Seventeen
Winter
Once we’re able to see my father, we huddle in his room, trying to surround him with love and comfort.
“Knock, knock,” a nurse wearing light blue scrubs announces her presence at the door. She walks to my father’s bed and takes his vitals.
“I’m Florence. I’ll be one of Mr. Evergreen’s night nurses.
It’s almost time for the visiting hours to be over,” she adds that last bit with a slightly pitying tone; she knows we don’t want to leave.
“He’s going to need to get lots of rest to help with healing.
Mrs. Evergreen, you’re more than welcome to stay overnight with him.
That couch is a pullout bed. If you want to stay, I can bring you a pillow and a blanket.
The rest of you will need to leave for the night, but you can come back tomorrow if you’d like. The visiting hours start at nine a.m.”
“Yes, I’ll take the pillow and blanket, please,” my mother tells her.
We reluctantly agree when Mom reassures us that if anything happens, she’ll call us.
“Did you drive?” Saint asks Cypress.
He shakes his head. “No, we rode with Mom.”
“No worries. We’ve got space. You can ride with us back to the house.”
The boys run ahead when we get closer to the truck.
Both are rushing to the front passenger door, shoving each other as they try to claim the seat for themselves.
I roll my eyes at their dramatics. It’s such an immature move, and it’s like they’ve suddenly forgotten the devastating situation that’s brought us here.
Saint, who’s walking beside me, smirks at me before raising the car keys. We watch as the car beeps, locking.
“Oh, come on!” Cypress whines. “I’m the biggest—second to you, of course. I should get to sit in the front.”
Shaking his head, Saint replies, “Nope. You’re in the back with Dougie. Winter will be in the front. She rode here with me, unlike the two of you.”
“Yeah, you guys are at the mercy of us graciously agreeing to carpool.” Choosing not to act my age either, I stick my tongue out at my brothers.
Skipping forward, I claim the seat with a triumphant grin.
I’m 100 percent certain that if this were a few years ago, I’d be the one in the back.
But things have been changing between us, and while I’m not sure what exactly we’re doing, I know we are more than we’ve ever been to each other.
A song plays quietly on the radio, barely loud enough to tell which song it is, as we drive into the dark of night. The way home is a meandering road that, during the daytime, offers a scenic experience, but in the dark, it lacks any visual stimulation.
With nothing to distract me from the thoughts running through my head, it’s hard to hold back the emotions rolling around inside me. I feel like a pot of water about to boil over.
Dad’s leg was wrapped in gauze from the surgery, but even without seeing it, it was clear that there were large sections whittled away.
The surgeon wasn’t confident about what the outcome would be for Dad, even with intensive physical therapy.
Regardless of how things turn out, his life will be irrevocably changed.
Tears gather in the corners of my eyes, but I quickly dash them away before turning to look at Cypress as he starts speaking.
“I’ve gone ahead and emailed my teachers that I won’t be back after the break.”
“Cy, you can’t—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off.
“I can and I will.” He sounds sterner than I’ve ever known my brother to be. “It’s about to be the busy season. This is when Mom and Dad earn most of their annual income. Dad’s not going to be able to do it, Mom will need to focus on Dad’s recovery, and Douglas has school.”
I understand why it’s essential to keep things going for our parents, but it doesn’t make me like my brother leaving his college courses—especially mid-term.
“The shop just shut down. I’ll be able to help out too,” Saint adds, which my brother acknowledges with a nod from the back seat.
“You’ll still have your commission work,” I point out, not wanting him to lose out on his income either.
He waves me off. “It’ll be fine. With the shop shut down, there will be plenty of time to do my commissioned work and help at the farm.”
It comes as no surprise that Saint would volunteer to help. With our moms being best friends, our families were always around each other. I don’t know anything about Saint’s dad, but I’ve never seen or heard about the man. Mine has always been the father figure he went to when we were growing up.
“You guys can handle the tree cutting. I’ll help with the events. I’ll look at the farm’s calendar in the morning to see what’s on the schedule.” I volunteer.
Everything being decided for the time being, we go back to the silence of deep thought.
My brothers go their separate ways when we get back to the house.
Saint and I head to the kitchen, and he makes us each a cup of caffeine-free chamomile tea, for which I’m thankful. I needed something to calm my nerves.
When we finish drinking the tea and climb the stairs, I can’t hold in the sob any longer. It snuck out as I was approaching the top of the steps.
Saint quickly wraps me in his arms. A gentle kiss lands against my hair as I breathe in his comforting scent.
“Come on.” He ushers me toward my room. He helps me to bed, pulling back the covers. When I sit down on the mattress, he crouches down and removes my shoes.
When I flop back on the bed, he pulls the blankets up to my chin.
There’s no way for him to know, but that’s exactly how I like being covered.
It’s something I started doing as a kid when I learned that sometimes people eat spiders in their sleep.
The threat of the eight-legged bugs freaked me out, and I started to cover as much of myself as possible.
“Get some rest. We’ll get everything worked out in the morning and go back to check on your dad.”
He pulls away, but I grab his hand before he can do more than turn his back. “Will you stay?” My voice sounds meek even to my ears.
He assesses me silently for a moment before nodding and walking around to the other side of the bed. He takes off his shoes and lies down.
I roll onto my side so that we’re face-to-face.
He laces his hand with mine as they lie between our bodies.
With a light kiss against my lips, he whispers a quiet good night, and I do the same.
As I lie in the dark, I realize with startling clarity that the man I disliked growing up has become someone I’m slowly becoming dependent on. There’s no one else I’d rather lie here beside, and that thought scares me almost more than anything else.