Page 24 of Love Wells Kept

“Darlin’, you have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

Her shoulders fall. “Shit. I forgot about that. Pregnancy brain. Well…” She gives me a stink eye, as if this is somehow my fault. “You got off this time. But next time, I’m coming with you.”

I give her the same weak, fake smile I gave Odessa earlier. “I would love to have you next time.”

“Have you heard anything?” Austin asks me before traipsing across the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee.

“Nothing…And I feel like this is one of those rare instances where no news is actually bad news.”

Austin sighs with all the disappointment I feel in my bones. “Not bad news. But…probably no change yet.”

“So, bad news.” I toss back the last of my water and look at Beryl. “I’m gonna clean bunkhouses today. I need some serious manual labor to get out of my head. Do you mind watching Rhett?”

The old woman scoffs. “Do I mind? Honey, I would spend every waking hour with that boy, if I could. All my grandbabies.

“As for you? If cleaning bunkhouses and whatever other chores you can find help keep your feet on the ground, go for it. Scrub like hell. Keep those hands busy, but let your brain rest. Don’t try to solve this with your thoughts.”

I push back from the table, ready to start my day and clean until I’m on the verge of collapse. Then I might stand a chance at sleeping in my own bed.

—

Cleaning until my nail beds were tattered and every muscle cramped definitely took my mind off Jackson for a little while. Now I’m sprawled across the living room floor, which is golden with the glow of a crackling fire, watching the kids draw pictures for their dad.

The space is a helter-skelter mess of markers, construction paper, and glitter glue. Rhett’s sitting cross-legged in nothing but underwear, tongue poking out in concentration as he draws.

I peel myself from the floor, propping my elbows underneath me so I can make out what he’s working on. A stick figure with disproportionate arms, a lopsided happy face, and a comically large cowboy hat.

“Is that Daddy?” I ask gently.

“Yes.” Tongue swiping across his lower lip, he abandons his brown marker and goes for a cyan one to scribble blobs in place of feet. With pride, he sits up and looks at his masterpiece. “There. I gave him super speedy boots so he can run all the way home really fast.”

“Yeah, so he can get me a horse before my birthday,” Odessa mutters to herself.

My throat tightens, and that makes my tone a little higher-pitched. “Speedy boots are a great idea, bud.”

He beams. Struggling to put the cap back on his marker, Rhett stares over at his sister’s lime green construction paper. “Dessie did his hair wrong.”

Lying on her stomach, Odessa has her long legs bent at the knees and her feet swirl around through the air behind her. Without looking up, she snarks, “I didn’t.”

“Yeah, Dad doesn’t have hair that stands up all crazy like that.” He pulls a goofy face, grabbing fistfuls of hair and pulling them out in every direction.

“Because it’s messy from the hospital pillow. Duh.” Odessa flicks her ponytail over her shoulder. “Mom, can you tell him that sometimes people get sweaty when they’re lying down for a long time, and it makes it go all weird and fuzzy?”

“No way, man,” I say through a yawn that makes my eyes water. “I’m not getting involved in the hair debate.”

Moving on, Rhett grabs a red marker and gets back to serious business. After a moment of quiet, he speaks up right when I’m on the verge of napping on the floor. “I gave Daddy laser eyes so if the hospital has any bad guys, he can zap them.”

“Very thoughtful of you.” I bite back a drowsy smile, then scooch across the vintage floral rug slightly to get a better look at Odessa’s drawings in the shadows and dancing flicker of firelight. “Great form on that horse.”

Her shoulders roll back, and her marker hovers above the page where she’d been coloring in the mane. “Thanks. It’s going to be an Appaloosa when I’m done.”

“The wording feels a little…strong.” I laugh under my breath at where she’s written Get Better for Horse Shopping in scratchy, little kid font. When she asked for spelling help a few minutes ago, I was admittedly half asleep—a warm fire and plush rug will do that to you—and didn’t care enough about why she needed to know how to spell shopping for a card to give her dad.

“Dad promised.”

“I know he did. And I promise that we’ll follow through once he’s feeling better…. I’m sorry you had to miss the auction this time.”

“If I wasn’t in the way, Dad would’ve finished his work.”