Page 32 of Extreme Romancing in Idaho

“We’ve decided to hire a nurse to come by every day and take care of me,” he said. “Our insurance will pay for forty percent of the expense, and we’ll be able to pay off the rest with the harvest,” he finished in a rush.

A dark cloud settled over me, and all thoughts of a shirtless Remi fled my mind. More dire issues pressed their way to the forefront.

Mama must not have told him about the other bills coming in. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be doing something so stupid and unnecessary. Years of my life had been devoted to school so I could care for him, and he went and hired someone else anyway.

“I am a trained nurse.” I took the chair opposite him, the words squeezing through the tightness in my chest. “I can take care of you. That’s why I chose to go to nursing school.”

“I won’t have you dumping out my poo bag and emptying my urine any longer. Your mother doesn’t need to be doing that either.” He rubbed his thick white hair. His cancer meds hadn’t made his hair fall out, but they hadn’t saved his life either. “I’d like to go to my grave with a little dignity intact.”

The dripping from the faucet in the kitchen plinked in the sudden quiet. We didn’t talk about his death or his grave. It made it too real. Mama started breathing funny behind me, like she was crying, but I couldn’t look at her, or my floodgates would open before I started my twelve-hour shift.

Runny mascara and red, puffy eyes weren’t welcome in a delivery room. The muscles around my jaw tightened, and I glanced at my watch. One more hour and I’d start my commute to a place where I could make an impact instead of staring at an unconquerable mountain. Nothing I did would keep Papa here longer, yet a part of me still believed a miracle would happen. That he didn’t have cancer.

“I better get going,” I hedged.

“Hold on.” Papa met Mama’s eyes, communicating without words, a superpower gained by thirty-nine years of marriage.

Mama cleared Papa’s plate.

“You’re going to leave without challenging the reigning Farm Frenzy champion?”

Mama returned with a double deck of our custom-made cards. I’d forgotten. Thursday night was family game night, yet I fought the urge to escape the reality of my father’s failing health this minute.

Papa shuffled the cards and gave me his characteristic smirk: eyebrows raised, smile wide, nose scrunched in his grin. “What do you say, Muffin? One game?”

Dagnabbit. I was going to miss him. Shoving the tears from my eyes and voice, I relaxed back in my chair. “Forty-five minutes.”

“Deal.” His grin widened.

Mama gave a little cheer and joined us at the table. The front door opened and closed. We all looked toward the sound.

“It’s just me, Ms. Nora.” Remi’s thick Texas drawl reverberated in our house, sounding foreign. “I’m bringing y’all a stack of wood if you don’t mind.”

“Come on back. Fireplace is in here.”

Our fully clothed, far too good-looking farmhand walked into the room less than a minute later with an armload of wood the size of a small calf, bringing the scent of the outdoors with him. He strode to our wood bin and managed a controlled descent of the logs. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t resist watching his biceps strain against his sleeves.

“You should join us for game night.” Mama’s voice rang out from her mouth at a higher pitch than normal.

I focused my narrowed gaze at her.

“I’m all sweaty.” He gestured to his midsection where sweat darkened his dirty white shirt.

“Nonsense. Deal him in, Tony.” Mama tapped Papa’s shoulder.

Papa stopped shuffling and began dealing four stacks of cards. “You got it.” He lifted his eyebrows at me twice in rapid succession.

I dropped my forehead into my hands. I should have left for work when I had the chance.

Chapter 12

Remi

Firecrackling.Laughterinthe air. Dinner dishes in the sink. Nora even brought out milk and homemade cookies. My cookie remained untouched and my milk next to it. I wanted to preserve it. I’d slipped into one of those too-perfect-to-be-real, moral-message-laden Disney shows. My whole life, I thought families like this were as real as unicorns, and I’d plunked myself into the middle of one.

I sat between Angie and Tony, holding cards with a cartoon horse, cow, rooster, goat, and pig plastered on the back, running wild with giant grins on their faces, and looking a bit frenzied. “So … when two of the same cards are put onto the pile, I have to do some action, and if I’m the last one to do it, I get the pile. Right?”

I pulled at my shirt, sweat beading underneath. The sun shining through the windows, coupled with the blazing fireplace, made me wish I could take it right off again. Nora and Angie’s faces flushed and glistened as well. Tony most likely couldn’t keep his body temperature up, and they were doing their best to keep him comfortable.

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