Finding wings, p.4
Finding Wings, page 4
“I don’t want to wake Quinn.” Jo slid onto a high barstool.
“We could just ask at the nurses station.”
“I doubt they’d tell us anything. Not without getting Phee’s or Quinn’s permission first. They’d just give us a cryptic answer that would make us think something horrible had happened.”
Britt threw her sister a wry grin. “Good point. Besides, you know Quinn would call if anything changed.”
“Is the cottage booked tomorrow?” She shrugged. “Sorry, I haven’t checked the schedule since Sunday night.”
“Both cabins are booked through the weekend. Same people all weekend. A sisters retreat.”
“Aww, that’s cool.”
“Yeah …” She didn’t dare meet Jo’s gaze lest she burst into tears thinking how close they’d come to losing Phee. She turned back to the stove and needlessly adjusted the flame, then got two mugs down from the open shelving. “That means I’ll be staying with you, don’t forget.”
“I know. And remember, we’re booked every night over Thanksgiving week and weekend.”
So far it had worked well for her and Jo to stay in whichever rental wasn’t booked. And when they occasionally booked the cottage and both cabins, they all piled in at the house where Quinn and Phee were living now, just outside of Langhorne. Jo’s cottage could sleep five and each of the cabins had a queen bed and a single, but the cottage rented for more, so the cabins usually booked first. She and Jo had a section of each other’s closet and bathroom drawers stocked with clothes and toiletries so moving back and forth wasn’t a huge deal, but sometimes Britt wished they weren’t so dependent on the income from the Airbnb. “I wish we could afford to just block off a couple of weeks without worrying about guests.”
“Well, you might get your wish.”
Britt turned to study her. “What do you mean?”
“Britt, think about it. If Phee has to be on bed rest, one of us is going to need to be there all the time. We may have to adjust our calendar for the inn.”
She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Though she should have. “Could we hire someone to turn the rooms over?”
“And make breakfasts?”
“We could just serve bakery stuff for a while. We’ve done that before.”
“Yes, and it cut our profits considerably. And somebody still has to go pick up the food. And plate it. And get the coffee ready. And then wash the dishes. And—”
“Yeah, yeah … I get the picture.” She spooned ground coffee into the carafe.
“But am I wrong?”
“No. Not really. But we’re kind of jumping the gun. We don’t even know how … serious the whole bed rest thing is going to be. I’ve heard of some women who could get up for a few hours every day. It’s not like they couldn’t even take a step or go to the bathroom or anything.”
“I don’t want to take any chances with Phee though. If she lost the ba—”
Britt was glad Jo didn’t finish. It was too hard to think about. They’d already lost so much.
They sat silent, mired in their separate thoughts until the kettle started its insistent whistle. Britt filled the French press and stirred, breathing in the rich aroma. She set the timer for four minutes.
Joanna lifted her empty mug to her lips, cupping both hands around it as if anticipating the coming beverage. But her sigh made Britt do a double take.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Britt. I don’t want to sound like a selfish jerk, but how am I supposed to pull off a wedding if Phee’s going to be laid up for the next four months?”
Joanna and Luke were planning a wedding in the clearing at the top of the ridge on the property. Phylicia and Quinn had gotten engaged there, and Jo had planned her sister’s wedding in the breezy space beneath the canopy of poplars and silver maples. Ever since, Jo had dreamed of opening a wedding venue there and hoped her own wedding would be a grand opening of sorts. It really was the perfect match, given that Luke DJ’d when he wasn’t working his advertising job at the radio station.
And though she and Luke hadn’t set a firm date yet, Jo had been working toward April when the dogwoods and Eastern redbuds would be in glorious bloom. And when Phee wouldn’t be waddling with pregnancy. Britt closed her eyes briefly, remembering how beautiful the property had been last spring with the flowering trees in bloom and the woodland floor dotted with wild daffodils and grape hyacinths.
“We might still be able to work everything out. Even for that spring wedding you want.”
Jo just shook her head and stared into the empty mug.
Britt put an arm briefly around her sister’s shoulder. “Don’t get all worked up about it until we know what Phee’s situation is.”
“Yeah … Easy for you to say. It’s not your wedding that might get canceled.”
Britt clenched her jaw, biting back the response she wanted to give. “Postponed, Jo. Nothing’s getting canceled.”
Her sisters didn’t know how much she envied the love they’d found. The lives they were living. Lives of purpose and meaning. Lives that had someone in them who would worry if they didn’t come home at night. Who chose them to tell first if something exciting or frustrating or life-changing happened. Or who would call just to say, “I was thinking about you.”
She blew out a little huff. She was lucky if the book club gals remembered to tell her when a meeting date got changed. If she voiced her longing to her sisters, she knew they would only tell her she was young. She had plenty of time. But all the time in the world meant nothing if all you wanted was someone to share it with. Or if you never met that someone.
CHAPTER 5
COME ON, ROB, TIME TO get up. What are you still doing in bed, lazybones?” Rafe tugged at his brother’s pajama sleeve.
Robby yanked the blankets over his head and curled deeper into the fetal position.
“Come on! Chop-chop!” Rafe clapped his hands, struggling to not take his frustration with the nursing staff out on his younger brother. It was after ten o’clock and they still hadn’t gotten Robby up and dressed for the day. Rafe wondered if his brother had even had breakfast yet.
Hope Village was short-staffed, but that was no excuse to leave the kid in bed. He playfully smacked his brother’s backside and tugged the blanket off the bed, revealing lanky, atrophied limbs. And reminding him that Robby wasn’t a kid at all any more. At sixteen, he had the body of a young man and probably would measure almost six feet tall if they could ever get him to stand up straight.
“I think it’s pancakes for breakfast, bro. Come on … You’re gonna miss out.”
The promise of pancakes usually lured Robby just about anywhere they needed him to go, but this morning, he was having none of it. He grunted and grasped at invisible blankets with clenched fists.
Rafe finally wrestled him into sweatpants and a T-shirt that were a size too small and smelled faintly of urine. He made a mental note to bring his brother some new clothes. He quickly combed Robby’s unruly mop of hair, so much like his own. Dishwater blond, Ma called it. He needed to talk to the nurse on duty about scheduling a haircut. He wouldn’t complain about finding Robby still in bed at ten o’clock—and in need of a bath, judging by the odor that permeated the room. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. The staff was overworked as it was.
They had fifteen people to get ready every morning—most of them in worse shape than Robby—and Rafe knew better than anyone that Robby wasn’t the most cooperative resident early in the day. Not for the first time, he wondered if they had his brother on some medication that made him so sleepy all the time. No time to ask today, but he made a mental note.
“Come on, Rob. Up and at ’em, bro!” If he didn’t get up, he’d miss out on physical therapy and whatever occupational therapy activities were on the schedule. Not that the therapy did any good. Robby had been here at the center for nine of his sixteen years and he still had the mind and mannerisms of a three-year-old, exactly like he had the day they’d moved him in.
At least he seemed happy here. And Rafe could rest assured that Robby was well fed and seen by a doctor on a regular basis. Rafe picked up the odd pairs of dirty socks strewn across the cold tile. Sometimes he still resented his mother for putting Robby in a home. But it wasn’t realistic to think Ma could care for him and hold down the job she needed to make ends meet.
He helped out when she fell behind on the bills. His dad paid for Robby’s care—a hefty sum and one that apparently absolved the man from ever having to come and visit his son. Either of his sons.
Not that Rafe was much better. Pulling extra shifts recently meant that he spent only a few hours a week with his brother, not making it to the center at all some days. It was a blessing that Robby had no concept of time.
“Come on, buddy. Let’s get you down to the dining hall.” He edged his shoulder under his brother’s armpit and braced for the weight of his awkward high-stepping gait.
Robby knew the dance and gave his nasal, snorting laugh as they hobbled down the hall together. “Rafe came and got me up. Didn’t you, bud?”
Rafe laughed. “I sure did, Rob.”
“We’re goin’ to the dining hall, aren’t we, bud?”
“Yep, bud, we sure are.”
Robby wouldn’t remember the promise of pancakes and would be blissfully satisfied with the peanut butter sandwich they’d probably give him in place of the breakfast he’d missed. But Rafe’s conscience wouldn’t be satisfied. Not until his next day off when he would bring Robby an order of to-go pancakes from Huddle House—with extra syrup.
Britt opened the door to Phee’s hospital room a little wider, and she and Jo peered inside. “Hey, you’re awake!”
Seeing Phee’s smile, weak though it was, did her heart good. She closed the door behind them. No sign of Quinn. He must have gone home. Or maybe he was hunting down some coffee in the cafeteria. “How are you doing, sis?”
Phee scooted up gingerly in the bed. “Hanging in there. I don’t think I got much sleep, but at least they got the bleeding stopped, and the baby is still doing great. Don’t you have to work, Jo?”
“I’m going in later.”
Relief flooded Britt, hearing her sisters’ matter-of-fact exchange. She was sure Quinn would have let them know if anything had changed during the night, but it was good to see for herself. Phee still looked a little wan but so much better than yesterday. “Have you seen the doctor this morning?”
“Not yet, but the nurse was pretty sure they wouldn’t let me go home for another day or two. If that.”
“Did they say why?” Jo asked.
“They want to monitor me for at least twenty-four hours from the time the bleeding stopped. That would be sometime tonight, and they probably will make me wait until I’ve seen the doctor tomorrow morning.” She winced. “To be honest, I’m a little scared to go home anyway.”
“I don’t blame you. Have they said if you’ll be on bed rest?”
“Oh, I’m afraid there’s no question about that. They—” Phee looked past Britt and her face brightened.
Britt turned to see Quinn returning with a large to-go cup of coffee.
“Good morning, sunshine.” He bent to kiss Phee, then lifted the cup in Britt’s direction. “I would have brought you some, too, Britt, if I’d known you were coming by.”
“It’s okay. Jo and I drank coffee all night.”
“All night? What happened?” Phee’s voice held concern.
“What happened? Are you kidding?” Britt looked askance at her sister. “You scared us half to death.”
“Oh … that.” Phee gave a humorless laugh. “I thought something happened at the cottages.”
“The cottages are fine. In fact, we were talking about that on the way here.” Jo gave Britt a look that said, “Should we tell her?”
Britt nodded.
“If you do end up having to be on bed rest, Britt and I could take turns staying with you at your house”—Jo turned to Quinn—“if that’s okay with you, of course.”
“You guys …” He shook his head, but Britt could tell it was just to cover his emotions. Quinn was sweet that way. “Of course it’s okay.”
Phee frowned. “But you’ll be at work, Jo. And who will keep the Airbnb going if Britt’s not there?”
“Don’t you worry about that. We’ve got it all figured out.” Jo threw Britt a play-along glance.
She obeyed. “That’s right. Your one and only job is to keep that baby cookin’.”
Phee laughed but quickly looked over at the monitors—the baby’s first, and then her own. She sobered. “That’s the plan. But I’ve never felt so out of control in my life.”
Quinn enveloped Phee’s hand with his own. “Everything is going to be just fine. And you don’t always have to be in control of everything, you know?”
“Hush,” Phee scolded. But her smile acknowledged that she knew he was right.
Britt would have to agree. Phee did sometimes struggle with being in control. But Britt knew the feeling herself. At times it seemed as if her every move was being dictated by other people. Most of them in this room right now.
Being the youngest of the three sisters, it had been that way as long as she could remember, but it hadn’t bothered her until recently, and she wasn’t sure why. A counselor would likely say it had everything to do with losing her mother. Maybe so. That loss had been traumatic, life-changing for all of them. But she really didn’t think losing Mom was the sole reason she’d felt so restless and adrift lately. In fact, she suspected it had more to do with losing her sisters.
Of course, she wasn’t really “losing” Phylicia and Joanna. Just because one was married and expecting a baby and the other was getting married soon—and inheriting a twelve-year-old in the bargain—didn’t mean Britt would lose them as sisters. But it did make her the odd man out. They both had someone—multiple someones—to care for now. And someone to care for them. They didn’t need her, and she couldn’t expect them to drop everything for her anymore.
“Right, Britt?” Jo’s voice broke through her reverie.
She looked at them in turn, and the question in their expressions made her think Jo had said her name at least once already.
“I’m sorry … What? I missed that.”
“Daydreaming there, little sister?” Quinn winked at her, as if he’d read her thoughts.
“Never mind.” Jo took Britt’s arm. “We’ll see you guys later.”
“What? We just got here.”
“We’re coming right back.” Jo ushered her toward the door. “I’ll explain it on the way.”
“On the way? Where are we going?”
That brought giggles, even from Phee. “Thanks, sisters. You’re the best.”
In the hallway, Jo turned to regard her. “You okay?”
Britt quickened her pace to avoid her sister’s scrutiny. “I’m fine. Can’t a girl have a moment to think to herself? Where are we going anyway?”
“You seriously didn’t hear any of that?”
“Just tell me where we’re going.”
Jo shook her head as if Britt were a lost cause. “Phee’s dying for some ice cream.”
“At nine o’clock in the morning. Is that okay? I mean, is she allowed?”
“Sure. The hospital just doesn’t happen to carry the Häagen-Dazs honey salted caramel almond she’s craving.”
“And they call themselves a hospital.” Britt shook her head.
That drew laughter, and thankfully Jo forgot to cross-examine her about where her thoughts had roamed while they stood at Phee’s bedside.
“Actually, I could go for some ice cream myself. Did Quinn want anything?”
“He said he’d share with Phee.”
Britt lifted her eyebrows conspiratorially. “You want to split a tub of chunky monkey?”
Jo threw her a look. “You want to jog six miles with me in the morning?”
Britt hung her head in mock disappointment. “Must be nice to be eating for two.”
“Yeah, well, what’s Quinn’s excuse?”
Laughing, they climbed in the car.
Twenty minutes later, heading toward the checkout aisle with not one, but three tubs of ice cream and fifty dollars worth of supplies for the Airbnb, Britt left Jo to grab some things in the produce aisle and pushed their grocery cart around the corner—and almost collided head-on with a cart coming from the opposite direction.
“Whoa there. Where’s the fire?”
Even without looking up, she knew. She would have recognized that velvety voice anywhere. Her gaze traveled from the embroidered EMT logo on his crisp uniform shirt to his slightly mussed blond hair, and she did her best to hide her embarrassment.
He backed his cart out of her path, grinning, recognition in his expression.
Britt clapped a hand over her mouth. “I am so sorry.”
“No harm done. Worried your ice cream might melt there?” He nodded toward their cart.
“Yeah … That’s it.” Britt giggled.
Jo chose that moment to appear with an armful of bagged fruit. “Pomegranates are in season!” She stopped short, apparently unaware she’d interrupted.
Britt wished her sister had sent her on this errand alone. But she turned to Jo. “Jo, this is Rafe … ? Sorry, I never got your last name.”
He extended a hand. “Rafe Stuart.”
“This is my sister Jo. Sorry I didn’t introduce you the other night. At the hospital.”
“Nice to meet you, Jo.”
“Oh, you’re the one who talked to Britt on the phone?” Jo stole a glance at Britt as if trying to gauge how she felt about this encounter. “While she waited for the ambulance?”
“That’s right.”
“Thank you,” Jo gushed. And Jo rarely gushed. “I’m not sure what we would have done without you.”
Britt cut her a discreet look because, of course, she knew Jo really meant, I’m not sure what Britt would have done without you.
Rafe waved off the compliment. “Like I told your sister, I was just doing my job.” His expression became serious and his gaze included Britt. “How is … Phee? Did I get her name right?”
