Page 85 of Years in the Making

“They’re hugging, Grandma,” a little voice yells from somewhere in the forest.

“Hugging?” Midge replies at the same volume.

“Yeah, but Teddy is shorter than Nellie.”

“Martin Vanderkraats, you march that butt back here right now and forget what you have seen.” Midge’s voice sounds panicked, and I feel Teddy shaking with laughter against me.

Looking down, I watch his gaze meet mine, tears of sadness turning to tears of laughter. “I bet she's going to have to move a certain health lesson up now,” I say before crumbling into himin a fit of giggles. “Feel better?” I ask, pulling back and out of his grasp.

“Much. You?”

“Yes.” I slide back to where I had been sitting before the need to hug him overwhelmed my ability to think straight.

I pick my mug back up and watch as he does the same, although neither of us drinks. His eyes are still on me, and I can’t help my gaze dropping to his lips. Heat pools in my core as I remember what they felt like. What harm would kissing him do? We’re adults; we can kiss and move on like, well, adults. We did that back in December and then carried on. But now we can have conversations, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.

“We should get back before Kevin shivers to death,” Teddy suggests, and the spell I was under breaks.

“Oh god.” I throw back what’s left of my coffee and reach for my bag. “If he dies, Bennett will never let me adopt a dog,” I groan, watching as Teddy stands and tucks Kevin into his zip-up hoodie.

“Relax,” he says, reaching down to pick up the thermos and mugs, “He’s a wiener. He shivers when a warm breeze touches him.”

If anyone saw us on the walk back, we’d look like two friends walking back from a swim at the local watering hole. They’d never guess that I was two seconds away from giving into every primal urge I’ve ever had.

THIRTY-THREE

TEDDY

Every morning starts with a trip to the lake and a visit with the loons before Nellie heads to the library and I drive out to Betty’s. Some days we talk, and others we just swim quietly. I don’t know if we’ve slipped back to the summer we spent together or if I just wish we had, but it feels a bit more like that than the frosty distance we’ve had since.

Getting out of the lake on day twenty-three of our residence at Midge’s, Nellie slices her foot open on a rock. I’d finally convinced her to lose the water shoes, and within an hour there’s a puddle of blood pooling on the rock where we sit and have our coffee every morning.

“Shit,” Nellie curses, reaching for her towel and immediately pressing it to the wound. I watch in horror as the blood seeps through the towel. Nellie, on the other hand, calmly folds the material again and presses it back against the cut.

“Nellie, Jesus, you’re bleeding like a hemophiliac.” I grab my towel and kneel beside her at the ready, tiny pebbles pressing into my skin. Then I remember what she’d said about getting over her fear of blood. “Wait, are you?”

“Am I what?” she asks without looking up at me.

“A hemophiliac?” That would explain being afraid of blood and getting over it right? Constant exposure tends to ease fears.

“No, it’s—well, it’s a disease, but it’s not hemophilia.” When she looks up at me, she quickly continues, “It’s like hemophilia light. It won’t kill me. I just have a hard time clotting, but I will, eventually.”

I barely hear what she says next because she’s in my arms and I’m off back through the woods towards Midge’s. She’s still talking and I can hear Kevin yapping, but the blood pounding in my ears muffles everything.

Midge is sitting in a Muskoka chair sipping her coffee when I burst out of the forest.

“She’s bleeding. She won’t stop,” I manage to get out.

“Bring her inside,” Midge says far too calmly, standing to lead us through the door.

I’m panicking, I know I am, but much like the bleeding, I can’t stop. I set Nellie down on the old patchwork sofa and kneel next to her foot, unwrapping the soiled towel and calling out for a first aid kit. At least I think I do, I think I may be hyperventilating. Midge is next to me in seconds and gently shoves me to the side so she’s closer to Nellie’s foot and I’m closer to her head.

I can feel hands on my face, but I feel a bit like I’m floating. Movement around me, cold on my neck, my name far away, slowly moving closer.

“Teddy, Teddy, it’s okay, I’m fine.” It feels like my heart is trying to escape through my neck. The hands slip from my face as I scramble backward. I don’t know how I get on my feet or back outside, but I suddenly find myself bent with my hands on my knees, staring at the coffee and maple cookies I’d had before swimming as silver stars dance through the air.

Run, a tiny voice whispers, and I feel the urge to give in.But I stay put. Running wasn’t the answer last time I did it, and it most certainly isn’t the way to handle this.

A hand lands on my back. “The bleeding has slowed down,” George says from beside me. “I think she may need medical attention, though. The cut is deep, and who knows what got in there from the lake.”

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