27. Nate
Nate
Idon’t even give Dylan a chance to say hello.
“What’s the real story?” I bark the second the call connects.
Ollie stares at me from his bed, silently judging.
I turn my back on him and continue to pace, the phone pressed to my ear.
Dylan’s voice on the other end is calm, measured. “Nate? What’s up?”
It’s mildly annoying that he’s not matching my urgency.
I wonder briefly if they teach this to future educators. The ability to ignore the frustration, hostility, whatever emotion it is that people throw at you and maintain calm.
Whether it’s taught or inherent, Dylan is a master.
I take a breath, reminding myself that my role here is to support Rory’s family. They’re the ones closest to everything that’s going on.
But it’s hard to support Rory when she’ll only feed me snippets of information.
I’ve given her time—obviously, she has a lot going on, and I’m the first to admit that when I was in her position, I wasn’t the best at communicating.
But Rory has never been one to ask for help. I want to make sure the reason she hasn’t reached out isn’t because she’s hesitant to tell me what she needs.
I’m not going to sit by while she goes through one of the hardest times of her life, though. I’m here for good, and I mean it.
For better or worse, through sickness and health and all that, and that extends to family members.
And I’m willing to use whatever avenue is available to me to support her.
I clear my throat and try for a calmer tone. “Hey, Dylan. What’s going on over there?”
There’s a pause and some shuffling in the background. He must be sitting near his mom, or possibly Rory, because the background noise gives the indication that he’s getting up and moving to a different spot.
“It’s okay. Hang on.”
I wait, silently, while I assume he walks into a different room to take the call.
His voice is low when he speaks again. “It’s tough. Mom has good days and bad days. Today is good, but…we’re getting close. But I’ve thought that for the last week.”
I remember being in exactly this situation with my dad. Stuck in this limbo, where you don’t want your family member to die, but you don’t want them to suffer, and meanwhile, you don’t know how long you can leave your own life on hold.
It’s a dizzying combination of feelings.
“How are you all coping?”
A heavy sigh. “As well as can be expected. I’m sure you understand. You went through this with your dad, right?”
Dylan had just moved back to HiLo when Dad passed, ready to settle down after a few years of playing minor league baseball. He and I weren’t close, but everyone knew what was going on with Dad, of course.
“Yeah. Sorry to bother you during all of this. I’ve been trying to make sure Rory is okay, but she hasn’t been good about texting me back, so I was getting worried. I just want to be there for her.”
“Thanks, man,” Dylan says. “She needs someone like you in her corner. It’s just a tough time.”
“Absolutely. So I wanted to ask your permission here. Can I hire a nurse for Cathy? Or someone from hospice services? I don’t want to step on toes, but sometimes having someone from outside the family can be really helpful. And I have the resources to take care of that for you.”
Dylan knows about the property in Vail, having been a resident of High Lonesome during the brief period when I shared the information with anyone and everyone.
It says a lot that he hasn’t spread the gossip around.
“If you’re willing, that would be really helpful. We’re doing our best, but we’re not professionals, you know?”
“Exactly. Let me make some calls. I can have someone there in the next day or so. Maybe even by tonight.”
I don’t care how much it costs for the short notice. I don’t use much of the money from the rentals—it sits untouched, growing, in a fund for my future kids or whoever I can pass it down to, or for when it’s really needed.
This seems like one of those times.
“Thank you.” The relief in his voice is practically palpable through the phone. “Just…thank you, Nate.”
“Well, I’m wondering if I can attach a couple strings to the offer.”
Dylan manages a low chuckle. “Like?”
“Can I come over? Spam has been with me, and I’m sure he’d love to see Rory. And…I’d like to see her, too. I won’t stay that long if Cathy needs quiet, I promise. I just want to check in with Rory.”
“Of course,” he says, without hesitation. “Come over anytime. The door is always open. If Mom is having a bad day, she’s usually in bed, so even then, it’s no bother. Really.”
Relief washes over me.
I give a thumbs-up to Spam, who’s seated at my heels, his tail wagging furiously. “Thank you. Really.”
“No. Thank you, Nate. You’re good for Rory, Nate. I’m glad you got her back on your side. Even with everything going on with Mom, she’s still happier than I’ve seen her in a long time. Lock it down, man.”
Dylan’s always been a straight shooter. No dancing around things like marriage and anything else that comes to his mind.
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I’m working on it, trust me. But as the eldest child, aren’t you supposed to be first down the aisle?”
“That’ll be the day.” He chuckles, brushing off the idea.
I can’t remember Dylan having a serious relationship since I’ve been back in High Lonesome.
It’s not that he’s a player—the opposite, actually. I don’t know that he’s had a girlfriend or a one-night stand or anything like that. At the very least, nothing that’s made it into the small-town rumor mill.
Dylan is serious. Stoic, even. He gives off a vibe of being wise beyond his years.
It would take a special woman to be with him—someone who can put up with that, but lighthearted enough to bring out his fun side.
I wonder if there’s anyone like that in HiLo. No one comes to mind, but I’ll ask around. Dylan’s a good guy, and he deserves someone in his corner.
Maybe Marge has some ideas. She usually does when it comes to matchmaking.
I hang up the phone and get down to work to find Cathy a home nurse.
“Get excited, Spam,” I say, looking down at my little friend. “We’re going to see Rory.”
Spam lets out an excited yip.
The noise is still a little grating, but he’s doing it less often. Spam and I have bonded the last couple of weeks while we’ve been roomies.
And yes, before you ask, I’ve been working on training him. It’s going…slowly. But we’re doing our best.
“What do you think our girl needs?”
Spam cocks his head. I’ll bet he’d vote for cheese and deli meat, which are some of his favorite people foods to eat.
I’ll stick to the essentials, though.
I sit on the couch, motioning for Spam to sit on the floor next to me, and look up a number for a home health service. They’re very busy, of course, their service booked up, but if I’m willing to pay extra, they think they’ll be able to find someone.
As always, with money, all things are possible.
I give them the details that I know about Rory’s mom, enough to get things started, and my credit card number. They assure me they’ll get back to me soon with details of who’s able to come out and how soon they can be there.
But even with that taken care of, I tap my feet against the ground, needing more to do. I need to help more.
I’m a fixer. Every friend group or family has people who tend to take different roles in a crisis.
There’s the one who comforts everyone, who’s the shoulder to cry on. There’s the one who will support the people in crisis, providing food or shelter or whatever is needed.
And there’s always the fixer: the one who will use any connections they have to find any way to make the situation better.
It’s been killing me since the very beginning that I can’t just fix Rory’s mom, make the cancer disappear, and promise her plenty of healthy years ahead.
If it were a question of finding the right doctor to take her case, or getting her into the right clinical study, or getting to the right hospital, I’d be on the phone day and night using any connections I have to make it happen.
And trust me, I’m not above using any connection, no matter how tenuous, to help Rory and, by extension, her family.
But Cathy has said that she just wants to spend time with family and to go peacefully when it’s her time.
So while there’s not much I can do to fix things, I can help make sure her wishes are honored.
I tap my fingers on the kitchen table, waiting for a call back from the home health service, and finally make a list of things I need from the grocery store, just to pass the time.
When the call finally comes about twenty minutes later, I’ve also gotten Spam’s things together, just in case Rory wants him to stay with her.
She seemed happy to let him stay with me for a bit, but like I’ve said, this is all about what Rory wants.
“Besides, you’ll be back here with me soon, little guy. Right?” I reach down and scratch his head.
Spam puts his front paws on my leg, eyes on mine, looking for more.
“Feet on the floor,” I say sternly.
He obeys this time—wonders never cease—and I grab a treat from my pocket. I’ve taken to carrying small dog treats with me, just in case Spam remembers a command.
Since I’ve done that, he’s gotten smarter, it seems. He even sits on command when he sees me reach into my pocket.
It makes me wonder if he’s actually brighter than he lets on. Like a toddler who knows exactly what you’re asking them to do and is consciously choosing to ignore your directions.
I let Ollie out to go to the bathroom before tucking him back into his crate, knowing that he probably needs the rest after playing with Spam.
The little runt, though, I load into the SUV.
We head for the grocery store, my need to fix things at the forefront of my mind.
My thoughts are filled with everything that Rory and her family could possibly need.
Food.
Cleaning supplies.
Basics, like toothpaste and toilet paper.
Fresh produce.
I’d better get it all, just to be safe.
I swing the SUV into a parking space and head into the market, leaving the engine running for Spam’s sake.
My phone buzzes with a text as I walk into the store. I pull it out once I’m safely inside the heated building and swipe the screen to open the message.
Allie
How’s Rory holding up? She hasn’t told me much.
I’m in the same boat. I talked to Dylan, though. I think they’re all struggling.
How can I help?
I think as I start to gather items from my list, piling them into a cart. Rory has a lot of people pulling for her, even if she doesn’t know it. The home nurse is set up, and I’m sure they’ll appreciate me bringing some food over.
But there has to be more I can do. And maybe some of the other people in her life can help, too.
Lists are forming in my mind as I head to the checkout. My cart is more than half full, not only with fresh fruits and vegetables and ingredients to make a few simple meals, but also with protein shakes that Cathy may be able to stomach.
As Dad got sicker, he wasn’t up for eating much, and having a protein shake gave him enough energy to sit with us and talk, or to sit outside.
A lump rises in my throat at the memory of those last weeks with Dad. I try not to think about those days too much, the pain almost overwhelming at times.
I hate that Rory is going through this alone.
I set my jaw as I start to pile the groceries on the checkout belt. I have a plan. And it’s going to work.
It has to work.
Because there is no plan B.