Thirty-six
Peter
Iblinked and the week was halfway gone. On Monday, Tag’s pro status as a roughstock contractor for the Alliance was announced, and he’d had several calls from people scheduling additional interviews and ranch tours.
Because the upcoming pro season began immediately, the staff morale soared.
Jesse and Tag stayed busy preparing—Tag on the phone, mostly, while Jesse ran around with an energy and relentlessness I’d never be able to match.
Bea and Hollie spent the week trying to decide how to phase out the bed and breakfast. The majority of their bookings didn’t stretch past January.
So they decided to honor all guests through January then contact and refund the remaining handful of spring bookings.
I worried they’d be sad for their jobs to essentially disappear, but they were elated.
They loved accompanying their husbands on the road and had every intention of hiring a cook for the cowboys so they were free to just be moms and rodeo wives.
There was already talk of purchasing another fifth wheel.
During dinner on Wednesday night, I barely listened to the conversation as I ate the beef stroganoff Hollie made.
I sat beside Wren’s highchair and had the pleasure of picking up her fork a dozen times.
I made the mistake of handing it back to her the first time she threw it. Now she thought we were playing fetch.
My ears were trained on that fork, gauging how far away it landed every time the metal hit the wooden planks below our feet.
Thankfully, it never took me more than a couple seconds to locate it.
Sometimes I was able to estimate distance and grab it on the first try.
Each time, I tried to do it faster. Honestly, it felt like a game to me, too.
When everyone was mostly finished, someone gently tapped me on the shoulder.
I sat up, fork in hand. Dropping it in front of Wren, I said, “Yep?”
“Hey, Uncle Peter, it’s Cade.”
I smiled at the fact that he gave himself an introduction even though I would’ve known who he was from his voice. He was incredibly soft spoken and reserved, especially in comparison to his father who was a social butterfly. “Oh hey, Cade.”
“Mom and I are having a hard time with this math homework. I can’t figure it out, and I’ve been stuck on it for a few days. Can you help me?”
My brows raised. “Sure. I’d be happy to. Want to sit down after dinner?”
“That’d be great. Thank you.”
When the dish bin arrived and Hollie started clearing the table, she pressed her hands into my shoulders and said, “Thank you, Peter. This math is killing me.”
I chuckled. “Never been your strong suit, huh?”
That made her laugh. “Definitely not. I’m learning right along with him. We’ll go to the porch swing.”
“Yep. Sounds good.”
“Give me ten minutes, and we’ll head that way.”
Hollie and I had a good conversation, similar to the one I had with Bea. She gave me the tightest hug and promised there was no animosity between us and all she wanted was the best for Sarah and me. Reconciling with my sisters made the burden on my shoulders easier to carry.
When the clean up was finished, Cade flopped his math book on the wicker table and Hollie sat down beside me on the porch swing.
For reasons I couldn’t pinpoint, my chest had loosened since dinner.
Being needed hit my soul like an oasis in the desert.
Around the ranch, my presence hindered more than helped and everyone just put up with me.
But math was my expertise. And knowing I could help my nephew put a small smile on my face. “So what are you learning?”
“Y = mx + b.” I heard the complaint in his tone—he hated this.
“Ah, slope-intercept. That is tough.”
“I don’t know why I can’t get it.”
“You will eventually. Some concepts just take a little longer to digest.” Cade read the instructions aloud then I said, “Alright, start with the y-intercept then tell me where the next point lands.”
As we did practice problems together, the process started to sink in. When Cade got one correct all by himself, he gave a small whoop of excitement.
“Good job, Cade,” Hollie said.
Footsteps, a mix of light and heavy, approached from the other side of the porch. Jesse’s voice called out. “Does that mean you got it, buddy?”
“I think so!” Cade’s excitement bubbled in his words.
Jesse eased down onto the wicker bench nearby, shushing Nora and Izzy who were nonstop chattering. “Hang on girls. We gotta be quiet until Cade finishes up.”
Nora whispered, “Daddy, can we have ice cream?”
“We’ll see.”
The porch swing bucked under me as Hollie quickly stood and moved to the bench where Jesse sat, giving a soft sigh of contentment. She whispered, “I missed you” as if their normal duties had kept them apart too long, and her words were followed by a very soft, brief kissing sound.
Because I couldn’t see her, it was easy to forget that Hollie was pregnant.
Anytime she hugged me, I remembered.
Cade and I worked through a couple more problems just as we did before, with him talking through his work out loud and me mentally following along.
The rusty gears in my brain groaned from lack of use, but it felt so good to do what I loved.
Endorphins raced through my body, limbering my mind like a long stretch after sitting all day.
I remembered Sarah’s young face twisting as she bemoaned the dreaded solve for x, and the way I walked her through the steps, pressing my shoulder against hers as I leaned over her math book. How I looked forward to those study sessions. How I watched her when she wasn’t looking.
Cade got another one right. Then another.
“There ya go, Cade. That one took you half the time.”
“Thank goodness,” he said.
Realizing I should capitalize on the opportunity to talk to him a little bit, I asked, “What’s your favorite subject?”
“Literature.”
I hummed. “I bet Hollie makes that fun.”
A smile laced his voice. “Defintiely. I like talking about books with her.”
Hollie said, “I like it, too.”
When Cade started another problem, Izzy piped up. “How do you know he’s getting them right?”
“Yeah!” Nora said. “How do you?”
Hollie gave a soft chuckle. “Girls, your Uncle Peter is very smart.”
“Like Jimmy Neutron smart?” Izzy asked.
A laugh exploded out of me. “Jimmy Neutron?” I directed my words at Hollie. “Sounds like you’re keeping the classics alive, sis.”
She giggled. “I love him.”
I answered their previous question. “I’ve always been able to do math in my head. So when Cade reads the problem and tells me what he’s doing then I know he’s getting it right.”
Nora asked, suddenly concerned. “Wait, can you still read?”
I turned toward Nora. “I actually have this screen thing back at home in Colorado that I place over a book and it reads the words and turns them into braille for me so I can read anything I want. But when I don’t have that”—I pulled out my phone—“I can use my screen reader.”
“How does that work?” Izzy asked.
I swiped to access the shortcut to My Sight and directed the camera at the front of Cade’s math book. A robotic voice read to us, “This is a yellow and purple textbook. Saxon Math Homeschool 7/6.”
The girls exploded in a chorus of amazement while Jesse and Hollie laughed at their enthusiasm.
Izzy asked, “Can it explain anything?”
“Basically. If I need it to tell me about my surroundings, I just point the camera around.”
“Do it!” Nora said.
I gave a few demonstrations, pointing the camera at the barn, cars, and even their faces.
They loved it, drilling me with questions when I told them about the smart glasses I could wear that essentially did the same thing.
I demonstrated how I used my phone then the conversation drifted to my cane, and I showed them how it worked and let them try to feel the echoes a few times.
Suddenly, math was long forgotten, and the trio of kids moved into the barnyard, clacking the metal tip of my cane over the gravel and laughing.
Hollie’s voice sounded sleepy. “Look at you, Peter, making blind cool.”
I laughed. “They’re sweet kids.”
“Thanks for helping us.”
“Not a problem. It was fun. He seems like a good student.”
Jesse said, “He is. But he’s creative and isn’t too keen on procedure.”
“Izzy is our procedures girl.”
“She got ticked at Cade the other day for loading the dishwasher wrong.” That made both of them laugh.
For a few minutes, I listened to the two of them talk about their children—their differences and strengths.
Jesse and Hollie bantered back and forth with an ease of conversation that made me ache for Sarah’s companionship.
I missed the way we used to flop onto the mattress at night, full of stories from the day. Sudden visions of her tucked under my arm, her laughter permeating the bedroom, filled me with such longing that I almost felt sick.
Man, I’d give anything to go back.
Every night since Sunday, I had called her and left her a voicemail.
It took some Googling, but I realized one ring before going to voicemail meant she probably blocked my number.
So she wouldn’t get my messages. That bummed me out, but even having a one-sided conversation with her had been good for me.
It gave me the chance to practice the things I needed to say, and warmed me up to letting her in again.
I would tell her about my day, stuff I missed about her, and what I’d been thinking about.
I’d call her again tonight.
When the kids came back with my cane, we had ice cream sandwiches on the porch and visited.
Tag, Bea, and Wren joined us for a few minutes.
And the volume on the porch escalated with the chatter of sugared-up kids and adult laughter.
Sitting there, I realized Dad was right.
Meadowbrook was a type of saving grace for me.
The worst thing I could’ve been was alone.
In fact, I was on a path of self-destruction little more than a week ago, but they pulled me onto my feet and wouldn’t let me wallow.
I owed them a lot for that. Maybe everything.
Pulled by a constant current, my thoughts flitted to Sarah again.
She was alone.
She didn’t have a huge, welcoming family like I did. She’d been checking off some list items, and a few times Cooper confirmed that Jackie was with her in the pictures. That made me glad. And made me thankful for Jackie.
Before everyone turned in for the night, I stole away from the porch to start my nightly routine. I found the barrel in the barn, and searched my brain for fires.
I’d called Ben yesterday, and my mom the day before that. I even Facetimed my sister Estelle because she demanded to see my face. It was uncomfortable at first, apologizing for being so wrapped up in myself for two years. But everyone understood and forgave me.
Mom apologized for making the situation with Sarah worse.
And I apologized for dragging her into my conflict by asking her to shelter me.
Our conversation was pretty heavy, hard; we both cried.
But it was good and healing, too. And Mom told me she’d tried a few times to reach out to Sarah and would keep trying until she got in touch.
Tonight, I’d call Jackie.
Then Sarah.