, he addresses Three. “We can watch Home Alone as soon as we get back to your place.” Ford grasps the back of Three’s wheelchair. “Then after the doc checks you out on Tuesday, you and I can fly out to meet everyone in Hawaii.”
“Hold on,” Mary says, her face slipping into a regretful wince. “Even if Mr. Fuller has a positive checkup, he is concussed. I’m afraid he won’t be cleared for airplane travel for at least a couple of weeks.”
“But that’s the length of your cruise,” I blurt, like I’m the only one in the room capable of doing simple math.
Mary’s eyes go extra soft. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Ford tells her, and a thousand guilt-knives stab my brain.
Gee. Whose fault is it, I wonder?
“No worries.” Ford claps Three on the shoulder. “I’ll just skip this trip.”
“Pfffft.” Three waves his hand away, pushing a bubbly raspberry through his lips. “You finally got time off work, and you never get to travel. You need a vacation more than anybody … buddy. ” At this, he lets out an amused snort.
Ford bobs his head. “It’s no big deal.”
“LISSSTEN to me!” Three aims a pout at his cousin. “I’m NOT taking you away from the family at Chrissstmasss.” Under his breath, he repeats “Christmas” then bursts into a fresh round of laughter.
“Okay.” Ford’s brow creases. “What about one of the other guys from school? All you teachers are off for winter break. Could Nicky or Josh stay with you?”
“They’re headed to Vermont to ssski.” Three shakes his head then winces, which kind of makes my skull hurt too. “I would’ve gone too,” he adds, “except for our umm… our…” He scrunches up his face. “Thingy.”
I blink down at him. “You mean the cruise?”
Three barks out a laugh, his eyes in a squint. “Heh heh heh. Yeah. That. Cruissse.”
“What about Kenny?” I whisper to Ford.
“Nah.” Ford smirks. “His wife just had a baby, and they already had four kids. They’re frazzled enough with a newborn plus the older ones. I can’t ask him to pitch in for something this big so close to the holidays.”
“NO KENNY!” Three barks. “BOOO!” Ford and I glance at each other, and my insides swirl like a washing machine on the agitation cycle. I never meant for any of this to happen, but it’s all my fault just the same. If only I hadn’t tried baking those brownies …
Stupid Betty Crocker.
Stupid kitschy reindeer.
My heart’s in my throat now, and I start gnawing at my bottom lip. When I convinced my parents to let me handle things in Abieville, I did everything I could to minimize the risk of bumping into Three. That’s why I stopped at a grocery store outside of town. It’s why I took the long way to the lake, circumventing Main Street. I told myself it was just until Christmas Eve. And by the time I got out the mixing bowl and set the oven to preheat, I was positive I could avoid Three Fuller the entire time I was here.
Instead, I clocked him with a fire extinguisher. Now I’m basically ruining a Christmas vacation for multiple members of his family.
Unless …
“I hate to push the issue,” Mary says gently, “but my shift is ending soon, and before the hospital can release Mr. Fuller, someone has to commit to his care. So, who’s taking him home, folks? ”
“I’ll do it!” I choke.
Ford’s eyes pop wide. “You will?”
“Sure,” I manage to squeak.
After all, being stuck with Three for a few days can’t be worse than perimenopause.