Chapter Five
Five
Simon and Alex had long since left by the time Mom and Mitch came back from the doctor.
Mitch, the happiest guy I’d ever met, scowled as he came through the door.
Correction: he clomped through the door, a bulky walking boot strapped on his right leg, coming almost to his knee.
The reality of the situation hit as I watched him make his way across the room.
“I can’t believe this.” He sank into the overstuffed chair to the left of the couch.
“Okay,” Mom said. “I know it sucks, but it’s not the end of the world.” I recognized her tone of voice. She’d used it on me plenty over the years, letting me know that she was going to put up with exactly zero bullshit.
Mitch opened his mouth to respond, but her expression had that same air of zero bullshit and he closed it again, looking shamefaced. “I know, babe. But…six weeks in this thing?”
“Up to six weeks,” she corrected. “They said if you stay off it and really take care of yourself it might be sooner. Believe me, it could be a lot worse.” Her face darkened with worry.
“Hey,” Mitch said gently. He caught her hand, threading their fingers together. “I know. I just…” He leaned back, gesturing to the boot. “I can’t put my boot on over this, much less do the chess match.”
“Honey.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “You’re not doing the chess match.” She sat on the ottoman in front of his chair, moving his foot, still in its boot, into her lap. “I know you’re disappointed, but you’re going to have to admit defeat on this. You’re out for the season.”
“Yeah.” His head fell back and he stared dully at the ceiling, gusting out a sigh.
“Yeah,” he said again. I watched the pity party flash across his face, then disappear as fast as a summer rainstorm.
Another sigh and he shifted his gaze to my mom.
“It’ll be okay. Alex has a lot of ideas, and he and Simon were working on some stuff today.
I think we can figure something out.” He winced as he caught himself.
“Well, I guess they can figure it out, huh?”
“They can.” She rubbed a soothing hand over the walking boot and he leaned forward to catch her hand again.
She squeezed, and tears sprang to my eyes at the way he looked at her, the human embodiment of the heart-eyes emoji.
I talked a big game, saying it was gross, but he really loved my mom.
And she really loved him. They couldn’t be more different on paper, but they worked well together.
After a couple moments, Mom glanced over her shoulder at me, confusion on her face. “Do I smell dinner? Did you cook?”
I shook my head. “I bought. Got a rotisserie chicken and some stuff this afternoon.” When Alex and Simon returned to the backyard I’d seized on the excuse to get out of the house. Besides, I was home for the summer and freeloading; the least I could do was take care of dinner.
Mom’s grateful smile warmed something inside me. “You’re the best, kiddo.” She followed me into the kitchen.
“How’s the job hunt going?” Mom’s voice was neutral as she took plates down out of the cabinet, but I bristled at the question anyway.
“Sick of me already?” I made the question a joke, trying to cover the sting.
Mom snorted. “Hardly. Especially if you keep making dinner.” She handed me a plate, keeping two for herself, while I got cans of soda out of the fridge.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I stood back so Mom could fix plates for her and Mitch while I answered her question. “It’s going slow. The inbox is pretty empty. I’ll send out some more applications tomorrow.”
“Hmm.” Mom stayed focused on the chicken, slicing the breast meat off the bone. “Speaking of inbox. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from…”
“Nope,” I said brightly, not even letting her finish the sentence.
I forked up a couple pieces of white meat and added them to my plate.
“Haven’t heard from Dad, either.” Not a huge surprise.
Not being in touch was what he did best. I’d had this glimmer of hope, back around my high school graduation, that we were making a fresh start.
I’d even been a little mad at Mom for being skeptical.
But she knew him better than I did; I’d been an infant when they split up.
He and I had exchanged a few emails and texts in the months between high school and college, but by the time I came home for Christmas after that first semester it was back to normal.
“Normal” meaning he wasn’t in my life. Gone as suddenly as he’d shown up.
I tried not to let it get to me. Most of the time, I succeeded.
I’d gotten along all these years just fine without him, I reminded myself.
If Mom had taught me anything, it was that you didn’t need a man to live a full and happy life.
And of course, Mom had moved on to bigger and better things herself. Literally.
Desperate to change the subject, I nodded toward the living room as I drizzled gravy over the mashed potatoes on my plate. “He’s gonna take this hard, I bet.”
“I know.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Now that it was just the two of us, I could see the worry on her face.
And something else too. Something I couldn’t quite track.
“And he was lucky. Nothing broken. He doesn’t need surgery or anything.
” Her voice thickened as she choked out the last words.
And there it was. I put my plate down with a thud.
How had I not put that together? The car accident had been ten years ago.
I’d been fine—if you called a sprained ankle, a couple bruises, and a few months of nightmares “fine.” But Mom…
it had really messed her up. With her leg broken in multiple places, it had been weeks before she was able to get around again, even on crutches, and longer before she could drive.
The accident was what had brought my Aunt Emily to Willow Creek—to take care of Mom, and to take care of me.
She’d been like a second mom to me that summer.
A fun one, the way an aunt should be. But a caring one too—someone I could lean on when Mom wasn’t able to be there for me.
“Are you okay?” I asked, because there was a very real chance she wasn’t. Doctor’s offices and X-rays, talk of bones that may or may not be broken…that had to be stirring up some bad memories.
“Oh.” Mom blinked, as though clearing away those bad memories and seeing me for the first time.
“Oh, yeah, honey. I’m fine.” She gave a small laugh, like she knew I was going to call bullshit on that.
“It’s just been a long day. And…” She looked over her shoulder toward the living room.
“I hate seeing him like that. He looks forward to this every year.”
I nodded, even though Mom wasn’t really looking for my input here. “Is he really gonna be able to take it easy all this time? He’s not exactly a take-it-easy kind of guy.”
Mom snorted. “It’s going to be an interesting few weeks.”
—
If I thought having a couple of renaissance faire guys in my backyard was bad, the next morning was even worse.
At least I was prepared today. No more skidding around the house in my ugliest sweats with a T-shirt on my head.
This morning I did my skin-care routine, followed by just enough makeup to look like I wasn’t trying too hard.
The front door opened and closed more than once while I was getting ready, so it wasn’t a complete surprise this morning to walk out into the living room to see people there.
So. Many. People. While I didn’t do a full head count, the living room seemed to be filled with the entire human combat chess cast. There were people everywhere: filling up the sofa, perched on the edge of the coffee table, leaning against the archway that led to the dining room and kitchen.
Murray let out an aggrieved sigh from his new napping spot under the coffee table.
Alex sat cross-legged on the floor, reaching down to scratch Murray between his ears.
Mitch lorded over them all from the recliner in the corner, walking boot on full display.
“A high ankle sprain,” he said to the room at large. “You know, like all the best quarterbacks get. But don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be up and around in…” He caught sight of me then and trailed off, looking only a little bit guilty.
I folded my arms and raised my eyebrows, doing my best impression of Mom’s zero bullshit expression. “What was that?”
My impression must have been pretty good, because Mitch didn’t miss a beat. “Thank God you’re all here,” he said quickly, “since I’m probably out of commission for the rest of the season.”
“There’s no probably about it.” Simon came in from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. I looked around and noticed that everyone had coffee mugs. Were we running a diner here?
Simon took a sip of coffee and looked pointedly at Mitch. “Marcus MacGregor is sitting the rest of this season out. I don’t want my sister-in-law coming after me.”
“Ach.” Mitch tsked in his weirdly accurate Scottish accent. “Always lookin’ out for me.”
I snorted and moved through the maze of people to the kitchen to get my own coffee. I really didn’t love the idea of another day at home. I’d outgrown my childhood desk, as the cramp in my back liked to remind me, so hiding in my room wasn’t going to cut it. But there were so many people out here.
I was saved by my phone again. This time, salvation came in the form of a text message from my aunt. Got a huge batch of used books in. Want your old job back? Help me sort through them?
Be right there, I texted back. I’d helped out at her bookstore plenty of times during my summers home from college, and today it felt like a welcome escape.
I stuck my phone in my back pocket and reached for a travel mug instead.
Maybe I should bring my laptop with me; I could always do some job hunting when things got slow.
“Going to help out Emily at the bookstore,” I said to Mitch, throwing a wave in his direction.