Page 87 of Years in the Making

Nellie’s hand reached out, and I shivered as her fingers danced across the blue jay in flight across my chest. “I think it means you really like blue jays,” she whispered. Then she’d put both her hands on my shoulders and dunked me before racing off towards the shore.

“What do you think?”

I blink away visions of this morning and see Nellie lookingat me, one eyebrow raised. Forest passes by out the window behind her, and I take a split second to reorientate myself with where I am.

“Sorry?”

She tilts her head, eyebrows knitting in concern. “I was wondering how many dogs you think Bennett will take?”

“Oh, we only have room for two comfortably. Cass said they already have applications filled out for them, and Marley and Betty have approved a couple of candidates. So as long as their meet-and-greets go well, they’ll have homes within hours of us getting back.”

“Does Bennett know?”

I can picture Bennett trying to make his case to keep the dogs there for longer and then inevitably forever. “I’m pretty sure Marley put her foot down. He has no reason to keep them. It’s a good trial run, using tried-and-true methods from Betty.” We pass a maintenance truck on the side of the road with a wood chipper attached, and my attention is momentarily captured.

“Do you miss it?”

“Hmm?” I turn back to Nellie.

“The tree stuff?”

My shoulders rise and fall before I can even vocalize an opinion. “Sometimes I miss the rush of it. I think my body misses it most of all.” Nellie’s eyes slowly sweep down my side, and I feel my body heat.

“You still do some stuff at Bennett’s though, right?”

Nodding, I force myself to keep looking at her, despite the heat of her stare. “Here and there. I can’t complain, though. The job is pretty great.”

“What was your favorite part of working in the trees?”

The quiet,I think, although it’s not exactly a quiet profession. “There is this moment, right when you get up high. Thenoise of the ground is muted, and for a time all you hear is the tree. Gentle creaks or leaves rustling. I remember the moment I went from being afraid to craving it. There was this mountain ash in New Zealand we had been doing some work on for a couple of days. It was early in the day, and I hadn’t slept well the night before so I had been dreading work.”

“Climbing trees on little sleep seems ill-advised.” Nellie laughs softly.

“Yes, although I was kind of in a trance-like state so I wasn’t thinking about my underlying fear of heights. I get up to the top to start pruning and—” I pause because how do I describe the moment things started to change? “This is going to sound woo-woo or something, but I felt my mom with me.”

Nellie doesn’t say anything, just offers a small smile.

“It was an incredibly weird sensation for someone who doesn’t believe in anything.” I laugh nervously, my thumb immediately making contact with my ring, drawing Nellie’s attention. “I just let myself feel it, no questions or judgments. I’ve never even told anyone before.”

“I’m honored to be the first you’ve told,” Nellie says, followed immediately by George clearing his throat. “George is honored too.”

“What you experienced there, Teddy, is the sensation of your soul healing after great grief,” George affirms quietly, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the rearview mirror.

Nellie leans forward and gently takes my hand. “That’s a beautiful thought,” she says, squeezing my fingers in hers.

The rest of the drive is quiet. Nellie’s hand wrapped around my own, resting on her knee. My attention remains on the passing scenery, but I can feel hers on me.

THIRTY-FOUR

NELLIE

Teddy crashed the minute we got back into the truck after Dr. Arnaud glued my foot back together. I’d assured him over and over while sitting on the exam table that I wasn’t going to cut myself and drop dead. I’d received my diagnosis of type three Von Willebrand Disease at twenty-three, after having my wisdom teeth out. Apparently, excessive dental bleeding is a tell, and my body picked that surgery to do all the telling. Suddenly, heavy periods and bruising easier than a rotten peach made sense. The hematologist who discussed treatment with me told me since I had never had surgery or even a filling before it wasn’t surprising that I hadn’t been tested. It’s rare, but on the scale of rare diseases, it’s more of a nuisance than anything else.

I’d had an IUD inserted to help manage my period, took iron supplements, and had my blood tested every six months or so. Other than that, I just tried not to cut myself, mainly to avoid reactions like Teddy’s.

Even in his sleep, he still looks worried. I can’t help wondering if he’s thinking about his mom. I’d done someresearch on cerebral aneurysms after meeting her. I’d gone down the rabbit hole of clots, strokes, and aneurysms. I’d always been of the mind that an aneurysm and a stroke were roughly the same thing. An aneurysm could cause a stroke, but a stroke didn’t lead to an aneurysm. I still don’t know the path of Teddy’s mom’s life. What I had learned, though, was that there were loads of blood-related things that could forever alter someone’s life.

Teddy stirs when we pull into the lot at the gas station and immediately apologizes for sleeping the entire way back.

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