Chapter 3
LINDSEY
I reach into the pantry for some microwave popcorn Friday night and spot the pumpkin I promised my mom lingering toward the back.
It’s been there since the first Thanksgiving without my father, when my mother, still buried under the weight of her own grief, forgot the pumpkin for my dad’s favorite pie.
It upset her so much that I went to the store the next day and stocked up on a couple of cans just in case this same situation should arise again.
I buy some after the holiday rush every year so I’m always prepared.
I pull out the popcorn along with the cans of pumpkin and check their expiration date. Seeing they’re still good, I scoot them onto the counter.
“Doing some baking?” Kayla regards me with a wrinkled brow from where she’s sprawled on the kitchen floor as June Bug plays tug-of-war with her ponytail.
She stopped by my place on the way home from her seven o’clock spin class to try and help me tame the tiny fluffy baby dragon in my care.
“Let’s hope your skills have improved since that cookie cake you made me for my birthday last year. ”
I snort. “Listen, I swear that recipe called for four cups of flour.”
“That thing could have been used to break a window or commit a felony. We’re lucky we still have our teeth.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“It wasn’t that good either,” she teases.
“But it was made with love,” I say with a grin. “And to answer your question, no. I’m taking these to Mom on Sunday.”
My phone rings, the sound distracting the pup long enough for her to drop Kayla’s hair. I pry the device from the pocket of my jeans, a number I don’t recognize flashing on the screen before I answer the call.
“Hey, Doc,” a deep, hoarse voice replies. “It’s Ron Phillips.”
“Mr. Phillips,” I say over June Bug’s shrill barks, as Kayla tries to quiet her with a stuffed donut toy. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“Call me Ron,” he corrects me with a soft chuckle. “Mr. Phillips makes me sound old, and heaven knows, I don’t need any help with that. Sounds like Junie’s showing you her vocal range.”
I laugh. “That she is.”
“How’s she doing?”
I grit my teeth as June Bug drops the toy and heads straight for Catrick Swayze, who’s sauntered into the living room. Before my sweet orange fluff ball knows what’s happening, the pup is mounting him, but because she’s knee-high to a grasshopper, she ends up hugging his back leg.
“No,” Kayla shout-whispers. “You’re breaking the first rule of being a good houseguest. Thou shalt not hump the cat.”
I choke on a laugh as Kayla manages to distract the pup long enough for Catrick Swayze to scamper away.
“She’s doing great,” I say. “I examined her as promised and got her up-to-date on her vaccinations.”
Technically, the little Maltese/Yorkie mix is healthy, but I’m convinced the pup is also part alligator.
Her mouth is maybe capable of opening two inches wide if she tries really hard, yet she managed to chew the bottom corner off my bathroom door while I was in the shower this morning, and the little devil barked for hours last night.
She’s the cutest holy terror that ever existed, and I cannot wait for her to go home.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Well, I had surgery yesterday evening.” His voice is still raspy, undoubtedly from the breathing tube they’d used during his procedure. “I’m still pretty weak, as you can imagine, but they’re kicking me out of here tomorrow.”
“I’m sure you’ll be glad to get home,” I say. “And I know June Bug misses you.”
There’s a long pause on the other end. “Well, that’s actually what I called to talk to you about.
My son, Hudson, came down from Cincinnati, and he’s insisting I go home with him for a few days while I get back on my feet.
He’d stay with me, but that would be a little too long for him to be away from work. ”
“Oh, okay. Does that mean he'll be picking her up?” I ask.
“That’s the thing.” Another pause. “His wife is a bit particular and won’t allow animals in the house, so I was wondering if you and your sister would mind keeping her a little while longer? And of course, I would pay you for the trouble.”
Now I’m the one pausing.
“I can see if I can arrange to have her boarded somewhere,” he goes on. “I know she’s a handful.”
“No, no.” I wince, summoning all the holiday spirit I can muster. “I’ll keep her, and there’s no payment needed. You focus on getting better, okay?’’
“Are you sure?” he asks tentatively, as Kayla rises to her feet and folds her arms across her chest, wearing a stony expression.
“Absolutely. Just let me know when you’re back, and I’ll get June Bug home to you.”
“I owe you one, Doc.” Ron breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Ron. Feel better, and we’ll talk soon.”
I end the call and stare at the phone in my hand for a moment.
“Ow!” Kayla bounces away from the pup who has decided to attack her ankles. “Please tell me the Fluff Ness Monster is going home.”
“Um…well…”
She yelps, seeking refuge by jumping on the sofa. “No! How much longer?”
“A while.”
“How long is a while?”
“His son is taking him home to Cincinnati for a bit while he recovers, but he can’t take the dog because his daughter-in-law isn’t a fan of having pets in the house.”
“And I’m not a fan of broccoli, but I eat it because it’s the right thing to do,” Kayla insists. “You cannot keep this dog, Lindsey. I mean, she’s sweet, but she’s also batshit crazy. Like a baby wolf in a teddy bear costume. Or a Chucky doll. Catrick Swayze is going to pack up his shit and leave.”
“She’s in a new place, away from Ron, and probably scared,” I say, though to be fair, I’m not sure she's scared of anything. “She just needs some special attention.”
Kayla scoffs. “My dating life needs special attention. What that dog needs is an exorcist.”
“It’s not ideal, but it's just for a bit longer. I can make anything work for a few days.”
She lifts her brows with a judgy stare.
“What?” I counter.
“What if your fibromyalgia flares up?” she asks. “You already work yourself half to death, and now you’re going to spend what little free time you have chasing after a tiny ball of terror?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, waving her off. “I’ll be fine.”
I don’t tell her how worried I am now that the weather is getting cooler.
As soon as temperatures start dipping into the forties, that’s when that familiar ache settles into my muscles, my joints go stiff as tree trunks, and my brain becomes thick with an impenetrable fog.
One of the benefits of living in Tennessee is the extended summer we get.
The holidays approaching signals that, like it or not, winter is coming.
“Uh-huh,” Kayla says. “Just like you were fine a couple years ago after that diabolical snowstorm moved in right after Christmas. You were miserable for more than a month. Granted, part of that was because you refused to take any time off to rest, which is what your body needed most.”
“That was different,” I insist. “That was, quite literally, the perfect storm of events. Besides, I have better coping mechanisms now. I take my meds when I need them, I get regular massages, and I have my TENS unit. Seriously, I’ll be fine.”
“At least bring her to the clinic while we’re there,” Kayla suggests. “We can all help make sure she gets plenty of exercise before you take her home each day.”
“Good idea. And maybe Ben and Ellie will bring the kids over to play with her.” I rake my teeth over my bottom lip and grin. “You wouldn’t want to borrow her for a night, would you?”
She casts a sidelong glance in my direction before pretending to examine her cuticles. “I wish I could, but…oh wait, no I don’t.”
“You can’t blame a girl for trying. I’ll call Ben and Ellie and see if they have plans tomorrow night.”
The clinic closes at noon on Saturdays, so after work, I take June Bug for a walk before crating her so I can venture out for a little Christmas shopping.
I start at Laura’s Loft where I find a sweater for my sister-in-law, Ellie.
Then I visit Heaven Scent, the local perfumery, where I pick up Aunt Rose’s Secret Weapon and an organic bath set for Lucy’s fiancée, Willow.
It’s a drizzly gray afternoon, but downtown Loving is bustling as I work my way up Main Street.
Street lamps wrapped in lush garland with white lights line the sidewalk, and storefronts have already been adorned with fluffy red bows.
It’s overcast enough that the lights are already twinkling.
It’s almost sixty degrees, but the clouds make it look like it could snow any second.
I stretch my neck to the side almost reflexively, and it bends with ease—something I don’t take for granted because I know how quickly that can change.
A yawn crawls out of me as I spot The Southern Bean sign up ahead, shining like the North Star, and decide I’ll stop for a coffee.
I’m about to reach for the door when I spot Oliver, the cute firefighter from the clinic.
He’s approaching the corner of the street a few yards away, and he’s not alone.
Clinging to his arm is the cutest little blue-haired lady wearing a festive green pantsuit.
With one hand on the small of her back and the other gripping her fingers to support her, she makes the step onto the curb.
My heart lurches, and when he smiles at her, I can’t help but smile too.
I move to the side of the entrance as Oliver and the lady part ways, and he starts in my direction.
He spots me, a grin stretching to his ears just as his shoe snags on the pavement, sending him stumbling forward.
He manages to regain his footing before he hits the ground and strikes a pose in front of me, holding up jazz hands.
“I totally meant to do that,” he says with a sly smile.
I chuckle. “Of course, you did. Because you’re normally very coordinated.”