Joni #2
“No ma’am, you absolutely will not,” Mav says. “You do whatever you need to do for Oliver. We’ve got dinner handled.”
Sabrina sets a foil-covered tray on the table she’s just unfolded. “I made baked potatoes. Have you popped the cork on that wine yet?”
“No. It’s still on my counter. I’ll get it.”
“Nope,” Sabrina says. “I’ll get it.”
They’re really not going to let me do a damn thing but take care of Oliver.
And if he gets worse tonight, they’ll be here to help.
I probably won’t be able to sleep any more than I did last night, but the peace of mind they’re providing by just being here is worth more than they know.
These overstepping lunatics might be better friends than I deserve.
“Is Glynnis coming?” I ask.
They all laugh, and in unison, they say, “She doesn’t camp.”
“I should’ve known the answer to that without asking.” I laugh, too, and it feels good. “How was her event at Sugar Lips?”
“It was great,” Sabrina says, and then she tells me she has a juicy story about someone who was there, but it calls for wine. She disappears into the house to grab the gossip juice.
Two more doors slam in my driveway. Who else could possibly be here?
If Dr. Abernathy is swinging by, he’d be alone.
There’s not another couple in our friend group.
Everyone has stopped what they’re doing to watch the gate.
Everyone except Sabrina, who’s returning from the house with a smile on her face and the wine bottle plus three glasses in her hands.
None of the guys are big wine drinkers, if they drink it at all. She knows who else is here.
It’s not every night that a country music superstar sleeps in a tent behind my house, but it looks like Derringer Wells plans to do just that . . . with Merilee.
Seeing them together makes my heart happy.
It makes Mav’s jaw lock. He still thinks of Merilee as a little sister, but she’s not a kid anymore, whether he likes it or not. And she and Derringer both look like they’re walking on a cloud next to each other.
Mav stares at his wife. She and her devil-may-care grin are oblivious to his eye daggers as she pulls the cork from the bottle.
“I guess you’re responsible for this,” he says.
“Guilty,” she replies airily.
“No one is guilty of anything,” Merilee says. “Because no crime has been committed.”
She walks to Oliver and gently pats his neck. He nudges her shoulder, asking for scritches instead. “Okay, sweetie. I wasn’t sure how much attention you’d want,” she says.
“Speaking of attention seekers,” Rhett says, extending his hand to Derringer. “How was the tour?”
“Epic, but exhausting.”
“Sounds about right. Welcome home.” He hands Derringer the first beer from his cooler.
Mav scoffs, but then he shakes Derringer’s hand, too. “I still don’t approve.”
“Do you really think you had to say that out loud?” Derringer asks, smiling and shaking his head as if Mav’s opinion is of absolutely no consequence when it comes to his relationship with Merilee. “Is your stage available Friday night?”
“Yeah. Show up. Make me some money.”
Mav would never admit it, but I think he feels like a mentor to Derringer in some ways, like a cool uncle, heavy on the mentor, easy on the cool part.
He’s proud of him, though, no matter how much he’d like to keep him away from Merilee.
Mav is stubborn, but eventually, he’s going to have to let that go.
I won’t be the one to tell him, though. Sabrina tells him often enough, I’m sure.
We eat dinner under the stars, sip wine and beer, listen to Sabrina’s local gossip and Derringer’s stories from the road. Oliver beds down as if he’s listening, too. He likes having all of us out here with him.
This is good, but he needs friends he can chase and bump and neck wrestle with. I cast my gaze to the stars and send up a wish for a quick adoption. I’m still not sure how I’m going to make it work, but I’ll find a way.
Enzo disrupts my wish-making to say, “I looked up castration teeth.”
Rhett and Derringer shudder and pull back as if they must have misheard him.
Mav spits out his beer. “You looked up what?”
I laugh at their reactions because men’s reactions to that will never not be funny to me. “And what did you find?”
“That you and your boss made it sound worse than it is, like it’s a thing one alpaca will definitely do to another. It’s not an automatic response.”
“But it does happen . . .” I trail off with a shrug. “And did we make it sound worse or did you just assume the worst?”
Rhett shifts in his camp chair. “To be fair, once the word castration is mentioned, I think assuming the worst is a normal response.”
“No shit,” Mav adds, ever the poet.
I don’t think Derringer has blinked once since Enzo said the c-word. “I’m not sure I’ve been back in town long enough for this story.”
Sabrina nods thoughtfully. “There really are some stories told here that would feel a lot stranger in other places.”
Mav narrows his eyes at her. “Let’s don’t romanticize this one too much. I don’t even need to hear it to believe it’d be strange anywhere.”
“Speaking of romance,” Merilee says, prompting Mav’s neck to nearly snap as he turns to shoot her a warning look. She glares right back. “Would a mate possibly help Oliver?”
“Not a mate,” I say. “But he does need companions. He was castrated by a human, so he can’t breed, but living alone is what made him sick.”
I hate admitting this out loud.
“You saved his life, Joni,” Rhett says in that way he has of speaking as if his word is the last on the subject. “Now, you’ll find him some friends and save him all over again.”
That is a very kind spin on what I’ve done. And I appreciate it so much. Maybe I’m not the solitary creature I’ve tried to convince myself I am either.
“Oliver is winding down for the night,” Enzo says. “Maybe we should all do the same.”
Everyone agrees and starts gathering their stuff. A stiff breeze kicks up out of nowhere, ushering in the promised cool front. Oliver hums softly as fallen leaves rustle around him. He’s content, not stressed.
Me, too, buddy. Me, too.
Alone in our tent, I watch Enzo undress. Gratitude and guilt battle in my chest. I’m grateful for him, but I know I can’t keep him. I’d never be able to give him a complete life.
It’s one thing to make that selfish mistake with an animal, but it would be unforgivable to do it to a person you could maybe someday possibly love. If you don’t come to your senses before it’s too late.